I sat in the lunch room filing my nails. I kept them very short, due to my job. From where I sat I could see Dr. Durbin sitting at his large mahogany desk, writing in charts. His dark hair was wavy and getting long. When he dipped his head one strand of hair would fall down his forehead.
Every now and then we'd both glance up at the same time, make eye contact, and then quickly look away. I wanted to march in there, smooth back his hair and kiss his beautiful face. Instead, I settled for eye contact. Momentary eye contact. Having finished my nails I stood up, smoothed my white coat and went to my office.
"Do you have a second?" he asked, just as I passed his doorway.
"Sure. What's up?"
He was quiet for a minute, looking at me. More eye contact. His eyes were dark, as dark as his hair, and they seemed so full of life, secrets, interest? Doubtful.
"I, uh, I need a favor." His hesitancy was uncharacteristic. For years he'd barked orders at nurses, the patients and me until the AMA had published a recommendation on sensitivity training. Not one but several copies of the report mysteriously appeared on his desk and afterwards he became if not docile, at least more polite.
Now he was looking at me, his eyebrows knit together, his mouth opening and then closing. He looked...nervous? Strange. He was always a study in fearlessness.
"Is everything alright?" I asked, getting worried. At that his mouth clamped shut, his eyebrows straightened. It was as if he'd made up his mind.
"Of course I'm alright. I have a request to make of you and if you decline I'll understand completely."
"A request."
"Yes. You see, I turned 40 this year." I remembered it well. The awkward, half-hearted birthday party.
"And that means I'll now need a checkup with my urologist. Except I don't have a urologist so I wondered if you would perform the exam."
Now it was my mouth opening, then closing. I was astonished. He sat there with his hands folded on his desk, as if it had not once occurred to him he'd just asked me if I would stick my finger up his ass. The thought made my heart lurch. I performed rectal exams every day with about as much sexual excitement as I'd have examining a pig. But him. Seeing him, touching him so intimately. My face was beginning to burn red.
"I'd love to," I blurted out, turned on my heel and fled to my office. I shut the door and leaned back against it, my heart pounding.
I'd love to? Had I actually said that? I couldn't have just said Okay?? Or Fine?? No, I'd love to. Sigh. Because I would love to. The man was like a living Adonis. A perfectionist, brilliant, emotionless Adonis. I changed coats, grabbed my purse and told Lisa I was leaving for the day.
---
Later that night, I sat on the couch, a glass of Shiraz nearly forgotten on the table beside me. Normally this was my time to let my mind relax, stop thinking about patients and their illnesses, their lives and their deaths. But all I could think of was Durbin.
What was I doing? This idea of me performing his exam was crazy in so many ways. Number one, we work together. We jointly own the practice so he isn't technically my boss, but he did mentor me, he's more experienced than me.
Number two, everyone in the office will know. And laugh. And I don't blame them.
Number three, and most troubling, was my desire for him. I couldn't count the number of times I'd woken up from dreams of his lips on mine, our bodies wound together under the blankets of my bed, sliding against each other in the shower. I'm surprised he doesn't know, actually. It must show on my face when I look at him, right? Then again, he is clueless when it comes to human interaction.
If he did know, would he have asked me? Would it make him uncomfortable? Most guys would love knowing a woman had a crush on them, but Durbin is not most guys.
I should back out. I should do it asap and get it over with. I should get him drunk, sleep with him and do it during sex.
I decided to wait, do nothing, say nothing. Maybe he would change his mind and we'd just never have to talk about it ever again.
--
The next morning I made it halfway through a shower before I remembered. Instantly the warm water felt sensual, trickling down my breasts and belly. I imagined it was his tongue licking me, wetting my breasts with his mouth while his hands... shit, I had to stop this.
I ran a comb through my still-wet hair and checked for grays as I did every morning. Luckily it was still mostly reddish brown. I slipped on a silk blouse, skirt and heels and hurried out the door.
As I opened the door Lisa smiled and said her customary "Good morning Dr. Taylor. Here are your charts for the day." We still used paper charts in our office, in addition to the electronic health records we kept in our computer system. When the law was passed requiring them Durbin had said "Doctors see patients, not laptops," and hired a new admin to help out. It had been another moment that made me admire him, respect him. And as I flipped through the charts I saw his name on one of them. D. Durbin - 1:00 pm. Oh god.
--
The morning went by in a blur of old men and their problems. I loved my patients and tried to listen to them as long as I could, but in the back of my mind I knew there was always another one waiting for me, someone who needed me, needed to see his doctor.
At 12:30 I grabbed a salad from the fridge and sat down at my desk, stacks of charts and medical journals surrounding my computer monitor. I ate quickly, nervously, barely tasting the romaine and grilled chicken. I knew what was coming, and all of a sudden there it was, a soft knock on my door and his head poking through.
"I'm going to get dressed. See you in five?"
"Sure," I gulped. At least I hadn't said can't wait.
Five long minutes later I tapped on the door to Room C. He said to come in and I grabbed his chart from the wall and opened the door.
"Hi, I'm Dr. Tay - oh." We both laughed nervously. I was on autopilot.
"It's okay if you're nervous," he said to me quietly.
