Page 264 of The Doctors Will See You Now

But still, he wasn’t exactly giving me a lot to work with.

“Anything else, Miss Paige?”

“Nope. That’s all, Doc. Thanks for your time,” I said, and before he got another word in, I ended the call.

As I stared at the empty Word document on my laptop, I knew I needed a little something more to make Scott’s big night out a Gossip-worthy story. Which meant, now that we’d put out the money for the photos, I’d have no choice but to embellish—only a little, of course.

With my fingers to the keys, I typed out the headline.

Four Women in One Night.

Is Dr. ERotic the next sex superhero?

Personal iPad in hand, I scrolled through the newest column by Harlow Paige, another brilliantly written trash piece about yours truly, and shook my head.

Honestly, I wasn’t even doing it on purpose. It was like an involuntary muscle tic triggered by reading paragraph after paragraph of pure and utter bullshit.

Four Women in One Night.

Is Dr. ERotic the next sex superhero?

As nice as the title sounded, the meat of the column was a whole lot less flattering, and a whole lot more bordering on derogatory.

I’d fucking fed her information, for shit’s sake. And still, it seemed as though she’d done nothing more than write whatever the fuck she wanted. I was the puppet master, and women’s emotions were nothing more than the objects at the end of my strings—apparently.

What she’d failed to mention was that even if I had been with the four of them at once, it would have been an informed decision by four consenting adult women who knew how not to take life so seriously.

Not only does he have a harem of women keeping him warm and cozy at night, but an inside source revealed that Dr. Erotic is always looking. Even the female patients who stroll through his ER doors might be graced with his famous flirtatious banter and charming ways right before he finds a way to ensnare them in his web of sex.

Inside source? What fucking inside source? And, yes, I might have flirted with my patients on occasion, but I never fucking slept with them. I enjoyed chatting up the opposite sex, but when it came to my job, I knew the boundaries.

And asking my patients out on dates with the intention of sleeping with them? That was a definite hard limit for me. Hell, throughout my entire career, I hadn’t ever been tempted to do something like that.

Well, besides sexy Frances who came in with that head lac a few weeks back…

Okay. Well, obviously, there were exceptions to every rule, but no one is perfect.

And despite my better judgment, I kept reading the trashy article until the end. Harlow Paige managed to cap this one with a fucking bang.

What do you think, ladies? Should we spread our legs and put out the Bat Signal in the name of Dr. Erotic? Is he really the next sex superhero of New York City?

The jury is still out for me, but all I can say is that he might treat banged-up bodies, but from the looks of it, he bangs more bodies than them all.

Kisses,

Harlow Paige

I actually had to admire gall like that.

Tossing my iPad into my locker a little less gently than intended—after all, it wasn’t the iPad’s fault—I shut the door and tucked my scrub top into the waistband of my scrub pants.

With another night shift on the horizon, I didn’t have time to sit and cry into my Cheerios about a stupid column from a less than reputable news outlet. Gossip wasn’t where readers went for facts anyway.

I decided not to give any credence to the voice in my head that suggested maybe the reason this smarted so much was because of how close to the truth it actually was.

I double-checked the clip on my ID badge and headed for the door of the locker room with purpose. I wasn’t going to think about Harlow Paige and her column anymore, and I wasn’t going to be on the lookout for Frances. She should have had her stitches out a couple of days ago, but I guessed she’d gone to a different doctor.

Most patients follow up with their primary care physician, my medically trained mind reminded me.