Be warned that the main subject of this story, Dr. Martin has sex with woman/women that he is not married to. If you are offended by this premise, don't read on … go read something else.
I never expected that I would be writing a Part 5, but you – the readers - urged me in your feedback to write some more. Then I found I had to anyway, because the saga that I thought was complete, had another twist to it.
The government department that oversees the issuing of licenses to practice medicine decided that Dr Martin might have a case to answer for improper conduct with a patient…
Chapter Fifteen
I am Dr. James Martin … a respected member of my community … a G.P. – that's a general practitioner, the sort of doctor who has to know the symptoms of nearly every disease and how to treat it. That doesn't make me an expert in anything … I leave that for the highly paid specialists. Me … well I collect my $65 per ten minute consultation and I squeeze in about 30 patients a day. That's close to $10,000 per week, but I do have costs – staff wages, rent. But you do the math … in a career spanning almost 30 years, I am doing all right.
I am married to Jane, have been for 25 years and we raised a couple of fine kids, one already married and the other maybe sometime soon.
I have been a very good doctor all these years, only ever acting with decorum and treating my patients with the utmost respect. However, something went amiss after I turned 50, my morals seemed to derail and I began to look at my female patients with carnal desire and lust.
If a woman presented to me in my surgery with a problem that necessitated me touching her vagina, then I would have this incredible urge to do more than touch it. I became crazy with intense arousal, my cock would spring up and my hands would want to insert my fingers and bring her on.
Considering I see 30 patients a day and 20 of them would be women, I actually did control myself most of the time. But there were those moments when I totally lost it. They were the rare episodes of indiscreet dealings with patients that I related to you in this story's earlier parts … the episodes that were all capable of bringing my medical career to a screaming halt. I did predict – to you, the reader – that my having sexual encounters with my patients could return to
bite me in the bum
one day.
Do you remember the first incident, with Julie Jackson (in Part 1), the patient that started it all. She was a new mum who came to me because her milk ducts were blocked. I have to say that I used some unconventional methods to start her breast milk flowing again … but no harm done, we both enjoyed the experience of my drinking from her bulging nipples. Then we had to compound matters by each masturbating the other. She swore she would never tell anybody.
A week later, Angela came to visit me. She and her partner were having trouble with some pain and discomfort while having sex. I looked up inside her and discovered that she had some lesions, caused by rough sex, on the roof of her vaginal passage, very near her g spot. Diagnosing it was fine, but treating her by applying the soothing cream with my own fingers did lead to some complications in our doctor-patient relationship. "Please don't tell anyone," I implored Angela after we each sucked the other to completion and she willingly agreed for it to remain our dirty little secret.
Then in Part 2, there was 19 year old Stephanie, not long out of high school. Her mother came with her … what a great pair of good lookers. It seems that Steph's boyfriend had botched their first fuck together and left her as half a virgin. It was up to me – the good doctor – to finish the job by whatever means necessary.
Fixing Stephanie's little semi virgin problem was a simple breakthrough, but I found that her mother Victoria wanted to make her relationship with the family doctor one that you wouldn't read about in the Medical Journal. One Wednesday afternoon when I should have been playing golf, she lured me to make a very long house call, even introducing this innocent unsullied doctor to the carnal delights of anal sex.
Speaking of good looking women's arses (which we almost were), I must not forget Diana who was married to a man with a small dick – well, his name was Richard. It was so small that his cock barely touched the sides of her vagina, so they had long ago agreed that he would do her in the arse where his midget cock would seem to be more tightly held. The problem was that when a neighbour put his real sized cock in her arse, she really got a workout. How that could lead to her doctor fucking her is completely beyond me … but of course it did (in Part 3).
The last straw was when my good wife Jane even became complicit in organising for me to father a child for a patient whose husband was infertile. No test tubes for us, I got in there and gave her one every time she was on heat … and that was often, much to her husband's frustration and jealousy.
I knew, as each episode with another female patient unfolded, that my career would go down the tubes if only one of these women, who may have wanted more from me – or who maybe felt cheated in the cold light of day, blabbed. Just one of them could wreck my whole, previously ethical, career by complaining to the Medical Tribunal.
Well, what do you know, someone has. I don't know who it was, the authorities so far won't tell me. I received a letter from the Medical Tribunal, advising that they have received a complaint that I have dealt with a female patient in a less than professional manner. They have asked for my response. Of course, the problem is they won't tell me just who it is that has complained or the nature of the complaint.
My lawyer says that they are on a fishing expedition. In other words, they don't have enough to hang me yet and they're hoping that I will be stupid enough to panic and 'fess up every indiscretion that I may have had with a female patient. Goodness me, have I got enough paper for that confession?
Her (my lawyer is a woman – so what, I like women a lot) legal advice is to be aggressive in my defence. She suggested that I should immediately start a petition going at the front desk of my surgery, asking all of my female patients to sign if they agree with the following statement:
"The Medical Tribunal is investigating the manner in which I (Dr Martin) deal with my female patients. There is some veiled suggestion that I may not have been completely ethical with some. Would you please sign below if you consider that Dr James Martin has only ever treated you honourably, ethically and with total respect to your body's privacy."
What a great idea that was. My patients were all eager to sign. After all, of the more than 500 female patients on my books, I had always treated the majority with decorum. No, I didn't check the petition pages to see if it had been signed by Julie or Angela or Stephanie or Victoria or Diana – or the beautiful new mum Natalie, who has a baby that looks like me.
Every Wednesday, I play golf with some of my medical buddies. One of them is Dr Andrew Griffin, our city's leading gynaecologist. Not only a golf partner, but he and his gorgeous second wife, Alicia, regularly come to our house for dinner parties, and Jane and I reciprocate to their place often too.
I had discussed my problem with him without daring to admit that there could be a fabric of truth in the allegation. I had told nobody of my indiscretions, although Jane of course knew about my providing my sperm for Natalie to make her baby … she was my good wife who had encouraged me to procreate in that way.
Andrew had tut-tutted about the perils of our dealing with female patients, many of who nurtured this romantic fantasy of getting it off with their doctor. He even confessed to me that he had experienced several close calls, particularly in the field in which he dealt, looking at vaginas from morning till night. He didn't go so far as to say whether any of the allegations against him might have had some foundation of truth.
What did spook me out though was the visit I had from his wife Alicia in my surgery late one afternoon. I tell you that she always looked a million bucks, but this day, the 30-something blonde was dressed to kill.
"Alicia, to what do I owe this pleasure? You may well be on my books as a patient, but I don't often get the opportunity to ogle you and your luscious body." All right, that may have seemed a bit forward, but Alicia and Andrew were among our closest friends and I had been flirting with her ever since Andrew married her some five years ago. He was on the rebound from his first wife who left him for a younger man.
While we considered her a patient of mine, I recognised that being married to a gynaecologist would negate the need for her to come to me for anything that required taking her clothes off … damn it!
"James darling, Andrew told me of your problem, so I came to offer my help. What have you been up to, you naughty man?" She did sound a bit pretentious when she talked.
"Alicia, how could you even suggest it … you know me, as scrupulously ethical as the day is long."
