After all, I was lightheaded for hours after his lips left mine. How many doctors really look like Randall Monroe? Hell, how many men in the world look like Randall Monroe? He resembles a Greek god, and I didn’t even see him unclothed. Now, I can’t wait to feast upon his bronzed body. Does he have a six pack? Of course he must.
But he’s obviously more than a male airhead. This guy is a MD, for crying out loud. He’s been to years of school, and is obviously smart and successful. Then, there’s me, with my go-nowhere job and filthy fantasies. But a girl can dream right? I turn to reply to Petra, smiling secretively.
“I met someone,” I confess to her, my voice low to keep anyone from overhearing. I spot Willy Disdale at the water cooler across the room, talking to another female paralegal. From the looks of it, he’s not succeeding since she’s wearing a barely-disguised mask of disgust on her pretty face.
Petra’s eyes go wide with excitement and she nearly jumps up and down in the middle of the office with glee. “No! When?!”
“It was at the ER,” I whisper. I haven’t seen her this excited since I told her that I don’t have the virus, just a minor cold. Randall called me yesterday to tell me the results of my test within twenty-four hours, and we’re now going to have dinner at his apartment tonight. Blame it on the pandemic, but I’m excited to have easy access to his bed, shameless hussy that I am.
“Was he another patient?” Petra inquires as she sits down and smiles from ear to ear.
I shake my head.
“A nurse?”
I shake my head.
Her face blanches and the realization strikes her. “A doctor?”
I nod my head enthusiastically and she squeals in excitement, earning some dirty looks from our coworkers at their workstations nearby. She waves her hand in an apology to everyone and rolls her chair over to my desk, clasping my hands in hers and bringing them to her lap.
“Tell me everything. I swear, if you leave anything out, I’m disowning you as my best friend. Was he your doctor?” she demands. “Oh my god, you’re so bad! But this is so awesome!”
I can’t help but laugh at my buddy making such a big deal out of me finding a man, but I guess I can see where her excitement comes from. I can’t remember the last time I’ve been on a date that I was excited about, to be honest. I’ve been so focused on just getting by, that my love life is more of a comedy than a romance. It’s more of a tragi-comedy, come to think of it. Hopefully, this time will be different.
“His name is Randall Monroe,” I whisper, my cheeks flushing. “He’s a doctor in the ER at Memorial Hospital and Petra, he’s the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.”
She squeals in delight again and this time, she doesn’t care about the daggers shooting her way. She ignores them and gives her full, undivided attention to me and my story. She closes her eyes and says, “Tell me how beautiful he is so I can live vicariously though you,” she hums.
I giggle a bit. My friend is so funny, but I indulge her.
“He’s tall with this black hair so dark it’s like obsidian. He has gorgeous blue eyes, tan skin, and the body of a god. His body fat percentage has to be below ten percent because he is all muscle. And his lips…”
I trail off as I’m transported back to the private room in the ER, his hands on my hips and waist. His lips are ravenous, hungry for me and my body, hungry for release and pleasure. He’s pressed against me, my soft breasts pinned to his muscular pecs and my core rubbing against his…
I breathe out a sigh, shaking my head at the memory. “His lips are magical. I’m going to his apartment tonight for a date, and he’s cooking for me. How’s that for a change?”
“Damn, a rockin’ body and he cooks? I’ve been looking for men in all the wrong places.” Petra practically sits at the edge of her chair, but then a confused look crosses her face when she finishes speaking. “Wait, did you guys kiss in the ER? Or was it later?”
I bite my lip and I feel my cheeks catch fire. “In the ER.”
Her jaw unhinges itself and her mouth is wide open. She jumps up from her seat and her chair rolls backward toward her desk. “You little slut!” she half-screams, half-whispers.
“Petra!” I exclaim as quietly as I can. Luckily, most people aren’t at their desks right now. “Shhh! Quiet!”
But she merely jumps up and down a bit more.
“Oh, yes, you are,” she replies, a smirk on her beautiful face. “But I’m so proud of you, girlfriend. I knew you could do it. Slutty McSlut-tastic. My hero.” She tucks a strand of blonde hair behind her ear and puts a manicured hand to her heart, tears forming in her blue eyes.