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Life as a surgeon is high-stress. I hit the gym daily, eat right, and beyond an occasional cigar or tumbler of scotch, I avoid smoking or drinking. I try to find ways to unwind and have a great group of friends I spend time with who keep me grounded. However, there are times when I just need more. And my ex-wife wasn’t a fan.
Camile and I have never had a stellar sex life. In the early days of our marriage, I was getting laid once or twice a week. It was very routine, always in the missionary position, and usually leaving me feeling I might’ve had a better release with a hand job in the shower. But I was young and had other priorities. It wasn’t worth arguing about.
Yet, I found as my stress levels increased, I wasn’t satisfied with the usual lackluster vanilla sex. I needed more.
The first time I pulled Camile’s hair and smacked her ass, I was worried she’d charge me with assault. I explained that, at times, I needed to be more aggressive. It helped me detach and manage the tension I was feeling. She wasn’t keen on this change in our monotonous intimacy but allowed it since it occurred so infrequently. Yet, it was barely more satiating than our run-of-the-mill vanilla sex. Camile was not an active participant and certainly didn’t enjoy it. It wasn’t particularly pleasurable for either of us, to be honest. I surmised it was merely a feeble attempt, on her part, at keeping our marriage alive.
Once the divorce was final, I vowed not to put another woman through that. There’s no sense in becoming involved with a faithful partner at this age when work remains my priority. Choosing my career over a committed relationship is on me.
I come from a long line of workaholics. There’s an innate drive to be the best at what I do. I can thank my father and grandfather, rest their souls, for being the same. I’m sure their determination to win at managing their wealth allowed it to grow as it has. It was more than an obsession with money. It was a drive to be the very best at something. However, I need to remember neither of them lived to see eighty. And you can’t take the money with you.
Hopefully, I can find some balance before I’m dead and buried. To turn off that channel that’s constantly on, striving for more. Because if I use my DNA as a guide, at forty-two, I’m on the downward slope. Until then, my regular girl, Brandee, is available when I need the release. And when I’m stressed, she has no complaint regarding my requirement to be in control. Hell, I tend to think the rougher it is, the more she likes it.
Don’t get me wrong. I’m not some dominant asshole with a god complex. I wish I could detach from my job and enjoy the sweet companionship of a woman at the end of each day. But Camile and I weren’t wired that way. She enjoyed society galas and lunching with the ladies. I revel in the adrenaline rush of working under the harsh lights of the OR, knowing I can change lives for the better. Camile and I are better off as friends, and we both know it.
Although, it might sting a little less if another man hadn’t taken my place so effortlessly.
I haven’t completely given up hope that a woman exists who could be my perfect match. Someone who will accept me as I am. Driven and flawed, but with a loving, generous soul beneath it all. Yet, there’s no sense in pursuing that if I can’t devote the time and attention a healthy relationship deserves. For now, I’ll stick to women who respect my limitations and surround myself with my equally imperfect friends.
“Lauren, I’m afraid I need to get back to work. It’s not like you to call me in the middle of the day. Is everything okay? Is Lilly all right?”
“Oh, she’s fine. All she does is study. I hope she comes out of her shell in college, Dad. She’s a senior, but I don’t think she’s had one date in the last six months.”
“Just the way I like it. You two are like night and day. What works for you might not be the same for her.”Thank god.I’ve got enough worries about Lauren getting hooked up with the wrong crowd or ending up pregnant. I don’t need her introducing her sister to that lifestyle.
“I called because my car wouldn’t start this morning. I think I need a new one.”
Here we go.
“Lauren, you just bought that car. Maybe you need a new battery.”
“I didn’tjustbuy this car, Dad. I got itlastyear.”
We’ve created a monster. I need to talk to Camile about reining Lauren in before it’s too late. “The car was brand new when we purchased it. There’s no reason you can’t take it to the shop and have it repaired. You don’t need a new car. Your grandfather drove the same truck for a decade.” I laugh at the memory. He must’ve put two new engines in the thing. I didn’t understand it at the time, but as my appreciation of money has increased, I get it now. Don’t get me wrong, I splurge when the occasion calls for it. I’ve earned it. But that’s the last thing Lauren needs to hear right now.
“Well, that’s just dumb. Dad, you have billions. What’s a new car to you?”
Looking at my watch, I realize I’ve spent far too long in this department. And all to arrange introductions to the new surgeon on the block. Now I’m dealing with this nonsense. “I’m sorry, Lauren. The answer is no. Have your mother call me if I need to arrange to tow the car to the Audi dealership.” Which is ridiculous in and of itself. Her mother doesn’t work. She can make a phone call. “I’ll talk to you later.”
I disconnect and reach back to rub my tense neck muscles as I head back to the office. Maybe I’ll just grab a quick coffee to take back with me. Who knows at this rate if I’ll get lunch.
Reaching to swipe my badge to gain entry to the doctors’ lounge, my head buried in my phone, I nearly face-plant into the door when it doesn’t open. Glancing up, I’m reminded of the renovations and roll my eyes at myself. Coming here is a force of habit. Nothing to do with being overwhelmed by my ridiculous schedule, I inwardly chide.
Sliding my phone into my back pocket, I make my way to the cafeteria, hoping there isn’t a long line. That’s the main perk of the physicians’ lounge. Having a quiet space to eat and a computer station to chart is nice, but the ease of grabbing what I need and getting back to work efficiently is the main appeal.
As luck would have it, the cafeteria doesn’t look too congested. But then again, I’m here before the lunch rush. As I reach for a cup of coffee, I notice a cheese danish and think,what the hell.The hotline is open, but there’s no way I’ll have time to consume anything from there before it grows cold. And I’m not tempted by much in this cafeteria. Reheated hot bar food even less.
I grab a bottle of water and a prepared salad from the fridge to avoid returning later in the day. I’m sure I could use that time to catch up on my charting.
My phone buzzes as I move into the cashier’s line, and I attempt to juggle my items so I can retrieve it in case Beatrice is alerting me that I’m getting behind on my schedule. To my chagrin, I see Lauren has sent a picture of a shiny red convertible.
Jesus.
Ignoring my spoiled child, I bend forward to return my phone to my back pocket when the most enticing fragrance envelops me. There’s no need to confirm the body it’s attached to, I know it’s her. Unable to stop myself, I close the distance between us, lean into her gorgeous blonde locks, and inhale.
Fuck, she’s intoxicating.I can feel my dick start to twitch behind my zipper.
Poppy quickly spins in my direction with a questioning stare.
