Yes, Doctor Read online

  Yes, Doctor

  By

  Darling Adams

  To Leigh Ann, my real life BFF of almost 20 years.

  Copyright © 2014 by Baronet Press. All rights reserved.

  This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is intended for adults only. Spanking and other sexual activities represented in this book are a work of fiction, intended for adults.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Clothing Privileges

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  Chloe ripped the paper covering off the exam table and threw it in the trash, pulling forward a fresh one. She picked up the patient folder from the slot in the door and brought it to reception to stand in the lobby door. “Janice Wilson?”

  A pregnant woman stood and ambled toward her.

  “Did you leave your urine sample yet?”

  The woman looked at her blankly.

  She stifled her sigh. It’s only the test I have you do every time you come in. “If you would please step into the restroom there, you’ll find cups on the counter, and the instructions for catching a clean urine stream are posted on the wall. Simply apply the label the receptionist gave you to the side and put it in the pass-through window for me to pick up.”

  “Oh,” Janice said, looking surprised, as if she hadn’t already done this at least eight times in the past six months. “Okay,” she said, taking the cup.

  Pregnancy sucks the brains right out of women. Either that, or Irontree OB/Gyn practice attracted the city’s most air-headed patients.

  “Chloe, someone just threw up in Exam Room 3,” Dr. Reinhart said. “Can you clean it up, sweetie?”

  She used to bristle at the endearment, which she found condescending, but Sandy Reinhart called everyone “sweetie,” including her ditzy patients, so Chloe had grown used to it. All doctors had a habit of holding themselves above the rest of the population, in her opinion, so it pretty much went with the territory.

  For someone who worked in the medical profession, she had a low opinion of the people who ran the show. Not that she didn’t think her bosses were completely capable and knowledgeable about their field. She just hated Western medicine—the way doctors made patients feel so powerless, becoming the only authority over their bodies. Like when women had Cesareans or inductions scheduled based on the doctor’s availability, rather than when the baby decided to be born. She was pretty sure she’d have a home birth when the time came. But, of course, that would require a relationship. Preferably with a man who wanted to raise a family with her. And she had was sorely lacking in that department.

  “I’m on it,” she told Dr. Reinhart.

  She steeled her stomach as she opened the door.

  A pale-faced woman sat on the exam table, holding a plastic tray for any additional vomit. “I’m really sorry,” Pukey McPreggers said, looking embarrassed.

  “Hey, don’t worry about it. I’ll have things cleaned up in a minute here.”

  Puke was an occupational hazard at Irontree—women with morning sickness often lost their breakfasts, lunches or dinners on the exam room floors.

  She mopped up the mess with paper towels, then sprayed the area down with disinfectant and wiped again in record time.

  “See? No big deal. Can I get you a cup of water or something?”

  “Yes, that would be great,” the woman said weakly.

  “Sometimes just keeping food in your stomach can help, even though that sounds counter-intuitive when you’re feeling queasy,” she offered, giving the advice she’d heard the nurses give one hundred times before.

  “I know, I totally should have eaten breakfast this morning, but everything just sounded gross to me,” the woman laughed weakly. “But I’ve learned my lesson.”

  “Do you want me to find you something to eat now? A granola bar?”

  “Um, sure, I’ll try that, thanks.”

  “Okay, be right back.” She zipped out, knowing Ditzy Prego and her urine cup would be waiting. She found Janice standing outside the bathroom, looking uncertain. “Sorry, I had to do a quick clean up. If you’ll just follow me, you’ll be in in this exam room on the right.” She ushered her in and took her blood pressure, jotting the results down on her chart, then excused herself, dashing back to find a granola bar and deliver it before putting on gloves to dip the test stick into Ditzy’s urine sample.

  She rushed back to her exam room, but Dr. Drake, the man she privately referred to as “Dr. Dreamy,” had already arrived and was looking for the patient file.

  “It’s right here,” she said breathlessly. “I got a little backed up with a clean up in Room 3.” She tried to ignore the piercing blue gaze with which the doctor fixed her. He had a way of looking at her that made her feel completely bared to him. As if he saw past all her cheerful, eager-to-please pretense and read her snarkiest thoughts. Anytime she inwardly rolled her eyes at patients or the doctors in his presence, she sensed his amusement. To top it off, he always seemed to guess where she was and what she was up to. Every time she tried to text friends on the job, he was the doctor who caught her.

  “Thank you, Chloe,” he said, stretching out his hand. Their gazes tangled when he took the file, locking a moment too long.

  She sucked in a breath before she tore them away, flustered. “You’re welcome,” she managed. As always, she turned a little stupid in his presence, his good looks and authoritative demeanor making her palms sweat. And he probably noticed that, too, since she was sure he saw through the rest.

  It was Friday, which meant the two nurses and three of the four doctors in the practice cut out by noon. As the only Certified Nurse Assistant, she didn’t get to flex her time, but she didn’t mind. She liked it when the clinic was quiet—it gave her more opportunities to do her own thing while the one remaining doctor was closed in with patients.

  She checked the board to see with whom she would be working that afternoon. Dr. Dreamy. A thrill of excitement zinged through her. Being alone in the clinic with him always made her knees go weak.

  The hours flew by while they were busy and by afternoon, she was ready for time to slow. “Well, it’s just you and me, kid,” Dr. Drake said when they passed in the hall.

  “Yep,” she chirped.

  Yep. Brilliant, Chloe. That was the best she could do? She wished she had the ability to pop out witty replies. Or somehow impress him with her amazing CNA skills, but the tasks in a gyno clinic didn’t really give her the opportunity. She had a friend who worked at the hospital as a nurse assistant and received free movie passes every time she saved a life. Now that would be exciting. Cleaning up puke, not so much.

  They continued through the afternoon and by four o’clock, she found a chance to slip out the back door. She had a pack of smokes she and her best friend Leigh Ann had bought to share at the bar that weekend. She didn’t consider herself an addict—more of a social smoker, particularly when she drank, but having them knocking around in her purse made the temptation too great. She should have given the rest of the pack to Leigh Ann.

  She pulled out a Natural American Spirit and lit it. Only organic tobacco when you’re trying to get lung cancer. Smoking made her think of Leigh Ann, so she dialed her number at work.

  “This is Leigh Ann,” she said in her very business-like tone. She worked as a graphic designer for an ad agency.

  “H
ey, girlfriend.”

  “Hey, what’s up?”

  “I’m just taking a quick smoke break at work.”

  “You better not let those doctors catch you smoking, they’d probably fire you on the spot.”

  She giggled. “I know. I’m so bad. And I’m working alone with Dr. Dreamy today.” Somehow the idea of being naughty while under his watch gave her more of a high than the nicotine.

  “Ooh, lucky you. What’s his scoop, anyway? Is he married?”

  “Divorced. I don’t know if he has a girlfriend, though. All I know is I’d get in the stirrups for him any day.”

  The sound of a deliberate throat clearing nearly made her throw the phone down with her cigarette as she sprang to her feet and whirled around.

  Dr. Drake stood with his arms folded across his chest and eyebrows raised but she thought she detected amusement flitter over his face.

  “I-I’m sorry,” she stammered. “Are you finished already?” She dropped her phone in her purse and pulled out a little bottle of rose water, spritzing herself to remove the smoke smell. As if it wasn’t already too late to hide the evidence. “That was the last patient, right?”

  “I don’t know,” he said. “Whose job is it to keep track?”

  “Um...mine?”

  “Yeah,” he said slowly, turning around. “That’s kinda what I was thinking.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said, trotting after him. “I was just taking a quick break.”

  He went into an examination room and she followed. “I didn’t know you smoked,” he said, sitting down on a stool and opening one of the drawers.

  “I-I don’t. I mean, I know you just caught me smoking a cigarette, but I’m not a smoker. That was totally a...one-off,” she said breathlessly.

  He turned and pinned her with a blue-eyed gaze. “I see.”

  She had the notion he was toying with her—playing stern just to watch her panic. Which was better than him being actually annoyed with her because then she would worry all weekend about her upcoming performance review and, hopefully, raise.

  He pointed at the sample birth control pills in the drawer he had opened. “These need to be re-stocked.”

  “Okay, I’ll get right on that,” she said, whipping around and practically running to the supply closet.

  #

  Darren had always found Chloe adorable. He loved how easy it was to reduce her to blushes and stammers, the way she scurried around to please him even though it seemed like everyone else got on her nerves.

  He stood up from the stool when she returned, standing back with crossed arms to watch her stack the sample pills in neat rows. “So,” he drawled. “Who’s Dr. Dreamy?”

  He shouldn’t go there, but he just couldn’t resist.

  She stilled, not turning around. When she began stacking again, her fingers fumbled, the boxes scattering across the drawer. She mumbled something.

  He put the buds of his stethoscope in his ears and held the chestpiece in front of her lips. “What was that?”

  She giggled and looked up at him with big brown eyes, her cheeks pink with color. Then she tossed her auburn hair back, putting a hand on her hip and pulling out the sass that he’d always sensed lay under her overly-friendly exterior. “You are. But you already knew that, didn’t you? Why do you ask, are you going to give me that pap smear?”

  He smothered a laugh, loving that she owned it and leaned even closer to her. “Are you asking for one now, Chloe?”

  He saw the flare of her pupils as she realized he might not be joking. He should never have suggested it, should never have even started this topic of conversation. He had definitely strayed into the arena of sexual harassment. If she acted at all uncomfortable, he would apologize profusely and tell her he was only kidding.

  But her lips parted, her little tongue darting out to moisten them and he could see her nipples protruded through the double layer of bra and scrubs. “Um...yeah,” she said hoarsely.

  His cock went rock hard. Oh God, was this really happening? He’d been propositioned by patients with doctor fantasies before and despite the temptation had never given in. But this time he was actually considering it. Chloe Jones had always tweaked him with her long thick auburn hair, sensual lips and perky tits. He guessed they shared a similar sense of humor and perspective on people from her subtle reactions or facial expressions. And the forbidden factor of molesting an employee made it all the hotter.

  Before his brain had arrived at a decision he found himself pushing her back toward the exam table. He picked her up by the waist and lifted her to sit on it.

  “I’m afraid we’re all out of dressing gowns, Miss Jones,” he murmured. “Our CNA was smoking out back when she should have been doing laundry.”

  She opened her mouth to protest, but snapped it shut again as he began to peel her top off.

  “I’ll make sure she’s punished,” he said, pulling both bra straps down so far the cups flipped over, revealing two perfect tits. He unsnapped her bra and tossed it onto the floor. Her breasts sprang free with a bounce, as if joyful to be released. He cupped one and rubbed his thumb across her pebbled nipple as he placed the chest piece of the stethoscope over her heart. “You seem excited, Miss Jones,” he observed, listening to the quickened thump of her cardiac rhythm.

  She licked her lips again, and he found himself picturing that lush mouth closing over his member, sucking him off with that same eager-to-please attitude he loved in her.

  “Lay back for your breast exam,” he murmured.

  Her tongue ran over her lips again as she lowered, first to her elbows, then to her back. Her breasts fell open to the sides. He cupped one in each hand, squeezing. “Firm,” he observed. “Youthful. Size C?”

  “Um hmm.”

  He circled the tissue of each breast and palpated in her armpits. “No sign of lumps. Do you do a daily breast exam, Miss Jones?”

  “Um…”

  “If you like, I can perform it for you. I’ll just need you to start each day in my office with your shirt off.”

  She giggled.

  He pinched both her nipples and pulled.

  She gasped.

  “Breast cancer is no laughing matter, Miss Jones. I expect you to take it quite seriously.”

  “Okay,” she murmured and he released her aching peaks.

  “Lung cancer is a serious matter as well. I haven’t decided yet how to drive that point home.” He slid his fingers under the waistband of her scrubs. “Let’s get these off you now.”

  She lifted her pelvis and he shucked both the scrub pants and her panties at the same time. He stopped and held the Batman panties up, stretching them wide to view the sparkly fucsia bat printed on black cotton. “These are cute.”

  She blushed and reached for them, but he snatched them out of her grasp, making a tsking noise.

  “Now, now. There’s no reason to be embarrassed. I’m a doctor—I’ve seen it all.”

  Chapter Two

  Her insides were squirmier than a bowl full of eels. Embarrassed, uncomfortable, and totally turned on, she was dying to know his next move. How far would he take this? All the way? How far was that? And more importantly, would she ever be able to look him in the eye again?

  “Pierced belly button,” he observed as he palpated her belly. “Very nice. Feet in the stirrups, please. And slide your bottom down to the edge.”

  She obeyed, placing her heels in the plastic rings and scooting into the vulnerable position.

  He snapped on latex-free gloves and pulled up a stool, switching on the light and sitting face to face with her most intimate parts. He stroked her sex with his gloved thumb. “Pretty,” he observed.

  She didn’t know what made a vagina attractive, but then, he had seen a million of them, so if anyone was qualified judge, it would be him. He peeled her labia back to expose her even further. The light warmed her bottom, and her pussy grew even more moist in response.

  “Good color,” he reported, as if she were taking
notes on a chart. He stood up and rubbed two fingers across her opening. “Adequate lubrication. Are you on the pill, Miss Jones?”

  “Um, yes.”

  “Which one?”

  She told him, trying not to shudder with pleasure as he continued to casually stroke along her slit.

  “Any trouble with dryness during sex?”

  She rolled her eyes. She literally hadn’t had sex in at least a year—finding the post-college dating pool too limited.

  “Is that a yes?”

  “I can’t really remember,” she said drily.

  He stopped stroking and fixed her with a stern glare. “What does that mean, Miss Jones?”

  “It means I haven’t done it a long time,” she mumbled.

  “Ah. I see,” he said, relaxing and resuming a slow caress.

  “What did you think it meant?”

  “I was afraid you were going to tell me you were too drunk or something like that.”

  “Oh,” she giggled. “No. I do go out to bars, but I haven’t picked anyone up in ages.”

  “Why are you on the pill?”

  “Just in case.”

  He pursed his lips. “I’m not sure I approve, Chloe,” he said, dropping the “Miss Jones.” She wondered if he was giving her real medical advice. “It’s not to regulate a heavy flow or painful cramps?”

  She shook her head.

  “Well, your liver has to process those hormones. Studies have not proven any negative long-term effects, but taking a prescription drug ‘just in case’ doesn’t make a lot of sense to me.”

  “Well you’re not female,” she shot back.

  He ignored her retort, applying a dollop of lubricant to his gloved finger and rubbing it over her opening. “This may be a little cold,” he said in his usual efficient doctor tone.

  The insertion of a stainless steel speculum made her gasp, and she had to will herself to relax, just like at any gynecological appointment. A moment of panic had her mind scrambling over the situation. What in the hell was she doing here? Had she really volunteered for a pelvic exam? Because pap smears were normally about as fun as having a tooth pulled, in her book.