Page 71 of Naughty Nelle

CHAPTER 13

Blake

It would figure that Bradley’s office was in the fucking Valley. Burbank, no less. With the traffic and construction on Laurel Canyon, it took me almost an hour to get over the hill and then across the 101 to the Barham exit. It was hotter than balls outside so I had to drive with the air conditioning on and the top up; my Satellite radio didn’t make the journey any better. I fucking hated going to The Valley. But I was going to make this trip worth it.

Seething, I pulled into the driveway of a white colonial-like building complete with Tara-like columns located off Pass Avenue. While located close to the media district, there was nothing chic about the building or the address. I whipped my Porsche into the first available spot in the small parking lot—right next to the spot reserved for Dr. Bradley Wick, DDS. Wouldn’t you know it—he drove a Prius. A white as bleached teeth 2012 model. I hated guys who drove Priuses. Have you ever noticed they’re a breed? All self-righteous, environmentally conscious, and fucking anal. Do-gooders who never broke a rule. The type who was always the teacher’s pet or the perfect Boy Scout. I already had a handle on Dickwick.

The waiting area of his office was for sure a reflection of his penis—I mean, Prius. Small, compact, and energy efficient since it seemed to have the barest amount of air conditioning allowed by human labor laws. An oppressive cheapskate. Except for an unattractive matronly woman on her way out, I was the only patient. No wonder he could fit me in so easily. Business was not as good as Jen made it out to be. I signed in with the buxom redheaded receptionist, who made goo-goo eyes at me, and then took a seat in one of the burnt-orange tweed armchairs that looked straight out of an Office Depot fire sale. Cupping one hand on my stubbled jaw to feign pain, I randomly picked up one of the anally arranged magazines on the coffee table. Dental Life Today. Man, he was a dweeb.

I tossed the magazine back onto the table (deliberately making a small mess) and pulled out my iPhone from my shorts pocket to check my messages and texts. Only one warranted my attention. The one from Jennifer.

Blake~I hope your toothache feels better. Bradley is an amazing dentist~Jen.

I shot her back a smiley face emoticon. Dr. Wick was about to find out that I was an amazing patient. When the receptionist called out my name, my secret evil plan sprung into action. Phase One of Operation Dickwick was about to begin.

“Mr. Burns, Dr. Wick can see you now. Just go through the door and head down the hallway to Room 3.”

“Thank you,” I moaned with faux-pain. I felt her lustful eyes on me as I headed through the door. Don’t hate me. I couldn’t help that I had that effect on every woman.

The examination room was nothing to write home about. I anchored my body into the leatherette examination chair, stretching my longs legs out in front of me. I had to admit it was quite comfy, and took in my surroundings. A sink, x-ray machine, and the usual array of scary looking dental instruments on a cart next to me. Littering—I mean lining—the walls were numerous awards and diplomas he’d earned throughout his wretched life—from being named “Little Mr. Good Behavior” at nursery school to his honorary degree from USC’s prestigious dental school. Jesus fucking Christ. There was an even a Boy Scout award along with a photo of him wearing all his badges.

Another photo grabbed my attention. It was a recent one of him at some dental convention, posing with an ugly plaque. Los Angeles’s Most Promising Young Dentist 2013. He looked even dweebier than I’d imagined. And what was with that fucking smile? Was Dickwick some kind of walking advertisement for his practice? I’d never seen such monstrous teeth on a human being. Well, maybe a horse.

My eyes shifted to another photo taken at the same event. My skin bristled and my toes curled. Standing next to Dickwick was a beautiful young woman. Jennifer McCoy. About the same height as Bradley in her modest heels, she was wearing a simple ivory sheath and a smile. A small smile but nonetheless a smile.

I wanted to rip the photo off the wall with my teeth. Maybe I could dump it in his toxic wastebasket. There was time. He still wasn’t here. Just as I was about to slide off the dental chair, I heard footsteps at the door. In walked 36-24-36 in a mini-skirted white uniform and shiny white platforms. This must be Bradley’s nurse or dental hygienist, I thought as she bounced my way. And I’m not talking about her gait.

“Hi, I’m Candace, Dr. Wick’s hygienist,” she cooed. Her cartoony voice went with her name—saccharine and seductive. She had all the makings of a porn star. Blond, buxom, beautiful. She clipped one of those blue paper bibs onto the neckline of my tee. Her tits were so big they grazed my chest.

“Dr. Wick will be here shortly,” she breathed against my neck. Her overpowering sugary scent was nauseating.

“Well, hello, hello, hello.” A chirpy, nasal voice sounded on cue.

He was in my face before my head could swivel around. Dr. Bradley Wick, DDS . . . a twenty-six-year-old replica of his former Boy Scout self. But instead of a blue shorts uniform with all his do-gooder badges, he was now wearing a white, monogrammed lab coat over a cheap-looking gray suit and tie—the kind they advertise at the Men’s Wearhouse for ninety-nine dollars—and his hairline was receding. I eyed him up and down. He couldn’t be more than five foot nine. For sure, Jen couldn’t wear stilettos with him without towering over him. His small hands and feet told me something else was small too. My poor Jen! My elimination mission had, in an instant, become a rescue mission.

He glanced down at the clipboard anchored in his hands. There was a piece of paper with scribbled notes attached to it. “Hmm . . . so, I understand you have a sudden toothache.”

I did the moaning, hand-to-cheek thing again and nodded. God, I was good. My modeling/acting days had really paid off.

“Call me if you need me, Doctor,” Candace said breathily before sashaying to the door. She sure knew how to move that piece of ass.

Dickwick’s eyes fixed on it. Despite being engaged to Jennifer, he looked like he wanted to take a bite. I suppose most men would. Oddly, even though my type, she rang no bells for me. Not even a tiny testicular tingle.

“Thank you, Candace.” That big horsy smile spread across Dickwick’s face. A shudder ran through me. Shit. Did he use those teeth on Jennifer? I had the sudden urge to knock them out.

His grating voice hurled me out of my mental—or should I say dental?—ramblings. “Refresh my memory . . . how did you find me?”

“A referral.” I groaned out the words.

“From whom? I’d like to reward whoever it is with a free oral exam.”

The words “oral exam” made me cringe. Is that what he did with Jennifer’s pussy?

I breathed out her name. “Jennifer McCoy.”

His eyes widened. “Really? How do you know her?”

I knitted my brows. That was interesting. He had no clue who I was. Jennifer had obviously never mentioned my name to him. Cautiously I said, “We work together.” And soon, Dickwick, we’re going to fuck together.

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