Page 6 of Doctor Daddy Dilemma

“Uh, that’s furthest, not farthest. And I have to start somewhere.” She peeled her gaze off my chest and met my eyes again. “I just need to get my name out there. When I have the influence, I plan to use it to speak for those who need a voice in the media.” The way her chin jutted out defiantly in such a proud way made me believe she would absolutely do that someday. She was one of those people who don’t stop until they have what they want. I was too.

And the insult of being used to further her career didn’t even faze me, though I noticed she seemed to cringe as she said it. I didn’t mind if folks rode my tailwind. I wasn’t too arrogant to kick them off. At one point I had lived for this attention, the crowd following me. I knew it was because I had “mommy issues,” as some women liked to point out. I never got the attention from my parents that I needed so I soaked up the popularity in the media. Recently, however, the negative press had made me realize I’d been living and dying off the attention. I had to change that.

“Well, I’m honored you think I can give you that voice.” I raised my eyebrows and pointed to my most spectacular achievement framed on the wall—a newspaper clipping. “I save lives, you know. I suppose if that’s not worth talking about, what is?”

I expected to get a rise out of her, a nasty comment about boob jobs or tummy tucks not saving lives, but she was the picture of serenity. As if the flustered wanton minx who couldn’t take her eyes off me was gone, replaced with a hyper-professional fem-dom who had one thing in mind—getting the story. The shift in her demeanor also impressed me.

“Can you explain how plastic surgery saves lives?” Her pen was at the ready, millimeters away from the yellow note pad which was eager to receive my answer. I’d practiced this one a million times, but somehow it felt hollow this time, like she deserved better from me. And yet, it marched off my tongue like the good soldier it was, to do battle on my behalf. I had to get ahold of these defense mechanisms or I’d never gain anyone’s true attention.

“Well, I don’t just do boob jobs. Reconstructive surgery for post-cancer patients, like breast-cancer survivors, gives them their life back. And the face transplant I?—”

“But don’t you mostly do facelifts on aging celebrities?” She interrupted me.

I was taken aback by that, annoyed and frustrated. My pre-practiced speech always got the media what they wanted, and I never had to say much more than that. I found myself floundering and sputtering for words.

“Well yes, but I?—”

“And how does changing someone’s appearance save their life?” This time she wasn’t even looking at me. She was scribbling on her pad some illegible chicken scratches that annoyed me.

“I think you have me all?—”

“Dr. Hartman, I want to paint a different picture, so to do that you have to give me better answers.” Her eyes met mine and I almost snapped and bit her head off. “The people want to know the man behind the mask, not the celebrity doctor that touched Lina Joel’s boobs.”

I bolted to my feet with a scowl on my face and blurted out: “Sometimes being a doctor isn’t about what you do, it’s also about what you don’t do. Like not chopping off the perfectly gorgeous tits of a twenty-something who doesn’t like how big they are.”

Charlotte blanched and stared up at me, swallowing hard. Now I’d made her speechless, but in order to do that I had to come across as the monster the media had made me out to be years ago.

I sighed and walked to the window then turned and looked back at her. She held her empty cup in hand, sipping nothing from it. I should have offered her another drink and now I felt bad, but she pushed me to this.

Her hand seemed to start working again, jotting down more notes on her pad, and then she stood and shoved the notepad back into her purse. “If you’ll excuse me, I think I have enough for this first piece… I’d like to come back if I may, at another time. My boss wants me to do a four-part series.” As she spoke she walked past the couches toward the front door, and I rounded the perimeter of the room to meet her before she got to the entryway.

“Please, stop. I apologize. I shouldn’t have snapped at you.” I tried to reach for her hand, but it was an amateur move. I had just offended her deeply. Other than subject and reporter, we had no relationship. Physical touch probably wasn’t warranted, which was evidenced by her backing away and staring at my hand. “Honestly, what I do is really complex and there’s a lot to it. I’d be happy to explain, if you’ll stay.”

I didn’t want her to leave. I actually enjoyed the back-and-forth. No woman had ever been able to match me toe to toe, or best me for that matter. This woman ticked more than my boxes. She seemed like a red thread of destiny tied to my pinky, like the fates ordained our meeting. I liked her spunk, and I’d given her a bit too much of my darkness.

“I think that’s enough for tonight, thank you. Dr. Hartman.” She continued on toward the door and I followed, anxious to see if she might come back another time.

“Charlotte, please…”

She turned around with her hand on the doorknob and smiled politely. This ever-positive, ever-happy woman was unfazed by my rude behavior? But how?

“That’s Charlie, thank you.”

“We can do this again, Charlie. But I’d like to do it at my house. I don’t have time at the office, and I’d hate for the paparazzi to chase you around in public.” I held my breath, hoping she’d agree to the invitation. Yes, it was for the story, and maybe she saw right through it to my ulterior motive of just seeing her again, but I didn’t care. I waited like a high schooler with a crush, hanging on to the thread of hope she’d agree to it.

“Do you want to see me for the story? Or for my ‘gorgeous tits’?” Her sardonic question left me reeling and my dick swelling. Snarky and feisty—what a little vixen, even with that tepid smirk.

“Why not both?” I asked, letting a smirk of my own cross my features.

“Goodnight, Dr. Hartman,” she said, opening the door and walking out. I didn’t stop her this time, but I did stand in the open doorway and watch that tight butt of hers sway with each step as she walked toward her rental car and climbed in.

I swore she looked back at me as she drove away, and it only made my dick swell more. So maybe I hadn’t gone too far. Maybe this was just the beginning of something deeper.

After all, she was going to come back…

5

CHARLIE

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