Filthy Doctor (Sneak Peek)

PROLOG

Cole ordered the driver to take us to his penthouse, then raised the tinted glass behind the front seat so we could have a little privacy. We sat in the back seat making out like the two horny teenagers we once were.

His tongue hungrily probed my mouth as his warm hand slipped under my blouse and bra to massage my breast and roll my nipples. Little sparks of electricity shot through my body from head to toe, as if I’d touched an electric fence.

I could feel the intense flood gushing between my legs as my hand slid between his thighs and found his thick cock hard and ready, just like the old days. It felt magical beneath my hand, as if touching it had transported me back in time.

I moaned into his mouth when his hand slid down to my crotch. He rubbed the fabric between my legs until the heat was so intense I thought my slacks might catch fire.

“We’re here,” he sighed in my ear as the car rolled to a stop in front of his Manhattan penthouse. It was a short ride that ended not a moment too soon. “Let’s continue this upstairs.”

“Yes, let’s,” I said, blowing out a long breath and adjusting my blouse as the doorman hurried across the sidewalk to open the car door.

“I have a huge boner,” Cole whispered with a boyish grin that I recognized from years ago. He took off his jacket to drape over his arm to cover his protruding cock. He slid out of the car and held out his free hand to me.

When I got out of the car I “accidentally” brushed his cock with my hand. He jumped and I giggled.

“Let’s go upstairs and I’ll take care of that for you, Dr. Walker,” I said. Without another word, he grabbed my hand and literally dragged me inside the building, across the marble foyer, into the gold-paneled elevator, and into his penthouse suite.

We attacked each other the moment the elevator doors closed.

CHAPTER ONE: Dr. Cole Walker

“You fucking cardiologists… You all think you’re gods or something,” Efram said bitterly, albeit it with a smile, as he stared at me from behind the cup of shitty coffee they served in the hospital cafeteria. Dr. Efram Schoenberg was the top anesthesiologist in the city. That’s why I brought him in for all my complex operations. Patients who died on the operating table rarely paid their bills. It was Efram’s job to keep them breathing while I cut open their chests to repair or replace their hearts. Efram was also one of my best friends and the biggest buster of my balls.

“We don’t think we’re gods,” I said with a smile. I picked up my cup of coffee and held it up in a toast. “Some of us are gods, Efram. And some of us might even be the God. So, watch what you say. I’d hate to waste a good lightning bolt on your ass.”

“Jesus, how do you carry the weight of that ego?’ he asked, rolling his eyes. “It must be a terrible burden.”

“It’s a burden I willingly bear for the good of mankind,” I said with a smile. I tapped my cup to his and settled back in the hard chair to stretch out my legs and let my eyes wander around the room. It was after four in the afternoon, but the Mercy General cafeteria was still bustling with staff and visitors eating the lousy hospital food left over from lunch because it was convenient and relatively cheap. The food was decent if you didn’t mind the abundance of grease and salt the kitchen used to give the food a semblance of flavor. I ate there only if I was desperately hungry. Otherwise, I choked down the coffee after long operations with Efram and that was it. I was Dr. Cole Walker, after all. I ate for free at five-star restaurants, not shitty hospital cafeterias.

Efram and I had just come out of a nine-hour heart surgery and admittedly, I was beat. The patient, a fifty-year-old construction worker with total blockage in all three major arteries, was lucky to be alive. Or perhaps I should say that he was lucky that I was in the hospital when the paramedics brought him into the ER after suffering a massive heart attack. No one expected him to live. No one but me, that is. I cracked his chest and manually massaged his heart as he was wheeled into the OR. I stinted his arteries and Efram kept him breathing until I was done. Now he was resting comfortably in ICU. I expected that he’d make a full recovery. How long he would live after that was totally up to him.

Like I said, in this hospital, I was God.

Nobody died on my watch.

Nobody.

If you asked most surgeons what the most difficult part of their job was they wouldn’t say that it was replacing a patient’s heart or resecting a bowel or reattaching a limb. That stuff a good surgeon could do in his sleep. The most difficult part was standing over a patient for hours at a time as the muscles in your legs and back tied into knots. Most of my peers had back problems after years of hovering over an operating table. I was only thirty-six and in peak physical condition, but today my back was killing me. I needed a nice deep tissue massage, preferably administered by a blonde with big tits and the willingness to finish it off with a happy ending. As if on cue, Monica Craft, one of the scrub nurses I serviced on a regular basis, i.e. fucked whenever the mood struck me, strolled into the cafeteria and headed my way. I could tell she wasn’t wearing a bra beneath the pink scrub shirt she wore. And if history was any indication, she wasn’t wearing panties either.

“The patient is resting comfortably in recovery,” she said, sliding into the chair to my right. She picked up my coffee cup and took a drink, then made a sour face that wrinkled her cute nose. She smacked her lips and grinned me.

“Really?” Efram said, bouncing a frown between us. “Do I need to leave?”

“Nah, you’re good,” I said, winking at Monica. Efram shook his head and looked away. He knew I fucked Monica on a regular basis and that didn’t bother him. He fucked as many nurses as I did. Most doctors did. What bothered him was her air of familiarity. I might have had a God Complex, but Efram had a Class Complex. In his mind, doctors walked among the clouds while nurses, and everyone else, occupied the ground far below. Nurses were beneath doctors, no pun intended. Doctors should not sit or eat or socialize in public with nurses or hospital staff. It was okay for doctors to fuck as many nurses as they pleased, but it was not okay for a nurse to sit down with a doctor in public and sip from his cup. It didn’t matter that in a few minutes I’d be fucking Monica’s brains out in an empty hospital room or a broom closet.

“It’s okay to fuck them,” Efram would say. “But don’t date them or marry them. And certainly, don’t socialize with them in public. It will only cause trouble.”

“I’ll check on the patient before I leave,” I said with a sigh that signaled that I was ready to get the show on the road. I felt my cock twitch in my scrubs as I watched Monica licking the coffee from her lips. She gazed at me with her big blue eyes and let one eyebrow twitch, which was her signal that it was time to play. She was a cute redhead with big tits and thick nipples, and a bush of red curls that proved that the carpet did indeed match the drapes. She was petite and flexible, like a contortionist, and she loved to create new positions. I could literally pick her up and bend her this way and that, or she would climb up me like a kid on a monkey bar and impale her tight pink pussy on my big cock.

Her favorite position was clamping her fingers around my neck while I held on to her ass and swung her into me like a kid on a swing. She was small, but she somehow managed to take most of my ten inches inside her. Monica was a sexual marvel, but Efram was right. I would fuck her till her eyes bugged out behind closed doors, but that was where our relationship ended. Once we left the hospital, there was nothing between us. Monica understood that and said she was fine just having a good time. Besides, she was engaged to a guy who worked in accounting, Bob something or other. She didn’t want to marry me, she often said. She just liked fucking doctors.

I was glad Monica knew how the game was played. Again, I was Dr. Cole Walker, the world-renowned cardiologist who literally held life in my hands. I was not only successful and rich, I was also six-foot-two and two hundred pounds of lean muscle, thanks to my daily workouts and five-mile runs.

Call me arrogant, but I pride myself on my looks because they remind me of how far I’ve come. I was a tall, skinny, awkward kid with big glasses and bad skin. You wouldn’t recognize me in my high school yearbook. I blossomed at college, I guess you could say that. It was amazing what getting contacts and clearing up your skin can do for your confidence. I started running and working out and went from being invisible at parties to being the life of them. I went from being invisible to most girls to having my pick of them. Some nights I picked more than one. I fucked sorority girls, teaching assistants, cheerleaders, the little sisters of my frat brothers, and a couple of cougar professors, who taught me how to really please a woman. Ah… good times. I fucking loved college.

Now, I was married to my work, but that didn’t stop me from having a very active and very public social life. I had been voted one of New York City’s Most Eligible Bachelors five years in a row by New York Magazine. I dated high-profile models, actresses, heiresses and socialites, though none seriously. I was in it for the sex and the show, meaning I loved a tight pussy and I loved to show off.

If I was photographed leaving Nobu with a Victoria’s Secret model or some hot young actress on my arm, it didn’t do anything for my medical career, but it shot my Q-Rating through the roof.

Oh, I should explain what I mean. The Q-Rating is how television networks like World News Network judge how well the audience likes their on-air news talent. The higher the Q-Rating, the more popular the talent. And as I said, my Q-Ratings were through the roof.

What the hell I’m I talking about?

Okay, let me back up.

World News Network was a twenty-four-hour cable news channel headquartered in New York City and beamed around the globe. When the mayor had his heart attack two years ago, I was his cardiologist and the one who spoke at subsequent press conferences, giving the status of his health. Ed Quigley, the head of the news division at World News Network saw me and liked my looks and demeanor. As it happened, WNN was looking for a doctor to come on the air every Friday evening and answer medical questions submitted by viewers in a quick segment called “To Your Health”. Ed asked me to lunch, pitched me the concept, offered me a fat contract, and voila! The next week, and every Friday since, yours truly has been on TV in front of millions of viewers dispensing sound medical advice with a beaming smile. And building the Q-Rating, which could lead to a lucrative network syndication deal like Dr. Oz or Dr. Phil. Would I leave cardiology to host a TV show? No fucking way. I was a doctor first, a TV star second. However, would I be interested in doing both? Fucking A right, I would.

“So, Dr. Walker,” Monica said, giving me a quick sideways glance. She was rubbing her foot up and down the inside of my calf under the table. My cock was already chubbing up. She put her hand on my arm and cooed at me. “Shall we check on that patient?”

“We shall,” I said with a smile. The patient’s file was on the table. I was glad I’d brought it along. I’d need it to cover the bulge in my scrubs. I picked up the file and stuck out my right hand to Efram. “Great job keeping the patient asleep, Dr. Schoenberg.”

He rolled his eyes at my hand and said, “Whatever.”

“Nurse, shall we go?” I pulled out Monica’s chair and she somehow managed to brush the back of her hand against my plump cock as she moved past. I looked at Efram and smiled, then let Monica lead the way to whatever spot she had picked out for us to have a little afternoon delight.

CHAPTER TWO: Lucy Rhodes

“Are you sure about this, Lucy? Are you really sure this is the right thing for you to do?”

I could hear my dad’s voice in my head as clearly as if he had been standing next to me in the empty New York City apartment that would be my home for the next twelve months. That’s how long my new employer World News Network had agreed to pay for housing under my new contract as the executive producer of WNN’S World News Tonight. They were paying me a nice salary, but I had heard horror stories about the cost of living in New York City. I didn’t know how much the lease payment was on a furnished apartment like this, but I expected that I’d be looking for something smaller and less costly when the year ran out. And that was if I still had the job. I had a one year contract and this was big-time television after all, so nothing was written in stone.

The TV news business was a revolving door. I worked behind the scenes so it was not as cutthroat as being on the air, but I still had to prove my worth to the network or they’d hire someone younger for less money to do the job. And the most difficult part of any executive producer’s job, especially at this level, would be dealing with the on-air talent who were usually pompous, egotistical assholes of the male variety, or hot young females who were sleeping or conniving their way to the top. I’d worked at TV stations in little towns and big cities and the one thing they had in common was that they were all soap operas. The only difference were the sizes of the markets and the sizes of the egos. There was no larger market than New York City and I was sure the egos would match.

I smiled when I heard my father’s voice in my head, asking if I was sure I was doing the right thing. I’d had a good thing going in Chicago. I had a great job as the executive producer of the nightly news at WCIL, a great house in the suburbs, and what I thought was a great marriage to my college sweetheart, Randy Rhodes, who ended up tearing my world apart and leaving me to sort out the smoldering ruins. Getting the job offer in New York from my old boss, Ed Quigley, was a welcomed coincidence. I jumped at the chance to leave my old life behind and start anew. And now, here I was.

“Are you sure about this, Lucy?” my dad’s voice asked again.

“Yes, daddy,” I said quietly. “I’m sure.” I smiled at the memory of my dad, his soft eyes always so full of concern for his only daughter. I took a deep breath and imagined the smell of his Old Spice and hair cream. I could feel his arms around me, bear hugging me until I grunted while he pretended like he was never going to let me go.

He was always questioning my motives and my decisions when he was alive. It bugged the shit out me when I was a kid, but once I became an adult I understood that most of the questions he asked were submitted for my own wellbeing. It was his way of asking, “Lucy, have you really thought this through? Is this really the right thing for you to do?”

“I have no idea, daddy,” I said with a sigh. I shook my head at the meager stack of boxes the moving company had set along the living room wall and gave a heavy sigh. I counted them with my fingers. Ten boxes. I was thirty-four years old and the sad contents of my entire life could be held in ten cardboard boxes with room names scribbled on the side in black marker: KITCHEN. BEDROOM. LIVING ROOM. BATHROOM. MISC.

It was sad to think that this was all I had to show for what I thought was a pretty good life. Sadder still was knowing how quickly that good life could come crashing down when you discovered that your husband was a sex addict with no self-control. Oh, fuck that. I don’t believe there’s any such thing as a sex addict. Randy was just a guy. He was a self-centered douchebag who thought with his cock rather than his brain. In other words, Randy Rhodes was a typical piece of shit who would fuck anything that moved and some things that didn’t. I wasn’t sad that I had caught him cheating on me. I was sad that it took ten years of my life to realize what a lowlife piece of shit cocksucker he was.

I’m not bitter.

Oh no, not me…

I met Randy in college. I was the bright-eyed innocent sophomore from Wisconsin and he was the smooth-talking, worldly junior from Chicago who was the life of every party he attended. I met him at a fraternity party and instantly fell in love.

Randy was a marketing major and I was in the journalism program at Stanford. I was a shy, unassuming country girl with blonde curls and timid eyes, and he was the proverbial tall, dark and handsome Italian with coal black hair, deep blue eyes, and a swagger that scared the hell out of me at first, then became a drug I could not resist. I fell madly for him, instantly, without listening to my girlfriends who told me what a pussy hound he was. I made the age-old mistake many women made. I thought I could take a bad boy and change him to suit my needs. I could turn a bad boy good. What a fucking fool I was. It just took me a fucking decade to realize it.

All I knew was that Randy seemed to like me and I damned sure liked him. We made awkward love the night we met in the back seat of his BMW. It wasn’t my first time, but it sure felt like it. Maybe it was because I didn’t have strong feelings for Randy like I did for my first lover way back in high school. Or maybe it was because Randy was so rough that it hurt when he entered me, so much so that I was afraid to do it with him again. It wasn’t that his cock was abnormally large or anything like that. It was just that Randy was a really rough lover. I swallowed my fears and kept fucking him until the roughness and the pain turned to pleasure. I liked rough sex now. No, that’s not entirely true. I loved it. I didn’t mind a good spanking or a little hair pulling now and then. Hit me in anger and I’ll kill you in your sleep. Pull my hair while you’re fucking me from behind and I’ll gush all over you.

Anyway, Randy and I dated all through college. Being a starry-eyed, smitten girl, I was monogamous from day one, but Randy continued to sow his wild oats. I was okay with it, at least for a while. When I caught him fucking one of my sorority sisters in my bed in my dorm room, that was when I drew the line.

“It’s me or them,” I said, shaking a finger at him so he couldn’t see it trembling from nerves. “I’m not gonna be the girl you come fuck at the end of the night anymore, Randy. I’m done.”

“Baby, you know you’re the only one that matters,” he cooed, pulling me into his arms and rocking me gently against his chest, as if I were a baby that needed comforting.

“Bullshit,” I said, pressing my ear to his chest so I could hear his heart beating. I closed my eyes and sighed at the sound.

He stroked my hair and whispered, “Baby, trust me…”

“I mean it,” I said, pulling away so suddenly it took us both by surprise. “You can either fuck me or you can fuck them, but you can’t fuck us all.”

Hearing those words in my head now, seventeen years later, I realized how pathetically stupid they sounded. Who the fuck was I? The Abraham Lincoln of college sex? You can fuck some of the people some of the time…

“I choose you,” Randy said convincingly, though in both our hearts we knew it was just more of his bullshit. It just meant that he would be more discriminating as to where he fucked his skanks and I would have to turn a blind eye if I had any hopes of a future with him.

And that was the crazy part. That’s when my dad would ask, “Lucy, are you sure about this?” When it came to Randy’s vow to be faithful to me, I literally was deaf, dumb, and blind. Even when we both graduated and I followed him to Chicago for work, I knew that I wasn’t the only woman in his life. He was very discreet about it, very careful, but I knew about his affairs all the same. And I ignored them. God help me, even when he asked me if I wanted to get married I ignored the fact that he was a cheat.

So, daddy, what was I thinking back then?

To this day, I still had no fucking idea.

Randy was Vice President of Sales for a company that sold microchips to large manufacturers. He made three times what I did as producer of the evening news in Chicago at a mid-ranked station. Everything was in his name because my college loans had maxed my credit. Our house in the suburbs, our cars, his motorcycle that he had never had time to ride, our vacation home in Connecticut, and the boat dry-docked there that had barely been in the water. On paper, it all belonged to him.

I stayed with Randy for thirteen years, then the camel’s back finally broke under the weight of a million straws. I came home unexpectedly one afternoon and caught him butt fucking our neighbor Louise on our living room couch. That was it for me. I didn’t even scream or throw anything. I opened the door and they both looked up at me in surprise. I gawked at them for a moment, then went upstairs to pack a bag. Randy came bounding up the stairs with the stink of Louise’s ass on his cock and her cunt on his breath, pleading with me to listen to reason. I did the only reasonable thing I could think of to do. I kicked him in his dangling ball sack and punched him in the nose with my left hand. The large diamond in my engagement ring went across his face like a can opener, splitting open his cheek and nose with the precision of a paring knife. I quickly packed the rest of my things and left him lying on the bedroom floor clutching his nose with blood running between his fingers. It was one of the most satisfying moments of my life.

“He’s going to need stitches, Louise,” I said when I reached the bottom of the stairs. She was still standing in the living room clutching her house dress in front of her fat boobs, giving me a horrified look. I smiled at her awkwardness. “Enjoy. He’s all yours.”

I checked into a hotel and cried myself to sleep. Surprisingly, after the tears ran out I slept like a baby and awoke feeling great, as if a huge weight had been removed from shoulders. As luck would have it, that was the day Ed Quigley called to offer me the job of executive producer at WNN. Ed was my old boss in Chicago. He had been trying to pull me into the big leagues for years. When he asked if I was ready to play in the major leagues, I said yes so fast it made him hesitate.

“Are you serious, Ed?” I asked.

“I am,” I said, forcing myself to sound stronger than I felt. “Are you seriously offering?”

“You bet your ass I am,” he grunted. Ed was nearing sixty and was as round as he was tall. When he spoke, it was on gusts of breath that seemed to burst from his lungs. “The executive producer of the nightly news is moving on next month. The job is yours if you want it.”

“Don’t I need to interview first?”

He scoffed. “Not with me. I know how good you are. I trained you, remember? Do you want the job?”

“I want it,” I said without hesitation or debate. “Yes. Definitely.”

He paused for a moment. Ed knew me well. He had always been like a second father to me. He could tell when something was wrong.

“Is everything okay there, Lucy?” he asked, his voice full of concern. “That dipshit husband of yours giving you trouble?”

“Not anymore,” I said with a sigh. “In fact, as soon as I hang up with you I’m calling my attorney. I’m counting on the divorce being quick and painless because I just want out. I’m not going to fight him for anything. He can have it all and I hope it burns down around him.”

Ed chuckled. “Hell hath no fury like Lucy Rhodes scorned. Okay, I’ll meet with my people today and email an offer to you by the end of the week.”

“Thanks, Ed,” I said. “Your timing couldn’t be better.”

“Then that’s good luck for both us,” he said. “I’m glad you’re okay, Lucy. And welcome to the big time.”

CHAPTER THREE: Cole

“Oh, my god… Cole… your cock… is so… fucking big…”

The words gushed out of Monica’s moist lips each time I thrust my cock into her. Her pink scrub pants were down around her ankles and the pink scrub shirt was lying on the floor. She was bent over a bathroom sink, clutching onto the sides so tightly that her knuckles were turning white, with her tight, round ass shoved out and my fingers digging into her sides. I was behind her with my knees bent so my cock would line up to her luscious pussy, hammering it to her like there was no tomorrow.

Monica was a small girl and her cunt was so tight it wrapped around my cock like fingers on a hand. She could tense her pussy muscles and squeeze my cock like a milking machine. It was the most amazing thing I’d ever felt, and of course as a medical professional, made me wonder why I hadn’t gone into gynecological research. Hmm, maybe I had without even realizing it.

I glanced at her in the mirror over the sink. Her eyes were squeezed shut and her pink mouth was hanging open. Her tongue rolled out and swiped across her lips. Her big milky tits bounced on her chest. I grabbed onto them to keep them still. Her plump nipples caught between my fingers and I gave them a squeeze.

“Fuck… Cole… I’m cumming…” she moaned, getting on her tiptoes and pushing her ass toward me. “Fuck… Cole… cum with me…”

I sucked in a quick breath and tensed every muscle in my body to let my balls know that it was time to blow. I could hold an orgasm with the best of them. When I was young I’d shoot my load even before I got my cock out of my pants. Now, thanks to years of practice with more women that I could count, I could hold off until my partner was ready for me to cum. The only time I didn’t hold back was when I was getting my cocked sucked or I was in a hurry. Then, I could come in no time. Why draw it out. It was just a blowjob.

I squeezed Monica’s hips and lifted her off the ground, impaling my cock deep inside her until I heard her gasp. I could feel her hot juices gushing out of her pussy around my cock, soaking my balls and filling the tiny bathroom with the pungent aroma of our sex.

“Fuck… meeee… oh… god… I’m…cumming…” Monica started to scream, but I quickly put my hand over her mouth. She bit hard into my fingers and moaned. I somehow managed to keep going as I shot my hot milky load deep inside. When it was over, she pried her teeth from my finger and hung her head, panting like a dog.

“Holy shit, Dr. Walker,” she said, looking up at me in the mirror with a sweaty grin on her face. “That was awesome.”

“Yes, it was,” I said, smiling at her as I stepped back to let my long cock slide from her cunt. She turned around quickly and grabbed my sticky, deflating cock in one hand and put the other hand around my neck. She pulled my lips down to hers and roughly pushed her tongue into my mouth.

“I love your cock,” she said, her hand sliding up and down my gooey member. She gave me a pitiful look. “When am I going to get to fuck you outside of this hospital. I mean, this was great, but I have a king-sized bed that would be even better.”

“You know the rules,” I said, taking her wrist to pull her hand from my cock and gently pushing her away. “If the hospital administrator knew about us, you would lose your job. And your fiancé would shit a brick and call off your wedding. You don’t want that to happen.”

She leaned her bare ass back against the sink and folded her arms over her tits, which were red and marked from the roughness of our sex. “You keep quoting hospital rules to me. I don’t even think there is such a rule. I think you made it up so you wouldn’t have to see me outside of the hospital.”

“Look it up in the employee handbook,” I said with a shrug as I tucked my cock into my shorts and pulled up my black scrubs. “Or go ask your fiancé about it. He works in administration. I’m sure he’d tell you the same thing I’m telling you.” I narrowed my eyes to give her a serious look. “I mean, if this isn’t enough for you, we can just stop.”

“No, this is great,” she said quickly, ignoring the fact that we had just fucked in a public restroom the size of a broom closet. It was representative of the nature of our affair. We had fucked in janitor’s closets, empty hospital rooms, public restrooms with locks on the doors, bathroom stalls with no locks, unoccupied labs, service elevators, and the laundry room in the basement. We had anointed pretty much every area within the hospital with the sounds and smells of our sex, but we would never meet outside. Monica was a sweet girl and a nice fuck, but she was not someone I’d give the time of day to on the outside. She knew and I knew it, and it wasn’t really an issue. Monica always got clingy right after sex.

I nudged her aside and washed my hands while she sat on the toilet and cleaned off her cunt with toilet paper then pulled the pink scrubs back up her legs. I dried my hands on a paper towel and kissed her on the forehead.

“I’m going to check on our patient,” I said. “Have a good night. And thanks for this. It was nice.”

“You’re such an asshole,” she huffed, rolling her eyes at me, pretending to be irritated. Then she smiled and kissed me on the cheek. “I’ll see you later.”

I unlocked the door and stepped out into the brightly-lit hallway. There were three nurses at a station at the end of the hall. They all looked at me, then quickly looked away.

I smiled and headed toward ICU to check on my patient. I could only imagine the gossip that would start when the nurses saw Monica coming out of the bathroom.

The Dr. Cole Walker legend lived on.

CHAPTER FOUR: Lucy

Ed gave me the grand tour of World News Network’s news production facilities that took up the entire top three floors of the WNN building located in New Jersey right across the bay from lower Manhattan. I could see the Statue of Liberty from the balcony off the bullpen, where dozens of reporters and writers toiled to produce the network’s constant flow of news. Apparently, my morning commute would involve a taxi or subway, and a ferry ride that was pleasant in the spring and fall, but hot as fuck in the summer and cold as a witch’s tit in winter. Those were Ed’s words, not mine.

“If you’re here next year think about moving over to this side of the bay,” Ed said as I followed him into his office. He directed me toward a chair and he slid in behind his desk. His belly pushed against the desk, so he pushed his chair back.

“If I’m here next year?” I said, giving him the eye. “You think I’ll be burnt out by then? Or fired?”

Ed smiled and his eyes nearly disappeared above his puffy cheeks. He had gotten even rounder since I’d seen him last. He grunted when he moved and sweated a lot. His once red hair had turned gray and was cut into an old-fashioned crew cut. He tugged a Kleenex from a box on the desk and mopped his face with it.

“This place will burn anybody out,” he said with a heavy sigh. “Look at me. I’m only thirty years old.”

“You don’t look a day over fifty-nine,” I said with a smile. “I appreciate you giving me this chance, Ed. I won’t let you down.”

“I know you won’t,” he said, waving the tissue at me. “If you’re still the hungry go-getter I hired in Chicago all those years ago, you’ll do fine here. The audience and the egos are bigger, otherwise, it’s all the same.”

“When do I get to meet my anchors and staff?” I asked, glancing at the large photographs on his wall of the network stars under Ed’s control. The main anchors for WNN’s Nightly News were Bryant Hart and Stephanie Bean. I’d seen them countless times on TV but had not had the chance to meet them yet.

Bryant was a youthful-looking fifty-something with perfect gray hair and perfect teeth and steel blue eyes that cut into the camera like lasers. He had been the network’s star for twenty years and showed no signs of stopping. Stephanie Bean was probably his tenth co-anchor. It was common knowledge in the industry that Bryant was a bitch to work with and she was just the latest in a long line of comers.

Stephanie was in her early thirties but tried to sell it as late twenties. She was a drop dead gorgeous blonde, a former Miss Kentucky, who had come out of journalism school full of talent and drive and reportedly fucked, clawed and backstabbed her way to the network chair. These were my two stars that worked for me, at least during the hour when I was in the booth controlling the show.

“Let me give you a little insight on your anchors,” Ed said quietly, even though the office door was shut. “Bryant Hart is an egotistical pussy hound that’s probably fucked most of the women worth fucking in the place and will try to fuck you.”

“Define ‘worth fucking’,” I said with a smile. “And should I be flattered that I’m included in that club?”

“You know what I mean,” Ed said, huffing, shaking his head. “He’s like most male anchors. He thinks he’s a bigger star than he is, though Bryant’s numbers are pretty damn good and have been for a long time. Good enough to make him the number two anchorman on cable.”

“And what about Miss Kentucky?” I asked, nodding at her picture. She really was gorgeous, with her big blonde hair and infectious smile and a pair of legs reportedly insured for a million dollars. “What’s her story?”

Ed leaned back in the chair and laced his fingers over his round belly. “Stephanie is a piece of work. Q-Ratings are off the chart with men. Not so much with women, which is why we paired her with Bryant. She is bright, talented, smart, and will probably be our sole anchor if she hangs around long enough for Bryant to either retire or drop dead of a heart attack in a strip bar. She is also conniving, ruthless, self-serving, and the most narcissistic person you will ever meet. You will either love or hate her immediately and the feeling will be mutual, I guarantee.”

“Lovely,” I said. “So, I have two anchors with two huge egos to contend with. Anyone else I need to be warned about? What about the sports guy and the weatherman?”

Ed smiled and shook his head. “Both easily managed because they’re not that smart,” Ed said. He wagged a finger at the anchor’s pictures on the wall. “Nope, these are the Medusas of the bunch. Everyone else, reporters, producers, writers, tech, directors, assistants, are easy as pie to manage compared to those two.”

“That’s good to know,” I said with a nod. “So, if everyone understands that when it comes to producing the show, I’m in charge, we should have no problems.”

“You will have no problem there,” he said, his round head bobbing as if the muscles in his neck were giving out. “Even those with the biggest egos understand that the show comes first. They want every newscast to be the best it can be. And if anyone gives you shit,” he said, grinning at me, “I’m sure you’ll be able to handle it without running to me.”

I smiled. “I think I’ll be fine.”

“Oh, one more thing,” he said, leaning forward with his elbows planted on the desk. “Dr. Cole Walker is coming in for a meeting later today. I’d like you to be on hand.”

“Dr. Cole Walker?” I vaguely knew the name, but couldn’t put a face to it. “Who is he?”

“Dr. Walker is one of the world’s foremost cardiologists,” Ed said proudly, as if he were talking about one of his kids. He started moving folders around on the desk, looking for something. “I thought I had his bio and headshot here somewhere.”

“Why would a cardiologist have a bio and headshot?” I asked.

He gave up the search and laced his fingers together on the desk like he needed to keep his hands busy. “Walker has done a medical segment for us every Friday for the last year or so. He comes on set with Bryant and Stephanie and answers a medical question from a viewer. I’m pretty sure that Stephanie is giving him a hand job under the desk. He’s that goddamn good looking.”

“Okay, so why is he coming in for a meeting?”

“Because his Q-Ratings are off the fucking charts,” Ed said, looking for the folder again. “The audience loves him. The powers that be upstairs who keep up with such things think we need to give him a longer segment or put him on twice a week. And there’s talk of even giving him his own show.” He shook his head as if he were respectful of the guy’s talent. It was something I’d rarely seen Ed do. “The guy could be the next Dr. Oz, if Dr. Oz looked like Ben Affleck in his prime.”

“Well, I can’t wait to meet him,” I said. “What time?”

“Around three. I’ll page you when he gets here.”

“Sounds great,” I said with a sigh. I glanced at my watch. It was almost one. Ed had scheduled an all-hands meeting to introduce me to my new crew.

He saw me glance at my watch and realized the time. “So, you ready to meet your staff?”

“I am.” I patted my thighs as if I was beating a drum, and got to my feet.

“Okay, let’s go.” He huffed as he pushed himself out of the chair and moved around the desk. He started to open the door, then paused to give me a serious look. “Fair warning, Lucy, this ain’t Chicago.”

“What does that mean?” I asked.

“It means this ain’t a local station and you’re not producing the local news. Our signal goes around the world. We compete directly with CNN and Fox News. If you thought Chicago was cutthroat, you ain’t seen nothing yet.”

“A bit of a lion’s den?”

“That’s putting it mildly,” he said. “You can handle them, just keep your claws out and don’t be afraid to use your teeth.”

“Can I use them on Bryant if he tries to get fresh with me?”

Ed smiled. “Sure, just don’t scratch him so it shows on the air.”

* * *

I followed Ed to the elevator and up a floor, then through the center of a large room lined with desks where several dozen people sat pecking away at computer terminals or talking on the phone. There were big screen monitors mounted from the ceiling along one wall, one for each of the seven major news networks: CBS, NBC, ABC, CNN, Fox News, MSNBC, and HLN. They were all on with the sound turned down.

“This is the news bay,” Ed said as we walked, sweeping a hand through the air like he was spreading pixie dust. “This is where all the writers, researchers, fact checkers, assistant producers, and everyone else sits. Your office is in the far corner next to the conference room.”

I followed the point of his finger to a corner office that was separated from the open bay by a glass wall and sliding door. “Not much privacy,” I said.

“There is no such thing as privacy here,” he said, grinning at me from over his shoulder. “Give these people a closed door and there’s no telling what they might do.”

“What does that mean?” I asked, having to walk quickly to keep up. I heard him chuckle, but he didn’t answer the question.

“The studio and control room are one floor up,” he said, one pudgy finger pointing toward the ceiling. “I’ll take you up there after you meet your anchors and crew.”

According to Ed, seventy-eight people worked behind the scenes, in the field, and on camera to produce the Monday through Friday evening broadcasts of WNN’s World News Tonight. We would be meeting with the twenty or so department managers and directors. Everyone organizationally reported to Ed, the head of the news division and acting news director, but I was completely in charge of what went on the air every night, and during that one hour, I was God. His words, not mine, though I liked the sound of them just fine.

Ed led me into a large conference room where twenty people sat around a long table and in chairs lined up against the walls. I recognized my stars immediately. Bryant Hart sat at the end of the table, looking like he just fell out of a Land’s End catalog with his perfect gray hair and steel blue eyes. He was immaculately dressed in an expensive suit. When our eyes met, he gave me a little nod but kept his expression blank. His co-anchor and the rising star of the show, Stephanie Bean, sat to Bryant’s right. She was even more beautiful in person than on TV or in photographs. Her hair and makeup were perfect. Her green eyes sparkled when she looked at me. She gave me a smile that hugged me like a warm blanket. It was no wonder World News Tonight had more male viewers than female. Stephanie was like a magnet. You couldn’t help but stare at her. Still, given Ed’s warnings, I knew there was more behind the polite smile than met the eye. She was ruthless and ambitious, not afraid to fight or fuck her way up the ladder. I knew that we would either be best friends or the worst of enemies. I’d let her decide which one.

“Okay, folks, thanks for coming,” Ed said, standing at the head of the table with his hands up. He gave them a minute to direct their attention to the front of the room, where I stood behind him like a timid little girl on the first day of class. I took a deep breath and stepped up beside him, forcing myself to act like the strong leader I’d been hired to be.

“This is Lucy Rhodes, our new executive producer of the weeknight newscasts,” Ed said proudly, turning to put a pudgy hand on my shoulder. “Lucy comes to us by way of Milwaukee and Chicago where she worked as the producer of their nightly newscasts for the last ten years. She worked for me when I ran things in Chicago so you know she’s top notch. She wouldn’t be here if she wasn’t.” He turned to me and pushed his bushy eyebrows up. “Lucy, they’re all yours.”

“Thanks for that warm introduction, Ed,” I said with a smile. Ed gave me a nod and stepped aside. I saw Bryant and Stephanie exchange a quick glance. Everyone else was looking at me with eyes wide, as if they were wondering what to expect. The people in the room were the heads of the various departments that worked together to produce the news: video editors, directors, camera ops, assignment editors, reporters, technicians, etc. Ed managed them directly and they managed their people, but as the executive director of the show, they also unofficially worked for me. In a perfect world, things should run smoothly. I’d been in the business long enough to know that that was rarely the case.

I clasped my hands together like a teacher on the first day of school and let my eyes go around the room. “Well, it’s nice to be here and I look forward to the great work we’re going to do together. Why don’t we start by going around the room so you can tell me your name and what you do here.”

“Bryant Hart, lead anchor,” Bryant said in his deep TV voice, interrupting my intention to start with the person sitting closest to me. He pushed himself out of the chair and stood tall adjusting his cufflinks. “And I have better things to do than attending a meet and greet.” He walked around the table and out the door. Ed looked at me and rolled his eyes.

“Stephanie Bean, co-anchor,” Stephanie said without getting up. She looked toward the door and rolled her eyes. “Don’t pay any attention to him. Meetings are actually much nicer after he’s left the room. The air is much less stifling.”

Everyone chuckled and nodded in agreement. I looked at Stephanie and smiled. We might not become the best of friends, but I had to admire the size of her balls. I held out my hands and said, “Okay, let’s continue.”

CHAPTER FIVE: Cole

I’m probably one of the few doctors in the world who has a team of managers and agents working constantly to guide their career outside of the operating room. I’ve got a three-book deal with Harper Collins, even though I’ve never written a book in my life and have no idea what to write about. According to Stan Freeman, my literary agent, they just wanted to tie up the rights to any book I might one day write, and pay me half a million bucks to do so. Sweet. Maybe someday they’ll get something for their money. Until then, bank that bitch!

I also have an entertainment lawyer who acts as my agent for the TV work I do. Ben Wolf is his name, which was an appropriate name given his ability to rip people to shreds in negotiations. He was the guy who negotiated my original deal with World News Network and was working on my contract renewal.

I’d been the Friday medical expert on World News Tonight for twelve months now and my contract was about to expire. They paid me a shit ton of money just to show up every Friday at 6:15 and talk for two minutes. I’d never done the math, but I think it came out to something like $2,000 a minute. Fuck, I didn’t even earn that much operating on a heart. Not too shabby for a country boy from Wisconsin, if I do say so myself. It was the exposure I got from doing the spots for the news that got me the other deals that were now in play. Along with the books, I got paid to do corporate speaking, I was starting a podcast (whatever the fuck that is), my private practice fees were double what they were a year ago, and if all went according to plan, this time next year I’d have my own syndicated TV show. Move over Dr. Oz. Dr. Cole Walker is coming through!

“So, what do you think?”

My thoughts were interrupted by Ben Wolf’s gruff voice coming over the speaker phone in the back of the limo that was driving me to my meeting with Ed Quigley at WNN.

“What do I think about what?” I asked.

“Jesus, are you not listening?”

“I’m listening,” I said with a smile. “But repeat it anyway.”

“Your contract with WNN comes up for renewal in two weeks,” Ben said. “I’m going to propose that they double the rate they’re paying you now and book you for longer segments. They must know that we’re talking to Kingston World about a one-hour show. We have them over a barrel and can dictate terms.”

“So why are we just doubling the rate?” I asked, glancing out the tinted window at the city that was rushing by. I gave him a bored sigh. “I mean, if I’m worth double, I must be worth quadruple, don’t you think?”

“Well, maybe…”

“Ben, don’t lose your balls now,” I said firmly. “Quadruple the rate, expand the Friday segment to three minutes, and get me a thirty-minute special every few months, my time permitting. That is until we can lock down a syndication deal with Kingston or whomever, then all bets are off.”

“You want an out-clause in case the syndication deal comes through?”

Of course,” I huffed. “I’m not going to show up there every Friday to do a segment when I have a show of my own to focus on. Include the out-clause, end of discussion.”

“And if they don’t agree?”

“Fuck ‘em,” I said with a smile. “We’ll go to Fox.”

“Okay, that’s what I’ll pitch,” he said. “Are you on your way to meet Ed and the new executive producer? I’ll wait to see how that goes before I call the head of programming with our new terms.”

“I am on my way to meet with them now.” I peered out the front window. “I’m ten minutes out. What do you know about the new executive producer?”

“Not much. Worked in Milwaukee for a few years, your old stomping ground, then produced the nightly news for a station in Chicago for the last ten years. She was Ed Quigley’s protégé right out of college. Name is… hang on… Lucinda Rhodes. She’s female, so that works in your favor.”

“Lucinda Rhodes,” I said with a smile. “Okay, Ben. I’ll keep you posted. And Ben, don’t let me down.”

“Don’t worry, Calvin. I’ve got this.”

I smiled. Ben was the only person on the planet allowed to call me Calvin. And he knew better than to ever do so in public. Calvin was a name I hadn’t used in years because it reminded me of a skinny kid from Wisconsin who had few friends and fewer prospects.

I’d left Calvin Colton Walker behind years ago.

Now I was Dr. Cole Walker.

And I was the fucking king of the world.

CHAPTER SIX: Lucy

Ed and I were sitting in his office waiting for Dr. Cole Walker to arrive. Our meeting was set for three o’clock. It was now three-fifteen and Walker had yet to show. Ed didn’t seem too concerned or too pissed off, which again, was totally out of character for him. He busied himself with answering emails and talking to his wife on the phone about the grandkids coming to visit next weekend. I got the impression that the good doctor operated on his own schedule, no pun intended. Still, Ed was usually a pit bull when it came to keeping a tight schedule. This guy must be something if Ed was willing to just hang out and wait for him.

“Okay, when Dr. Walker gets here don’t look directly into his eyes for more than a few seconds,” Ed said as he turned from the computer to face me. He put his hands behind his head and began to rock. He had a serious frown on his face.

I frowned back. “What does that mean?”

“It means that he has a way of hypnotizing women. Damnedest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“You make him sound like a vampire,” I said with a smile. “Or a mad dog.”

“Take your pick,” he said with a shrug. “I’m just warning you, he has this way about him. Christ, I’m sure Stephanie must change her panties every time he’s on set. Even Bryant seems in awe of the guy. He freakin’ gushes over him. Again, the damnedest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“I’m sure I’ll be fine,” I said with a mock frown. “Trust me. Men have very little effect on me these days. Other than to piss me off.”

“Speaking of men pissing you off, when’s the last time you heard from your asshole ex-husband?” Ed had known Randy from our days back in Chicago. He was at our wedding. He didn’t care for Randy then and certainly didn’t have much use for him now.

“I haven’t talked to Randy since I left Chicago,” I said. I felt the muscles in my cheeks tighten at the mention of his name. “There’s really nothing left to say.”

Ed was about to say something, then he glanced past me at the open doorway and smiled, which was odd because Ed never smiled. He pushed himself up from the chair and went around the desk. I turned to see who he was looking at and came eye to eye with the most gorgeous man I’d ever seen. At least the most gorgeous man that I’d ever seen in person.

The man standing in the doorway was tall, with jet black hair and baby blue eyes and teeth so perfect and white they almost didn’t look real. He had a deep tan and a Kennedy jawline. He was wearing a dark suit that probably cost more than my first car, an open-collared white shirt that showed off tufts of dark curls on his chest, and a gold Rolex that looked like it weighed twenty pounds on his wrist. When he looked at me and smiled I literally thought I was going to melt in my panties. The last time my pussy felt this hot I had accidentally sat on a black bicycle seat that had been out in the summer sun all day long.

“Hey, there he is,” Ed said happily, sticking out his hand and patting Dr. Cole Walker on the shoulder. “How are you doing, doc?”

“I’m fine, Ed, thank you,” Walker said formally. I swallowed the lump that had lodged in my throat and clasped my hands together behind me. I tried not to bounce on the balls of my feet like a love struck high school girl… high school… That’s when it hit me. Holy shit. I knew Dr. Cole Walker from another life, from another time. Holy shit...

“Lucy? Oh, my god, Lucy Walsh? Is that you?”

He let go of Ed’s hand and moved toward me with his arms outstretched and a look of wonder on his handsome face. I stood dumbfounded as he wrapped his strong arms around me and pulled me in for a hug. He squeezed me tight and grunted playfully, then pulled back with his hands on my shoulders. His eyes went around my face.

He said, “My god, Lucy, I can’t believe it’s you.”

“You two know each other?” Ed asked, his bushy eyebrows in a deep vee above his eyes. “Stupid question, obviously, you do.”

“We do know each other,” Cole said, eyes sparkling. “Or we did. We were high school sweethearts.” He gave me a big grin. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost, Lucy.”

I think my mouth moved for several seconds before my brain decided to take part in the conversation. I blinked away the shock and mustered a smile.

I muttered, “Calvin Walker? From Milwaukee? You’re Dr. Cole Walker?”

“Colton is my middle name,” he said, nodding. “Cole sounds so much better than Calvin, don’t you think?” He glanced over at Ed and made a mock serious face. “If you tell anyone my name is Calvin I’ll have to kill you.”

“No worries there, doc,” Ed said with a smile, his pudgy hands waving in the air. He put his fingers to his lips and pretended to turn the key. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

I was smiling, too, because I’d never seen Ed so openly enamored of anyone. But I couldn’t blame him. Gazing into Dr. Cole Walker’s eyes it was easy to see how anyone could fall in love with him, even a fat sixty-year-old heterosexual man who was normally as affectionate as a rattlesnake. It was no wonder the viewers loved him.

Without thinking, I wrapped my arms around his waist and melted into him again. He laughed as he put his arms around me and made cute little grunting noises as he rocked me from side to side. I put my head on his chest and sighed. I could only imagine what Ed was thinking. Heck, I could only imagine what Calvin—I mean—Cole was thinking, being accosted by a woman he hadn’t seen in nearly twenty years like some deranged fan.

It felt like old times, only I was hugging the famous Dr. Cole Walker and not nerdy Calvin Walker, the skinny, teenage boy who took my virginity in exchange for his.

---

End of Sneak Peek.

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The doctor will see you now... EVERY INCH of you.

I'm a world-renowned cardiologist, but breaking hearts is what I do best. 
Women line up for a turn between my Egyptian cotton sheets, making it difficult for me to limit my services to just one. 
Well, you can't really blame them. 
Because I work hard, REALLY HARD!
With these movie star looks and hands that can work magic - both in the clinic and in the bed, I can make a woman come by just looking at her. 
And who wouldn't care about a bank account almost as sizeable as the surgical instrument between my legs. 
Life seems to be awesome. 
And then Lucy walks back into my world. 
We were HOT lovers in high school - and I can remember the night I took her V card. 
Now she's back, as the producer of my TV show. 
My brain tells me to stop.
But one look into her sultry blue eyes and I wanna go DEEP! 
I've learned so many new talents since our last night together, 
And I am willing to teach her. 
I'm so ready to be her FILTHY DOCTOR. 
Her delicious curves tempt me to take her.
I want to own that voluptuous body. 
But doing so would mean risking her career and breaking my biggest rule: Never fall in love.