Competitive weightlifter Kim Sussman notices what men first notice about orthopedist Michelle Becker. She's cute, blond and slim and there's no ring on her finger. Dr. Becker, wearing a white lab coat over blue slacks, looks all business as she examines Kim's MRI on her laptop in a small office in the Medical Arts Building.
"The good news, your discs are fine. The bad news, you have a partial tear of your lower spinal erector muscles, plus sprained ligaments. Must have been lots of weight you tried to lift."
"One-hundred and thirty kilos," Kim reveals.
"Whew! And you weigh only what, a hundred and fifty pounds?"
"Around there. I lift in the sixty-nine-kilo class." Kim smiles in spite of her high pain level, gratified that she seems to have impressed this pretty, thirty-something sports medicine doctor. Kim's primary care doctor had ordered an MRI a couple weeks after she injured her back while competing in a local Olympic lifting contest. From there, Kim went to Hunt Valley Orthopedics, Michelle's medical group. "My only consolation is that I made the lift and won the contest," Kim says. "You think you can fix me? I'd like to return to training as soon as possible."
Michelle looks up from her laptop. "The best fix is rest. You should also apply a combination of ice and wet heat a couple times a day and take Advil or similar drugs to reduce pain and inflammation." She takes a few moments to look at her chart. "You're twenty-four?" Kim nods. "How long do you plan on competing? I ask because from what I've seen, Olympic lifting can be mighty tough on knees, backs and shoulders. You're still young, I know, but there might be a price to pay down the road from all that pounding. I do cross-fit which, as you know, includes the Olympic lifts, but with much lighter weight for high reps."
"You might be right. But lifting's in my blood. I love to train and compete."
"Well, as a sports medicine doctor, my job is to prescribe treatments that will allow you to return to your activity as soon as possible. I'll do my best." She helps Kim onto the exam table. "I know it hurts," she says in empathy, watching Kim wince. "One thing's for sure," Michelle adds, "you've got an impressive pair of quads."
"Thanks. Lots of front squats, you know." Wearing tight blue training shorts, Kim sits on the edge of the table, letting the doctor feel around her lower back. "Ah, that feels good. Do you give massages?"
Michelle chuckles. "No, not really, although I could. I'm feeling to see if there's anything unusual about the contours of your back. So far, so good." Michelle asks her to lift her feet and wiggle her toes. "Any tingling or numbness?"
"No."
"Any change in bowel movements?"
"No."
"Any change in sexual functioning?"
Caught off guard, Kim suddenly feels anxious. "Any change?"
"Are you still functioning normally is what I mean."
"Normally? Well, yes. I guess."
"You guess?"
"Scratch that. Yes, I can still function. Normally."
Change is the key word, because Kim just broke up with her boyfriend Jeff, just one guy in a line of boyfriends that Kim dropped. Finally, she's come to the realization that she likes gals, not guys, at least when it comes to sex and romance. For years, she had denied it, hoping it was an aberration, hoping she'd somehow get "normal." 'If it hasn't happened yet,' she had told Jeff, 'it isn't going to.' So far, Jeff is the only one she's confided in. She slept with him while thinking of other women, something she revealed only toward the end of their relationship.
Doctor Michelle Becker is one of those women that fuel Kim's fantasies. She's not only cute, she looks in good shape. Not all sports medicine doctors, male or female, spend much time exercising. "So you're involved with cross-fit?"
"Yes. I didn't have much time to train for it in med school. But now that I'm on a regular schedule—more or less—I've been training about four days a week, and even thinking about competing."
"Cool." Kim can imagine how sexy Michelle looks working out, her smooth skin glistening with sweat, her scent, deliciously feminine, her blond hair matted against her forehead. Kim's never made advances toward another woman, and she doesn't plan to start now—especially not with her own orthopedist who's most likely as hetero as they come.
"Anyway, enough about me," Michelle says, "now back to you. So again, rest that back and apply plenty of ice and heat. Take pain meds as needed. Any questions?"
"Will I be seeing you again?"
"I'm going to give you a follow-up appointment right now." She helps Kim slide off the exam table, then sits down and checks her appointment calendar on her laptop. "I'd like to see you in two weeks. Can you make it on Thursday the seventeenth at four?" Kim nods. "Okay, you're in." Michelle wheels her chair away from her desk, crosses her legs and rocks slightly back. "So, Kim, what do you do when you're not hoisting heavy weights?"
"I'm a parole and probation agent and attend law school part time at night."
"Sounds like you're incredibly busy yourself. When do you find the time to train? And where does all that energy come from?"
"Somehow I squeeze it in. As far as energy, I've always had plenty of that."
Michelle nods as she looks her over, from her wavy, shoulder-length brown hair to those thick, muscular quads she finds so impressive. "So tell me how you got started in Olympic lifting. Another patient of mine said her boyfriend got her interested. Is that your story?"
"Yes, as a matter of fact. Jeff, my last boyfriend, is into Power lifting. I began with that, then drifted over to the Olympic lifts. I find it more dynamic, more athletic, really. You need to be fast and flexible as well as strong."
"Was Jeff supportive of your lifting?"
"WAS is the operable word. We're no longer together."
"Oh. Well, I hope it wasn't because he got jealous. I know women whose boyfriends dropped them because their fragile male egos couldn't handle their success."
"No, it wasn't because of that. It, well..." She laughs inside at the notion of telling her the unvarnished truth: 'Actually, doctor Becker, it's because I'm a lesbian, and right now I'm getting wet thinking about kissing that sweet mouth of yours and then getting naked with you on this exam table, spreading my amazing quads and...' Kim stops there and shakes her head.
"That's okay, I shouldn't get this personal," Michelle says. "Anyway, I'll see you in two weeks."
*****
Little does Kim know that Michelle's fantasy mill was also at work when she met with Kim. Unlike Kim, she's experienced—with both men and women, though her sexual orientation leans toward women, strong, athletic women generally and now Kim specifically. Michelle's had other female patients that stoked her desire. Thus far, she's kept her feelings to herself, her libido in check. Number one, coming on to a patient would be highly unethical (slightly!); and two, she wouldn't even consider such a move unless she knew said patient was gay. Kim? She doubts it. She had a boyfriend, right? Bisexual? Doubtful again. If she is, Michelle has no sense of it.
Michelle goes for strong, athletic women, women bigger than her petite, one-hundred and twenty-five pounds. She'd bet that Kim could lift her overhead with ease, then twirl her around a few times. Another plus: Kim has brains as well as brawn. Michelle likes bright, articulate, high-achieving women. Dummies need not apply. Butch looking lezzies need not apply. Man-hating, radical feminist intellectual types need not apply either. Kim's very pretty. What with those full lips, perfect little nose and her smile, so cute and warm. She likes her coloring, too, a shade just short of olive. And then there's her strong, shapely body—all so strikingly sexy!
She's getting wet just thinking about all this, and somewhat concerned, because Michelle's secretary has just informed her that Kim is now in the waiting room. Michelle admonishes herself for not having more discipline, for not banishing such thoughts from her horny little mind. She's a doctor, a professional person, for crissakes, and she can't let her libido overwhelm her professionalism, not to mention her common sense. "Get a grip, Michelle," she says out-loud. "Ms. Sussman's here for treatment, not to be seduced."
Still, she can't help but be impressed when Kim walks in wearing tight black stretch pants that accentuates a few of her assets—her big, curvy thighs, diamond-shaped calves and solid round butt. Michelle was never crazy about braided hair. However, on Kim it looks undeniably erotic. "How's the back?" Michelle's question sounds absurdly banal to her in light of what she's been thinking.
Kim puts down her backpack and hops onto the exam table. "Better. I'm trying to be a good patient," she chuckles. "Lifting no more than light dumbbells. It isn't easy."
"Layoffs suck, I know." Michelle's thoughts wander as she looks into Kim's eyes, blue and beautiful, just like her own, or so she's been told. Being the doctor puts her in control. Being professional and disciplined in most areas of her life stops her from saying inappropriate things, things that could get her in trouble. "Okay, Kim, lay down on your back if you will. We're going to do some stretching." After Kim complies, Michelle grasps her patient's ankle and then slowly begins to lift her leg. "Raise your hand when your back starts to hurt," Michelle instructs, lifting the leg inch by inch. Kim does after her leg passes forty-five degrees, with similar results when Michelle does her other leg. "Okay, now sit up and bend forward as far as you can. "Does that hurt?"
"A little," Kim says after stretching to where she can touch her ankles.
After some probing and prodding, Kim sits on the exam table while Michelle types the exam results on her laptop. She's dressed in formal business attire today—dark blue skirt, white blouse and high heels. She wears her hair up. "Looks like you're dressed for a meeting or something," Kim says. Her eyes focus on Michelle's legs, crossed and exposed to mid-thigh, and then on the nipples of her breasts, pressed against the material of her blouse.
"Actually, I am," she says. Her eyes stay glued to her keyboard. "Our team is holding a dinner meeting in about an hour." Moments later, she turns her chair around to face her patient. "Because you're still in some discomfort, I'd give it another week or so. Pushing it too soon could set you back. I know it's frustrating," she says, responding to Kim's look of woe. "But you'll get there, trust me. By the way, your hair looks nice. Does that help?"
"Only if you mean it," Kim says, beginning to smile. "I usually wear it like this only when I'm training or competing. Today I just felt like it."
Michelle nods. "I see. Well, just for the record, braids don't do much for me, but they look great on you."
"Thanks. Now, one good compliment deserves another. I like your outfit. You look really, well, sexy without looking slutty. If that makes any sense."
"Thanks. You don't think my skirt's too short?" Michelle tugs at the hem, stretching it down an inch or so. "At one of these meetings, a male colleague told me it was distracting him. He said it in a joking way, but I could tell he meant it."
"Well, us women like to look sexy for women, too," Kim says, "and I don't mean just lesbians. We crave the attention."
Michelle rubs her hand over her shapely calve a few times, as if she were brushing something off it. "Agreed, although it's an almost unconscious effort for straight women, I feel. For gay women, well, use your imagination." She re-crosses her legs and flashes a flirtatious smile.
Kim slides her tongue over her lips. "Yeah, well, in my gym, the girls train in tight, very short shorts, exposing more leg than they have to. Not much imagination needed. The guys eat it up."
