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  BAD DOCTOR

  A Degree Above Damaged

  An Erotic Story

  by

  Charlize Bennett

  OTHER BOOKS BY CHARLIZE BENNETT

  SAVOR’S PLEASURES

  Sexual Peek

  Seduce and Sell

  Falling Hearts

  Coming soon; A Woman’s Prerogative

  Let Her Ride!

  An Erotic Story

  SCREENPLAYS

  False Dichotomy

  SETTING THE STAGE

  Published by Charlize Bennett

  Copyright © 2012 by Charlize Bennett

  All rights reserved.

  Ebook Edition, License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to your favorite ebookstore and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Dedication

  To those who know what it’s like to fall in love with your doctor...

  He saved more than her life...he saved her future.

  BAD DOCTOR

  A Degree Above Damaged.

  He planted his lips where her necklace closed. Slightly to the left, he noticed a dainty star-shaped tattoo.

  “You’re beautiful,” He whispered, as he examined a lock of her hair, tucking it behind her ear. His warm, delicious breath enveloped her, causing tingles to race down her spine.

  “Oh stop,” she beckoned with a smile, waving him away. “You’re such a sweet man.”

  “No, it’s true. You take my breath away.”

  “Hum,” she murmured, “I’m just glad things went so well today.” Affection flooded her eyes. She placed the palm of her hand flat out against his chest. “Are you going to be okay?” She asked sincerely.

  “Yes, of course. I believe you have changed my life.” His full mouth straightened into a tight line. “I don’t know how to thank you.”

  She bit her bottom lip, pulling them together to form a perfect circle and winked at him.

  “Damn, as unprofessional as this may sound, I need a strong drink. Do you mind?” She asked. Her breath was listless as she unlocked two cabinet doors that were located beneath the crowded bookcase.

  “Help yourself but don’t forget about me,” he said, suggestively. His eyes darted to the stash of liquor.

  Her thick mane swung across her shoulders as she flipped her head back toward him, smiling broadly.

  “Never,” she replied with a hint of a promise in her tone, as she bent over seductively at the waist with her derriere high into the air. She shuffled through the glass bottles. Her movements were concise as if she was looking for something very special.

  “Wow,” he murmured. “It has been a while since I have seen such a sight.” A tone of nervousness lingered in his voice. “I mean...you know?”

  “I know what you meant,” she replied and her voice trailed, pausing for the space of a heartbeat. “Hope you like what you saw,” she gushed confidently and poured the caramel colored liquid into two crystal snifters.

  The room was relatively quiet. The sound of soft music mixed with the alcohol trickling into the glasses.

  “Oh, I did,” he said in a deep baritone voice.

  “And, so did I,” she responded. Her eyes slowly closed for a fraction of a second and then opened, alluringly.

  The light in the room captured the yellow flecks in her green eyes. A sexy grin splayed on her face and her narrow hips swayed from side to side as she padded across the floor. His eyes gauged her up and down as she moved toward him.

  “Remember, there’s more where this came from, just say the word,” she purred and handed him a glass. Their eyes locked. “A lot more,” she confirmed suggestively. Then, she raised her glass to the center of her breasts. “I think we have a good reason to celebrate.”

  “I agree.” He affirmed, tilting his glass toward her and then downed the entire shot of Grand Marnier.

  “You sure are thirsty, aren’t you?”

  “Drained to say the least.” He admitted as he licked his lower lip. She quickly retrieved her favorite liqueur and poured him another shot, then placed the bottle down on the dry bar nearby.

  “Yes, I can understand that. I have to admit today was the most intensive session I have ever performed. You did great. Hope I helped you, too,” she giggled, winking provocatively. Her eyes flashed at his drink. “Bottoms-up.”

  He quickly inhaled the entire contents. “If you don’t mind,” he said, grinning devilishly. He held his glass up toward her and allowed his other hand to snaked up behind her, grasping her round ass.

  She placed her free hand over his, “Easy, Tiger,” she purred.

  “I’m sorry; I shouldn’t have.” A wryly look rose to his face.

  “No, it’s okay. I should have given you some of my best an hour ago,” she said half-heartily, tittering with a hint of sarcasm. Then, she reared out of his grip. His arm fell limp at his side when she pulled away.

  “I thought you did,” he said emphatically.

  “Oh, I guess I did.” She concurred, biting her lower lip like a little girl would. Her eyes flashed on his empty glass. “If I didn’t know any better, I might be worried that you are trying to drown yourself in my expensive booze.” Her lips tightened to a full-on smirk. “You should take it easy.”

  “Yes, you are right.” He sang the chorus from the song Take It Easy by the Eagles. “Take it easy...take it easy…don’t let the sound of your own wheels drive you crazy. You may lose and you may win, but you may never be here again…” His words trailed into a chuckle. Clearly he felt embarrassed.

  “Wow, I didn’t know you could sing,” she said, thoroughly amused. “Don’t stop you have a great voice.”

  “Thanks,” he replied. “The song sure fits the occasion.”

  “I suppose it does,” she said. “I always liked that song.” A short beat passed. “Don’t let the sound of your own wheels make you crazy. Words to live by.”

  “Definitely...you know, there are many things you don’t know about me,” he said with a challenging tone.

  “Oh really? I think I know quite a bit about you and then some.” She stared hard-pressed into her empty glass and then stretched over the arm of the sofa, reaching toward the dry bar.

  He gauged her every move. There was a gracefulness she radiated, slinking effortlessly to grasp her goal. Her thin fingers coiled around the neck of the liquor bottle. She poured him a healthy third shot and a second dose for herself.

  “I was wondering, if you like the necklace I gave you? You never mentioned it.” He inquisitively asked as he took a sip of the liquid courage.

  She was slow to answer and he noticed. He watched her eyes as she turned slowly, straying to the corners of her eyes to see the time on the clock, hanging over the sofa.

  “This is good stuff.” He coughed slightly. His face reddened, most likely from the warming effects of the alcohol. “It’s okay, you don’t have to answer.”

  “Yes, I do. Thank you. However, you didn’t have to.” She winced, rubbing her fingers against the smooth silver pendant. “When I was eighteen, I saw the same necklace in a window on my way to Hollywood—Hum, I never quite made it out there,” she paused for a long moment, gazing blankly into space. She seemed lost in a thought.

  “Are you okay?” He inquired, nursing his drink. “I want you to know that I didn’t give it to you because of—I bought it for you a long time ago. Long before, well, today. I never expected—” His words were labored
as he held up the glass, gesturing that he was ready for another round.

  “Shhh, I think you have had enough,” she whispered, planting her finger against his full lips. Her brows furrowed together.

  His fingers grazed against the shiny pendant that was dangling from her neck. “Are you sure you like it?” He asked, exhaling. “I have seemed to upset you.”

  “No, I’m not upset at all. Of course, I adore the necklace.” She answered, moving from his reach and she crawled into the corner of the sofa. “It’s just getting late. I have a few patients on my mind and a busy day planned for tomorrow.” She whined, almost apologizing for drifting away, and then she downed her drink to its last drop, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

  “May I ask what happened out in Hollywood?” His tone was curious.

  “Nothing. I turned around and went to college. Here I am ten years later,” she said, rubbing the necklace as if she was making a wish on a magic bottle. Her eyes grew distant, perhaps reminiscing on a memory.

  “Hum...sorry things didn’t work out.” His eyes darted to the framed photo of a very good-looking older man hanging on the wall. Should I, he thought. Then asked, “Is that your father?”

  She glanced upward at the photo and her brows dipped. “Yep, good old Dad.” She confirmed and then turned to him. ”Wait, you know that’s my father. Why would you ask me that?”

  “I don’t know. He just looks different there,” he murmured and his tone sounded nervous. He quickly changed the subject. “So, are you dating anyone?”

  “Once in a while I see a man named Dick. It’s nothing serious.” She grabbed a pen and note pad from the side table and doodled as they continued to exchange banter.

  “Do you like him?” He asked inquisitively.

  “Who, Dick? He’s okay. Dick is dick, right?” She said nonchalantly, twisting and sucking on the end of the pen.

  He laughed, asking, “Is it?” A coy smirk spread across his face.

  She looked up at him, rapidly tapping the pen between the space of her top and bottom teeth, contemplating her answer. Her eyes narrowed onto his gaze. “I suppose not always,” she giggled.

  He asked, teasingly, “So, does that pen taste good?”

  “Stop,” she tittered. “You know I have an oral fetish that I can’t satisfy.”

  “How can we cure this problem?” He asked in a very professional tone, unflinchingly.

  Her smile disappeared. Their playful mood declined.

  Her voice turned somber. “I don’t see it as a problem.” She stood up and threw the pen at him. “Why are you asking me so many questions?” She paused. “I am the one who’s supposed to ask—questions—the questions,” she stuttered. “There are some things that you’re not privy to.” She shook her head, clearly annoyed.

  She was right, he thought. Was her private life really any of his business? Nonetheless, he wanted to understand her, to know why she had to fight all the time to have the upper hand? Who hurt this woman? Why was he so drawn to her? If, he were being honest with himself, he would admit that most of the time she wasn’t even likeable. Yet, he felt so connected to her and their connection-defied logic. However, the real problem existed still, and he knew that he could not leave without telling her the truth—although, if he did she might think that he was crazy. Hell, half the time he thought he was.

  “Sorry. I’ll try not to pry,” he said. His eyes dropped from her face to her neck. “Well, I am glad you liked the necklace,” he sighed, twisting his gold wedding band up and down on his finger.

  “Yes, I love it,” she gushed. Then she seductively slid into his lap and planted a kiss on his unshaven cheek. “I love everything that you gave me today.”

  Locking her eyes with his gaze, he leaned into her and pressed his forehead against hers. They were quiet for a moment.

  “I wish I could stay like this with you forever,” he whispered so quietly that his words were barely audible.

  It was at that moment that he knew exactly what he should have done, but he didn’t. It suddenly occurred to him just how cowardly it would be when it came to saving someone worse off than himself. When the time to act passes you by, it is gone forever. However, his words rendered her speechless.

  Reaching up, she placed her palms on both sides of his face. She leaned back to observe him. He closed his eyes and she proceeded to kiss each one of his brows. He was as handsome as ever. Something was nettling her though.

  A smile rose to her face and then quickly broke. Clearly, she felt uncomfortable, so close and intimate. In a flash, she promptly scooted off his lap. Her eyes shifted to and fro as she skirted across the wooden floor. Suddenly, she stopped in her tracks and turned toward him. A serious expression formed on her face.

  “Damn, for someone so well-endowed—I am not sure why you walk around feeling so insecure all the time? I mean, God blessed you for all the good of women with that incredible instrument,” she exclaimed, her pitch rose and fell breathlessly. “But, as they say, all good things must come to an end. It’s time for you to go.” She tossed his shirt onto his lap.

  “No, it’s early. I want to stay a while longer,” he firmly said in a tone that was unlike him.

  She charged, raising her hands to her hips and glared at him. “Did you just say no to me?”

  “Yes, I did,” he retorted. “I’m staying.”

  “Well, suit yourself. You will have to sit here all by yourself because I have to meet my father tonight.” Her tone turned testy and she turned her back on him.

  “Can I come along with you?” He asked.

  “What?” She stammered, pivoting on her heels. “No. Are you kidding me? That would be disastrous after what happened,”—she shook her head no and batted her lashes, waving one hand between them. “Forget about it. You are not welcome.”

  “I am just teasing you,” he half-heartily yelped. “Calm down.”

  “You are not funny. It’s time for you to go now.” She ordered, slipping her arm under his and trying to lift him from the chair. He was dead weight. “C’mon!” Her cheeks filled with air, turning crimson.

  “I am not leaving until I am ready and, I am not ready. Let’s have another drink.” He stood up, slapping his palms together and made his way to the half empty bottle of liquor. Was this a diversion? Perhaps.

  He could not leave. He had too much to tell her and his life depended on it—he didn’t really understand himself why he had to rattle her world with his story, but instinctually he knew there was unfinished business between them.

  A plan was in order. He could not just blurt out the nightmare that he had been living. Although, some men may find his curse a blessing. What would she think? Hell, she would have him locked up. That would screw things up big time. He had to come up with a good excuse to buy more time with her and it had to be a convincing one—even if that involved a little manipulation. Somehow, he had to make her think it was her idea...

  “No. I told you I have a big day tomorrow…and your time is up. I did my job!” Allison unleashed her irritation. “And, I believe you’re cured, so leave now damn it!” She cursed.

  She kicked his jeans across the floor and they collided at his feet. He swiftly punted them back to her, laughing.

  “Wesley, this is bullshit. Get dressed,” she ordered, snatching up the jeans from the floor and tossed them into his face.

  Allison Holmes, an established sex therapist with a degree in psychiatry, feared that she had crossed the line of no return with her most devoted yet fragile patients. It was a risqué intervention and one that she may live to regret.

  ***

  Allison had always set high goals for herself. “They can never be too high,” is what her father drilled into her head.

  Unfortunately, her father’s harsh reproach hit her hard. He expected the impossible out of Allison. Nonetheless, she struggled to gain her father’s approval, at all cost.

  Her career choice to become a doctor began as an uphill battle. Coerc
ed—no, more like blackmailed into this field by her overbearing father. After failure to launch her childhood dream that the world would know her name, she conceded to follow in his footsteps and those of her grandfather and his father before him and so on.

  Soon, helping others became her second passion. It gave her a reason to wake up early every morning, take a jog then head off to her office where she was wanted or, in the least, needed. This gave her inner peace and a purpose to breathe. She was indispensable, in the least, to several handfuls of different people in the world.

  She wanted to enlighten skeptics and those who suffered alone, burdened by the fear of being ridiculed for seeking out psychological counseling. Seeing a therapist should be a trendy solution in retrospect to being normal. After all, this is the twenty first century; we are all mutants to some degree. Who’s normal anyway? Everyone has something abnormal they are hiding. There would be no dry spells or a shortage of clients in the field of her choice. Ultimately, plenty of people needed what she had to offer. Didn’t they? These were Allison’s thoughts anyway.