Dr. Vance and I sit in a room. It's a study of some sort, a place of quiet lines and expensive silence. We haven't been here nearly long enough, but time always seems to bend when I'm under his gaze.
He sits across from me, his papers laid across the coffee glass table between us.
"That'll be it for today. Roll up your sleeve. I'll give you your shot." He hums calmly, taking out some syringes with a patience that makes my veins hum.
"Dr. Vance…" I call out his name quietly. "I ran out of medicine."
He doesn't stop. He simply tilts his head, a faint, puzzled smile playing on his lips, the kind a teacher gives a student who missed an obvious answer. "Already? I calculated your dosage for a full month, Julie. I don't make mistakes with numbers."
I clench my fists in my lap. The weight of his disappointment is worse than anger. "The thing is… I keep having the nightmare-"
"You said you weren't having nightmares lately." He cuts me off, making me flinch. I feel my whole body warming up as he stares at me. So impossing. So stiff. "So that was a lie." He says quietly and the flush runs up to my cheek.
Shit, I've made him upset.
"I'm sorry… I thought it'd trouble you if I didn't show any improvement," I admit, forcing a trembling smile.
Instead, his expression melts into something tender. Too tender. He leans forward, his presence overwhelming.
"I see… you were trying to protect my feelings. How thoughtful." He reaches out, taking my hand in both of his. His palms are dry and warm. He doesn't just hold my hand, he cradles it.
"I see…you were worried about me. But I've told you, right? You can be honest with me. I'm on your side."
Oh, this sweet man.
"Even when we first met… you kept trying to hide behind that polite little mask," he whispers, his thumb sliding beneath my sleeve to find the pulse point on my wrist. He rubs it in a slow, hypnotic circle, his eyes fixed on mine as my heart begins to race. He's measuring me. He knows exactly what he's doing to my nervous system.
"He traces a line up my forearm with a sudden, predatory speed that makes me gasp. He pushes the fabric back, exposing the pale skin of my inner elbow. "That makes me very happy, Julie."
He leans over the table, his tie brushing against my open palm. I want to curl my fingers into the silk, to pull him closer until the clinical air between us vanishes.
He's so kind. And warm. He knows everything about me. And even though it's shameful, I find myself drowning in lust for this man.
My body is heating up without my permission, making me press my thigh together to try to get it to calm down. But Dr. Vance notices. His gaze moves towards my thighs as he paces a bandaid where the syringe was.
"Julie…" he hums curiously. "Would you like me to tell you how to solve your problems without taking any medicine?"
I fidget slightly, licking my dry lips as I stare at the bandaid. Too focused on the way his thumb rubs over it. "How?"
He doesn't return to his chair. Instead, he slides onto the edge of the coffee table, crowding my space until I'm forced back into the cushions. It's a soft invasion.
"For example…" he lifts a hand tracing my jaw with his knuckles before dropping it between my legs, cupping my core over my slacks. "You could have sex."
I gasp, suddenly embarrassed yet extremely turned on. "D-Dr. Vance…this is-" I begin but he's already sliding his hands into my pants, into my slick panties. "W-Wait.." I whimper, feeling my core burning up against his fingertips.
"Shhh…good girl. Let me help you." He claps a hand over my mouth and I clutch a hand to his green button up. I moan against his hand, eyelids growing heavy as he slides two fingers. In and out. Slowly. Reverently. As if mapping out my insides. All I can hear is the soft squelches of his fingers and his breathing.
I can't say I have imagined this moment before. But I wonder if he's like this with other patients.
His fingers curl up and I let out a whimper deep from my throat, my back arching before she shoves two fingers into my mouth. He bites my earlobe and speeds up his fingers. It's a punishing rhythm, make to make me cum.
"How are you feeling?" He whispers as I lay my head back on the couch, feeling more embarrassed than I should. He cleans his hand with a napkin after I came all over his fingers, his other hand runs over my hair. As if comforting a child. "Better?"
I nod, a little breathless and sweaty. "Yes…uhm…are you seeing someone?" The words come out before I could stop them. "I'm sorry. You were just so good that I-"
"No." He offers a small, thin smile that doesn't reach his eyes. "Well, I do have a partner. She's a girl like you."
Like me? Is she a patient? If she is…
"What do I need to do if I wanted to…?"
He lets out a small, mocking laugh. It's the first time he looks truly human, and it's terrifying. "No, Julie. You wouldn't handle it."
He leans in, pressing his forehead against mine, his gaze as sharp as the needle he just used. His words sting, but the rejection only makes the hook in my heart pull tighter.
"What…what if I could?"