Page 14 of Crushed
Dr. Davis stammered and ran a hand through his salt and pepper hair. I pulled a paperweight off of his desk and examined it. It was an insect trapped inside of the clear stone made of glow-in-the-dark material.
“Can I help you with something, sir?” Dr. Davis finally managed.
I waited for a moment, turning the paperweight over in my hands. “I saw that the chef was given a new dietary chart to follow, allowing two chocolates per week,” I said.
“Yes, sir.”
“I’m not a doctor, but even I know that added sugar is a way to increase blood pressure.”
“The patient has exemplary health, sir,” Dr. Davis started. I settled back into my seat, waiting for the explanation. “Dark chocolate can actually lower blood pressure when given in the right amounts.”
“The patient,” I muttered. I put the paperweight back onto the desk. “My daughter has a name, Dr. Davis. Do you refuse to use it?”
Sweat beaded on his forehead. A few seconds went by. While I didn’t appreciate insubordination, like going behind my back to give a new dietary chart to my daughter’s chef, I liked that Dr. Davis pushed back, standing up for what he believed in. I respected his knowledge, being one of the most renowned pediatricians in the nation.
“I understand that her last doctor returned to the research facilities after being unable to convince you of any sort of alternative treatment,” Dr. Davis said slowly, his eye contact faltering. “If you expect me to continue, I’d prefer to call her ‘the patient,’ sir. So as to remember that this is a case unlike any others that I’ve had.”
That was understandable, but my daughter deserved more respect than ‘the patient.’
“You will call her Ms. Stone, then, Dr. Davis, and nothing less.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And Davis,” I paused at the door, turning towards him. “The next time you want to make a change regarding my daughter’s health, nine times out of ten, I’ll approve it. I trust your instincts. But you must go through me first. Or I will do what’s necessary.”
He gulped. “Yes, sir.”
I charged down the corridor, heading to my bedroom. Rose’s last doctor had been obedient. But the alternative treatment Dr. Davis had alluded to was not, in fact, what he thought. There was no ‘alternative treatment,’ not until I rejected the previous doctor’s romantic advances. And after I rejected her, she pushed to give Rose treatments beyond what she was capable of giving at my estate, and I refused. I could bring everything here, back to her. There was no need to leave.
But it was clear, by then, that the previous doctor’s work had been impacted by my rejection. I transferred her to a research facility. That was why I had chosen a male this time. Dr. Davis had a background for gambling with money stolen from charities, and a debt that he couldn’t repay, not even with his physician’s salary. A past like that would keep him firmly under my grip.
The double doors opened to a large room. A king-sized bed with four posts rested in the corner, tossed with decorative pillows. There was the expected furniture, artwork, and displays one might expect of a room of that size. But it was the balcony that stretched over the backyard, the lush green landscape and pond, that I treasured the most.
I took a seat on a cushioned lounge chair, gazing out at the scenery. I had never invited a woman onto this balcony. I had built this estate after my late wife had died, and hadn’t found anyone of specific interest since then. My needs were too particular, and I wasn’t willing to settle. I hadn’t settled before, and I wouldn’t change that now.
But I needed a guest to indulge with at Decadence. There might have been something off about Scarlett, but perhaps that was part of her appeal, trying to figure out what it was about her. The more I thought about it, the more I liked the idea of grooming Scarlett to my needs. She was new, untouched. I could mold her into my perfect server, my perfect piece of property.
I texted her number:There’s a party I’m invited to. Plus one required.
After a few seconds, three gray dots popped up at the bottom of the screen, showing that she was typing.A plus one, huh?she sent.
Have you ever heard of Decadence?I replied. Again, the same dots popped up, but then disappeared for a solid thirty seconds before she finally started typing again, and sent a response.
What is it?she asked.
An event celebrating unconventional practices, I sent. With a name like Decadence, she could figure out the types of ‘practices’ I meant.
That’s a roundabout way of saying ‘kinky sex’, she sent.
Perhaps there was some spark to her, even a hint of deviance. I needed to learn how to make that side come out and work for me.
What is your experience with kinky sex?I asked.
Is this part of getting to know me?she sent.
Perhaps.
After a few minutes, she responded:Can’t say I know much, honestly. But I’ve always been curious.
