by Hannah Joy
(06/03/09)

The wall of posters advertising a variety of health conditions in graphic detail did nothing to settle her nerves. The nurse who took her vitals was brisk and efficient and gone in a few minutes. She waited alone.

Time passed in silence so thick she could hear the clock on the wall quietly ticking away. She stared absently, straightening the thin paper that covered the examining table. They'd expect her to be in a paper gown, no doubt, and she hated that. Hated it with a passion. But it would be worth it to see him again.

Her heart jumped when the door opened. The nurse, a brisk 40-something with bottle-blonde hair advised her that the doctor would be in "shortly." She nodded politely, a tight smile on her face, and waited until the nurse left to exhale. She wondered why she hadn't been instructed to change into her paper gown

When the door opened, she wasn't ready. He moved quickly into the room, knocking and the entering so briskly it would have annoyed her from anyone else. But then he was there, filling the room, the same blue eyes and the crinkles around his mouth, like he was always ready with a smile. A smile that hadn't reached his eyes in years, she knew.

She aimed to change that. Seeing him put a soft glow on her face and it lit her coffee brown eyes. Today was the day. He just didn't know it yet.

"So this is a surprise," he began, glancing at the chart he held. "I didn't expect to see you at my practice. What happened to Dr. Stephens?"

She looked at him, head on, for once in her life not hiding. "Stephens is...just not the right doctor for my...problem." Her nerves were making her pulse jump.

He smiled, a little crookedly, and folded his arms, his left hand still holding the clipboard. "Is this about your recovery?"

"No, no, I'm recovering. It's been eight months. I think I'm past any crisis points now." She glossed over the first few months after the accident. About how she knew he'd visited her time and again when she was unconscious. How she knew now that their years of friendship meant something more to both of them.

She took a deep breath. Here goes. "How are things with Beth?"

He set the clipboard down. "Beth...yeah that's a hard one. She's moved back in." He paused, looking embarrassed. "The kids took the separation pretty hard."

Her heart sank. But she said, "You don't have to explain."

"Yeah, it's just, I know it looks bad. After finding out about her and Mark..."

"No," she said quietly, "you're doing what you think is best for your kids. It's not my place to judge."

"Right." He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes.

So. That was it then. She should really go.

But when she saw the shadows on his face after all this time, she couldn't. She sat on the edge of the table, on the edge of decision. She thought about how she felt. She looked at the tension in his face and knew the answer. After a deep, steadying breath, she looked up at him, willing him to understand.

"I want you."

"What?"

"I came here because I want you." The words rushed out and then she clamped her lips shut. There, she said it. It lacked subtlety, but she'd finally said it.

He ran his hand through his thick dark hair. "I'd be happy to help you, Jen, you know that." She'd said it, but he didn't understand. "But don't you think it'd be a little awkward for me to examine you?"

She blushed. "Yes, I think it would be very awkward."

A long uncomfortable pause stretched between them. They both moved to speak at the same time. "No, you go first," he said.

She took a deep breath, and then laid her hand on his arm, just one tentative touch that sent spirals of shock through her, and warmth to her belly and her face. Did he feel it too? Her blush deepened further.

"The party. Remember?" She inhaled deeply, trying to calm her nerves, and caught the subtle scent of his aftershave.

He paled but didn't step back. "Yes."

They'd never spoken of it. Both tipsy and a New Year's kiss that turned into something more than friendly. It'd been five months after the accident. Five months and he hadn't done or said anything to follow up. Five months until she realized she didn't have to wait for him.

She ran her hand along his forearm, slowly, until she was tracing the outline of his hand, feeling the warmth of his thumb and fingers. She was trembling, she realized. He must know it, too.

She could stop here, just go back. He would never bring it up again, she knew, and it was a bitter thought. But then she thought of the new job waiting for her in a different city, she thought of this last chance, their last chance, and she couldn't let it go.

"I said I wanted you." She stopped there for a moment, heart pounding, hand holding onto his. "I didn't mean in a professional way. I want to be with you. Just once."

He dropped her hand.

Was it her imagination or had he sucked in his breath as he stepped away? She looked down at the tile floor, unable to meet his gaze to see the rejection written on his expression. A curtain of hair swept along her cheek, hiding her face from him. She was surprised to find her throat tight.

She waited for the brush of air across her body that would happen when he walked out of the room, but it didn't come.

She couldn't see him step closer, didn't see the ragged desire on his face. But when he laid his hand on her thigh the heat seared as if she was naked. Held his hand there a moment, and then she looked up at him. She was cocooned in his warmth and scent. He watched her expression with a dark intensity that made her heart jump.

"Jen." Her name was harsh on his lips, his fingers digging into the thin fabric of her skirt when he said it. She whimpered, and then his lips were on hers, warm and searching. She uncrossed her legs so she could wrap them around him, her skirt hiked up, his right hand still on her thigh while his left caressed her face. She pressed against him, breasts against his chest. His body was hot, hard against her and his kiss was rough, lacking all the tenderness of what they had shared last New Year. His stubble scraped at her skin and his lips were demanding.

His fingertips were on her bare flesh, teasing the lace of her garter. She moaned at the liquid heat that spread through her. She was ready for him right now. She pressed into the kiss, moved her hips against his hand, against him, against the hard length of his erection.

He moved from caressing her face to sliding his fingers through her thick hair, pulling her toward him so hard it almost hurt.

She broke the kiss, panting, and drew back as his other hand found the edge of her panties and teased the hem, sliding underneath the silky fabric. He looked at her heavy lidded with desire, mouth open, and she arched her back and lifted her hips so he could push against her wet folds.

A moan tore through her. His hand was on her breasts, and her nipples stood out hard against her thin shirt. He popped one breast out of the delicate bra that held it, and lowered his mouth to her nipple.

He was stroking her clit now, his tongue flicking against her nipple, suckling, licking, lavishing each breast with attention in turn. A wave of heat built from his pulsing fingers, cresting higher and higher, every muscle clenched for one sweet long moment until her orgasm throbbed through her. Her muscles pulsed against his hand, through her whole body. She pressed her face into his chest, moaning and trembling.

For a moment she was a rag doll, limp against his chest, distantly aware of his ragged breathing. Then he moved his hands to her hips and drew her close. A slow sexy smile stretched across her face and she pressed her hands against his chest. She skimmed her fingers down along his stomach, feeling him tense.

She pushed his white coat off his shoulders, tugged at the buttons of his shirt, stopping to kiss and nibble at each section of skin as it was revealed, until she pulled the shirt open and pushed it, too, down his shoulders. He moaned.

He stood before her, bare-chested and beautiful and hard. She traced one hard little nipple with her warm wet tongue, and he groaned into her hair. She nipped at one dusky nub, feeling shivers of delight race across him. When she dipped one finger inside his waistband and drew it across his stomach, he put one hand on hers to stop her.

She looked him straight in the eye and grinned while she undid his belt. She lowered her face to his belly and breathed on his skin, hot and warm, without actually letting her lips touch him.

She placed his hands on her breasts and he cupped each one, rubbing his thumbs across her nipples. Then he bent and kissed along her neck. She undid her bra let each breast slip out into his warm waiting palm. She pulled out of her shirt and pressed against him while she undid his pants. He didn't try to stop her this time.

She eased off the exam table and stepped around him, forcing him to let go of her for a moment. He turned to face her, a question in his eyes that she didn't answer right away. Instead she slipped his pants down over his hips, guided his erection out of its confines. It was rock hard and soft velvet all at the same time. It made her thighs tremble to hold it.

"Take your clothes off." Her voice was husky with desire, with teasing. He obeyed. In a moment he stood before her gloriously naked. She pushed him until he was sitting on the exam table his erection pressed against her

"Now it's my turn."

She pushed him back even further. She brought her naked breasts to his cock, watching his mouth fall open, aware of how hard he was breathing, how hard his cock was. The way he watched her tits against his hard flesh made her ache.

Still watching his face, she pulled back, bringing her head level with his cock, letting her hot breath tease. He watched as she brought her lips so close that when she wet her lips her tongue dragged along the tip of him. She watched him close his eyes in pleasure, and when he opened them again she licked his cock.

When she took the tip in her mouth he gasped, then moaned aloud. She wondered for a brief moment if they would be found out.

When he threaded his hands through her hair and pulled her head toward him so hard it hurt, it only intensified her pleasure. She brought a hand to cup his balls, stroking and teasing, while her other hand pulled him closer. He pushed her face down against his cock so hard she nearly choked.

She pulled back and climbed on the table to straddle him. Her garters and stockings slid against his naked flesh, silk on silk. She lowered herself over him, moving so the tip of his cock would slide between her folds. She held him there for a long moment, both of them panting, his hands on her hips urging her down, but she resisted, holding her thighs taut, her body above him.

She lowered herself so that he was almost inside her, frantic now, hands pushing down, hips thrusting up, but she kept herself almost out of reach for a little longer, teasing with a gentle in-and-out that just covered the top of his cock.

Without warning she slammed into him, taking all of him, her back arched to his moan of pleasure.

His hands moved toward her clit, stroking, their breathing almost in unison, each thrust bringing a swell of pleasure. She felt an orgasm swell and rush over her until she was shaking, waves of pleasure pulsing along her body as he spilled into her.

She left him then, went to go put her clothes back on, but he pulled her back.

He leaned close, smelling of sex. His cheek caressed hers, the motion achingly tender, though his stubble scraped her skin and made it tingle. They held each other for a long moment, his fingers tracing her naked arms and back while she just held on, fighting against the emotions roiling inside her.

His voice was raw and husky. "How long have you been in love with me?"

Her heart jumped into her throat. She dropped her gaze. Too late to deny it. Heat flooded her cheeks as she fought against the truth, against everything she wanted to say.

The words came out in a broken tremble, so low she didn't know if he'd hear. "I've always loved you."

His hands stilled on her naked back, and then he did what she had always dreamed. He brought her close, buried his face in her neck, breathed in her scent, and held on to her in that one moment like she was the only one in the world who mattered, who ever had mattered or ever would.

He spoke first, "I wish we had done this a long time ago."

She nodded. "Me too." The wish hung between them for a long moment.

Then she smiled a little crookedly and told him the truth, "I'm leaving tomorrow."

His swift intake of breath registered shock. He said nothing for a long while, though his arms tightened around her. Finally he spoke. "Do you ever think that we made a mistake?"

She looked at him, thinking about all the years they had known each other. Thinking about when he fell in love with his wife, about the beautiful children he'd made.

No, what they had made was today -- a perfect moment, a fantasy that wouldn't hold up to daylight. She had come today to say goodbye to that fantasy. She pushed a tendril of his hair back, and smiled. "No, I don't think we did."

He held her for a long time after that.

When they were both ready to say goodbye, she kissed him one last time, long and slow, and when he smiled at her, the warmth reached his eyes. The tension seemed gone from him now, his lithe body at peace.

As she straightened her clothes to leave, she knew he watched each movement, though he said nothing until she put her hand on the door.

"Wait."

Her heart thudded.

"You didn't tell me where you were leaving to."

She smiled. Love was like that, she realized: It made you stronger for having had it. And in that moment a weight fell off her shoulders. "That's right," she said after a pause, "I didn't."

She closed the door softly behind her. The nurse's station was empty, the hallway bare.

All that was left was to square her shoulders, head high, and head toward the start of her new life. And she did it with a light step.

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