She had been fantasising about him for months. This young new doctor from out of town. There had been flirting and banter, a connection, a knowing. They matched.
Long dark hair, chocolate eyes that crinkled at the corners when he laughed. His lips, my God his lips.
Full, sensual, pillowy, deep red. She often wondered what they would be like to kiss.
He had skin like milky caramel cream, and when she looked at the base of his throat, a smattering of dark course hair could be seen at the v of his scrub shirt.
Where did that hair extend to? What was his chest like? Did he have that dark hair trailing down his lower abdomen, extending down, down, down to his cock? She was wet thinking about it.
Her pussy ached.
Fuck she wanted him bad.
Wanted his lips, wanted his skin, both pressed against hers. She smiled at him as he asked a question, and decided to herself, yes, this one she would have. She answered his question while she watched him manage his patient. His neck cocked at an angle exposing a vulnerability that made her melt.
Today. I will taste him.
"Can I talk to you after the list is finished?" she asked before she left the theatre, "I need to go through some patient files that I'm concerned about."
He nodded, eyes locked on hers.
She walked out her heart skipping a beat, her thighs clenching at the thought of being wrapped around him, the space between her legs hot, damp and slippery.
The afternoon was fading into evening. The hospital was winding down, everyone moving off into the night. She sat at her computer. Working. Waiting. For him.
He appears at her doorway, and comes in. She gets up and closes her door. Locks it.
