Naughty, Dirty, Cocky

  Subject: The Advice.

  Your “patients” must be really driving you crazy today, since you’re too busy to answer. (This doctor thing is quite the charade ...) So, I’ll make my questions brief:

  1.) Me and the guy just exchanged pictures and he’s sexy and mouth-wateringly-hot. This has absolutely nothing to do with this email. I just wanted to rub that fact in your face.

  2.) Do you think I should wear a dress with stockings or a very revealing top with tight jeans? As a guy, which one says, “I’m definitely interested in sleeping with you after this date?”

  3.) He said he “couldn’t wait to slurp [my] pussy” ... What does that mean?

  4.) I really need this to work out. Unlike you, I would prefer not to go another month relying on just my fantasies and my hand ...

  ALSO — If we ever do meet and I wanted to give you a small gift for all your advice over these months, what would be appropriate? A make-believe doctor kit? A collection of better porn?

  **JerseyGirl7

  I smiled and fired off an immediate response.

  Subject: Re: The Advice.

  My “patients” did drive me crazy today, but not as much as my staff. (I have no reason to lie to you about my occupation.) Thank you, so much, for keeping this week’s sad and pathetic questions brief.

  1.) Seeing as though I’m far from gay, I’m not sure why I would give a fuck if the guy you’re about to see is “sexy” or “mouth-wateringly hot” at all.

  2.) You should wear a dress. No stockings.

  3.) It means he has no idea how to eat pussy.

  4.) I’ve told you about the danger of making your silly assumptions when it comes to my sex life ...

  ALSO — A bulk package of Twizzlers would be “appropriate” but your lips wrapped around my cock would be preferred.

  **D-DOCTOR

  She emailed me right back.

  Subject: Re: Re: The Advice.

  He definitely knows how to eat pussy. You should SEE all the dirty messages he’s sent me. I’m sure they’re far filthier than anything you’ve ever sent someone.

  **JerseyGirl7

  Subject: Re: Re: Re: The Advice

  I highly doubt that ...

  **D-DOCTOR

  I scrolled through our never-ending thread of messages, all the way up to when they first began, when I realized this woman definitely had an obsession with talking about sex. Which was quite ironic because from the time since we’d “met,” she hadn’t had any sex at all. All of her dates had ended in disaster, for one reason or another, and I’d learned more about her personal vibrator use than I ever wanted to know.

  I think we need to finally take this offline ...

  Before she could respond to my last message, I sent her another.

  Subject: Your Date

  I can guarantee that it’s going to be another disappointment. I personally think you should cancel it so you can save yourself some wasted time.

  **D-DOCTOR

  Subject: Re: Your Date

  And I can guarantee that it won’t be. He’s an 80% match. Eighty percent. Not only that, but I’ve attached screenshots of some of his most recent messages to me.

  Read and learn how to talk dirty, “Doctor”. Read and learn ...

  **JerseyGirl7

  I managed to read one message — the “I’m totally going to lick and slurp your wet pussy, and I can’t wait for you to see my cock. It’s the size of a sausage,” —before rolling my eyes.

  Subject: Re: Re: Your Date

  Would you like to bet?

  PS — No man should ever compare his cock to a sausage. You can do better ... Much better.

  **D-DOCTOR

  Subject: Re: Re: Re: Your Date

  Absolutely. What do I get when I win?

  PS — You’re just jealous your cock isn’t big enough to be talked about ...

  **JerseyGirl7

  Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Your Date

  You mean, when you lose. And when that happens, I want a phone call.

  We can renegotiate if you win, but I’m pretty confident we won’t need to.

  PS — Would you like me to send you a picture of it, then? I highly doubt it can fit into one frame, so I’ll have to send you two ...

  **D-DOCTOR

  Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Your Date

  A phone call? That’s it? You’re on.

  I’ll take the same thing as a “prize” actually, so I can rub my night in your face.

  PS — As tempting as that sounds ... we agreed to no pictures, ever. Remember?

  **JerseyGirl7

  Subject: No Pictures

  We did agree to no pictures, but we previously agreed that you would stop telling me how badly you wanted someone to bend you over a chair and fuck you breathless, and yet, that’s all we talked about last night ...

  Answer the question. Is that a yes or a no to me sending the pictures to you? I think my cock would fit perfectly inside your smart-ass mouth ...

  **D-DOCTOR

  JerseyGirl7 has logged off ...

  THE RESIDENT

  New York, New York

  Natalie

  I blushed as I reread D-DOCTOR’s most recent messages the next day, rolling my eyes at his offer to send me a picture of his cock, even though I’d almost said yes.

  Why didn’t I say yes?

  Smiling, I decided I would deal with him later today. I had an emergency meeting and a date to get through first.

  As my cab pulled up to the curb of Manhattan Medical, I handed the driver a ten-dollar bill and pulled the hood of my raincoat over my head. I rushed across the sidewalk and the emergency turnaround, excited about what today’s sudden meeting with the chief meant for my career.

  All this week, I couldn’t help but overhear my peers gushing about how the chief was offering additional bonus packages to certain interns and residents. As hard as I worked, I knew I was definitely deserving of one of them, too.

  Taking the elevator up to the top floor, I took a deep breath and knocked on the chief’s door.

  “Come in, come in!” he said, his voice calm and welcoming, as always.

  “Good morning, Chief Tomlin.”

  “Good morning, Dr. Madison.” He smiled. “Thank you for coming in to meet with me on your day off, and on such short notice.”

  “My pleasure, sir.”

  He motioned for me to take a seat, and I tried my best not to look too excited.

  Yes, I will happily accept the thousand-dollar bonus ... Yes, I will happily accept the thousand-dollar bonus ...

  “Dr. Madison, I called you in here today because I have some good news and some bad news.” His sudden shift in tone caught me off guard. “Which one do you want first?”

  “The good news.”

  “Alright. Well, the good news is that you are a phenomenal intern, and I do mean phenomenal. Your professionalism, punctuality, and enthusiasm for our patients here are among some of the best I’ve ever seen. You’ve demonstrated a high proficiency for diagnosis and I have no doubt that you’ll make a phenomenal doctor in your desired specialty after you complete your residency.”

  “I appreciate the compliments, Chief Tomlin.” I started to say the words ‘thank you,” but I hesitated. I needed to hear the ‘bad news’ first.

  “The bad news is ...” He took of his reading glasses and ran his hand through his grey hair. “Unfortunately, we have to rescind our offer for you to join our residency program here.”

  “What?”

  “We accidentally accepted ten too many applicants for our budget, so we decided to randomly draw names to choose which offers we have to rescind. Seven was your number, I’m sorry.”

  I bit my tongue, preventing myself from screaming “What. The. Fuck!” This was my future he was talking about, and he was sitting there cleaning his eyeglasses, acting as if this conversation was about something as simple as a new uniform policy. As if I hadn’t already planned the next few years of my life around completing
a residency here at Manhattan Medical.

  “Dr. Madison, I completely understand that this timing may be terrible —”

  “Terrible? It’s weeks from when I’m due to start.” I seethed. “This has to be illegal.”

  “No, letting ten extra people start working when we can’t afford to pay them?” He actually had the nerve to smile. “Now, that would’ve been illegal.”

  I glared at him.

  “Okay, that was a bad joke. I’m sorry.” He shook his head. “Anyway, although we’ll be unable to have you on staff here for our current term, our Human Resources Department worked overtime over the past few months to call every hospital in the state to help us figure out a solution to our embarrassing dilemma.” He pulled out a folder and flipped through the pages. “We sent over your board scores, your attendance record, and of course, recommendation letters from every doctor who was impressed with your work on rotations.”

  Smiling, he slid the folder across the desk to me, but I didn’t dare open it. All I could see right now was my lifelong dream slipping away with every second that passed.

  “Human Resources determined that Park Avenue Wellness Group is the best fit for you, given your preferred specialty and your love of therapy. The team there was excited to offer you the spot and their salary offer is quite high, the highest I’ve ever seen for that position.”

  “Seriously?” I couldn’t hold it in anymore. “You’re asking me to commit to a residency at a private practice? Is this some type of joke?”

  “Park Avenue Wellness Group is actually the number one private practice in the state, and within the top ten in the country. They have a staff of world class doctors who are all renowned within their respective fields and a facility that rivals the best hospitals. Not only that ...”

  I tuned him out. I couldn’t bear to listen to another word.

  In all my years of aspiring to be a doctor, I’d always pictured myself running through the halls of the number one hospital in the state. The hospital I was currently sitting in right now, the very same one where I just worked my ass off as an intern. I’d never, ever dreamed of entering a private practice, let alone working at one because I always felt that their doctor-to-patient ratios were far too small. Too little variety in the cases to really challenge me.

  “Are you listening to me, Dr. Madison?” The chief’s voice cut through my thoughts.

  “No, sir.” I admitted. “Not at all.”

  “I figured.” He stood up and walked over to me, placing his hands on my shoulders. “Human Resources put a ton of work into the file I just gave you. It’s everything you need to know about Park Avenue Wellness Group and why we think this is going to be a total game-changer for your career. These things happen for a reason, you know?”

  These things happen when you hire people who don’t know how to count ...

  I forced myself to smile and extended my hand. “Thank you for being such a great mentor, Chief Tomlin.”

  “No, thank you for being one of the best students I’ve ever had the pleasure of teaching.” He shook my hand. “And hey, this is just a minor setback. The second you complete your residency, give me a call. I’ll move hell and high water to get you onto the official staff here.”

  I didn’t have the energy to entertain that last comment right now. I simply picked up the file he gave me, stated my thanks one last time, and left his office. Not wanting to prolong my cruel change of fate any longer, I took the elevator to the bottom level and headed into the interns’ locker room. I pulled out my white coat and my change of scrubs, and quickly stuffed all of my textbooks and binders into my backpack.

  Ignoring the “What’s wrong, Natalie?” and “Why are you crying?” from my colleagues, I left the hospital and tossed the file about Park Avenue Wellness Group into the first city trash bin I saw.

  ***

  Later that night, I sat across from the man I’d met via the NewYorkMinute dating app, Charles Landon. I was determined to turn this day around and was very much looking forward to rubbing this night in D-Doctor’s face by telling him all about the many ways Charles fucked me.

  Why do I get so aroused by telling a stranger about my non-existent sex life and fantasies?

  “Um, are you going to order something to drink, Natalie?” Charles waved his hand in front of my face and I realized the waiter was staring at me and tapping his notepad.

  “Oh, yeah.” I glanced at the wine selection on the menu. “I’ll have a glass of Château Guiraud.”

  “An excellent selection, Miss.” The waiter smiled. “Might I also suggest —”

  “That wine is seventy dollars a glass,” Charles interrupted, frowning. “I don’t think so. Can you pick something else, please?”

  “Oh, sorry,” I said. “I didn’t realize it was that high.” I glanced at the wine menu again. “Can I have the Château Piedmont, then?”

  “That’s thirteen dollars a glass.” Charles shook his head. “How about the Shirley Temple?”

  “Sir,” the waiter said, looking just as confused as me. “The Shirley Temple isn’t a wine. It’s a fancy way for our adolescent patrons to order ginger ale with a dash of fruit syrup and a maraschino cherry.”

  “It’s also perfectly priced at four dollars.” Charles snatched my drink menu away and handed it to the waiter. “We’re just here for the drinks and the atmosphere. We’re getting Burger King after this, thanks.”

  “Okay ...” The waiter gave me a look of “What the fuck?” and I forced myself to smile. “One Shirley Temple and a glass of water.”’

  “With no lemon.” Charles wagged his finger. “You all charge for the lemon here.”

  The waiter shook his head. “I’ll be right back.”

  “So, how was your day today, Natalie?” Charles didn’t let the topic of his cheapness linger longer than a second.

  “It was —” I paused, contemplating whether I should tell him I was let go and reassigned to another practice at the last minute, but I hadn’t even told my best friend yet. “It was great. Really, really great.”

  “Mine was, too. Especially now. I’ve been looking forward to meeting you in person for quite some time.”

  “Me, too.” I sipped my Shirley Temple the second the waiter set it down.

  “Would you two like to share a breadstick to go with your drinks?” he asked. “A complimentary napkin, perhaps?”

  “Possibly. Give us a minute, please.” Charles motioned for him to step away. “Are you still interested in coming back to my place tonight, Natalie?”

  I nodded. I was still slightly speechless about the fact that he was actually taking me to Burger King after this. That, and the fact that I was going to have to mentally trick myself into thinking about something other than his cheap-ness, if this was going to work for me.

  “Great! Well, there’s something I really need to tell you before we leave here. Something rather important.”

  “Let me guess, you’re married?” I slung my purse over my shoulder in preparation of a “yes.”

  “Ha!” he laughed. “Never. This isn’t that serious. It’s just that — Well, remember all those sext messages I’ve sent you over the weeks?”

  “I remember them very well.”

  “Well, good but I have to come clean. We can only have a certain type of sex because I ...”

  “Because you what?”

  “Because ...” He lowered his voice. “I have penile agenesis.”

  Penile agenesis? I shook my head in utter disbelief. That couldn’t be.

  “Do you mean erectile dysfunction?” I asked. “That’s nothing to be whispering about. It’s actually a lot more common than you may think, and not a huge deal. I say that, because you can’t possibly mean penile agenesis. That means —”

  “It means I was born without a penis.” He narrowed his eyes at me. “I know exactly what it means, that’s exactly why I said it.”

  I blinked. “Come again?”

  “You heard me. Most women are t
oo close-minded, dumb, and selfish to be understanding about this, but I hope you’re not one of them. Are you?”

  I leaned back in my chair. I wasn’t even sure what to say.

  All those weeks he’d teased me with message after message about how “huge and rock hard” his cock was, how he planned to “fill [my] pussy,” and now he was pulling the “I don’t have a penis” card?

  “Did you or did not not say that your cock was the size of a huge sausage?” I asked. “Didn’t you say that to me, just last week?”

  “Maybe. Or maybe the message cut off before I could finish typing. Maybe I meant to say my cock was more like a sausage patty.” He deadpanned. “And now it looks like you’re judging me,” he said, sighing. “Looks like you’re just as judgmental and closed-minded as the other women I’ve met.

  “This isn’t about you not having a cock,” I said, I raising my voice. “This is about you lying to me. I was looking forward to fucking you!”

  The entire restaurant fell silent, and my cheeks turned bright red but I didn’t stop talking. “But you know what? I lied to you, too. Today was a shitty day for me. A really, really shitty day that was the cherry on top of a shitty week because my hospital decided to transfer me to a private practice before my residency could even begin.”

  “That sounds so very awful, Natalie.” He tried to reach over the table and caress my hand, but I jerked back.

  “Yeah, and you know what else is awful?” I stood up from the table. “Wasting all those weeks talking online, just to come all the way out here to meet someone who blatantly lied to me. We could’ve been friends, if you’d just told me the truth from the start.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, really.”

  “Well, is it too late to be friends now? And are you really going to leave without offering to pay for half of your drink?”

  I didn’t answer him. I turned away and stormed out of the restaurant, hailing the first cab I saw.

  “Hoboken, New Jersey, please,” I said to the driver. “Green Garden Condos.”