In the months after my ex left me, I dealt with the rejection by escaping into a fantasy world where I was again an object of desire. But these vivid scenes starred someone all too real, my OB GYN, a man I had developed the fiercest crush on over the past years, one that intensified exponentially immediately following this latest trauma. While the year's daydreams served a purpose, they also made my upcoming appointment with Dr. Marco emotionally charged.
I was hesitant to talk about the changes in my life and my bruised ego, even though he had known me quite a few years and delivered my children, which of course were some of my fondest memories. I also hadn't been with a man in a year, and the thought of being on display in this way was angst filled and strangely exciting at the same time. My heart began to race as I lay back on the exam table and settled my heels into the stirrups. In he came.
Dr. Marco was very tall. At least six foot three, maybe more, with a slim but pleasantly muscular build. Good shoulders, a strong nose and wavy brown hair. The fact that he was probably in his early fifties and about 20 years my senior made him that much more attractive to me as there was something even more illicit about my feelings. Perhaps it also had something to do with his sophistication and cool confidence. He had style; you could almost see your reflection in his shiny brown Ferragamo shoes. A pristine, well coordinated shirt and tie were always peeking out from his white lab coat.
He was so proper, in fact, that I decided he must be hiding ragingly dirty side underneath. He was a GYN after all. How does a man become drawn to that profession? Not to mention, how intriguing would it be to experience such an intelligent man whose entire life was dedicated to being a student of the female body? Thousands upon thousands of women. What secret spots did he know about that your average man on the street did not? My mind ran wild with this thought in particular.
During a few past visits, I'd seen him in his short sleeve scrubs and sneakers. These were my favorite days, as you could clearly make out his bulge beneath the thin green fabric. He'd look uncharacteristically rumpled and slightly sweaty, probably fresh off a double shift of bringing new babies into the world, adding to his superhuman mystique. On those occasions I would lie back and enjoy watching his well-defined bicep dance a little as he used his fingers to navigate my body, his eyes darting side to side as he observed me intently from beneath the paper draping.
He didn't wear a ring and never shared his story, but he had an air of loneliness about him that made him all the more complex. I wanted to break down his icy exterior and I wanted to know him. Did he notice how I'd tried to look my best, putting an extra effort into my makeup and being sure that my long brown hair had just the right amount of body? My inappropriate feelings had the happy effect of melting away all the usual doctor anxiety in favor of the butterflies you get from your high school crush. I felt ridiculous of course, but he really was, in a word, intense.
I wasn't the only one Dr. Marco made nervous. I had seen entire rooms of people freeze as he entered. Nurses and even other doctors would stand up straighter in his presence. He was clearly an expert in his field and someone who effortlessly commanded respect, even a little fear, perhaps. The owner of a thriving practice and a bigwig at the hospital, you just could never get a read on him. I'd find myself comfortable in his presence, but never too much so. Maybe it was the Patrick Bateman gone 50-something vibe he had working that kept you feeling on edge. Still, he could be suddenly warm. The kind of guy who makes you wonder if he's going to murder you or make love to you.
A little wider please" he said as he gently coaxed my knees apart. "Now a little cold, a little pinch, good girl."
The last part made me tremble.
When he looked up his gaze was, as usual, steely. What was this man thinking? Could he feel that he'd been the subject of my fantasies for the better part of a year now? That many nights I'd fall asleep after getting off to thoughts of him taking me from behind over his exam table, his pants just barely unbuckled from the urgency of the encounter. I had so much pent up frustration that I was sure he could hear my thoughts. So I started rambling. I told him everything. How my husband had suddenly left last last year. I even told him that he said it was because I didn't feel the same to him after our kids came. Before I knew it, a few tears had rolled down my face onto the table.
"I'm sorry for your troubles," he said dispassionately as he rolled backwards and snapped off his gloves one by one. Standing now, he brushed his large hand over his chin as if thinking carefully about something, then he glanced for a split second towards my still partly opened legs. "You know that ethically I can only respond as your clinician, but I will say that I hope some day the world realizes how beautiful and powerful women's bodies are, particularly after they've given life. You don't get into this business if you can't see the allure in that." Allure. His words made me feel better.
"You're doing great, sweetie," he said as he gave me a sudden, now fatherly, peck on the forehead, making me feel oddly kinky for my obsession. Then, blinking through his hooded emerald green eyes that lent such a unique contrast their black eyelashes and his lightly tanned, olive skin he said, "I'll look forward to seeing more of you next time." More of me. Hmmm. Not so fatherly? A shiver went up my back.
The following week I did the impossible and, for the first time since my ex took off, parked the kids with family and made evening plans with a friend. I had no idea what to do as a new single, but it was finally summer and I reasoned that I deserved some fun. I was pleased by how my old favorite red slip dress looked on. It was just short enough to be sexy but not over the top, and paired perfectly with my very high nude sandals. I'd somehow found the time to properly prepare for anything, and down to the shimmery bronzer on my legs, I decided I was ready to stick it to my ex if a worthy option presented itself.
The night ended up amounting to just some girl talk and too much wine, so when my friend headed out, I found myself not quite ready to go home. My feet seemed to be carrying me to this townie haunt at the top of the cliff that overlooked New York City from its vantage point across the Hudson River.
The red dress scored me the requisite validation I'd been drunkenly hoping for, but as I took my place at the corner stool, I quickly realized I was going to be getting a lot of unwanted attention. Still, when you're slumming it you can't go wrong with a decent tequila on the rocks. I'd drink my courage and befriend the bartender in case anyone creepy decided to bother me. I'd no sooner placed my order than I fixed my gaze across the rectangular bar to a tall figure leaning over with a drink in hand.
It was him.
