Chapter One
Laura
I take a deep breath and glance at the courier e-mail again. It’s well past their allotted “four hour” time frame, and I’ve got better things to do than stand around my apartment waiting all day. Okay, so maybe that’s not true. Maybe I’d be here regardless, but for the love of God, put me out of my misery and deliver my damn sex toy. My heart pounds as I repeat that sentence in my head, because I’m already wishing I’d never ordered the stupid thing.
I blame Becca for this.
When I complained to her that she never puts enough thought into my birthday gifts, she presented me with a gift card for Diddle Me Softly. It had been sitting in my drawer for nearly six months. It was only last week when I decided to do a spring clean that I found it. I was all alone in my apartment, so naturally, my mind began to tick over. I’m a twenty-six-year-old single woman with a healthy sexual appetite who was experiencing somewhat of a drought when it came to men. So why did looking at toys and vibrators make me feel so embarrassed? I mean, who was going to know what I got up to in the privacy of my own home? So long as I didn’t whip it out in the middle of the local coffee shop, I thought it was a pretty safe assumption that nobody would ever know.
One glass of wine was all it took for me to load up that site and have a look.
The first thing that surprised me was the sheer variety of toys available. Was there really that big a market for this kind of thing? Maybe I’d gone into the wrong profession with medicine because obviously sex toy development was the way to go.
As I ran through page after page of toys, I became more overwhelmed and curious at the same time, until I stumbled across the Clitmaster7000. Despite its slightly terrifying name, it actually looked pretty tame compared to some of the other things on offer, so I thought it was a safe option for a beginner like me. I mean, forgive me for being a prude, but the idea of something bigger than my forearm going anywhere near my vagina was not getting me all hot and sweaty. So, I took the plunge and ordered it.
I unlock the door and peek outside. A thought hits me as I glance down the hallway and my gaze falls on my neighbor’s door. My eighty-year-old widowed neighbor.
God, please don’t let it have been delivered to Iris by mistake.
The number of times she brings me my half-opened mail, because she didn’t think to check the name on the label before opening it… Well, I wouldn’t put it past her to have signed for my package, opened it up and assumed it was a toy for her cat, Milton. I cringe as I picture him swatting that bad boy from one end of her apartment to the other. I slam the door closed and lean against it.
I cringe because how would I explain that?
I feel like I need to put it all into perspective because I’m probably coming across as that annoying, whiny girl that nobody wants to be friends with. While there may be an element of that, panicky and jumpy isn’t who I am.
I’m a doctor, for God’s sake. I deal with situations that push me to the edge on a daily basis. I can handle a medical emergency any day of the week, but a situation that I can’t control? Even something as simple as a potentially embarrassing package arriving, I struggle with. I’m the first to admit I have flaws and worrying about what other people think of me is probably my biggest.
The knock on the door comes so suddenly that I jump about a meter in the air and nearly give myself a heart attack. This thing is already trying to kill me, and I haven’t even tried it yet. When the thudding of my heart has subsided, I brush myself off and stroll over to the door, casually opening it like I’m expecting a delivery of toilet paper.
The delivery guy stands there, smiling at me as he cradles the brown wrapped box like it’s a new baby. I frown, my paranoia kicking into overdrive. Is he looking at me funny? He glances down at the box in his hands, and then back at me.
“Package for a Lauran Black,” he says.
“Laura,” I whisper.
I go to snatch it out of his hands and fumble, then we both watch in horror as it falls to the floor—well, I’m horrified; he looks mildly amused.
“Hope there’s nothing breakable in there,” he says leaning down to pick it up. “Underneath all that brown paper. I always try to guess what little treats people have bought themselves.” He winks at me and my heart stops beating. “And you know what they say about brown paper.”
God, the delivery guy knows I bought myself a sex toy.
He hands it to me again, along with a form that I quickly sign and thrust back to him. I send him on his way and slam the door closed, leaning up against the door. I slide down it until I’m sitting on the floor, where I carefully examine the box. All I want to do is throw it out, but it’s here now, so I might as well take a look.
I carefully peel away the brown packaging and examine the box. With shaking hands, I open it and then reach inside. The size of the box is deceiving because the actual product is small enough to fit on the end of my finger. Which is the whole idea, I guess. I carefully pull it out. I’m both curious and suspicious that this is going to do anything for me. Even so, I am starting to wonder if I’m missing out on something—like Becca seems to think I am. Enough that I’m considering taking it for a test drive right now.
I wander into my room and sit down on my bed, carefully inserting the battery. I press the button, giggling like a twelve-year-old when it comes to life in my hands. I shake my head, because Becca would die if she knew what I was about to do. I’m sure she got the gift card, fully expecting me to never use it, but what else am I going to do with my Sunday afternoon? I take a deep breath and turn it on, then I slide it onto my finger and dive under the covers.
It’s not like I’m going to be broadcasting this on YouTube or anything.
Here goes nothing… Oh my.
I groan as it vibrates against me, surprised at how good it actually feels. I bring my knees up and spread my legs a little farther apart, massaging my clit with my new buzzy friend. I clamp down on my lip, stifling a moan as I tease my entrance, pushing my finger just a little farther inside. I gasp, clutching onto the sheet with my other hand as my body begins to react. This is happening faster than I thought it would. I’m ten seconds in and already close to coming. Maybe I have been missing out.
“Oh, holy fuck…”
I groan, my head snapping back as I thrust it back and forth inside me. I gasp as my hips buck forward and push my finger deeper inside me until I…
My eyes fly open in shock.
Oh no, no, no. Please not this.
I frantically shove my hands out in front of me, like I need confirmation that this is really happening. Because the hands-free buzzing in my vagina isn’t a dead giveaway.
Frantically, I try and dig it out, but it’s no use. If anything, I think I’ve made it worse. I groan and grab a handful of sheet as the toy rubs against my clit, driving me crazy.
“Oh lord, fuck, fuck fuck,” I hiss.
I bite down on my arm to muffle my cries as my heart pounds out of control in my chest. The last thing I need is for Iris to hobble in here to check that I’m okay. Damn me for giving her that key to water my plants while I was away last weekend for my cousin’s wedding.
“Oh God, make it stop.”
Struggling to catch my breath, I clench my thighs together, and groan, squeezing my eyes closed. I climax again, number five in as little as ten minutes. The worst thing is, they don’t seem to be letting up. If anything, they’re becoming more intense. Oh, my fucking lord.
I lower myself onto the floor and reach for the box, which has half rolled itself under the bed. My body aches, begging for relief, or at the very least, five minutes where I’m not climaxing. I fumble for the box, dropping it twice, before I get a firm enough grip on it to hold it up to my face. My hands shake as I struggle to read. Then I see those four little words that make me feel like I’m going to pass out.
For external use only.
Who the hell designs a vibrator for external use only? Doesn’t that defeat the whole purpose? Am I the only one who thought letting my finger do a little traveling wasn’t going to do any harm? Or am I just the only one unlucky enough to have their vagina decide to inhale it? Maybe I should’ve gone with the forearm sized one, because this tiny little thing is well and truly stuck inside me.
I should call an ambulance.
I laugh, dismissing that as an option. And say what? That’s out of the question anyway because of which hospital they would take me to. I’d rather die a slow and painful orgasmic death than be wheeled into the ER of the hospital I’m supposed to be starting work at next week.
Groaning, I fall forward against the bed, fumbling for my phone as another orgasm rips through my body. Sweat covers my forehead as I close my eyes and clench my thighs, my vagina throbbing as I struggle to breathe. Panting, I resume my search for my phone, finally finding it hiding between the pillows. I somehow manage to get Becca’s name up on the screen. I sigh, relieved, because this is not the time to be calling the wrong number.
“Hello?”
“Get over here,” I sputter. “Now.”
“What? Where are you? What’s going on?” she asks.
“Becca,” I cry, barely able to focus on what I need to say to her. “Get. Over. Here. Now.”
“Okay, I’m coming.”
Apparently, so am I.
I wheeze and drop the phone, crying out as the toy plays me like a violin.
I crawl across the floor in the direction of the living room. She’s got to be at least ten minutes away, but that’s probably how long it’ll take me to get over there. I can barely manage a few slithers at a time because it’s at the point where it just hurts. The orgasms themselves feel incredible, but those few minutes in between are just pure torture. I’m not sure how much more of this I can take. On top of everything else, I’m completely exhausted. This has to be the most intense workout I’ve ever had.
#
Becca pounds on the door just as orgasm number six tapers off. I can barely move by this point, but I made it to the door to unlock it before number six and that’s the main thing. Now all I need is for her to get this thing out of me.
“It’s me,” she calls out. “Are you going to let me in?”
“It’s open,” I manage to get out.
She walks in, her eyes widening at the sight of me hunched over the couch, thighs clenched, rocking back and forth on the floor. At least I’m not naked. I managed to half squirm my way into a dress that I found lying on the floor in my room—though I must look a mess—with only one arm through the hole and the skirt bunched up around my waist. Now that I think about it, I’m not sure why I even bothered. She sprints over to me, crouching down beside me.
“Jesus, are you okay?” She glares at me as I let out a strangled sob. “Tell me what’s wrong?” she says. She looks me over, her eyes wide with concern. “Were you attacked? Did someone break in and rape you? Talk to me, Laura. Should I be calling an ambulance? The police?” Her dark eyes study mine as I struggle to form words to answer any of her questions. “For God’s sake, Laura. Say something.”
“No ambulance,” I mutter.
I groan and clamp my legs together, gasping as my body begs for relief. This is a nightmare. I point to the bedroom, where the box is still lying on the bed. Becca stalks through to my room, returning a few seconds later with the box in her hands. Her eyes widen, to the point where they’re nearly ready to fall out of her head.
“No fucking way,” she hisses.
I nod, sweat pouring out of places I didn’t know sweat could form. She clasps her hands over her mouth and stifles her laughter, before quickly kneeling down next to me.
“What do you want me to do? Dig it out? I’ll do that for you,” she says as I glare at her. “Wait… I should’ve asked before offering. Front or back?”
“Becca,” I growl, my voice high noting at the end.
“What? I’m sorry, it was a legitimate question,” she cries, holding her hands up in defense. “You know I don’t handle poop. How on earth did you manage to get it stuck in there in the first place?” she asks, shaking her head.
“Can we discuss this later, after it’s been removed from my vagina?” I beg her.
“Yes, yes, I’m sorry. Okay, let’s get you down to my car.”
“Car?” I say, alarmed. “What happened to you offering to help me—”
“You seriously want me digging around in there like I’m looking for loose change down the back of the couch?” she asks seriously. Then she giggles, but she stops when she sees my expression. “Sorry. Disturbing mental image. You understand this is pushing the friendship boundaries, right?”
I nod weakly. Oh, I understand it, all right.
She sighs and helps me climb up properly onto the couch while I try to steady myself as my body begins to convulse. God, not again. I wipe a layer of sweat off my forehead and rock back and forth, riding out the orgasm as I whimper into the cushion. Then I gasp, clenching my thighs again, until it passes.
“You’re coming already? But I haven’t even worked my magic hands on you yet,” she jokes, flexing her fingers. “Hey, do you have any kitchen gloves, or—”
“Just get it out,” I beg her.
“Fine,” she grumbles as she gets down onto her knees. She lifts up the skirt of my dress and peers between my legs. “Hey, you smell really good. What kind of body wash do you use?”
“Becs.”
“Right, sorry,” she mutters. “Focus.”
I close my eyes, my toes curling as she slides a finger inside me. I groan, thrusting my knees together, because just the feel of her fingers inside me is driving me insane.
“This kind of feels like that game we used to play at Halloween, where we had to find the balls in the slime, while blindfolded,” she muses.
“Except with less balls,” I mutter.
She spends the next half a minute feeling around inside me, then she jumps to her feet and backs up so far, she’s standing against the wall on the other side of the room. She shakes her head, a mortified look on her face.
“I’m sorry, I love you, but I can’t do this. I can’t feel it anyway and what if I damage something or pull the wrong bit out?” she demands.
I laugh, even though I want to cry, because the situation is so helpless. My hands shake as I lift them to my head and cover my face. I’m so tired, and I can already feel another orgasm beginning to develop.
“Do you want me to call an ambulance?”
“No!”
“Why not?” she asks, surprised by my sharp tone.
“Because they’ll take me to Mercy,” I say, gritting my teeth.
“Yeah, because it’s the closest… Oh.” She pauses and at least tries to fight the smile forming on her lips. “It’s also where you start your residency next week. I guess this isn’t the kind of first impression you want to make.”
“You reckon?” I say, on the verge of tears. “Please, Becs, just help me.”
She frowns at me. “Can you walk?”
“No,” I whisper. “I crawled from the bed to here and it took twenty minutes.”
“Then I’ll have to carry you.” She turns around, bending her knees as she taps her back. “Jump on,” she urges me.
“What?” I protest. “I’m two inches taller than you,” I say, laughing in spite of how desperate I feel. “You can’t piggy back me all the way downstairs—”
“Unless you have a better idea, shut your trap, and get on,” she demands. I climb on, wrapping my arms around her neck as I hold on for dear life. “You know, I always dreamed that one day, you’d be having repeated orgasms while riding on my back,” she jokes, leading me into the elevator, which, thank God, is empty.
By some miracle, she manages to carry me all the way down to her car, while passing minimal people. I hurl myself across her back seat and whimper. She shuts the door and gets in, glancing back at me with a frown on her face.
“You know, I’m totally regretting getting you that gift card right now,” she grumbles.
“Really?” I mutter, grunting as a stab of pain slices through me. That can’t be good. “Well I think I’m regretting it more.”
How did this go so wrong? I picked the least scary looking toy on that damn site. Who could mess that up?
Me. Apparently, I can because here I am vibrating my way to the emergency room, instead of heaven, like I was promised on the box.
#
I insist we go far enough out of downtown LA that there’s no chance of running into anyone I know, and forty minutes later, we’re finally nearing the exit for the Orange County Hospital. As Becca takes the exit, the severity of the situation starts to sink in. I feel like passing out. What the hell am I going to say? How am I going to explain to a doctor that I, a medical professional, have managed to lodge the world’s smallest vibrator inside me?
“Here we are,” Becca soothes as she cuts off the engine. “You wait here; I’m going to race inside and find you a wheelchair.”
I nod, resting my head against the seat as she disappears. All the worst possible outcomes are racing through my head right now. What if I need surgery? Forget about the pain or explaining this to a doctor, how I do explain it to Mom and my brother, Matt? I’m such a shit liar, too, so if I concoct some story, they’re going to see right through it and badger me until I confess the truth, which pretty much happened with every lie I told during my childhood.
The door opens, and I look up, expecting to see Becca. Instead, I see a middle-aged male orderly smiling sympathetically at me.
“Your friend said you might need some assistance getting out?”
“Thanks,” I say, not sure what else to say to that.
Becca’s face appears behind him, mouthing I’m sorry. I brace myself and carefully slide my butt across the seat to the door. I moan, my thighs twitching as I bury my face in the seat, pressing my legs together. I sob softly as I come for what feels like the thousandth time.
After this, I don’t think I’ll ever want to orgasm again.
Of course, I know I’ll stop thinking that the moment this is over. It’s like gorging yourself with Easter eggs to the point where you’re physically sick. You swear off chocolate for life, and it lasts for two hours. Or maybe that’s just me.
“There we are,” he says as I sit down in the chair. I nod, my heart racing as I lower my head. “Let’s get you inside now, hey?”
He hasn’t asked what the problem is, which makes me wonder how much Becca told him. Usually orderlies talk your ear off, asking you all sorts of invasive questions. Not this guy, though. This guy is even avoiding eye contact.
He wheels me into a cubicle and helps me onto the bed. I clutch his arm as the movement triggers another orgasm. They’re getting shorter now, which is good, but it’s just constant pain. All I can think is how I’m on my knees, clutching some strange man’s arm, while he supports me through an orgasm. When he starts trying to soothe me like he’s comforting a crying baby, I nearly lose it—in more ways than one.
“You’re okay. We’ll get you checked out and get this pain under control,” he assures me.
I nearly faint with relief. Pain. He thinks I’m in pain.
Oh, thank God for that.
Rolling myself over, I lie back on the bed and smile, my heart pounding erratically in my chest. I close my eyes and focus on my breathing, trying to slow down my heart rate. I find the best position is to lie flat on my back with my legs slightly parted. The less I move, the easier it is to handle, even though there’s no relief from the constant discomfort.
I listen to Becca thanking the orderly for his help. I wait until he’s gone before I crack open my eyes to see Becca leaning over my face. Her eyes are laced with concern.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers. Her usually bright eyes are laced with worry as she clutches my hand. “He insisted on helping when I asked for the chair. I told him you had an exploding cyst.”
I laugh at that and even manage a smile.
“It’s fine.”
She touches my forehead and frowns. “You’re sweating bucket loads, Loz. Maybe I should go and find—”
“Please don’t,” I say grabbing onto her arm. “I want to avoid talking about this for as long as I can.” I glance at her, a horrible thought suddenly hitting me. “Actually, can you request a female doctor for me?” I ask. “I don’t think I can handle telling this story to a male.”
Especially if he’s young and even remotely attractive.
“I’ll see what I can do,” she promises.
She walks out, leaving me alone as another orgasm hits. I’m exhausted as I cry out, my hands grabbing hold of the sides of the bed I’m lying on. I groan, my back arching as my body starts to tremble. Finally, it subsides, leaving me breathless and nearing my limit. I wipe my eyes because I’m not sure how much more of this I can handle.
What if they never stop?
“Laura Black.”
My head whips around. I stare at the deliciously sexy doctor standing in front of me, staring down at a clipboard. I want to die. My breathing shallows as panic takes over.
Oh God, no.
This guy is perfect in every way. From his well-defined muscles that are peeking out of his scrubs, to his messy, but stylish dark hair, right down to those dreamy, chestnut colored eyes… He looks like a freaking model, and he’s definitely not someone I want to discuss this with.
Where the hell is Becca with my female doctor?
“Hi. I’m Doctor Dillon, one of the resident doctors here.” He smiles warmly at me, but I don’t smile back. I’m in too much shock to do anything other than gawk at him like an idiot. He glances down at his clipboard and then back at me. “So, you have an exploding cyst. How bad is the pain, on a scale of one to ten right now?” he asks. “And have you had cysts in the past?” he adds, flicking through his notes.
His brow furrows when I don’t answer either question. He steps closer to the bed. I jump, causing my body to react in the one way I don’t want it to in front of him. I blink back tears, squirming as I squeeze my thighs closed while doing my best to ignore him as he looks at me in surprise.
“I can’t talk to you. I need a female doctor,” I puff, my face flaming.
“I totally get that, Laura. I’m more than happy to request that for you, but we’re severely understaffed tonight so you might be waiting a while.” He clears his throat. “I can assure you I’m very professional. I take the safety and privacy of my patients very seriously, and I’ll do everything I can to make sure you’re comfortable.”
He speaks earnestly while I lie there, defeated. I know I can’t put up with this for much longer. So what if he’s hotter than a Calvin Klein model and in five minutes, he’ll be elbow deep inside me, probably while I’m in the middle of an orgasm?
As soon as this is over, I never have to see him again. The important thing right now is to get this out of me. I take a deep breath and nod.
“Fine, let’s just get it over with,” I mutter, gritting my teeth.
“Okay, can you tell me more about the cyst?” he asks. “Has it been diagnosed previously?”
“I…” I swallow, my heart pounding. I close my eyes and force the words out. “There is no cyst. I had a mishap with a toy.”
“I’m sorry?” he says, frowning at me. “I don’t understand what you—” He stops mid-sentence and stares at me, his eyes widening. “Oh.” After a moment of reflection, he quickly moves on. “So, it’s stuck? Inside your vagina?”
“I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t,” I snap, close to tears again.
“Right,” he replies.
He shakes his head, looking a bit lost at what to do next. Given that he’s a resident, this could well be his first disappearing vibrator case. Yay for being his first.
“Okay, so have you attempted to get it out?” he asks.
I nod. “I’ve tried, but I can’t get myself into the right position. Every time I do, it triggers an orgasm.”
“Do you have a phone?” he asks.
“No, why?” I say.
I have no idea where this is heading. He reaches into his pocket and hands me his phone. I stare at it, confused. Does he want this on video to show his friends later? That doesn’t sound very professional to me.
“I want you to google a picture of the toy. When I go in, it will help if I know what I’m looking for,” he explains.
He explains it like I’ve asked him to go to Toys “R” Us on black Friday and he doesn’t know what he’s looking for. I sigh and snatch his phone from him. I’m past the point of being embarrassed about this. I just want it over with, and if he needs more of a visual than what he’s about to get, then I’ll give it to him.
“There,” I growl, thrusting his phone back to him.
I look up in shock when the curtain is whisked back, and Becca appears.
“There aren’t any female…” Her voice trails off as she stares at my doctor. “Oh.”
“Hi,” he says, frowning at her. “We’re kind of in the middle of something here.”
“Right, I’m her friend.”
She edges closer to me, her eyes growing wide when she catches sight of what’s on his phone. I close my eyes and groan.
“This might get fairly invasive,” Doctor Dillon says to me. “I’m not sure it’s an activity you want your friend here to witness?”
“Oh, trust me, I’ve had a good old feel around up there.” Becca laughs. Her face falls when I glare at her. “Still, I might wait out here, just in case,” she whispers, backing up. She gives me a big thumbs-up as she disappears behind the curtain.
He turns back to me, his eyes locking on mine.
“I’m going to examine you if that’s okay?”
“Knock yourself out,” I say, my voice weak.
Thank God I waxed last week.
Being such a new doctor, I’d only had the one patient experiencing sexual gratification gone wrong, but he was male, and it was a TV remote up his anus, so it wasn’t quite the same. I’m not entirely sure what this examination is going to entail, and I’m not looking forward to finding out. Of course, I don’t have much choice.
I take a deep breath as he lifts up the gown to reveal my pelvis.
“Okay, let me know if you feel any pain or tenderness.” He presses various points, studying my face for my reaction. I shake my head because all the pain and discomfort is much farther south. “No pain at all?” he asks.
“There’s not really pain associated with you pressing down,” I say, trying to explain what I’m feeling. “It’s more constant,” I finally say. “And much, much lower.”
“That’s good news,” he says. He smiles encouragingly. “I think I can retrieve it manually without the need for surgery if you’re okay with me trying?”
Manually. As in, with his hands. I close my eyes and make peace with the fact that there is no saving this situation. At this point, I might as well roll with the punches and get it over with.
“Sure,” I say, a small smile on my lips. “But at least tell me your name before you penetrate me?”
He chuckles at that. “Luke.”
He disappears for a moment, then comes back in wearing gloves and carrying a large bottle of lubricant and the biggest set of forceps I think I’ve ever seen. If I wasn’t freaking out before, I certainly am now. Remember what I said about needing to be in control? My heart pounds as he pulls on his gloves and then sets up a wound care kit on the table next to the bed.
“So, how many lost toys have you retrieved?” I whisper, my throat dry.
He glances at me, amused. “Enough to know what I’m doing,” he assures me. To me, that translates to none. “I’m going to start with just an internal exam. I promise you, if I’m not confident I can get it by hand, I’ll stop and do an ultrasound. Okay?”
I nod, swallowing the baseball sized lump that has formed in my throat. I flinch as he reaches for a speculum and greases it up. He smiles sympathetically at me.
“Any discomfort or if you need a break, just tell me, okay?”
I nod and squeeze my eyes shut, jumping at every tiny touch. It’s just like having a pap smear. There’s nothing to be concerned about.
“I’m going in,” he says.
I groan as he slides the instrument into place, bracing myself as it triggers another orgasm. I’ve lost count of what number we’re up to, but this one feels much more intense. Probably because there is an insanely hot man only inches from my vagina. And in a few minutes, that insanely hot man will be placing his fingers inside me.
Oh God.
Wrong thing to think about. I arch my back slightly, the combination of him and the vibrator pushing me over the edge. I throw my arm over my mouth, trying to smother my moans. I’m so embarrassed, but apparently, my body doesn’t care too much about that. At least, not enough to stop me from climaxing twice in the space of a minute.
Panting, my hands shake as I come down from my high—which is ironically also my lowest point of the day. I feel like crying. I want to get up and run out of here and never look back. The only thing stopping me is that I know I’ll get probably as far as the nurse’s station before it all starts again.
“Keep as still as you can, Laura. I know this is hard, but I can feel it. I just need to get a little deeper…” I whimper at the thought of anything of his going deeper inside me. “There. Got it.”
My eyes fling open. My heart pounds, waiting for the next orgasm to begin, but nothing happens. Still, I brace myself and wait, and… nothing. I smile at him, tears welling in my eyes. I’m not even fazed that he’s grinning from ear to ear while holding the buzzing little sucker out in front of him, like it’s a prized fish he’s just caught.
“Oh, thank God,” I hiccup. I’m crying like a baby because the relief is incredible. Now all I need is to sleep for a week, and I’ll be fine. “I can’t thank you enough,” I add, resisting the urge to hug him. God, I’m so emotional.
“You’re welcome. I think this is the first time I’ve ever had a woman be grateful that I’ve stopped her from orgasming,” he quips.
“I’m more than grateful. I’m thrilled,” I say.
I sit up and swing my legs over the edge of the bed and stand up. He lunges forward to steady me when I struggle to keep my balance. I wince and rub my stomach. I clearly underestimated how sore I’d be.
“You really shouldn’t be leaving yet,” he says, frowning at me. “I’d like to keep you in for a few hours, so I can monitor you.”
“Thanks, but I really need to get home,” I say. All I can think about is getting as far away from here as I can, and I know for a fact that he can’t make me stay.
“Okay, well if you insist on going, I can’t stop you,” he says. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a script pad, scribbling on it. Then he rips it off and hands it to me.
“So, that’s it? There’s no other… aftercare needed?” I ask.
“Come back if there’s any bleeding or pain, but you should be fine,” he assures me. He manages to address me without smirking, but I can see the amusement in his eyes. “You’ll be tender for a few days, and you might want to avoid using your toys for a few weeks.”
“Damn, however will I cope,” I mutter, narrowing my eyes at him.
He probably thinks I’ve got a kinky dungeon thing going on in my basement.
“Intercourse is fine once the tenderness has eased,” he adds, a twinkle in his eyes.
“Trust me, nothing will be going near my vagina for a long time,” I assure him.
#
“Sit,” Becca insists.
She arms herself with the wheelchair after I’ve signed all the forms, agreeing that I’m going against doctor’s orders by leaving so soon. I’m just thankful this ordeal is finally over.
Much to Becca’s surprise I willingly sit down. I’m still quite unsteady on my feet, so I’m all for her wheeling me out of here. Once at the car, she helps me into my seat and heads back into the hospital to return the chair. I breathe out, enjoying the moment to myself. All I have to do is think about what happened, and I die with embarrassment all over again. I think what makes it worse is that I know the kind of shit doctors say about their patients behind closed doors. I’m in that environment every day, where getting a patient like me is like winning the lottery.
Becca climbs in the car slamming the door shut. She takes one look at my face and bursts into laughter. I glare at her, which just makes her laugh even harder. If I had the energy, I’d get out of the car and walk home.
“I’m sorry, but I’ve been holding that in all day,” she splutters. “I know it’s not funny, but oh my freaking God, Loz, it could only happen to you.” She forces the words out through her laughter and tears. “You’re the only person I know to visit the ER with a toy lodged inside you. They make shows about people like you. Then, if that wasn’t bad enough, you manage to get yourself fingered by the sexiest doctor I’ve ever laid my eyes on,” she says as she shakes her head. “Maybe I need to order myself one of them.”
“What he did to me was closer to fisting than fingering.” I scowl at her. “And thank you so much for the rundown, but I’m well aware of what just happened because in case you don’t remember, I was there.”
She nods furiously. “You’re right, I’m so sorry. I’m a terrible friend, but I just had to get it out.” She glances at me, biting back either tears or laughter. I’m not sure which. “I’m sure you know what that’s like, right?”
She erupts into another wave of giggles, while I glare straight ahead.
“Are you done?” I snap.
“I think so.” She takes a deep breath and straightens herself up. She looks at me, trying to disguise her grin as sympathy. “At least you don’t have to see him again, right?” She points out.
Thank God for that.