The Doctor- part one

It was the summer of 2005. He looked like trouble but I wanted to meet him anyway. I wanted to seduce the seducer. I wanted to teach him a lesson maybe. He thought he was hot shit, that he could have any woman. I wanted to show him that he couldn’t have me. But first I had to make him want me. Not all that hard to do. He was receptive to women who were attractive and gave him attention. I fell for it a little, for his charm.

He said he wanted to know me, to be closer to me. One night I invited him over. It was late and I was lustful. He came hastily. He pulled up in a red sports car wearing jeans and flip-flops. It was a warm July night. He remembers the bike perched in the hallway of my tiny apartment I shared with a crazy Russian entrepreneur. He came over. We didn’t say much. He grabbed me and kissed me rolling onto the bed, tumbling over each other locked in a passionate embrace. Damn he was a good kisser and he tasted sweet. His body was lithely and brown and smooth. He must’ve taken his shirt off. I wondered aloud about the gold ring on a chain he wore eternally around his neck. It would take him five years to tell me that story.

His hands were everywhere and he grabbed for my wet pussy. I kept pulling his hands up, I knew I’d lose control if he started penetrating me. He pulled his cock out of his unbuttoned pants, he was on top of me, pushing up against me. I was hot and I wanted him but not like this. Not yet. I couldn’t give in so soon. He was overcome and would not be put off. I knew I had to make him cum, his desire to be inside me was relentless. To his surprise, I flipped him over tore off his pants and enthusiastically gave him one of the most satisfying blow-jobs he had ever had. I sucked him off completely and swallowed. He was exhausted and defeated. We lay in bed and he told me about sailing. He had lived in the Caribbean, he had sailed the open seas. It added to his mystique. He didn’t stay the night, I didn’t offer. I was interested in another guy, a sweet photographer who had unknowingly taken some shots of me at an Anti-War rally some months before. I asked my mother about these two potential suitors. She liked that the photographer. She thought the doctor looked arrogant. I knew he was.

I read a series of highly romantic messages posted to him online from an 18 year old girl in Santa Barbara. I knew he was going down there later that week. The messages they were exchanging weren’t just notes, they were lovers’ notes, it was obvious they were involved. Having recently been burned by a guy in a similar situation I wizened to the trap. I asked her about him and she claimed they were involved- shocked he might be dating someone else. He found out leaving me me a scathing message about not liking snoops and telling me goodbye. I thought I would never hear from him again. I was upset at having resorted to such juvenile means to find out the truth and being ridiculed for it even though he was the liar.
So, I began dating the photographer. The doctor contacted me eventually and we met up for coffee. I explained that I was already seeing someone, a nice guy who wanted a relationship. He said, “You’re a very smart girl.” If he was disappointed, he hid it well.

The months passed, the photographer and I moved in together. The doctor and I kept track of each other and every once in awhile he would send me a message asking if I still had a boyfriend. He was waiting. Boredom and sameness set in with my relationship and I began entertaining him with salty text messages.

Then I had the dream. It was so clear and definite. I dreampt about a little girl. She had beautiful bronzed skin like him. She loved the sun and the sea. I remember we were on a shining beach, we were a family and we were so happy. I had to see him after that dream. I came over and he was charming and attractive. He grabbed my hand and tried to pull me toward him but I denied him and laughed it off. As much as I liked him and still wanted him, I had to keep that promise to myself I wouldn’t cheat on a boyfriend again…