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CHAPTER SEVEN
Simmi
I inhale so deeply; my boobs look like they’ll touch my chin. For as long as my lungs allow, I hold my breath, then let it out in a huff. I recall all the shit today has thrown my way, tumbling from my body. It’s five thirty and my boss, darling doctor Jason Hill, wants to meet with his employees.
It’s been three weeks and I’m not sure if I’m relieved or upset he’s kept his distance since our last chat. But I do know I’m tired of the vibrator and the dreams. I spent last weekend throwing myself at one of the German backpackers drinking at the local watering hole down at old Maslow’s pineapple farm, but eventually gave up when I accidentally called out Jay’s name.
Arg! My body only wants one pair of hands feeling it up and one cock between my legs. My head knows better. I’d rather go celibate than get involved with Jay.
Fuck!
I can barely look the man in the eye. I’m so afraid he might see all the naughty thoughts and dreams I’ve had about him. There must be a way to get him out of my head. He’s my boss for Christ’s sake! I quickly look up to the ceilinged heavens. “Sorry God,” I whisper.
My Catholic schooling returns at the mention of my curse. But heaven knows, the moment I’m within five meters of that burly god from South Africa, my ovaries do the Macarena!
I grab my work bag and get out the clinic’s car, pressing the lock button as I make my way to the back door. I’m not sure why or when he decided it was necessary for us to have weekly meetings. It’s a great idea, and the practice has thrived under him, except I don’t see why an email couldn’t suffice. So far, he’s not asked me to assist or go out to patients with him either.
I plonk down behind reception. “Hey.” I smile at Myrtle, who’s busy with the day’s reconciliation.
“Hi. Did you log your clients’ updates in the shared online folder for Jay?” Her tone as always is stern but kind.
Honestly, I don’t know how she does it, or what we’d do if she left. I’ve worked in a few practices across Australia and Europe, but I’ve never met a manager as competent as Myrtle.
“Yup. Thanks for putting it together. We needed this system updated yonks ago.” I smile, pulling out my iPad to get my notes ready for the staff meeting.
“I’ve been nagging since forever. Pete was so old-fashioned and narrow-minded it almost killed me.”
She smiles, and it touches her sparkling gray eyes. Myrtle has always liked things just so, and with our new boss, she is finally allowed to implement all the ideas her training and experience has given her.
I tuck myself between Cindy and Myrtle, keeping my eyes on the iPad screen laying across my lap.
“Earth to Simmi?”
Cindy nudges me. “Huh?”
“Sorry if my meetings bore you, Simone.”
Jay’s deep voice washes over me like honey, but his words sting.
“Sorry. I was lost in thought… my last patient.”
I’m not lying. I need something to keep my hormones in check while sitting so close to the man all hot men were molded to be.
His aftershave is still fresh after a day’s consulting and it’s now my favorite smell on earth.
Fuck!
“Would you like to share?” Jay waves a hand.
He has made a point of each of us discussing our more demanding cases. He reasons it helps us all cope, and many great minds always find a solution, apparently.
I nod, then read my notes from the patient’s file I’ve pulled up on the screen.
“Sounds like chronic episodes of migraines.” Cindy leans forward with her elbows on her knees.
“Yeah, but then he also suffers distorted visual perceptions. Migraine sufferers mention foggy or blurred vision, but not ones that leave the patient with outer body feelings or perceptions of their body feeling enlarged. Interesting,” Mark adds.
“Any familial history of temporal lobe epilepsy?” Jay taps on his iPad screen.
