Authors: Olivia Jake
“I’m not the jackass screwing around on my cancer-stricken wife right
before I divorce her.”
“I don’t expect you to understand. But for what it’s worth, she’s
divorcing me. I just need to sign the final papers, but our marriage has been
over for a long time. And before I kissed you, I hadn’t been with anyone but
her.”
Well that took the wind out of my sails. I didn’t know what to say.
“I’m sorry about your wife.”
“Thank you. Me too.”
There was an awkward silence where we just looked at each other.
Finally, I filled it in.
“Why did you ask me to your office, Dr. Rosenberg?”
He chuckled tightly and shook his head as he looked around, like the
walls of his office held the answer.
“You won’t believe me.”
“I may think you’re a cold prick, but you don’t strike me as a liar.”
He laughed. “That’s the second backhanded compliment you’ve given me.”
“It wasn’t much of a compliment.”
“I take what I can get.”
“So, why am I here Dr. Rosenberg?”
“Brad.”
I rolled my eyes. I wasn’t going to play this game again.
“I haven’t stopped thinking about you since we kissed.”
“You what?”
“I said, I haven’t—”
“I heard you, I just…”
“Don’t believe me?”
“It’s very hard to. You make it very difficult.”
“Hard to believe I have emotions other than indifference and
callousness?”
“Look, I should go.” I didn’t know what I was feeling for this man, but
he was so messed up, whatever it was I shouldn’t have felt it. He was way more
than I could handle. I started walking towards the door and he grabbed my arm.
“Please don’t.” he said with such intensity, though it was more than
that. He said it like if I left, it would be the last straw, like he needed me
there. I felt myself weaken. He obviously sensed it too as he grabbed hold of
my other arm, stared into my eyes and then leaned down to kiss me. His kiss was
just like him, it was passionate and angry and intense and sexy. And I returned
it. Maybe I shouldn’t have, but I did. Once again, he walked me backwards as we
kissed until we hit the wall. His mouth was all over mine, his stubble rough
against my lips, his teeth tugging at, playing with my lips. He slid his hands
down and cupped my ass as he lifted me.
“Wrap your legs around me, Stephanie.” He growled into my ear and as I
did, I could feel he was already hard. I moaned as he bit that sensitive spot
on my neck, every part of my body responding to what he was doing. I ground
myself against him and tightened my legs, wishing I hadn’t worn a dress.
Wishing I had something more between us than just my underwear and his pants.
Because what my body was feeling was too much. Just like when he kissed me at
the hotel, I was actually feeling. I wasn’t just going through the motions, I
was feeling sensation and excitement and passion.
He shifted so that just one hand held me up as his other hand unzipped
his pants and he pulled himself out. As he started pulling my panties down, I
had the wherewithal to pause him.
“Condom?” I panted and he looked at me like I was nuts. It took him a
moment to come back to reality as he shook his head and slowly let me down.
“No, no condom.” He panted and then leaned his forehead against mine as
he put his hands on the wall behind me. “Fuck.”
“Not without a condom.”
He opened his eyes and smiled, a genuine smile, and then leaned in and
kissed me tenderly. As he did, he shoved his shoes and pants off with his feet
and then slowly made his way down my body, first pinching, then kissing and
gently biting my nipples through my dress, the sensation shooting all the way
down making me moan and arch against the wall. As he kept going I realized what
he was about to do and stiffened.
On his knees in front of me, he looked up.
“Dr. Rosenberg.” I half panted, half pleaded.
“Brad.” He smiled.
“Brad, you don’t have to do that.”
“I know that Stephanie. I want to. Let me. Let me make you feel good.”
He didn’t wait for a response. He lifted my skirt and pulled my panties
down. I’d never let a man do this to me before, ever. It was way too intimate,
and I’d felt way too exposed. It seemed like the kind of act reserved for
someone I trusted and I’d never trusted anyone I had been with. How could I
have when I never knew any of them? So whether I actually trusted Dr. Rosenberg
or was so drained from the emotional ping pong, I couldn’t have said. But I
didn’t push him away. For the first time, I allowed a man in in a way no one
had ever been before. Intellectually, it made no sense. Given everything I was
going through with my mom, I felt more vulnerable than ever before. I didn’t
feel weak in the way I used to see her, but I couldn’t find the strength to
stop him. He kissed me and licked me and touched me until my legs started
trembling, and that wonderful tingling and warmth that I had only ever before
felt by myself started welling up and spreading inside me. Part of me wanted to
stop it, giving this to him scared me, but I was past the point that I could
stop any of it. My legs were shaking so hard I thought I might crumple, but he
held me until it overcame me and I shattered as I panted and gasped, stunned by
the sheer force of it.
When he poked his head out from under my dress and looked up at me, I
was mortified as I saw my juices all over his face. But my embarrassment was
quickly accompanied by astonishment. I just had a real orgasm with a man. My
first time I didn’t fake it. Ever. And it was with Dr. Rosenberg, in his
office, while my mother was down the hall getting chemo.
Realizing what I’d just done, and who I just did it with was incredibly
sobering. It wasn’t just that I happened to be literally stone cold sober.
My expression must have changed, must have said it all. Brad walked
around his desk to grab some Kleenex to wipe his face. He still had no pants on
and I couldn’t help but look down at his now softening cock. I guess the horror
on my face killed the mood. There wasn’t anything I could say that could
possibly explain what I was feeling and thinking, not that I could have put it
into words anyway. I picked my underwear up off the floor, smoothed my dress
out as best I could and then, like a coward, without looking back at him,
without saying a word, I walked out.
As I walked through the hallway, my emotions were a bunch of tangled
nerves. Part of me was elated that I could actually feel so much with a man
after years of wondering if I’d ever be able to experience that with anyone
other than myself. But the elation was mixed with worry over what just
happened. Worry that he’d reject me the next time I saw him, and that I’d just
done something so incredibly wrong. I put my underwear on in the bathroom while
I checked my reflection. I prayed my mom wouldn’t notice how red my lips were.
When I got back, I was relieved to see that she had dozed off, so I slid into
my chair and gently nudged her.
“Oh, honey, I must have nodded off.” She said groggily.
I smiled feeling like heel, knowing what I’d just done. “Ready to go?”
She nodded and I helped her up. We were the last people there and the nurses
were busy tidying up.
We walked out slowly and as we got to the hallway, I looked to my right
to see Dr. Rosenberg standing there, his expression unreadable, watching us as
we left.
I was sure I’d just crossed some major ethical line, but instead of
only feeling bad about it, I actually wanted more. Maybe it was because I
actually had an orgasm. Or perhaps because I wasn’t shit-face drunk. Or that I
knew him. For normal people, those would probably be good reasons, but I’d
never had a normal relationship with sex. I’d never had a relationship, normal
or otherwise. And knowing what little I did about Dr. Rosenberg, he wasn’t
normal. Regardless, I’d just blurred one more line.
Even though it had only been two chemo treatments, the side effects hit
my mom hard. The day after this last one, she called me at work saying she felt
like she had the flu, she had chills all over and was vomiting over and over
again.
“Mom, flu symptoms and vomiting are the top two side effects of these
types of chemo. Do you remember we read about this in the handouts they gave
us?” I tried to sound comforting rather than chastising. I thought if she knew
this was expected, it might help.
I could hear her teeth chattering as she sounded beyond feeble when she
answered. “I know. I just had no idea it could be this bad. I don’t know if I
can do this, Stephanie.” It was rare that my mom used my full name, and when
she did, I knew she meant business.
It was gut wrenching hearing her like this, but I had no idea what to
do. “I’ll come over.”
“No! Do not come over! You’ve already missed enough work. There’s
nothing you can do.”
I knew she was right. There wasn’t anything I could do, other than sit
at work and feel guilty and worry about her. Still, to leave early again, if I
absolutely didn’t have to, I really couldn’t.
“All right. I’ll see you tonight.”
“Ok honey.” She barely got out as hard as her teeth were chattering. I
hung up and put my head in my hands.
“Steph?” Marty appeared in my doorway. I knew my eyes were full of
tears and he probably heard half the conversation.
I sniffled and tried to recover as best I could.
“Hey, Marty, what’s up?”
He walked in and closed my door.
Here it comes, I’m getting fired
for having taken too much time off for my mom.
“Steph, I’ve tried to respect your boundaries, but I can’t pretend to
not see what you’re going through. And I can’t not ask how you’re doing, or how
your mom is. It’s just not me.”
“God, Marty, please don’t make me feel guilty on top of everything
else. I don’t think I could handle that.” I pleaded.
“I’m serious, Stephanie. I’m worried about you. You’re here at the
crack of dawn every day, and the walls are thin, I know the only person you
talk to is your mom, I know you go see her every night, and I’m worried you’re
going to burn out.”
“I’m not sure what you want me to tell you. My mom is my best friend.
And I’ve always taken care of her, for as long as I can remember. This is who
she and I are. This is what I do. It’s never been as intense or sad as this,
but, there’s no other way for me to be.”
“There’s no one else? She doesn’t have any friends?”
“She does, but it’s not the same. And she doesn’t want to see any of
them like this.” I paused. Trying to hold back from Marty made me feel like
Sisyphus trying to keep the boulder from rolling down the mountain. “It’s
always been me and her against the world. She would always say we’re an
‘entrée’. I know it’s weird. But that’s just who we are. I’m her person and she’s
mine. Sometimes it’s fucked up, but I just don’t know any other way.”
****
When I got to Barb’s that night, she looked awful. I walked into her
bedroom and she was huddled under the covers shaking. Her two cats and dog were
all on the bed with her, and I couldn’t tell where all the hair was coming
from, but it was everywhere. She smiled weakly at me and as I pushed her hair
back to kiss her forehead, I realized the hairs were hers as strands came off
in my hands just from that brief touch. I knew how vain my mom was, so I tried
to hide the clumps sticking to my palm as I went to wet a washcloth to put on
her clammy forehead.
“Oh, that feels nice. Thank you honey.”
I sat on the edge of the bed holding her hand and wiping her face, her
head, her neck, grateful that her eyes were closed so she wouldn’t see the
tears in mine. I had taken care of my mom after other surgeries in the past, so
caring for her wasn’t new to me, to us. The difference was how weak she was,
how fragile she had become, and of course, the knowledge that this time, she
might not get better.
“So what did Dr. Rosenberg want to talk with you about yesterday?” her
voice was so weak, it didn’t even sound like the woman I knew.
I was sure that if there were a hell, I’d be burning in it some day for
all the things I’d done in my past. But after what I did with Dr. Rosenberg,
and now lying about it to my mom would probably earn me a special place even
closer to the fire.
“He just wanted to go over your course of treatment, what to expect,
things like that.”
“Why didn’t he want to talk about it in front of me?”
“Oh, because he wanted to let you rest, and since you’re out in the
open there in the treatment room, he wanted to maintain your privacy.”
“Oh, well that was very thoughtful of him, don’t you think?”
I nodded and smiled.
“See, honey, he’s not as bad as you make him out to be. I think you
just overreact to him. You didn’t argue with him, did you?”
“No mom, no arguing. I gave you my word.”
“Thank you, honey.”
****
Barb was nauseated and queasy for days, unable to keep anything down.
As the week wore on, she got weaker and weaker. She could barely take care of
herself, much less her animals, so my days would start around 5am, running my
dogs, then to Barb’s by 6ish to feed her cats and dog, walk her dog, make her
some breakfast and tidy up the house, then back home to take a quick shower and
make it into work by 8. I still tried to get in early to make sure that my work
was on track. After work, I’d go to her house, repeat the routine and then make
it home by 9ish. By the end of the week, while it was becoming the new norm, I
was exhausted. It wasn’t just the physical toll, it was the emotional one as
well.
When we got to her next chemo appointment, she had lost seven pounds.
And even to a woman who lived her whole life thinking being thin was the
ultimate accomplishment, even she knew this wasn’t something to celebrate.
I had been so focused on just getting through the days that I was able
to push thoughts of Dr. Rosenberg out of my head whenever they’d pop in, which
was often. Every time I’d think about him, my body defied my mind, reacting on
its own accord. I was both dreading and looking forward to seeing him again,
though I tried to keep my expectations low assuming he would likely blow me off
and pretend nothing had happened.
“Barbara, how are you feeling? You’ve lost more weight than I’d like to
see.” Brad scowled as he looked up from her chart, at her. He clenched his jaw,
making the muscles in his cheeks flex and relax, and then flex again.
I couldn’t tell if he was blaming her or if there was concern in his
voice. It was like his concern pained him to the point that it angered him. I
didn’t pretend to know this man, but from what I’d seen, I guessed that if his
patients got worse, he blamed himself.
“She can’t keep anything down, doctor. She’s only had a couple days
where she hasn’t been puking her guts out since the last chemo.”
On the one hand, it was so odd talking with him like a patient’s
advocate and nothing more. On the other, it was easier this way, especially if
he did rebuff me, I could just keep to my role as my mother’s caretaker and
nothing more. If I didn’t gush or show any interest then I could somehow keep
my dignity.
He stared at me for a long time, still working his jaw before nodding.
“I’ll prescribe some anti-nausea medication that should help.” He folded his
arms over his chest and looked even angrier. “And what’s your excuse?”
I furrowed my brows. The semblance of care I’d heard when he asked
after my mother wasn’t even close to being in his voice this time.
“Excuse me?”
“
You’re
not getting chemo. Why are
you
losing weight?”
I opened my mouth and stared at him but then closed it, remembering my
promise from last week. This man had better be a genius doctor, because he
really sucked as a diplomat. Part of me was actually touched that he seemed to
care about my wellbeing, but his delivery just made it sound like he was mad at
me. I had no comeback. We simply stared at each other. It was like I was a
little kid, waiting to see who was going to blink first.
“Perhaps we should discuss this in my office.” He said and started
walking away. When I didn’t stand he turned around and looked at me with a
smirk. “Would you like to come, Stephanie?”
If I’d had half a brain I would have stayed right there. Of course, I
wasn’t thinking with my head. Even when he was being a jerk, my body tingled
and throbbed as I sat there. I wished I didn’t react the way I did, but after a
lifetime of being numb to feeling anything. I couldn’t ignore it when I felt so
much.
I kissed my mom, got up and once again followed the good doctor to his
office. This time, when we got in there, he didn’t wait at all. He was on me
the minute the door closed. It was like he couldn’t get to me fast enough, and
once he did, he couldn’t get enough of me. His lips, his teeth, his hands, he
was like a man possessed the way he pressed up against me, kissed me, grabbed
me. I was lost in the intensity of his actions, the pure need. My body
responded to his like it had the time before. My heart pounded so hard I was
sure he could feel it, and everywhere he kissed me, everywhere he touched me made
my skin feel like it was on fire.
He moved us backwards until my legs hit the couch. We broke apart only
long enough so that he could pull my sweater off before he dipped his head back
in and nibbled on my neck as he unclasped my bra. As he took one nipple into
his mouth I moaned and sank a little.
“Careful.” He whispered against my lips as he steadied me.
I wish he hadn’t spoken. It wasn’t just his voice that jarred me back
to the present, it was the word itself. A warning. I’d never been careful when
it came to men. Safe sex, sure. But when it came to my emotions, I never took
care of myself. I worried that if I ever asked for anything — care,
tenderness, love, the type of treatment that most women asked for —that
all too quickly I’d turn into my mom. Weak. Desperate. Accepting of whatever
crumbs tossed to her by the many men in her life. I vowed I’d never be like
that. Problem was, I got what I asked for.
I pulled back and looked down, trying to reconcile the jumbled thoughts
in my head with the sensations all over my body. He still held my arms, and as
I tried to pry myself out of his grasp, his grip tightened. Instinctively, I
looked up at him. The intensity was still there, but along with it was concern.
His brows pulled together before his expression softened. He scanned my face,
looking for an answer while he gently stroked my cheek with the back of his
fingers. It was such a tiny gesture, but to me, it felt like he was giving me
exactly what I should have had the guts to ask for. I had no practice at this,
though. The sex part, yah. Too much practice. Sex was easy. But the feelings
part was totally new. And his damn stare just made me crumple. I had to look
somewhere else, do something that could focus both my mind and my body.
I reached up and started unbuttoning his shirt, forcing his arms to
fall to his sides. Once he slid it off, he cupped my face and slowly, tenderly,
leaned back in. The fact that I started undressing him should have been his
answer, but it seemed his kiss was the final question. It was tentative, sweet,
waiting. In the 20 plus years I’d been having sex, I never experienced
tentative or sweet. I’d always approached it like a sport, or a challenge. An
activity where there was a winner and a loser. For an act that was supposed to
be intimate, I always thought of it as adversarial. Until now.
Whether it was him, or everything else that was going on in my life, or
just about time, I had no idea. When I returned his kiss, it was my way of
confirming that I wanted this too. As much as I knew how to want something for
me.
We undressed each other the rest of the way. Before he tossed his pants
to the side, he reached into his pocket to fish out a condom and smiled proudly
before he ripped it open and slowly rolled it on. As he lowered himself on top
of me, all the frenzy of just a few moments before was gone. The intensity in
his face was still there, but his movements had changed from frenetic to tender
as he studied me. He traced my cheek again with his forefinger, dragging it
slowly down my chest to my nipple, around and around, and then down my stomach
until it got to its final destination. He used both hands to push my thighs
wide and then slid one finger up and down to open me up and then slowly slid it
in, making me moan. He pulled it out and licked the length of it before rubbing
himself against me. He paused and looked at me one more time to make sure
before slowly entering.
It had been so long since I’d had a man inside me, I gasped. Once again
with Dr. Rosenberg, I was sober, so nothing was numbed, neither physically nor
mentally.
“Oh my God, Stephanie.” He moaned as he slowly slid in and out letting
both of us get used to each other. I rubbed my hands down his back, enjoying
the feel of his skin, as he continued moving. Slowly, he increased the pace,
all the while never taking his eyes off of me. I couldn’t return his gaze, it
was too much too intense, so I looked down and watched our two bodies move
together. I got lost in watching it, us, mesmerized by how sexy it was and how
good it felt. I couldn’t believe the sensations. It never felt this good
before. Not even close.
“You like how it looks?”
Once again, his voice startled me. I nodded, somehow embarrassed.
He leaned down and watched as he slid in and out before he turned his
face back to mine and kissed me. “Me too.”
He pulled me up to him and shifted so that he was sitting and I was
straddling him. Facing him like this once again made me feel so bare, so
exposed. It sounds ridiculous that making eye contact with him felt more
intimate than what our bodies were doing, but it did. I’d spent so many years
being so disconnected from the men I was with that doing this, during the day,
in the light, without any drugs or alcohol made me feel so much more than just
the physical sensations.