Page 32 of Tasting the Doctor


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Unhinged

Oliver

Since I graduated from college, I felt I always had a good control over my sex drive. Yes, I came to New York with a reputation for being a womanizer, but there was always an element of control with the women I saw. Charlotte is making me rethink my control. Twice now with her, I haven’t been able to manage my desire. Well, that’s not completely correct, because I was able to stop myself from making love to her again. But I couldn’t stop myself from kissing her again.

I wish I knew what it is about her that keeps drawing me to her. Yes, she’s beautiful. Yes, she’s intelligent. I’m fascinated by her combination of strength and vulnerability. But I can’t afford to lose control of my libido.

So when I found the strength to break away from her, I immediately made my way back to my room. I undressed and got into the shower to take care of my hardon. Stroking myself to orgasm isn’t as good as the real thing, but since I can’t have Charlotte, this will have to do.

My need to avoid her isn’t just because we’ve agreed to a platonic friendship. It’s also because I feel like I’m walking along the crest of a precipice. I’m either going to tumble in to my doom, or if I’m lucky I’ll end up on the side where I’m able to have work that I excel at and am passionate about, and not have to live with the fear of being humiliated.

It isn’t just my own embarrassment I’m concerned about either. It would be an embarrassment to Theo, as well as my parents, although I don’t care as much about embarrassing them. But Theo is in a good place in his life and I don’t want to have stories about his brother in the tabloids. I must also consider Charlotte and how this could impact her.

After getting the text last weekend, I was both enraged and panicked. The next day I called my lawyer, who has been aware of the situation, but so far, we haven’t done anything. After our discussion he agreed to contact my former boss to remind him that it wasn’t just my reputation at stake, but his as well. If that tape his daughter took got out, I would have nothing left to lose, and so my boss and his daughter need to be aware that I am ready to take legal action against them. The tape was made without my knowledge, and for purposes I’m not exactly clear on, but now I am being extorted by my boss’s daughter. The crazy thing is she doesn’t want money. What she wants is me.

They say hindsight is twenty-twenty, and it must be true because as I reflect on my short relationship with my boss’s daughter, Hayden, I realize there were signs that she could be troubled. There was the way she would get angry when I was late or had to cancel on her because something came up. She didn’t like that I had dinner at least once a month with my parents, although to be fair, I usually complained about it to her. It wasn’t until I scheduled a Super Bowl party with my friends that I realized just how obsessed and insecure she was.

The party had been planned for weeks. I had bought the drinks, and snack foods, and on the day of the game, waited for my friends to arrive, but they never did. At the end of the first quarter of the game, I began calling to find out what happened to them, and they each told me that they had been told that the party had been canceled. She had canceled my Super Bowl party.

She showed up at half-time dressed like a porn star, but finally, I’d realized, she wasn’t right for me. I broke it off with her, and since then there’s been an increasingly disturbing pattern of her contacting me. Back in late August, I was made aware that she had taped us having sex, and was now prepared to release it unless I got back together with her. That was when I made the decision to leave California and come to New York. But her last text makes me think that there is nowhere I can go and nothing I can do. I have to go back to her or accept that my ass will be plastered on the Internet.

I wonder what sort of advice Charlotte would give if I confided in her. The truth is, I’m too embarrassed to let her know. And besides, there’s nothing she could do. My goal is to do what I can to keep it under wraps, find a job, and make sure that the people I care about, such as Theo and Charlotte, don’t get hurt by my mistake.

The good news is, things are looking up for me professionally, and on Monday morning when I walk into Dr. Kramer’s office, he’s much more open and accepting of me. He gushes about my experience, and is hopeful that I will consider coming on with them as they recently had an uptake in clientele.

I wonder if I should give the impression that I have other offers, or play it cool and say I want to think about it, but the truth is, I can’t risk losing this opportunity. Plus, one of the perks of Dr. Kramer’s clinic is that it’s not far from where Charlotte works, which means we could possibly commute together. I’m not sure why I’m thinking like that, except for the fact that we’re roommates and it’s convenient. So I take Dr. Kramer up on his offer and we agree that since Thanksgiving is coming up this week, I will come in next week to deal with all the paperwork.

Before I leave, he invites me and Charlotte to dinner the night after. My initial thought is to decline as dinner with the boss was how I met my former boss’s daughter, and that didn’t go well. But Charlotte is my fake fiancée, and Dr. Kramer has only talked about having sons, so I think I’m safe.

It’s the Tuesday before Thanksgiving, and I’m realizing that I don’t know what Charlotte's plans are for Thanksgiving. I’ve already been invited to go with Theo and Madeline to her grandparents’ house in Woodstock. Charlotte is invited as well, but I haven’t yet mentioned it to her. It seems to me she probably has her own family to visit, but she never talks about them, which is curious.

I decide to ask her about it as I go to her office to pick her up for dinner at Dr. Kramer’s house tonight. I arrive a little bit early and sit in the little waiting room reading a magazine. I hear a door open down the hall and put the magazine down, expecting to see Charlotte. Instead, a teenage girl enters the waiting area.

She stops short when she sees me. “Are you here to see Dr. Everling?” she asks.

I wonder if maybe she works part-time for Charlotte, or maybe she’s just curious.

“I am.” I’m about to mention that we’re going to dinner, but then I remember that it’s not always a good idea to share personal aspects of one’s life with clients. Perhaps Charlotte wouldn’t want this girl to know she is going on a date.

“Are you a doctor too?” the girl asks.

“I am. I’m a plastic surgeon,” I say, again wondering if I should not have said that, considering Charlotte’s opinion of my profession and the clients she works with.

But the young girl turns her face to the side, tilting her head up slightly. “Do you think my nose droops down too much like a witch?”

Could her nose be sculpted into something more attractive? Yes. But I’m not in the habit of giving out my opinion on what would make people look more attractive. If they came to see me with an identified issue, then I would talk to them about it.

“Your nose looks alright to me,” I say.

“My mother says I should have a nose job. Do you work on teenagers?”

“I have done procedures on teenagers before-”

“Oliver!”

Both the young girl and I jump at Charlotte’s harsh voice.

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