Doctor's Orders (3 page)

Matt gently pushed me back into my seat, then
reached down for the seat lever, flipping my seat back almost to
the horizontal. By an unspoken agreement, we both stripped off our
clothes quickly – there was no time for messing about with foreplay
and all that crap - giving any passers by a glimpse of two naked
humans ready and desperate for sex. I didn’t have to wait long. As
I leaned back in my seat, Matt towered over me, caressing my body
with gentle kisses from my breasts to my thighs and back again.
Then I felt his weight against my body as his flesh met mine. His
rigid cock probed against my thighs, searching for the ultimate
destination, and then he was inside me. The entry was smooth and
electric, sending that familiar wave of pleasure pulsing deep
within me.

‘Angel, you are so sexy,’ he whispered. I wasn’t
about to disagree with him, but quite frankly, I was past the
talking stage. This was just a lunch hour quickie, after all.

‘Fuck me,’ I said. Yes, I know it’s not very
original, but you don’t want any misunderstandings on these
important points.

There was no misunderstanding. Matt fucked me good
and proper, the sensations of pleasure rippling deeper and deeper
through my body as he rode me like a cowboy mounting a bucking
bronco. There is something raw and sensual about sex in a car, like
being a naughty teenager all over again. I spread my legs wider,
one knee up against the window, the other pushing against the
driver’s seat. I felt Matt deeper and deeper inside me, and soon I
was rushing to a glorious climax.

There was no time for recovery. Matt just kept on
going. Soon I was climaxing again, digging my fingernails into his
back as the pleasure spread through me. Then it was Matt’s turn. I
felt his thrusting become more urgent, the expression on his face
growing more intense. Then his body quivered and he tensed all over
as his man seed spurted deep within me.

Oh, I love that feeling! Sex the way it is meant to
be. Natural and complete. I felt like a whole woman, as if my
destiny had been fulfilled in that moment. Matt kissed me and then
pulled away. There wasn’t going to be time to get anything to eat
now. We would have to clean ourselves up and head straight back to
the studio. But that was OK....I prefer man meat for lunch, anyway.
It’s my favorite dish.

***

When I got back to the
office later that afternoon, I was feeling pretty good. The session
had gone well once the power came back on, and everyone was pleased
with the photos. And I had squeezed in a fuck without getting
fired. Not a bad day, whichever way you looked at it.

Vanessa called me into her office to discuss the
photos, pointing out what she liked, and what she wanted done
differently next time. But overall, she was cool with the whole
thing. As I was about to leave the room, she said:

‘Oh, one more thing. I can’t make lunch with Brad
tomorrow after all. I will be tied up with our lawyers for most of
the day, and they don’t take no for an answer. So I suggested to
Brad that you should go to lunch with him instead.’

‘Me? Why me?’

Vanessa gave me a patient look. ‘You are our new
Assistant Editor, remember. You will be working with Brad a lot, so
this is a good chance for you to get to know each other.’

‘Oh, right.’

‘He will pick you up outside the office at twelve
thirty. Don’t be late...he expects people to be punctual.’

‘Right. No worries.’

Back in my cubicle, I read through the article
Vanessa had given me earlier. All good advice, and clearly
delivered. This guy was a top professional, and people listened to
what he said. But I wondered what on earth I would discuss with a
serious expert on sex and relationships. I had plenty of experience
on the sex side of things, but I wasn’t sure if that was the kind
of subject we should be discussing in a posh restaurant. Hmmm. I
would just try to look cute and innocent, and play it by ear.

Then my phone rang. I picked it up, and said my
name. I recognized the deep and silky voice at once.

‘I hear we have a date for lunch tomorrow.’

I dropped the phone, and had to scramble to find it.
‘Hello...you still there? Sorry...er...yes. So I hear.’

Once again my voice came out in a frantic squeak.
Great. I sounded like a total dickhead. I took a deep breath,
focused, and managed to bring my voice down to a pitch where people
could hear it, as well as dogs.

‘I’m looking forward to it.’

‘So am I. If you are as beautiful as you sound, it
really will be a pleasure.’

I spluttered incoherently. I think I might have
gurgled. ‘Lovely.’

‘I’ll pick you up at half past twelve precisely.
Please don’t be late, as I have a TV interview at three o’clock. I
want to make the most of the time we have together. See you
then.’

And he was gone. No wonder they called him an expert
on relationships. I’d only spoken a few words to him, and he
already had me quivering like a smitten schoolgirl. I hadn’t even
met him yet.

I was both nervous and excited about our lunch date
– I mean lunch appointment – the next day. I felt that it was going
to be quite an experience.

***

My flat mate Ellen is
no prude. I mean, I have seen her get through a guy or two in the
short time we have been sharing an apartment together. I moved to
Sydney a few weeks before my contract on Hot and Hunky started, to
settle into life in Australia. Living upside down sounded a little
weird to me. I answered Ellen’s online ad for a flat mate, and we
hit if off right away. I moved in the next day, and we got along
like the proverbial house on fire.

Ellen is the kind of girl who looks a little
tomboyish on the outside, but is all woman on the inside. She is
trying to break through the glass ceiling at work, so she
deliberately tones down her femininity. She wears her hair cut
short, and dresses in pants and shirts like a man. But it’s all a
waste of time, because she still looks dead sexy, and every man she
meets wants to fuck her brains out. And if she finds the right guy,
she is happy to co-operate in that kind of joint venture. I mean, I
should know. Her bedroom backs onto mine, and I’ve been kept awake
by the sound of her screaming while the headboard of her bed bangs
against the wall. Then again, it works both ways, so I suppose I
can’t complain.

But I’m getting off the point. What I was about to
say is that when I updated her on my latest exploits that evening,
she was a little shocked.

‘You had sex with two guys in twenty four hours?
That is pretty frantic, Angel.’

Oh, if only she knew! In my college years, that
would have been a slow day. But I’m getting older now, well into my
twenties and heading towards my thirties. Scary! But anyway, I felt
obliged to defend myself.

‘There’s nothing wrong with having a healthy sex
life. It’s completely normal.’

Ellen curled her legs up on the sofa and sipped at
her red wine. ‘Normal for you, maybe, but not normal for the rest
of the human race. You really need to slow down a bit.’

‘I am sure that one day, I will meet some really
great guy, and then I will settle down. But until I do, I don’t see
any harm in playing the field. It’s what being single is all
about.’

‘Playing the field? Is that what you call it?
Playing the planet more like. Honestly, Angel, I think you have a
real problem.’

Now I was really hurt. ‘What do you mean?’ I
demanded.

Ellen gave me her caring big sister look. ‘I think
maybe you should get some help.’

‘Help for what?’

‘Sex addiction.’

I stared at her in amazement. ‘You think I’m a sex
addict?’

She didn’t say anything. She didn’t need to. We both
knew the answer. I went to my room and sulked for the rest of the
evening. Sometimes the truth hurts just a bit too much.

***

The next day, I just
about managed to burst through the revolving doors of our office
dead on 12.30, and spilled out into the street. I looked around
anxiously for a car that might belong to Dr. King, but couldn’t see
one. The only two cars immediately outside the office were a taxi
and a Bentley, which obviously belonged to some stinking rich
git.

As I peered up the street looking for a likely
vehicle, the Bentley pulled alongside me. The window wound down
noiselessly and a face I recognized from the photos smiled up at
me.

‘You must be Angel...hop in!’

A Bentley? What kind of a doctor drives a Bentley?
There was more to this guy than I had first suspected, it seemed. I
got into the car and belted up.

‘Wow, nice car,’ I said. ‘I’m surprised you don’t
have a chauffeur!’

‘It’s his day off,’ came the reply, making me feel
like a right idiot.

‘Oh, sorry Dr. King.’

Dr. King looked at me and smiled. ‘Just kidding.
Chauffeurs are not my style. I always drive myself. And please call
me Brad.’

Well at least he wasn’t some kind of a big prick.
Not that there is anything wrong with the concept of a big prick –
I am very keen on them, as you know by now. We chatted idly until
we got to the restaurant, which was one of the poshest I had ever
been in. I started to panic. I wouldn’t have any idea what to
order, or what spoon to use, or any of that stuff. But as it turned
out, Brad made it easy. I think he was used to lunching with people
who were a bit out of their depth, and he took care of the
ordering, and I just followed his lead in everything else.

The restaurant staff knew him by name, and we had no
difficulty in securing a table, even though the restaurant was
full, and there were people waiting to be seated. After a couple of
glasses of wine, I relaxed a good deal, and started to enjoy
myself.

I had dressed more conservatively than usual that
day, looking very much the elegant lady...or at least, as close as
I was likely to get. But I still felt like a pauper sitting across
the table from Brad. That guy just oozed the concept of money and
success without even meaning to. I doubt if he got any change from
four thousand bucks for his suit, and his shirt and tie probably
weren’t much cheaper.

But it was his looks that really caught your
attention. And when I say ‘your attention,’ what I mean is the
attention of every other female in the restaurant. He was the
archetypal tall, dark handsome stranger. I could feel envious looks
burning into my back from other women in the room who were stuck
with regular dudes. If he had stood up at that moment and said
‘anyone want to suck my dick?’ I reckon at least ten women would
have volunteered on the spot. But of course, that wasn’t his
style...far from it.

‘So tell me about yourself,’ he said as we tucked
into some starter that tasted delicious, whatever the fuck it was.
I gave him a brief run down, conveniently omitting nearly all of
the men in my history, and focusing on my other achievements. That
is, a gymnastics trophy I won when I was fourteen (I could probably
ace that now - my gymnastic abilities have improved a lot) and
scraping a pass in my degree.

In return, he told me about his background. I
discovered he was not only a medical doctor, but also a qualified
psychologist. He had enough letters after his name to play Scrabble
with, and his private clinics were so successful he could afford to
take time out for media work. Now he was well on his way to
becoming a celebrity doctor. Not being very familiar with Aussie
television, I didn’t recognize him from his TV appearances. But
halfway through the meal, a rather shy young lady came up and asked
him for his autograph. So he wasn’t bullshitting....it was all
true!

When she was gone, Brad leaned forward across the
table and smiled. ‘Well, that’s enough about us. Now let’s get down
to business. We need to start planning our articles for the next
few issues. What ideas would you like to put forward?’

Ideas? Nobody told me I was supposed to have ideas.
My mind started racing, but only in pointless circles. I tried to
concentrate. Ideas are not my strong point, except in the
bedroom.

‘Yes, I have been working on some concepts,’ I lied.
Lying comes easily to me. When I was a horny teenager with an
over-protective father, I learned all kinds of deception to keep my
guilty secrets hidden. That experience often comes in handy.

‘I thought we could work together on some articles
about....’ my mind was still blank. I needed something to do with
sex and relationships...I remembered my conversation with Ellen the
night before.

‘...about sex addiction!’ I said triumphantly.

Brad looked a little taken aback, but only for a
moment, then he regained his composure.

‘That’s an interesting idea,’ he said. ‘It’s
certainly something we haven’t covered before. But is it something
that is really of concern to young women today...to the readers of
your magazine?’

‘Oh, yes,’ I replied enthusiastically. I was on
familiar ground now. ‘In fact, I have a friend – a friend of a
friend, actually - who suffers from this very problem. She has an
uncontrollable need to have sex as often as she can.’

‘Really? That’s very interesting. I can see it must
be very difficult for her...and for you, too, as her friend.’

‘Oh yes, I - er - feel her pain. It must be very
frustrating.’

Brad was very interested now. ‘Very often, these
problems exist, but professionals such as myself know little about
them, because people don’t share these very private issues. We
could be bringing a major topic to the surface.’

Having opened my mouth, I was beginning to wonder if
this had been a good idea. There was no telling where this was
going to end up. But it was too late now, I was committed. Brad had
a look in his eye that told me he had already decided on a plan of
action.