Big Spankable Asses (11 page)

“I get it,” Cally said with a nod and an understanding smile. “You’ve felt safe, so to speak, all these years thinking that you couldn’t be sexually excited.”

“Well, I didn’t necessarily like it, but I got used to it—”

“And then Nick came along and blew that theory all to hell and back and you’re left with all these pent-up, hot, sexy feelings that need alleviating, but you’re too much of a lily-livered coward to let that happen. That about cover it?”

“Well, I wouldn’t have put it exactly in those terms,” Melinda said sarcastically, “but if you, as a highly qualified, board-certified psychologist feel that
you
have to, then who am I to argue?”

Cally just laughed at her. “I’m not speaking as a psychologist. I’m speaking as your friend, and you know I’m right.”

“Yes, yes, I know you’re right, but that still doesn’t make it any easier.”

“I’m sure it doesn’t, but look at it this way—if you and Nick ever do hit the sheets, you definitely won’t be faking orgasms anymore.”

Mel looked around to make sure they were still alone. She leaned in, “Be quiet, Cally! I don’t want everyone within the sound of your voice to know my business. Don’t make me regret telling you my secrets,” she warned in a whisper.

“I’m sorry, but it just amazes me how you were able to fake orgasms all those times during a two-year marriage, while your husband thought he was screwing your brains out. One, I don’t know how you did it and stayed sane. And two, I don’t know how your husband didn’t catch on to it. You must be some actress.”

Melinda frowned. “I don’t know how I did it either, but I did. It’s not really something I’m proud of, but it’s over now. I didn’t fake it the whole two years. We’d stopped having sex by the time the second year rolled around. I realize now that faking it during the marriage was my way of getting back at him for being so damned arrogant and controlling. And as for Edmund not catching on to what I was doing, I think a part of him knew. At one point, when I wasn’t responding the way he figured I should be, he got insulted and said that if I thought there were other more interesting things I could be doing, then he’d like to know what the hell they were. I could have given him a full list—reading a book, grocery shopping, watching television, hell, watching paint dry! Anything but having sex. But of course I didn’t. When I took too long to answer him, though, he actually bragged that from there on out, he wouldn’t finish with me until his ‘male prowess’ had made me scream and had made my eyes roll to the back of my head.”

“No, he didn’t!”

“Yes, he did. And that’s when I knew that it had become some kind of competition for him or something. And not because he wanted me to have pleasure either, but because he wanted to prove that he could make the ice queen come. Well, what I wanted was
him
off
me,
so I started faking it. I could fake the screams all right, but I never could manage to fake that eyes-rolling-to-the-back-of-my-head thing, so I just closed them so he couldn’t see what they were doing.”

Cally just looked at her. “The woman that I am wants to crack up laughing that you tricked him, but the therapist in me wants to analyze both of you.”

“Okay, well, listen to this and see which one of you wins out. Once, when Edmund was sweating and grunting all over me like an animal, in my head I figured out this really difficult equation that had been bugging me since college. It was the first time during sex that I had ever said anything besides my usual ‘yes…yes…yes, you’re the man,’” she said in a bored voice.

Cally loudly guffawed. “I know you didn’t sound like that when you were in the midst of it.”

“I don’t know, but I doubt it. I didn’t want him to know that what the words really meant was, ‘finish what you’re doing, pull the hell out, and get to steppin’, you knock-kneed, slick son of a bitch!’”

Full-blown laughter escaped Cally’s throat again.

“Anyway, after I’d figured out the equation, I made the mistake of excitedly yelling out, ‘Oh, my God, that’s it! Yes, that’s it!’”

“Oh, Lord. What did your ex do?”

“What do you think? He went ape-shit crazy! He started pumping his hips faster and faster like it was his last chance to fuck before he died. Then he gave me his usual arrogant smirk and said between these hard, panting breaths, ‘Uh-huh, that’s right. I know that’s it. You don’t have to tell me. Shit, I’m the man. You hear me, girl? I am
the
man! I know what I’m doing!’ Little did he know that it had been numbers that had gotten me excited, while his so-called male prowess had left me all but bone dry.”

“Good Lord,” Cally repeated with a shake of her head. “What did you do?”

“I said, ‘You certainly are,’ and just waited for him to finish. When he left, I wrote the equation down.”

“Just like that, huh?”

Melinda nodded. “Just like that. Well, actually, after that one time, I tried not to think about numbers anymore because it gave Edmund a false sense of accomplishment. He suddenly thought he had some kind of magic between his legs and he expected me to sound just as excited as I had when I’d figured out the problem. I just couldn’t do it and after a few more times of him giving it the old college try and attempting like mad to get that gold star, I just couldn’t take it anymore.”

Cally studied her for a moment before saying, “Have you ever thought that maybe you value control so much that you don’t have orgasms because they would be the ultimate in
losing
control?”

“Yep,” Melinda said.

“And?” Cally encouraged.

“And you and I have talked about it before. You said that control is a valuable commodity to me. Okay, I’ll buy that. I’m the first to admit that I like having control. But I also know that I didn’t love Edmund. I thought I did at first, but I really didn’t. And after we were married, I didn’t even like him, so any intimacy with him was a struggle for me. I didn’t trust him enough. And before you ask why I stayed with him, I’ll tell you—because I’d made a commitment and because I thought I could change things. When I realized I couldn’t and was just making myself miserable by staying, I left.”

“Sugar, please. I’m a psychologist; I already know why you stayed. What I was going to say was, when somebody finally does sex you up the right way, you are going to be so caught up that you’re not going to know what the hell to do with yourself.”

“Maybe,” Mel said with a skeptical shrug as she stood. “All I know is that it’s not about to happen right now. I’ve got to get to work.”

“Mel, the right man can have you fienin’ for it so badly, you won’t be able to think about work or anything else!”

“U
mm-umm
! That’s the finest lookin’ white man I’ve ever seen in my life!”

Nicholas heard the whisper and shook his head, stifling a chuckle as he stood at the receptionist’s desk filling out charts. The woman speaking was a pillar of the community and a volunteer at the clinic who constantly flirted with him. She obviously had a healthy sexual appetite. She was also seventy years old.

“I know that’s right,” he heard her friend whisper loudly. The two did everything together, including volunteer their time at the clinic twice a week. “If I didn’t already have a husband, damn his sorry eyes, and I liked white meat, I sure would get myself some of that!” She was sixty-eight.

“
Oh-kay
!” Wholesale agreement was more than clear in the first speaker’s voice. “Dr. Nick is a straight-no-chaser type of hottie. That’s the best kind!”

Nicholas finally turned toward the perpetrators, who were sitting in the otherwise empty waiting area waiting for children to arrive. They kept the children occupied while the clinic’s staff saw to their parents’ needs. “Now, girls,” he chastised the two, and smiled when they giggled at the term. “Behave yourselves. What would your husbands think?”

“I don’t know, Dr. Fine-as-Wine,” Mrs. Johnson said, her brown eyes twinkling and her brown, leathery skin stretching in a mischievous grin. She was the older of the two; no more than five feet tall, and she might have weighed one hundred pounds. She had curly gray hair, looked innocent, and was as cute as a button. “I’m not trying to be bad, but I just can’t help myself. Every time I see you, I want to take you home with me and have my way with you.
All
of you,” she finished with a grunt.

“Stop that, Mary,” Ada Thomas chided, and nudged her friend with her elbow. She was a couple of inches taller than her friend but was just as thin and looked just as innocent. “Can’t you see you’re embarrassing the boy? You’re too old for him anyhow. Dr. Nick needs some young and fresh thing. Somebody like our Melinda,” she said innocently. But Nicholas saw the sly look in her eyes when she looked directly at him. “She’d be perfect for him.”

“Mmm-hmm. I agree,” said Mrs. Johnson. “She’s a bit skinny, but I think they would be good together. Even though she’s black and he’s white, but he’s Italian, so that’s close enough.”

Mrs. Thomas rolled her eyes and sucked her teeth. “Cut out your foolishness, old woman. It doesn’t matter what color people are anymore. This isn’t the 1920s, thirties, forties, fifties or sixties. Nothing matters but how two people feel about each other. And Dr. Nick here has got feelings for Nurse Mel. Don’t you, Doc?”

Any conversation between the two ladies and him almost always managed to wind its way to Mel. He never discussed her with them, and he didn’t now. Saying nothing, he turned back to his charts. The two elderly women were funny and entertaining, but they could also be trying, especially on a day like today when he’d seen almost double his usual number of patients.

He thought about his office, all nice and empty, and wanted to be there so badly, he actually started walking towards the door. He needed a break before patients started coming in again. In their line of work, they had to take their breaks when they could. People walked in looking for help all the time, and any one of them could be an emergency. They had to contend with them and with the ones who actually had appointments. Whenever there was a lull in the busy schedule, he took advantage of it.

“Ooh, Dr. Nick! I can’t believe you’re just going to walk away from me like that!”

Nicholas heard the surprised insult in Mrs. Thomas’s voice and winced. He’d completely forgotten about the two volunteers. He turned back around. “I’m so sorry, ladies. It’s been a busy day. Now, what were you saying?” he prompted Mrs. Thomas, feeling that he had to listen to her talk about Melinda to make up for the earlier insult.

“I was saying that I know you’ve got the hots for Mel,” she said, and made a skeptical sound when he only looked at her. “Now, don’t try to fool me. I might have glaucoma, but I’m not blind, man. I’ve watched you watch her for the past couple of months now. I’ve just been wondering when you were going to make your move.”

Nicholas just looked at her, letting his silence speak for him.

Mrs. Thomas smiled. “Boy, you are so stubborn! I hope you don’t think that I’m going to let that stop me. Now, back to our girl. She might be tall and thin but she’s proportioned, and the perfect height for a man of your size. That skin of hers is nothing to sneeze at either, what with it being so smooth and clear. And what about her hair? Those little twisty things she wears now are so much better than when she wore it straight. You can see that pretty face of hers even more, don’t you think? And they just look so soft. Now let’s talk about her eyes and her mouth, why—”

“I get the picture, Mrs. Thomas,” Nicholas finally interrupted and stopped just short of rolling his eyes. They acted so much like his mother and grandmother when it came to his love life that he could laugh. “Yes, Melinda is a beautiful woman, gorgeous, in fact. Is that what you want to hear from me? For the love of God, you’re not even trying to be subtle about it.”

“Well, if you get the picture, just when do you plan on asking her out?” This came impatiently from Mrs. Johnson.

“That, my little busybody, is between the lady in question and me. Now, I’m going back to my office.” He looked at his watch and then back up at the two women. “Are you ladies having something brought in for lunch? It’s twelve-thirty, you know.”

“We know,” said Mrs. Thomas. “We brought a little something.”

“Okay, then. I’ll see you later,” he said, and turned to the receptionist, who was trying really hard to act like she was minding her own business. “Will you buzz me in, please, Allison?” he asked her, referring to the security door. He waited for the loud buzz and then pulled the door open. He walked down the long hall, past the exam rooms and bathrooms until he reached the back of the building, where he shared an office with two other doctors; like him, they also worked at the clinic twice a week. They alternated days.

He made his way through the large space, to the corner where his desk was. It was the farthest away from the windows, the door, and the bathroom because he’d been the last doctor to come on board. The others didn’t know it, but he preferred to be in the corner—it was quieter and there was at least an
impression
of privacy there.

He sat in his chair and closed his eyes. He’d gotten to the clinic at eight that morning, and he was absolutely exhausted. So far, he’d seen almost fifteen patients. He only hoped that the calm they were currently experiencing would last for at least a little while longer. A general practitioner, he’d been approached to join Living Well after another doctor had retired and moved to Florida. He enjoyed the work, and he loved being able to help the underserved.

At Living Well, all kinds of patients came in, from the poor to the middle class. Some people had insurance, others Medicaid, and some nothing at all. Living Well had been started several years before for the express purpose of helping those who couldn’t afford a doctor’s care. A board of directors made up of professionals and activists from the neighborhood oversaw the running of Living Well. Nicholas was taking a significant cut in pay but didn’t mind. He was a partner in a successful practice and also did occasional rotations at a local hospital.

He knew that Melinda had been at Living Well for almost ten years. She was full-time and served on the board. When members of the board had approached him to join the staff, she’d been with them. All she’d had to do was smile and he’d been hooked. The deep dimples in her cheeks alone would have been enough, but she also had plump, full lips with a pretty little freckle right near the top left lip. Most people would have called it a mole, but because it was flat, it was a freckle. It didn’t matter, though, because being a mouth man, he wanted to feel both the freckle and the lip against his tongue.

Working at the clinic and seeing her at least twice a week, sometimes three times if he could fit in an extra day, he’d started to fall for her. She had the most beautiful doe-like brown eyes, was funny, a little quirky, and sweet—he wanted her. He loved her, wanted to
make love
to her, but he also wanted to fuck her. He wanted to get her alone in a locked room—it didn’t matter where—and make love to her until she couldn’t walk, talk or think a coherent thought. If she ever found out, she’d probably run like the wind.

Nicholas closed his eyes, leaned back in his chair and let his mind wander into fantasy. He sat in his office chair and in walked Melinda. She closed and locked the door behind her, closing out the noise of the busy clinic. She wore nothing but a shy, anticipatory smile as she walked toward him with long, languid strides, her small, high breasts jiggling a bit with each step. He could smell her arousal, and as she came closer, he saw it begin to drip from the short hair covering the pretty pussy that protected what he was sure was a throbbing, swollen clit.

Arriving around his desk, she peeked at him through her lashes and quickly looked away before climbing onto his thighs to sit astride his lap, her feet flat on the chair and her knees raised up and spread wide on either side of him. Her musky scent made him breathe in deeply. He felt the heat of her through his jeans and looked down. The view was spectacular. Her clit peeked through her slick, wet lips, just begging for his touch. As he stared, her opening contracted with a hungry, grasping sound…once…twice…three times, like it was crying out for his dick to fill it. Juice began to leak out from her opening and slowly trailed onto his thigh.

“Mmm,” she moaned, making him raise his eyes. She slowly licked her lips before taking a shuddering breath.

Nicholas made a low, greedy sound in the back of his throat as one of her hardened nipples brushed teasingly against his lips with the releasing of her breath.

“Hi, Dr. Nick,” she purred as she began to loosen his tie. “Touch me,” she whispered, and leaned in to bite his chin. She then trailed brief, open-mouthed, wet kisses along his jawline until she reached his ear. “Will you—” she paused to lick the inside of his ear and then puffed a soft breath into it before she continued, “—
touch me
, Dr. Nick?” she sighed with urgent need into his ear.

Pressing a tender kiss to her shoulder, Nicholas reached behind her for the large, thick medical books he kept on his desk. “Raise up, sweet—”

His phone rang, rudely jerking him from his fantasy. He picked it up. “Nick Pantino.”

“Hello, Nick! How’s my favorite son today?”

He closed his eyes in horror and felt his dick quickly slink back to its normal size at the sound of his mother’s voice. He cleared his throat and tried not to sound like he’d been up to something. “Hi, Mom. Your
only
son is fine, thank you very much.” He was the oldest and his mother and grandmother had raised him and his sisters when their father had died. Nick had become the man of the house at the very tender age of eleven. “What’s up? You and Nana okay? Does one of the girls need something?”

“No, darling, everyone is fine. I’m just calling to remind you about your grandmother’s party. You have only a few days to let us know who you’re going to bring—
if
you’re going to bring anyone?”

Nicholas smiled. His mother had been trying to butt into his love life ever since his divorce. “You need to know who I’m bringing? I thought this was just an informal gathering of friends and family—mostly family,” he reminded her. “Why would you need to know who I’m bringing? Will there be name placards at this backyard barbeque?”

“Well, no,” Sophia Pantino hedged. Nicholas heard her sigh impatiently. “I just need to know, okay?”

“Mom,” Nicholas began.

“Don’t you ‘mom’ me in that tone of voice, Nicholas Anthony Pantino. I just want to know. And besides, if I had had any part in picking out your first wife, then you wouldn’t be divorced today.”

His mother was a dyed-in-the-wool Catholic, and to her, divorce was a sin. Interfering in his love life was her way of trying to save his immortal soul. “Well, I was a grown man when I decided to get married, Mom. Grown men are supposed to pick their own wives.”

“Don’t you get smart with me, Nicky. I’m simply saying that I could have helped you make a better choice and next time, I will. So I ask you again—who are you bringing to the party?”

Nicholas thought of Melinda. He knew his mother would like her, but a huge family gathering was not the place for a first meeting. He didn’t want to scare her away, and if Melinda had to meet his huge family all at once, she’d be running for the hills. He said, “I’m not bringing anyone, Mom. I’ll be flying solo.”

Melinda made her way to the kitchen for the second time that day. Her stomach had finally stopped its vague rumblings of a threatened revolt, and she was eager to placate it with a mild lunch. Chicken noodle soup and French bread were on the menu. Seeing Cally at the table again, she smiled and walked in. “Geez, didn’t I leave you in that exact same spot this morning?” she teased. “Just when do you work?”

“Oh, whatever. How’s your head?”

“Better, thanks,” Melinda answered as she poured her soup from its restaurant container into a bowl that she’d taken from the cabinet. “I’m hoping this soup will get rid of the last little bit of the hangover and I’m sure you’ll be glad to know that I no longer feel like death warmed over.”

“Whoo-hoo,” Cally said drily, and forked up some of her salad.

Melinda smiled and brought her soup over to the table. “God, it feels so good to get off my feet again.”

“Well, now that you are, tell me what else you and your girls got up to last night—that is, besides getting so wasted you could barely walk or see straight this morning.”

Melinda laughed. “You don’t want to know, trust me,” she said with a shake of her head before spooning up some soup. “I’m trying like crazy to forget it myself.”

“Now, I know you don’t think I’m going to let you leave me hanging like that? Give,” Cally demanded mildly. “Tell Dr. Cally all the sordid details.”