Dr. Feelgood: A Medical Romance

cliffhangers.

Prologue

Ridge

She’s so gorgeous.

That’s the only thought in my mind as I watch the beautiful brunette being wheeled into the physical therapy room. I should be seeing a paraplegic. Someone with unmoving legs and a broken spirit, but instead, all I see full lips, a lively smile, and curves that go on for days.

What the hell is wrong with me? I’m a professional for crying out loud, and what professional does this? What doctor lusts after a patient who’s broken and damaged from a hellacious car accident that nearly killed everyone involved?

Me, that’s who.

But I can’t stop my thoughts. Summer Ames is just too beautiful, and even worse, she has no idea what I’m thinking. The innocent girl wheels up to me and smiles like nothing’s wrong. We’re alone in the physical therapy room, and the door’s tightly shut as the silence thrums between us.

Should I start the exercises you showed me last week? she asks in a sweet voice. You know, the ones where I lift my arms like this? she asks, raising her elbows in the air. The movement causes her breasts to bobble, and I can’t help but stare at those heavenly mounds through her t-shirt. She’s generously endowed and my body hardens just seeing those lush hills.

Um, sure, I growl, trying to get myself under control. Go ahead and start. I’ll just prep some of the equipment.

Summer smiles and begins her lifts, never breaking eye contact. She’s wearing a loose t-shirt, but each raise of her arms causes the hem to go up, revealing the softness of her stomach. And as I watch, she parts her legs a bit, as if to get comfortable on the plastic seat of her wheelchair. She’s wearing a skirt with flowers on it, and it drapes gently over her knees.

Then I see it. Holy shit, am I dreaming? Did this girl forget to wear her panties today? I can’t breathe, and I swallow hard, unable to tear my eyes from the vee between her thighs as she continues to do her lifts.

Oh shit, it’s true.

There’s a flash of moist pinkness, and then another one. She shoots me a coy smile, while parting her knees a bit. Sure enough, her pink slit comes into view, moist and steamy, and my cock practically bursts from my loose scrubs.

Do you like what you see, Doctor? she coos melodically, still doing her arm lifts while tantalizing me Basic Instinct-style. Holy shit, I’m going to fucking explode. But if I touch her, I’m going to lose my job, not to mention my license to practice physical therapy. I’m going to lose everything that I’ve worked so hard for, for so many years.

Yet I can’t stop myself. As if in slow motion, I approach until my cock nearly brushes Summer’s face. Like a kitten, she turns her cheek and gently nuzzles my hardness, sighing with adoration. Then, the girl gets even more creative. She catches my ridge through the material with her mouth and sucks me right through the cotton fabric.

Oh shit, it feels so good and her lips are so persuasive, the look in her eyes coy and welcoming. Within seconds, I have her out of her chair and lying on the massage mat on her back. Her skirt flies up and she smiles as I push her knees up and apart before sinking into that tempting wetness.

Oh Dr. Maddox, she moans, Yes, just like that.

I can’t believe how tight she is, and pump a few times, her warmth squeezing me like a velvety glove. I’m going to the seventh circle of hell for my actions, that’s for sure. But it’s worth it. She moans and clasps me tight in her arms, squeezing my length with her interior muscles, and the feel of her velvety walls pushes me over the edge. My cock jerks and spasms, dousing her pussy with my seed as she moans musically.

Yes! she cries out. Oh Ridge, that feels so good.

Her twat shakes around me as she finds her own climax, the intensity driving me over the edge again and again.

Summer, you’re so beautiful, you’re so gorgeous, I pant worshipfully against her mouth. She mewls and moans even more, squeezing every last drop of virile seed from my balls because this is what we both want. Sure, I’m a doctor and she’s my patient, but something’s changed in the equation. And even though we have so much at risk, all I want is more of this gorgeous woman no matter what it costs.

1

Summer

Six months earlier.

A pair of unsure eyes reflect back at me from the full-length mirror by the dressing room.

It’s just… well, it’s not me. Susan gnaws on her lip. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. This used to be what I would wear, but now? I’m not so sure.

I put a gentle hand on her shoulder. "It’s okay. We’ll figure this out. We’ll keep working through what you don’t like until we find what you do like."

Susan nods, but her eyes well up with tears. I squeeze her shoulder gently.

Hey, now. I promise you, you’re going to leave here in the perfect outfit. Now go back in there and get these clothes off. I’ll find you something else to try on, I say with an encouraging smile.

The middle-aged woman reluctantly returns to her dressing room. I survey the rack of clothing Susan has already tried on, and mentally strike a number of duds before sighing.

This appointment has been difficult to say the least. We’ve been trying on clothes for over an hour, and Susan is getting more discouraged by the minute. Luckily, this store is full of exciting new clothes and lots of options. Plus, I love working at Lalique. It’s a big department store which means there are tons of styles to choose from, as well as designers who design for all sorts of shapes and sizes. Even my pickiest and most self-conscious clients leave happy when I’m finished with them.

I roam the women’s department in search of the next best thing for Susan. She wanted to return to her pre-baby style, but that isn’t working for her. She has gained a little weight, which is perfectly understandable, but the old styles she used to wear just don’t flatter her figure anymore. I need to show her that she has a new body, and that her new body can look just as amazing as her pre-baby one. Even more so in fact with a flattering outfit.

I gather a few samples in my arms and head back to the dressing room.

Susan? I knock lightly on her door. When she opens it, she’s wrapped in one of Lalique’s complimentary robes. The terrycloth fabric hugs her curves, emphasizing their generous nature.

Summer, I think we better just call it quits, she says with tears in her eyes.

I shake my head. The dressing room is pretty big, so I step in with her. We take a seat on the bench inside and I take Susan’s hand in mine.

Tell me what’s going on, okay? We can figure it out, I say encouragingly.

The other woman can’t meet my eyes. It’s just that, well, ever since I had Braden, things have been tough.

Braden is your second child, right?

Susan nods. Angela was first. She’s three now. Braden is a little over one. Between them, I didn’t have a chance to worry about my weight because I got pregnant so quickly. I’ve been wearing sweatpants and hoodies for three years. I’m worried. I mean, is that all I’ll ever be able to wear again?

More tears threaten to spill, but I squeeze Susan’s hand.

I can’t promise that you’ll ever be the same weight you were before you had your babies, but I can promise that you look great now. You just need to find the right clothes for your new figure.

She swallows hard.

It feels like that will never happen. You’ve been great, Summer, but do designers even think about women my size? I mean, look at everything I’ve tried on already, she says, gesturing to a discarded pile of clothes by the door. Nothing looked good.

I shush her gently. Susan, look at me.

Her eyes flutter up to mine.

That’s not what I mean. Take a look at my body. See how I’ve dressed myself?

Susan glances up and down my frame. I’ve been curvy nearly my entire life. Even as a baby, I had chubby cheeks and Michelin-man arms and legs. It was a lot more endearing then, but I’ve highlighted my assets so that I come across as a shapely, voluptuous woman, and not a lumpy sack of potatoes. I squeeze her hand.

It took me a long time to be comfortable in this body. I used to hide behind baggy clothes, and I’d never go out with my friends or join clubs because I was so ashamed of how I looked. But with the right clothes, everything changes. Your outlook on life. Your personal history. Even your mood, I say with another kind smile.

But my heart thuds in my chest as I speak. I haven’t thought about those dark years in a long time because high school was rough for me. Everyone seemed to be nasty, from the popular girls to the band geek boys. Even my ‘friends’ made comments about my weight, which made it impossible for me to hang out with them outside of school. Clearly, they weren’t real friends, but they were all I had at the time. But it wasn’t just other people. It was me, too. I couldn’t let myself love what I looked like.

Now, at twenty-five, I’ve moved passed all the bad stuff. I can look in the mirror and love the image that stares back at me. I figured out which clothes accentuate my curves. My brown curly hair, which I kept cut way too short in high school, brushes my shoulder blades, and often I dress in outfits that hug my shape. Loose, billowy sacks are out; sexy, stretchy materials are in. I smile again at Susan.

"I won’t lie and say I never struggle. Sometimes I’ll see a super skinny woman and wish I looked like her. Or there will be a cute dress on display but it doesn’t come in my size. It sucks, but I work past it. I try to find things that do come in my size, and they look way cuter than that too small dress. I pat squeeze Susan’s hand again. You have a body to be proud of. You brought two tiny humans into this world, so every curve is proof that you are a superhero. Not everyone has what it takes to be a mom."

Susan smiles gratefully.

I suppose you’re right.

Of course I’m right! We both laugh. Seriously, though. I know this is hard on you, but we’ll figure it out. Every body has the perfect outfit. I’ve brought some more samples for you to try out, but give me two minutes. I have one other thing I want you to try too. Are you willing to keep going?

The young mom meets my eyes and studies my face for what feels like an hour. Finally, she gives me the slightest nod.

Okay sure.

I jump up and clap my hands together. Excellent! I’ll be right back.

I practically run to the rack I have in mind before grabbing the right size and skipping back to Susan.

A dress? she asks, eyeing it warily. It doesn’t look like it has enough fabric.

I push the material into her hands.

Just try it out, okay? Trust me on this one.

Susan takes the outfit with hesitant fingers. When we first started this search, she was adamant about absolutely no dresses. She was willing to try pretty much anything, but dresses were out because she was worried that her post-baby legs would look unflattering if they showed. I listened and nodded, but at this point, I think pulling her out of her comfort zone is exactly what she needs. Especially after seeing how great she looks in that robe.

I stand outside Susan’s dressing room while she gets into the dress. I adjust my own top, a cute white peplum that gives my generous cleavage a great lift. I’m lucky that Lalique lets us wear any style we want, as long as we wear white on top and black on the bottom. But them I’m startled by a noise on the other side of the dressing room.

Oh my God.

Susan?

Silence. I knock.

Susan, is everything okay?

Oh my God, she repeats. Summer, you won’t believe this.

I hesitate, my hand on the knob.

Is everything okay? I can’t tell if this is good or bad.

The door swings open, and out walks Susan with a huge smile on her face. The wrap dress is black with white polka dots on it. The front closes with a tie, which allows the wearer to decide how tight it is around the waist. Susan has the sash tight enough to keep the dress on, but loose enough so that she’s comfortable. Exactly how she wore the Lalique robe.

Judging by your smile, I’d say good, I grin.

She spins around in front of me, showing off her beautiful legs.

"Summer, it’s perfect! I never would have worn something like this before I had my babies, and I definitely wouldn’t have picked it out on my own now. But who knew? This outfit is amazing, not to mention it makes me feel free and confident."

I pull her in for a hug. I don’t usually get so physical with my clients, but Susan is a special case. We’ve bonded over our similar body shapes and struggles. Plus, I’m really happy we finally figured out the kind of style that works for Susan. This has been one of my most difficult appointments but watching Susan float in front of the mirror makes the process worth it.

I’m so glad you like it, I smile.

I love it, Summer. You’re a genius!

Now that, I’m not, but why don’t you try on a few more things? I think you’ll find these really flattering and they’ve got some elastic in hidden parts, so they’ll stretch.

I hand her a few more flowing tops, skirts, and jeans that don’t necessarily hug the hips.

Really? she gasps, looking over the material.

Really, I nod. I want you to try this stuff on. Open heart, open mind. I’ll go find more items like that dress, but I think these are a great start.

Susan looks wondrously at the hangers in her arms. This is a complete turnaround from where she was just a few minutes earlier. Her eyes are no longer glassy with tears, and she literally skips back into the dressing room.

Smiling, I turn away. It’s amazing what a piece of clothing can do, and this is why I love my job. People underestimate the power of an amazing outfit, but I’ve learned from experience that the first step to confidence is dressing the part. Susan is just one of many clients who have proven the theory.

I fill my arms with more flowing tops, a few skirts, and some high waisted jeans. Why not? They’re sassy, spunky and if items like these make me feel good, maybe they’ll work for Susan, too.

Back in the dressing room, Susan is spinning in front of the mirror again. This time, she wears a long blouse with a diagonal hemline, paired with some jeans. She looks amazing.

Do you like it?

She turns towards me with a giant smile.

Does it come in other colors? I want at least three.

I laugh.

It comes in… I mentally scan the rack. Seven different colors.

I’ll take all seven! she chirps as I grin.

I’ll go get the other colors while you try on more outfits.

She beams.

This is so wonderful, Summer. Thank you!

When I return with another armful of clothes, Susan has already tried on two more outfits. She didn’t like the peplum top I brought her, but she was a big fan of the wrap shirts. She wants those in every color, too.

After trying on all my suggestions, Susan has a cart loaded with over three hundred dollars’ worth of merchandise. Considering how this appointment started, I thought we’d be lucky to get her one outfit but now, she’s going home with over fourteen new ensembles and three new dresses.

Summer, I cannot possibly thank you enough. She looks tearfully at her cart. You’ve been absolutely incredible.

I bite my lip.

Thank you for saying that, Susan. I appreciate it.

My client shoots me a teary smile.

I mean it, Summer. You were so patient with me even when I swore I wouldn’t like anything. You didn’t let me give up. You made me feel like I could be happy in my body, even if it’s a lot bigger than the one I used to live in. Frankly, you’ve changed my life today.

I pull her in for another hug.

Thank you, Susan. When we separate, I can’t help but add a wink. Can I tell you a secret?

Her face brightens. I didn’t think it was possible for this woman to look any happier, but suddenly she does. Please!

I’m thinking about opening my own business.

Susan gasps. You’re leaving Lalique?

I clasp my hand over her mouth. My coworkers probably aren’t listening, but I don’t want them to hear because no one knows about my dream and they really shouldn’t find out about it from a customer. Besides, it’s not like this dream is fully realized yet. It’ll be a long while before I can actually go out on my own, and I don’t want to lose my job before it’s necessary.

It won’t happen for a long while, I tell her. But I want to go into business for myself as a personal stylist. I love working at Lalique, and I’m really happy to be part of a team that has access to such a huge inventory. It’s not every day I find a store that has nearly every piece of clothing in my size.

Susan nods.

That’s exactly why I came here. I knew Lalique had the best variety of clothes for bigger girls.

That’s why I applied, too. But it’s also limiting, you know? If I was my own boss, I could style people with clothing from a ton of different stores. I could pick a top from Lalique and bottoms from a boutique or even 0n-line. The options are endless, so yeah, maybe I’ll strike out on my own.

Susan squeezes my shoulder again, a move I’ve come to associate with her.

That sounds fantastic, Summer. You should do it.

I shrug.

Hopefully, someday. I’ve been saving up, but we’ll see. It’s a future thing. I’m only twenty-five, so I’ve got time.

My client looks me straight in the eye.

Well, promise me this. When you open up your business, I want to be your first customer. Got it?

We hug again. Thank you, Susan. You’ll be my first call.

It’s no problem, sweetheart. You have no idea what you did for me today.

I do have an idea, because someone at Lalique did the same for me seven years ago. I came to the store right after high school graduation, desperate to change my image before college. The stylist found me wandering the aisles at eighteen, confused and scared. She had an hour before her next appointment, and took me under her wing. We tried on clothes, she told me what looked good, and she helped me fall in love with myself. Then, when I had two bags full of new clothes, the stylist told me she was actually the manager, and they had an opening for a cashier. I’ve been working here ever since, slowly making my way up to my current stylist position.

But instead of telling Susan all that, I squeeze her hand and we walk together up to the register. As we walk, she makes chitchat.

A pretty girl like you probably has a boyfriend, right?

I laugh lightly.

No, not at the moment. I mean, I date of course, but there’s no one serious right now.

Susan grins conspiratorially.

Have you tried out OkCupid? That’s where I met my husband.

I smile lopsidedly.

I have. OkCupid, and Match, and Bumble, and a bunch of other sites too. Unfortunately, on-line dating doesn’t seem to do so well for me. I’ve been out on a lot of dates, but they’re pretty much duds, I say ruefully.

Really? Susan asks with her brow scrunched. Well, don’t worry, she says comfortingly, Prince Charming will come along soon enough, and then you’ll have two rugrats underfoot and wish you were single once more.

I laugh as I ring her up, but inside, my heart aches a bit. After all, I wish I could meet Prince Charming sooner rather than later. The dating scene in the city is painful, to tell the truth, and I’ve had my hopes dashed multiple times now.

Where is Mr. Right? Where is my tall, dark and handsome hiding? I’d love to meet a gorgeous guy with strong hands, swirly tats running up corded arms, and a smile that makes me melt inside. But alas, I don’t know where he is and as I walk Susan out of the store, I can only sigh to myself. I hope that my imaginary prince becomes real sooner rather than later. After all, a girl has needs, and I’d love to meet my Prince Charming now.

2

Ridge

The small blonde on the bench in front of me grunts as she stretches her knee against an elastic exercise band.

It hurts, she says through clenched teeth.

I know it hurts right now, but breathe through the pain. You can do this. Just nine more reps.

Mina takes a deep breath and bends her knee, placing her foot back on the floor. Once again, she lifts her foot to stretch out her knee, the elastic acting as resistance to help strengthen her muscles. She repeats the move until the set is finished, then collapses back on the table with tears in her eyes.

"You’re doing great, Mina. You