Dr. Callahan could not stop thinking about her. No matter where he was in the clinic, or what kind of a case he was monitoring, she seemed to be in his field of view. He saw the curve of her hip where it folded so sweetly into her belt, the inviting roundness of her as she leaned over a patient, tools held firmly in her beautifully manicured hands. Every time he consulted with her, casually leaning in, her smell was intoxicating, her neck drawing his eyes down into her shirt where lived a promise he could feel. Her red lips, always perfectly made up, made him quiver. All he wanted to do was touch her.
He had been floored that such a beautiful, relatively mature woman would be studying dentistry. He had reviewed her student file. Her name was Althea. She was 37 years old, had immigrated to the US at age three from Morocco, was married, had two kids, parents, a husband in some kind of commercial business. She was exotic as hell, North African and Irish, olive skin, deep blue-green eyes, perfect body, five foot six or so, thick black hair cascading halfway down her back, with round breasts that rose fully under her shirt, so different than his wife's A size. She usually wore clean silk pants and a tailored cotton shirt to clinic; he would always find an excuse to be near the lockers when she took her lab coat off to put on her jacket, just to catch a glimpse of her curves and imagining what it would be like to run his hands all over that body. Over the months, he collected several photos of her on his cellphone that he would take home and, hidden from his wife, masturbate to the vision of taking her over and over again.
It was impossible, he knew. She had a complex life. He was old, a mature man at ease with life's compromises. His kids were grown and gone, he loved his wife. . . but he couldn't leave the vision aside. When they had face to face conversations he felt shamefully transparent. As the year wore on, he thought that maybe she was teasing him just a bit—one day an extra button seemed to be open on her shirt. Another day she had a black bra under her white shirt. In the springtime she started to wear skirts, and when talking to him she crossed and uncrossed her legs, sending the hem just a few inches up her thigh. It was nothing you could really call flirting, but to his fevered mind the teasing made him yearn for her even more. His friend thought he was being ridiculous.
"Look, Jim," he would say, "She keeps asking for you to look at her, finding excuses to talk to you. She's saying she's available! You have to give it a try. Look, you can use my office."
"How am I going to get her there?"
"I'll invite her to my next CEU meeting and you can try your luck."
**********
There were about 15 people there, and as the presenter droned on one by one most of the attendees left. He didn't hear a word of the presentation, wandering in and out, trying to defeat his anxiety, to summon the courage to face her. She took the decision from him, finding him in a back office and closing the door behind her.
"Dr. Callahan, there you are. Everyone else has left. But I have to speak with you. You have been looking at me all semester. You must like what you see. Do you want to see more?" She was unbuttoning her shirt as she said this, and slipped it off her shoulders.
"What? Do you mean it?"
"Doctor, I am a grown woman. I do not remove my shirt unintentionally. As it happens, you might be able to help me. My husband's business is slow this month and we are going to be short of cash. I occasionally moonlight as an escort. And I am available to you tonight for $2000."
He had never hired sex before. Even when fishing in Argentina with his friends, men who spent their nights with prostitutes, he couldn't. But he looked at this perfect woman, standing before him in her bra and business skirt, with her dental shoes and hair and makeup perfect . . . It was now. He apologized to his wife, hoping she would understand, and said, "I don't have that much on me, and its beyond my ATM withdrawal limit."
She smiled at him and said, "That's OK. We take credit cards."
She took out her phone and its tiny card reader. He thrust his card at her. She processed the transaction, then reached down and unzipped her skirt. She stepped out of it and hung it carefully behind the door, where her shirt already was on a hanger. She stood before him in her the tiniest lacy silk bra and panties. She spun the examining stool, raising it, and sat down.
"Get in the chair, Doctor Callahan," she said.
He would do whatever she told him. He sat down; she slid the stool over and reclined the chair, expertly working the switches with her foot while unbuttoning his shirt. Slipping it off, she ran her hands up and down his chest. His cock was throbbing. She ran her hand down and over it.
"It is 5 in the afternoon, James. May I call you James? I'll be yours until midnight. We will be back in clinic on Monday and this will be done. It will never happen again. But for the next few hours, you will be pleasured more than you could ever have imagined. Take this."
She reached into her purse and handed him a Viagra. She took out four condoms, a vibrator, a tube of KY jelly, a small video camera and two vials of amyl nitrate. She laid these tools out on the device tray.
He said, "You are well prepared. I would never have suspected you had all of that in such a compact bag. You were pretty sure I'd pay, weren't you? And what's the camera for?"
"In my experience, men don't say no to me. And I've had much practice with preparation! The video is for my protection and yours. We will position the camera so it does not show your face."
"Does your husband know what you are doing?'
"Yes. The credit card authorization goes through his business. We call it consulting services."
"Consulting. He wants you to prostitute yourself?"
"Well, yes, I suppose so. I do not do it very often, but I do it regularly. The money is very good. My husband likes to watch me on the video while he does me afterwards. I know your next questions—my clients always want to know how I got started. When my family came to the U.S., we had nothing. Since I matured at 14, I have always had this body. I was an undergraduate and though a series of odd circumstances I ended up stripping in a club in Sacramento. My husband actually met me in that club. It paid far better that any other job a student could hope to get. After I got comfortable, I would turn an occasional trick to get extra money for books or for a flight home to visit my mother. It was easy to find clients and I found I enjoyed both the control and the submission, especially as I developed some experience. Our intention is that I transition out of it completely; dentistry is one of the professions where I can match my earnings per hour. In any case, even at my height I did it only once or twice a week. Now it is perhaps five times per year. I'm fortunate to be expensive." She flicked the switch and turned on the water and air.
Startled, he asked, "What do you plan to do?"
"Just take care of you. I'm sure you will like it, though."
