Alicia Ch 01 2

I first saw Alicia Montreaux in the intensive care unit arguing with a fellow doctor, who happened to be be the chief intensivist, over the care of a critically ill patient.

She interested me immediately. Not just because of her wide-set, flashing green eyes, her straight, somewhat thick nose, her thick curly mane of coppery-red hair, her large breasts, or her tallness. Those things certainly figured into my attraction, but what most interested me was that she was right about this patient, and the intensivist was wrong, and she was making that rather pompous individual see the error of his ways.

Now, I was only a lowly respiratory therapist, with no real say in the debate. I stood quietly by and awaited orders while the docs hashed it out. Eventually, Alicia wore the chief intensivist down. I saw him close his eyes and run his hand across his face: Defeat was not easy for him to take. Alicia turned to me with the slightest smug look on her face and said, "R.T., get ready to extubate this patient."

Working together, Alicia, or Dr. Montreaux as I called her then, and I removed the endotracheal tube from the patient's airway. Alicia rather towered over me. I am five-foot-six, a hundred and sixty pounds. She's six-foot even, and one-eighty, maybe one eighty-five. Quite a woman.

We had the tube out and oxygen on the patient in no time flat, and then Alicia was off to see another patient. She didn't even thank me, but it didn't matter--I was smitten.

From then on, I worked with her as often as I could. I did my best, followed her orders to the letter, and probably bothered her some with my questions. I think I may have annoyed her, but I was willing to do it to get close to her. Eventually, she learned my name, Philip VanDermere, and stopped calling me "R.T." From then on, it was "Phillip", or "VanDermere".

Not having had lots of experience with women, and certainly not with large, aggressive women like Alicia Montreaux, I wasn't sure about the next step: Asking her out. I knew that my chances of rejection were probably pretty good. Even so, something compelled me to try anyway. I had never met a woman that I felt so attracted to. It would take all the courage I had, but I was going to try.

It was probably better to wait until her resistance was down some, I reasoned. So, after looking at the schedule, I decided that I would do it at the end of a night shift. Perhaps I could catch her at a weak moment.

Alicia was doing her fellowship in intensive care medicine, so she had call about once a week or so. The poor interns and residents probably pulled call about every two to three days. They dreaded it when she was on call with them, because if they bothered her too much, she would chew them a new asshole the next morning in rounds. Still, she was a good doctor; she knew her stuff. Most of them were willing to get reamed if they thought their patients would make it through the night.

It was about five-thirty one morning, and Alicia and I were both working in ICU. I was getting ready for my final round of ventilator checks and therapy, and Alicia was charting on her patients. She was in the call room, nursing a cup of coffee and writing in a chart when I came in.

She looked tired. The dumbass of a junior resident in the ER had kept her on the phone all night. Her eyes were red; she looked slightly haggard. Her hair was pulled back into a thick, rather unruly ponytail. I didn't want to be that resident when she got hold of him.

I approached her cautiously and sat down at the table. She looked up. "What do you need, VanDermere?" she said in a don't-ask-me-for-anything voice.

A knot of fear congealed in my stomach. I actually felt my testicles draw closer to my body. I took a deep breath and said, "Dr. Montreaux, I was wondering if, um, this morning, I could buy you a cup of coffee after work?"

She stopped writing and looked up at me. It was as if she didn't believe what I had just said to her. Then, just for an instant, a smile flitted across her face. "No," she said. "I don't think that would be a very good idea."

"Oh," I said quietly. I could feel my face getting red. She went back to writing. I slinked away, ashamed and embarrassed, cursing myself. Well, you stupid bastard, I thought to myself, you knew she would probably turn you down anyway.

We were both off for the next two days. Despite her rejection, I couldn't get her off my mind. I even had a sex dream about her. I was lying on a hospital gurney, completely nude. Alicia was standing beside the gurney, towering over me. She was also nude except for her starched white lab coat. It was open in front, revealing large creamy-white breasts with erect nipples, a round belly, and a thick thatch of pubic hair the same coppery red as that on her head.

"This won't hurt a bit," Alicia said, slipping a condom catheter over my erect penis. "You'll get in a lot of trouble if you pee this bed," she said severely. The next thing I knew, she was standing over the head of the gurney with a laryngoscope and an endotracheal tube in her hand. In my dream, I looked up and saw her breasts hanging over my face. I could feel the heat from her bush, which was at the level of my head on the gurney. "Open your mouth," she said. I opened my mouth. I knew then that she was going to put the tube down my throat, as she had so many other patients. But instead, she lifted her breast and put the nipple in my mouth. I suckled eagerly. "So you can breathe," she said, "so you can breathe."

I woke up with a raging hard-on. I couldn't help myself and masturbated to climax. It took only a few strokes. That was when I knew that I couldn't give up, not yet.

When I went back to work, by a fortunate turn of events, we were both on duty again. It was a quiet day for once in the ICU. I wasn't sure, but I thought I saw her glancing over in my direction a number of times. At the same time, it seemed she was making an effort not to interact with me that day. I didn't know what to do, so I did nothing.

At the end of my shift, I went back into the employee lounge to get my lunchbox from my locker. Alicia was there, looking over some papers at the table. She looked at me and nodded as I entered. I said, "Hi, doctor," and went over to the lockers.

I took care of my business and was just getting ready to walk out the door when she said, "VanDermere."

I stopped and turned around. "Yes ma'am?" I asked.

"I like Chinese food," she said.

"Uh, okay. I know a good place."

"Where?" she asked. She appeared to be uncertain, yet she looked me in the eye in the same way she stared down an errant intern.

"How about `China Gardens' over in that big shopping center near the interstate?" I asked.

"No," she said. "I'd rather go to `Ho Palace' in town."

Ho Palace was probably the most expensive Chinese restaurant in town, but I was willing to pay, if it meant going with her.

"All right," I said. "That sounds good."

"Meet me there Friday night at seven-thirty. Don't be late," she said. Then she looked back down at her papers.

"I won't," I said.

* * *

I got to the Ho Palace Friday night at seven-fifteen. I was wearing a tie and sportcoat with my best white shirt. I really wanted to make a good impression. I checked the money in my wallet. I had seventy-five dollars in cash. That should be enough.

I told the waitress we had a reservation, but that I was waiting for someone and quickly scanned the room. Alicia was not there yet, so I sat down in the lobby to wait.

Although I was excited, I was also a little apprehensive. Alicia was a large, rather demanding woman, and I wasn't sure whether I came up to her standards. But something drew me to her anyway. Something about being at the mercy of all that strength (emotional and physical) and power both attracted and frightened me. As I sat there in the lobby, I struggled with a serious case of butterflies.

The door opened and a draft of cool night air blew in. Alicia entered. She was wearing a black leather skirt and vest, with black stockings and a white silk blouse. Her hair was down and its curls framed her face nicely. She was not smiling, however.

I stood up and said, "Hi."

She looked at me, smiled briefly, and said, "Hello, Phillip."

There was a line of people waiting to be seated. Alicia took one look and said, "Do we have reservations?"

"Yes," I replied.

"Then come with me."

She went straight to the head of the line, getting us several dirty looks in the process. She called the hostess over, explained that we had reservations, and were ready to be seated. The hostess, a middle-aged Oriental woman, looked a little uncomfortable--she was apparently used to seating customers at her convenience. But, she unhooked the rope and led us to our booth.

"Wow," I said, smiling at her. "You should have seen the look the guy at the front of the line gave you when we went to the head. And I don't think the hostess really appreciated being told that we were ready to be seated now."

"Well," she said, not smiling, "we had reservations, didn't we?

"Yes," I replied.

"Then we should be seated first." She looked at me and, for the first time that night, smiled. It wasn't a big smile, but it was a smile. I got the impression that Alicia liked using the force of her personality to get things done.

After that, things settled down. Over wine and appetizers, we talked and got to know each other. Alicia, like most doctors, liked to talk about herself. Her parents had both died several years ago. Only she and her two older brothers were still alive. They lived out of state.

She had had to be assertive, even aggressive, while growing up. Her mother had been gentle and loving, but her father had been strict. He had also been a believer in corporal punishment.

"I don't know how many times I got spanked with a ruler, a hairbrush, a strap, or just his hand, when I was growing up," she said.

I, on the other hand, had been an only child. Both my parents were also deceased. I mainly missed my mother, though. My father had been an heavy drinker and, by turns, weak or abusive. My mother, though loving, had been strict. It had not been an exceptionally sad day when he finally died of liver failure brought on by chronic alcoholism.

"I also got the hairbrush a lot when I was growing up. But from my mother, not my father. She died not long ago," I said. The death of my mother had been the hardest blow I'd ever had to endure.

"How long has your mother been dead?" Alicia asked quietly.

"About a year and a half," I said. I suddenly felt a little choked up and had to swallow hard. Alicia noticed, I believe.

Pretty soon, the food, the wine, and the conversation loosened both of us up a little. Alicia looked at me and said, "I want to know something, Phillip."

"Okay," I said, "what?"

"What does the staff at the hospital think of me. I mean really think of me?" she asked.

I thought carefully for a moment. "The ones who are lazy or incompetent think you are a pain in the ass. A couple maybe even hate you."

"Who hates me?" she asked quickly.

"I'm not saying," I said. "Besides, you may already have an idea. Now, the good, hardworking staff also think you are a pain in the ass, but they don't mind. You are a good doctor; you know your stuff. They can deal with that all right."

Alicia did like Chinese food. She ate her share of the appetizer, then had fried rice and her main course. Then we had dessert. It was quite a meal. Over brandy and coffee after dinner, I decided, emboldened by food and drink, to tell her how I felt.

"Alicia," I said.

She looked up at me. In my mild alcoholic haze, I thought she looked great. Her face was slightly flushed, her lips parted, her eyes shining. "What?" she asked, grinning just a little.

"I just want you to know that I'm really having a good time."

She seemed to consider what to say. After a pause, she said, "I'm having a good time, too."

"Good," I said, somewhat relieved. "Whew, that brandy got to me a little. I think I need more coffee and less brandy. Would you like another cup?"

"Yes, thank you," she said.

We had more coffee, and talked quietly. Strangely, we did not talk about work. We discovered that we had a couple of common interests, like movies and the theater, and we talked about them instead. Once again, I got a little reckless. I slid over a little closer to her in the booth. She didn't move away, so I took another chance.

"Alicia, can I confide in you?"

"Well, that depends on what it is," she said, smiling a little.

"Well," I said, swallowing hard, "I just want you to know that for the longest time now, I've been looking for someone just like you."

"What do you mean?" she asked, a little warily. Damn! It didn't take much for her to put her guard up!

"Well, I've always been drawn to strong, assertive women. Women who can take charge. Women like you." There, I had said it. I waited for her reply.

"Women like your mother," she said.

"Well, maybe, but I never thought of if that way," I stammered, taken completely by surprise.

"I can't and won't be your mother, Phillip," Alicia said firmly.

"I don't want you to be my mother. I just want you to know that your assertiveness, your aggressiveness, your intelligence, those are the things about you that I find attractive."

She appeared to consider it for a moment. "Okay," she said. "I can accept that."

"Does that mean that we might go out again sometime?"

Alicia took a deep breath, as if weighing the consequences of her answer, and said, "Yes."

We finished our coffee in silence. Somehow, it seemed that we had taken care of some important business. It was as if we had overcome an obstacle.

We left the restaurant and walked down the street towards our cars. There were plenty of people about. Some shops were still open; the street was brightly lit. Alicia said, "Let's not go to our cars yet. Let's walk for a while."

So we walked. At one point, I once again bucked up my courage, and took her hand. She let me. Alicia's hand was big, and warm, and strong. For just a moment, I wondered what it would feel like on my body, or even on my...

"What are you thinking about?" she asked.

"To be honest, I was thinking about you," I said.

She seemed surprised. "Were you really?" she asked.

"Yes, I was."

We walked into the park and sat down on a bench. In Chapel Hill, North Carolina, on a late September evening, the breeze can be deliciously cool. So it was tonight. We sat on the bench, enjoying it. Soon, Alicia began speaking.

"I've been fighting with men all my life. First my brothers. Then at school. Then at college and med school. Then as an intern. Now this fellowship." Alicia looked at me seriously. "I like you, Phillip. I don't want to fight you, too."

"Alicia, you won't ever have to fight me. You can be the boss in this relationship," I said earnestly.

"You call the shots. I just want to get to know you better."

I walked her back to her car. It was a black BMW, a very nice car. I was impressed. I didn't know how much the fellowship paid, but I doubt that it would have paid for that car. Perhaps her family had money. Without saying anything, she handed me her keys. I walked a little ahead, opened the door, and held it for her.

"I hope that I didn't say anything too stupid tonight," I said.

She looked down at me. She did have six inches on me, after all, and said, "Well, you said a few things I really didn't expect to hear, but I'll give you the benefit of a doubt. Listen, I'm going to a conference from Monday till Wednesday. I'll be back Wednesday night. Call me at home Thursday night. We'll make plans." She handed me her card.

Then that big, beautiful, red-haired woman leaned down and kissed me full on the mouth. For a moment, there was nothing in the world but her hungry lips, gobbling me up. I put my arms around her neck and stood on tiptoe while she kissed me. It was the most exciting kiss I had ever experienced.

Alicia broke the kiss, got in her car, and drove off.