A couple of days, a week, since my crazy wild sex night with Dr. Big, and I’d like to say that being cured feels like everything I hoped it would. I’d like to say that I don’t think about Kane every morning when I wake up, my stomach lurching as I check my cell for a text or a call that won’t be there. I’d like to say it’s not him I think about every night in bed when I play with myself, experimenting with my newfound ability to have a regular pussy that doesn’t clam up every time I contemplate letting something in there.

I’d like to say I’m not totally hung up on a guy that’s clearly a womanizer, with every woman on his casebook slavering for a go on that plentiful dick of his.

Riley, ever a fountain of relationship know-how, tells me I’m in denial. She tells me daily that my lady parts aren’t just going to open wide and swallow any dick I set my mind upon, but that there must be something about Dr. Big that’s special. Chemistry, she calls it. I call it being a love-struck idiot.

Of course I’m free to take any random dick now. That’s what cured means, of course.

I can’t spent my life hung up over one gorgeous specimen, not now that I’m totally off his books. For good, as well. I don’t want to find myself back in his waiting room begging for another course of treatment any time soon, even if the prospect is tempting.

It’s way too tempting.

So many times I’ve pulled my cell out of my purse and typed out a message asking whether he’s game for a little rerun, for old time’s sake, but I’ve managed to restrain myself from actually firing that off to him.

Nobody wants to be desperate, right? And I’m plenty sure there are already others in his bed after me. I’m probably nothing more than a distant memory, another tick on his impeccable treatment record.

I’d normally say hell no when Riley tries to drag me out to a club on a Friday night. I’m normally ready for my PJs and cocoa at the end of the work week, committed to an evening by myself, all ready to Netflix and not-that-kind-of-chill, but when she asks me this week I practically bite her hand off.

“Yes, I’ll come out. I could do with letting my hair down.”

Words I never thought would come this easily to me. It seems a few things have come more easily to me recently than I’d have anticipated.

I plaster on a smile as I get ready for my big night out, as though my reflection in the full-length mirror has the power to fool me into being happy about this. Heading out drinking with Riley can be fun after a few drinks, but there’s no doubt about it - I’m pining over Dr. Big and pining over him bad.

I hold out faint hope that we’ll stumble into the same club we met him in a few weeks ago, but of course we don’t. Riley’s mission to land herself a hot guy has taken a turn from the absolutely loaded to the has enough money to pay the club entrance fee. We head into a dire-looking joint a few blocks from her place, where the floor is sticky and the drinks are definitely watered down, and I curse my luck as I check out the crowd.

There’s no way on earth Dr. Big would be in a hole like this.

Riley pulls me into a hug before I’ve even managed to take a swig of my vodka Coke.

“Let me know if you see any potentials,” she yells over the music. I smile sweetly, as if that’s likely. Maybe after a few drinks she’ll find someone passable, she usually does, no judgment.

We hit the dance floor after finishing up our second drink, and I let myself go in the moment, spinning away to the beat and trying to forget I’ve fallen headfirst for my gorgeous doctor. I’m in my own little world when Riley squeezes my elbow and gestures to a couple of guys on the other side of dance floor.

“How about them?” she asks and I pull a face.

“Not my type,” I tell her, even though they are both surprisingly attractive for a dive like this.

Mr. A is big. Not as big as Kane Big, but big enough to be rippling under his shirt. He has short cropped hair and a shadow of stubble on his jaw, and clearly figures himself as quite a dancer. He’s not that bad.

He’s not that good either, though.

Mr. B is all eyes on Riley. He’s a wiry type, chestnut hair that keeps falling down over his forehead and moves that are… enthusiastic to say the least.

I think he’s onto something. She can’t take her eyes off him, which leaves me firmly on the radar of Mr. A as he sidles up to me.

I keep dancing, pretending to be oblivious, but it’s hard when a big hulk of muscle is determined to press himself to your rear.

I should bail on this, as I usually do. Cut and run and claim I’ve got things to be doing, just as I usually do. But then I wouldn’t be cured, would I?

This brand new me should at least be able to dance with a guy before freaking out.

So I smile. Give the guy a bit of a shimmy and try not to balk as he wraps a muscled arm around my waist.

His voice is low in my ear. “What’s your name, gorgeous?”

“Melissa,” I tell him and he nods.

“Jake,” he tells me and I nod back.

And then I head to the restrooms, wrenching Riley out of a lip lock with Mr. B on the way.

“Party pooper!” she groans as I march her into a stall. “What’s the panic? Don’t tell me you’re having another moment of temporary insanity? I thought you were cured?”

“I am cured,” I insist.

“So what are we doing in here? Why aren’t you out there getting your groove on with the hottie?”

He’s hardly all that, but I don’t think now’s the time to point that out to her.

“I just… I thought we could have a girly moment, you know? Talk guys…”

She rolls her eyes. “I was about to get hot and heavy with Ricardo in there.”

Ricardo. I fight the urge to laugh out loud. The guy hardly looks like a Ricardo to me.

She folds her arms. “So, we’re talking guys. What’s the deal? You going home with Mr. Muscle?”

The very thought gives me shivers, and not the kind Kane gave me. Still, I should totally be game for this, a round of practice now that I’m able to indulge. “Maybe,” I tell her and she laughs.

“What?” I demand. “What’s so funny? Maybe I will go home with Jake.”

“Jake?” she raises an eyebrow. “And is Jake going to be enough for you after Dr. Kane’s humongous dick?”

I shrug. “Maybe I’ll find out.”

“Or maybe you should just admit the obvious and stop lying to yourself.”

I feel a pang of hurt under the warm bloom of alcohol. “Lying to myself about what?”

“Lying to yourself about the fact that you’re crazy about him! Lying to yourself about the possibility that the guy’s probably crazy about you too!”

I practically snort-laugh. “Dr. Big? Crazy about me? Have you even seen the guy? He’s probably got a queue of women trailing three blocks behind him.” I sigh. “He was my doctor, I was his patient, and I’m cured now. He probably hasn’t given me a second thought.”

“If that’s what you think.” Riley doesn’t sound convinced.

I paste on my most resolute smile. “That’s what I know. I’m sure of it.”

She rolls her eyes again as she unbolts the stall. “Well, for what it’s worth, I think that’s class-A crap you’re talking. You went home with the guy before you ever knew he was your doctor. You weren’t his patient when he dragged you from the dance floor that evening, and I doubt he’s really been thinking of you as his patient ever since.”

Oh, how I wish. But I can’t tell her that.

I don’t want to go straight from virgin to heartbroken. That wouldn’t be a good look.

“Fine,” she continues. “If you won’t admit it, that’s cool. Go home with Jake this evening and see how he measures up. Maybe you really aren’t hung up over Dr. Big. Maybe Jake will press all the right buttons.”

One look at Jake on the dance floor as we head back tells me all I need to know. He won’t measure up, not to Kane, not in any way worth having.

Still, I really should give this a go, I’m sure Kane’s long since moved on.

He’s probably out there right now, in another part of town, liplocked with some pretty woman who doesn’t have issues with her lady parts. He’s probably had several wild nights already this week. His bed probably hasn’t been empty since I walked out on him.

It’s that horrible thought that strengthens my resolve to test out this cure for size.

I hit the dance floor with Jake close behind and I don’t pull away as he presses his body to mine. I don’t flinch as I feel the swell of his dick pressed to my ass, and I don’t twirl away from him as his warm breath lands on my neck.

“You look amazing,” he tells me. I give him an awkward thanks and my smile feels like a grimace as he kisses my bare shoulder.

His mouth feels like a hot wet fish, and I hate it. It feels nothing like Kane’s perfect lips. Not even slightly.

My cure disappears to nothing. My entire body feels clammed up tight as Jake spins me into his arms and heads in for the kill.

My heart is thumping in panic as his puckered lips come for mine, and old Melissa is back, breaking from his grip and dashing away across the dance floor with little more than a ‘I have things to do’ call in my wake.

Riley pounds after me and catches me at the exit. She’s breathless from the chase and it takes me a moment to realize she’s laughing.

“Call him!” she yells. “Seriously, just call him!”

I tell her I’ll call a cab and that’s about all, but when she waves me off with a tut I know she’s got a point.

There’s a thrill in my belly as I realize Jake’s given me just the opportunity I was looking for.

I’m not cured.

Not even close.

In fact, I’m pretty sure I’ll never be cured. There’s only likely to be one dick that’s ever cured me enough to grant entry, and it’s attached to a man who may never want to see me again.

But he’ll have to. Of course.

Because he’s the doctor and I’m his patient. And we’re definitely not done here.

No way.

I’m delusional and giddy as I slip into the cab and head home for the night, but I don’t care.

I’m going to call Dr. Big first thing on Monday morning and schedule another appointment.