– Whitney
I’m in my office with the door locked, armed with evidence. Thanks to Lance, I have access to many of Dr. Davis’ files, and I’ve been reviewing them for two days now. I definitely see a pattern that makes Dr. Davis looks shady as fuck.
But worse, it paints a pretty bleak picture for Harlow. It’s not that he knew Dr. Davis was doing anything wrong, but, quite the opposite, he got caught up as a victim in Dr. Davis’ scheme.
I was all set to turn Dr. Davis in at Piñon, and maybe somehow to the military itself, and I still want to. I know I’ll lose my internship, but I don’t care.
Too late (as far as he and I are concerned, anyway), I’ve realized that Harlow was right when he said I always play it safe and never take any risks. This time, I want to live on the edge and expose a selfish man to the world, and consequences to my professional life be damned, especially since I’ve decided to pursue what I really want to do anyway.
But now I just worry about any consequences this could have on Harlow. I know he and I are over for good, and it’s not about wanting to save a hopeless relationship.
Sure, I still wish we could be together but I also know that’s just not going to happen. The reason I hesitate to do anything now is that I don’t want to jeopardize Harlow’s career, or otherwise interfere in his life.
I slump back into my office chair, feeling defeated. I can’t believe I have damaging information on Dr. Davis that I’m not sure I want to use.
There’s suddenly a loud knocking— which sounds more like pounding— on my door.
“Just a minute,” I say, logging off my password-protected computer.
I’m hoping it’s Lance, instead of Dr. Davis or anyone else who has come to yell at me.
“Yes?”
I open the door, and I’m shocked to see Harlow behind it.
“Whitney.”
He comes into my office and closes and locks the door, so quickly that I think I might be dreaming everything.
“Harlow?”
I can’t think of a single other thing to say, except for his name.
“I’m sorry.”
He kisses me, and without thinking twice I kiss him back.
He pushes me up against my office door, his kisses urgent and strong.
“I’m so sorry.”
“What happened?” I ask him, when I can finally catch my breath.
“I just… woke up. I was so stupid. I understand if you’re disgusted with me. Done with me. But I needed to come tell you.”
“Tell me what?”
“That I love you.”
He picks me up and kisses me while I wrap my legs around him.
Okay, now I’m convinced this really is a dream.
He carries me over to my desk and lays me on top of it.
“Wait,” I say, pushing his chest.
I want him inside me so bad, but I’m mad at him.
“Oh, my God,” he says, caressing me in his arms and kissing my head before continuing. “I’m sorry. I forgot that was the part I meant to say first. I’m so sorry I didn’t listen to you enough. Didn’t believe you. I was so stupid.”
“You hurt me,” I tell him, opening up to him in a way I’ve never done with anyone. I can tell he’s sincere in his apology but I need him to know the damage he’s caused, so he’ll never do it again. “You wouldn’t answer my calls. You ignored me. You chose…”
“I chose a conman over you,” he says, squeezing me tighter. “I’m so sorry, Whitney. So very sorry.”
A tear forms in his eye, and drops down onto the desk.
“Oh, my God, Harlow,” I say, hugging him back.
He is definitely sorry.
I wipe the tear out of his eye while he shrugs it off.
“I’m fine,” he says. “Not crying. Not getting too worked up. I just feel really bad, is all. I feel like a piece of shit for what I did to you.”
“I understand,” I tell him, kissing his eyes to get any other tears out. “And I forgive you. I was conned by him too for a while. Everyone was. And it only made sense that would you trust him, since he helped you so much…”
“Ugh,” he says, biting my earlobe a little bit, in frustration. I love it. I love when he does anything to me at all. “I can’t believe I let him sucker me in.”
I can tell he feels embarrassed, and since I’m turned on now, I lick his neck.
“I see what you’re up to now,” he says, kissing me deeply and passionately. “You’re feeling frisky. You want another orgasm.”
“Maybe,” I say, looking around, knowing that anyone could walk in on us at any second.
“Scared this will get you in trouble?” he laughs, as he removes my uniform pants, and then my panties.
“Kind of,” I confess. “But that’s what makes it fun, right?”
“Living on the edge,” he says.
“I’m not afraid of risk anymore.”
With his free hand he rubs my clit, and I can feel that I’m already dripping wet, all over him.
“It doesn’t sound like things have been going that well for you here though,” he says, suddenly concerned about my well-being at work, which is sweet, considering that I can feel how hard he is for me, how ready to go. “I don’t want to get us into trouble.”
“I think it may be a bit too late to worry about that,” I say, although I don’t bother explaining why.
I figure we’ll have plenty of time for that later.
I want him so bad, and I’m so glad he’s here, that I might let him take me on my desk even if I wasn’t already in trouble at work.
He takes off his own pants and underwear so that I can see his completely toned physique. His body that I’ve been missing so much. He puts on a condom and then he wastes no time as he begins to enter me.
“I’ve missed you so much,” I tell him.
“I’ve missed you too,” he says, as he slides his cock into my willing pussy. “I want to feel you. All of you.”
“I want that too.”
A wave of excitement rushes over me, at how forbidden everything is. We’re having sex in my office and apparently he doesn’t even care if anyone walks in. He seems to have dropped the bad boy demeanor completely, and now he’s like a ball of putty in my arms.
He really is sorry. He really did miss me.
“Oh, my God, Harlow,” I moan. “I’ve missed you so much.”
I hadn’t forgotten how big his cock is and how good it feels inside me— it’s all I’ve been thinking about since the last time we made love. But I can’t believe he’s really here, in my office, making love to me. And he had even said he loves me.
“I’ve missed this so much,” he says, as he pushes himself in and out of me. “Your tight little pussy is so perfect and sweet. I want it to be mine.”
“It is yours,” I say, as I feel it tighten even further around his large dick. “And you’re making me come.”
“Come on my cock, Whitney,” he says, pumping harder and faster. “I want to feel you come on me. I love how your pussy feels right now.”
I come all over him, as I lie back on my desk with my legs spread wide while he has his way with me. He grips my hips and pulls me further into him, and then reaches underneath me as he pushes further and deeper.
He plays with my clit while he fucks my pussy hole, making me feel like I’ve died and gone to heaven. I come again and again, forgetting what it feels like to not orgasm. It’s as if it’s become my natural state.
“Your cock feels so good in my pussy,” I tell him, when I finally come down off of one of the many highs his constant orgasms have been giving me.
“It belongs there. It’s your cock.”
Now he’s playing with my nipples, sucking on them, squeezing them between his fingers as he fucks me. It’s enough to send me to the edge all over again.
I feel myself reaching climax again as he reaches underneath me and squeezes my ass. Pulling me up and into him, his cock begins to pulse.
“I’m about to come too,” he says.
“Okay,” I say, breathing hard as I feel that I myself am close to coming again.
“Come with me,” he says, as his cock throbs in my pussy.
“I am. Harlow. I’m coming.”
I do my best to keep my voice down as I come at the same time I feel him pulsing as he comes. It feels so good to be completely full of his cock. He lifts me up and I hold onto his shoulders while he finishes coming.
He nibbles my neck and hugs me tight before lowering me back down, so that I’m sitting on the desk looking up at him.
“I love you too,” I tell him, looking up into his eyes. “I really do.”
“I’m glad,” he says. “I thought I might be too late.”
“You’re not.” I grab a hold of his hands, taking them in mine. “I love you. And that’s why there’s something about Dr. Davis that you’re really not going to like, but that I really have to tell you.”
– Harlow
“Well good,” I say, as I help Whitney off the desk. “I was hoping you had some dirt on him.”
I pull up my pants as she does the same and then goes to sit at her computer chair.
“Can you please hold off on the official business for a minute?” I ask her. “I just need a moment to sit here and bask in how hot that sex was just now.”
“It was amazing,” she says, smiling.
I had waited for what felt like a really long time, without really thinking I would ever get to be with her again. But as soon as I was with her, my body knew just what it had been needing. I finish getting dressed and then I sit down at the chair across from her desk.
“I think the signs were always there for me with Dr. Davis. I just didn’t want to see them,” I tell her. “But the more I thought about it, the weirder things seemed. What I’m the maddest at myself for, though, is not trusting you. I know you would only ever have my best interest at heart. I just couldn’t believe it because I’m not used to being in a relationship.”
“So we’re in a relationship, are we?” she says, grinning.
“You’d better believe it. And you’d better remember it if you keep wanting wild office sex.”
“About that…”
Her grin turns into a slight frown.
“Yes?”
“I think we should cool it at work. Seriously. Dr. Davis said that he received a call informing him that you and I are having a relationship at work.”
“What?” I ask, astonished.
“Yeah, and the funny thing is that at that time we hadn’t even had sex! And I wasn’t even your physical therapist. But of course, Dr. David blackmailed me with that, and a bunch of other things. He said that he would report us if I didn’t stop working with you.”
“He must have really thought it would work,” I tell her. “Because he told me you wouldn’t be contacting me. But you sure did.”
“I sure did,” she says, smiling. “You can’t keep a crazed woman down.”
“You needed some more of those orgasms, didn’t you?” I ask her, and I love her mischievous, flirty smile she flashes back at me.
“Yes I did. But I decided not to be worried about him anymore, and instead of to figure out what was up with him. But still, it’s probably not a good idea to be doing this in the office in the future— and giving anyone any evidence to back up his claims.”
“So someone reported us?” I ask, still stunned at that news.
“It was obviously Tony,” she says, waving a dismissive hand as if he was so last year’s news. It’s an adorable gesture. “I saw a mutual friend of ours when we were at Apothecary. She’d always had a crush on him so she must have told him she saw me out with you.”
“Poor girl,” I joke. “To have a crush on someone like Tony.”
“I know, right?” She says. “Someone like that must have really high aspirations in life.”
We both laugh and it feels good to be together, relaxing, talking.
“So, I agree that we shouldn’t do anything to get either of us into trouble,” I tell her. “But there has to be some kind of loophole. Aren’t physical therapists and patients ever allowed to date? To have sex? On top of that, you’re not even my physical therapist any more. Lance is.”
“I know,” she says, with a sigh and a shrug. “And at the time, I was thinking it didn’t matter since you weren’t my patient and then we weren’t together anymore.”
She looks down at the floor, and I still feel so bad for leaving her like that. I reach out and take her hand.
“Lance had originally mentioned something about I could lose my internship over being with you,” she says. “So, I kept meaning to go look up the rules about that. In the HR policy. But then everything changed and plus I was focused so much on discovering the truth about Dr. Davis that I didn’t have time to worry about my own problems.”
She laughs.
“But now that we’re back ‘on,’ which I’m really happy about of course, it could mean danger at work, because they might assume we were together during that time period where I was your patient. Especially since Dr. Davis will tell them that. So I do need to look at the policy to see where we stand. But it’s probably best to just keep things on the downlow for a while.”
“But I don’t want that little twerp Tony to win,” I protest. “If people can’t know we’re a couple, then he’ll get his way. It would suck to have to sneak around with my own girlfriend.”
“Whoa, hold on, back up,” she says, laughing her amazing laugh. “Girlfriend?”
“Well, of course I want you to be my girlfriend,” I tell her. “I just told you I love you. I guess I just assume those two things go hand in hand, but, I don’t know, since, just like you’d never orgasmed before you were with me, I’ve never told a girl I loved her before just now.”
“Awwww,” she says, leaning over to kiss me.
Then she backs up and we both realize at the same time that she hadn’t said it back.
“I love you,” she says, kissing me all over my face. “I love you, I love you, I love you. And yes, I want to be your girlfriend. I just think we should keep it on the downlow for a while, because… there’s some other news I have to tell you….”
She looks so excited that I can’t possibly think of what it could be.
“What?” I ask her, curiously.
“I’ve applied to medical school.”
“That’s great! Whitney, really? All because of what I said?”
She shrugs.
“Well, it’s something I always wanted to do. You had a point. And I didn’t see a future here for me anyway. At the time anyway. But now I do. Of course. But back then, I thought that the best thing to do was to move on, and to take part of you with me— your advice.”
“Smart move.” I wink at her. “And I’m sure you were also taking awesome memories of how I fucked you silly and made you come for the first time.”
“Of course. But seriously, now we really have to be careful,” she says. “I don’t want anything to ruin my application. I need this internship to still be active when they look at it.”
“Or, we could find a loophole,” I tell her. “Why don’t you pull up that HR policy or employee handbook or whatever it is, so we can find a way to be together for real? I want to show you off. Let the world know how hot my new girlfriend is.
She laughs.
“Okay, okay. But after I fill you in on what’s up with Dr. Davis. So now can I tell you what I’ve found out?” Whitney begs, obviously anxious to spill the beans.
“Sure. I’ve sufficiently recovered from our knock-down drag-out sex session.”
“Okay, here’s a print-out of all the patients Dr. Davis has treated,” she says, reaching to retrieve a piece of paper from her printer, and handing it to me. “I’ve redacted their names and any other identifying information for patient privacy sake, but, the important thing to look at is the colors I’ve used to highlight them.”
“Little Miss Type A,” I say, impressed.
I look at the sheet of paper but it’s not very helpful since I have no idea what I’m looking at. It’s full of red and green highlights, so it vaguely reminds me of the different flavors of chile. Or a Christmas decoration.
“The red color represents all the patients that Dr. Davis has treated initially but never went any further with. The green color represents patients that he’s continued to treat, and referred to physical therapy.”
There are only three green names.
“One of those is you,” Whitney says.
“Is the other one named Alex Crenshaw?”
Whitney looks surprised.
“I can’t say. HIPPA laws.”
She shrugs, still the rule-follower despite the fact that she just let me fuck her on her desk. But her reaction gave it away. One of them was Alex Crenshaw.
“But the other two are recent post-surgery patients. They were in traumatic accidents but, like you, they recovered rather quickly.”
“I guess the other one isn’t Jesse Morrow?” I ask, already knowing the answer since Dr. Davis had told me, but hoping that he somehow still made it through.
“Have you talked to Jesse Morrow recently?” Whitney asks, her eyebrows raised.
“You know Jesse Morrow?” I ask, wanting to know the answer to her question first.
“I did a little recon,” she says, her cute cheeks blushing a shade of rose.
“Very nice,” I tell her.
“Let’s just use him as an example,” she says. “Since both of us are familiar with his situation. He’s an average service member, wounded in the line of duty, with some pretty major injuries and a lot of work that needs to be done.”
I nod.
“He’ll probably never end up back in active duty— but still, very few do— and he could benefit from intense physical therapy and further treatment, probably with an integrated approach. Occupational therapy, counseling, and some sort of guidance or transition as to what he should do with this future.”
“Sure,” I say, nodding my head. “Jesse Morrow deserves that. They all deserve that.”
“You know…”
She begins, and I can tell she almost thinks better of telling me whatever she was about to say.
“What?”
“It’s just, when I was talking to Jesse, he mentioned that he’d asked you to come to his surgery, and had never heard another word from you. I mean, he was really understanding and nice about it, and I knew that you had gone to visit him because Lance told me he saw you there, but I didn’t say anything because I wasn’t sure…”
“Fuck,” I say. “Fuck fuck fuck.”
“What?”
“Damn Dr. Davis. I did go to see Jesse but his surgery had just finished and he was too doped up to recognize me. I left a card for him. Dr. Davis acted hella sketchy, which makes perfect sense now. He said he would make sure he received it, and would let him know I dropped by.”
“Well, lo and behold, Dr. Davis didn’t live up to his word. Shocker,” Whitney says, and I nod.
“How can I get in touch with him? I need to explain what happened.”
“I may be able to get you some contact information from his file,” she says, with a sly smile.
“Awww. You’re the best. I knew there was a reason I was into you.”
And I knew she’d bend the rules when the right situation presented itself.
“Very funny,” she says. “But let’s get back on track. We are using this patient as an example, correct? He deserves further treatment, correct?”
I nod.
“But Dr. Davis doesn’t want to work with him,” she concludes, marking a big X next to his redacted name. “Or him, or him, or her, or any other average service member.”
Soon her X’s line the page, and it’s obvious how angry she is. And it’s touching to see how much she cares.
“So, this is where I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but it affects you.”
“Okay. Shoot. I’m ready.”
I’ve been on such a roller coaster ride since meeting Whitney— or since my helicopter crashed, actually— that I shouldn’t think it’s possible for me to be surprised by anything anymore. But I never expected her latest revelations, and I know I can’t be sure of what’s coming down the pipeline. I just want her to tell me, so that we can deal with it together.