The New Patients

"Well, if you'll have a seat Mr. Wilson," said the cute young nurse seated at the front desk. "It should be only a few minutes until the Doctor can see you."

She gave me a clinical, polite smile and turned back to her work on a stack of files in front of her. I took a seat in the waiting room and opened up my newspaper to help pass the time. I had finished the front page when in came a young woman. Her face was flushed and she was out of breath.

"Sorry I'm late," she said scribbling her name on the register.

"Did you bring your referral slip from Dr. Kowalski?" the nurse asked her after checking her name against the list of appointments.

"Yes, I have it in here somewhere," she said, opening and rummaging through her purse. "Here it is!"

"Okay then, please have a seat. The Doctor will be right with you."

As the nurse went back to her work, the young woman grabbed her purse, gave a quick look around the waiting room, and then sat in the chair farthest away from me. It was hard not to check her out. She was a tall slender blond woman with light green eyes and pale skin. Looking closer, I noticed that she wasn't perhaps as young as first glance told me, maybe in her early thirties. She probably wasn't a natural blond either, but when did that matter? She was a very pretty woman, with a nice healthy complexion and high round cheekbones. She had an interesting look to her face: her eyes looked sort of crossed, not at all in a goofy way, and she had a slight overbite. Her light pink lips curled into a polite little smile when she noticed I was checking her out.

I nodded and looked back to my newspaper. She pulled out her cell phone and made a call. From the sound of it, she was talking to her husband or roommate about the appointment. Although I wasn't trying to eavesdrop, her voice carried across the small waiting room as if she were seated next to me and I could hear everything she said.

"Hi, it's me. Yeah. I hope it won't take too long. It's just a referral. I don't think they'll really do anything. No, I don't know when. Well, don't wait for me. Yeah, go ahead and have dinner. I'll stop and eat on the way home. Okay. See you whenever. Bye."

As she put her phone away, I caught sight of a bright sparkle from her ring finger. Probably her husband, I thought. What a lucky guy. She was wearing a gray and black striped sweater under a black woolen jacket and slacks outfit that was loose enough to hide her figure. But when she took a deep breath in, her breasts pushed out against the sweater and her jacket opened a little, showing off a nice pair of rounded curves. I realized that I was staring because she shot over that polite smile again and tugged her jacket closed.

I tried to smile warmly before burying my head back in the newspaper. I'm sorry but I couldn't help it. She was so pretty and I don't work in an industry that affords me the opportunity to meet a lot of pretty women. I'm not much for either the smoky bar scene or the church singles scene. About the best luck I had had lately was to hang around the new bookstore in town, the one with the coffee bar that doesn't mind if you sit there all night reading so long as you keep buying the cappuccino.

This one was different. I couldn't take my eyes off of her and caught myself shifting in the chair and lowering the paper just enough to sneak a peek at this lovely woman as she crossed and re-crossed her long legs. Her low-heeled shoe dangled as she tapped her foot; even her ankles had a wonderful shape. She drummed her long slender fingers on her purse impatiently, letting out another sigh. Her light green eyes were mesmerizing. When she looked over at me again, I smiled and nodded and tried to look back more thoughtfully than leeringly. For a moment, our eyes caught and her mouth opened as if she was going to say something. Just then, the medical assistant came out and said something to the nurse at the front desk.

"Miss Newman?" she called out. "Can you follow me?"

The pretty woman got up and quickly left the waiting room. I tried to show her my best smile, but realized that it was futile since I would never see this incredible beauty again. I drank in the look of her figure swaying through the doorway, noting the long legs, and how the nicely rounded curves of her butt showed through her snug woolen slacks. Well, just daydream some more, old boy, I thought to myself.

After a few minutes more, the nurse called me back and placed me in the last examination room along the corridor. As I walked along, I noticed that the pretty woman was sitting fully dressed and on the table in her room, her long legs crossed demurely in front of her.

"You're in for just a physical, Mr. Wilson?" the nurse asked me.

"I guess. Just the normal thing."

"This is your first time with us, isn't it?"

"Yep. It's my first time, so please be gentle with me."

"Well, Dr. Kowalski has warm hands, so don't worry," she said, laughing. "Here's a gown for you. If you'll get undressed down to your briefs, the Doctor should be in shortly."

"Thanks."

I had always hated undressing and sitting on a cold table waiting endlessly, but fortunately the fall weather had been cool lately and the heat was on, keeping the room rather comfortable. Following her directions, I sat back down with the gown on over my boxers and waited for a few minutes. The nurse came and handed a small cup to me.

"I think you know what this is for," she said with a knowing smile. "The bathroom is just back down the hall."

As I moved back up the corridor, I noticed that the pretty woman was gone from her room. Oh, well. She said it wouldn't take long. As I reached for the handle to the restroom, the nurse called over to me.

"Oh, Mr. Wilson. I think you might want to knock first."

I knocked and heard the voice of the pretty woman call out, "Just a minute!"

As I stood in the hallway, holding the cup in one hand and my gown together in the back with the other, I heard the nurses say something to each other and giggle. The restroom door suddenly opened and the pretty woman came out, clad as was I in a gown. She handed her specimen cup to the nurse and returned to her exam room. As I stepped back to let her pass back down the corridor, she turned toward me and whispered, "Nice boxers!" Watching her walk away, clutching at her gown, like me rather unsuccessfully, I couldn't help but notice the dainty black undies that she was wearing under the gown, and also that she had left her black thigh high stockings on as well. By the time I stepped into the restroom to produce my sample, I had developed enough of a hard-on that I had to think about baseball for a couple of minutes before I could do the deed.

After handing off my sample to the nurse, the rest of the examination went routinely. I was surprised when Dr. Kowalski turned out to be a woman, and a very nice looking one at that; short and trim with short dark hair and lovely blue eyes. But she was professional and efficient in her examination and got me out within a half hour. At one point the Doctor excused herself for a few moments. While she was gone, the nurse came in and took some blood. The only awkward moment came when the Doctor returned. She wanted to check me for hernia and asked me to lower my boxers.

"Nice shorts!" she said, as I pulled the gown to one side and lowered my drawers.

As she placed her hands on me, my penis responded in a most unprofessional way by standing up to attention, not quite fully erect, but enough to make her eyes pop open.

"Sorry," I said, trying to remember Ted Williams' lifetime batting average.

"That's okay. It happens to me all the time."

I could see her cheeks blush slightly.

"All right then. I think you can get dressed now," she said making some notes on the chart. "We'll have your blood work back in a couple of days, but from what I can see here, you're in terrific shape, Mr. Wilson."

"Thanks."

She excused herself and I got quickly dressed. As I walked back out to the front desk, I noticed that the pretty woman's room was empty and the light was turned out. Oh, well at least I could keep the image of her tight little butt peeking through her gown as she swayed down the hall. However, I was pleasantly surprised when I reached the front desk and found her standing there waiting for the nurse to complete some paperwork.

"Well you should all set, Mr. Wilson," said the nurse waving to me. "And so are you Miss Newman. You both have a good evening!"

Playing the natural part of the gentleman, I held the door open for the pretty woman. She headed straight to the elevator and I followed at a respectful distance. As I glimpsed at her walking in front of me, for some prurient reason, my mind kept flashing back to the earlier vision of her behind. There was an alluring sway to her walk. She pushed the down button and waited impatiently.

"That wasn't too bad for my first time," I remarked, trying to strike up a conversation.

"I hate doctor's offices," she remarked. "Just hate them."

"Hey, I'm the guy. I should be the one doing the complaining."

"Hopefully this will be the last time for me for a while."

The elevator rang out and the door opened. Since I was closer, I stepped inside and held the door for her. She gave me a quick little polite smile as she stepped inside and stood on the far side away from me. Again I couldn't keep my eyes to myself and let my gaze wander up and down her tall slender figure. I forced myself to concentrate on her eyes. They were a light green color and slightly crossed. She was staring intently at the button panel. When she noticed my look out of the corner of her eye, she glanced over to me.

"Is there something wrong?" she asked, sounding kind of pissed off.

"No, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to stare," I said beginning to feel embarrassed.

She gave me a quick look up and down, her eyelids narrow and skeptical.

"I mean," I said trying to come up with a decent line. "It's just that I don't meet a lot of pretty women and you most definitely are."

Her eyes dropped down as her cheeks began to blush.

"Really," I went on. "It was really meant as a compliment."

"Fair enough, then," she said, letting a faint smile cross her face. "Compliment accepted."

I felt better when she appeared to relax a little.

"I guess a pretty woman like you gets hit on quite a bit."

"Not that much really. Mostly the guys just stare like they're trying to undress me with their eyes."

"Well, your husband is a lucky man," I said.

"My husband?" she said quizzically.

"Yes, your husband," I said holding up my hand and wiggling my ring finger.

"Oh, this!" she laughed, holding up her hand to show off her ring. "I'm not married. This is just my protection."

"To discourage the riff-raff, eh?"

"And most of the rest. You know, just because I'm at the grocery store or the dry cleaners, it doesn't mean that I'm looking for a man."

The elevator reached the lobby and she stepped through the door as soon as it opened, nearly bowling over the guy who was trying to rush inside.

"Asshole!" I heard her say under her breath with a nasty look on her face as the guy backed up.

She strode down the hall toward the door, heading in the same direction as I was. She glanced over her shoulder with the same dark look she had given the guy at the elevator.

"Sorry, but I'm really not trying to follow you," I said as I tried to keep a safe distance. "Stalking isn't really my thing."

She turned back for a moment, sighed softly, and then slowed down so I could catch up.

"Have you been going to Dr. Kowalski long?" she asked.

"No, this was my first visit with her, In fact I didn't even know she was a lady doctor until I met her. Some people at work recommended her"

"My regular doc sent me over as a referral. He thought she might be a better fit."

"She seems nice," I said as I held the lobby door open for her.

"Well, I'm parked over there," she said pointing off to the left.

"So am I."

"Coincidence or dumb luck?"

"That depends on whether you'll have dinner with me."

"Dinner?" she said looking over at me.

"Don't take me wrong," I said. "Not a pick up or date kind of thing. Just dinner. It's late. I'm hungry. You probably are. I was going to stop and get something any way, and besides, it's more fun when you can share a meal with someone else."

"Dutch treat?" she asked.

"Dutch is fine. No pressure. No bullshit. Okay?"

"Oh, all right. You seem pretty harmless. Besides I've seen you half naked."

She stopped beside a sharp looking red Pontiac coupe parked right next to my old blue Mustang convertible.

"What do you feel like?" I asked.

"Do you know any good Mexican restaurants around here?"

"There's a great little one over on Fenkell Road not far from here. Do you want to follow me?"

"Okay."

"You know, I still don't know your name," I commented.

"Trisha," she said. "Trisha Newman."

"Jack. Jack Wilson," I replied reaching out to shake her hand.

"Nice to meet you, Jack."

She followed close behind me as we made our way through traffic to The Old Mexico Café. At a stoplight, I looked back to see her fussing with her hair and makeup. It was only a few minutes before we pulled into the parking lot. The dark eyed hostess seated us at a quiet booth in the corner.

"I hope you understand that this is a kind of special thing for me," I said, leaning forward to set my arms on the table.

"What do you mean?" she said leaning back, arms crossed over her chest.

"Well, for one thing, I don't go around asking strange women to have dinner with me."

"Just normal women?"

"Not strange funny, strange as in strangers."

"Well if it makes you feel any better, I don't usually accept dinner invitations from men I've just met."

"So to what do I owe this honor then?" I asked. "I know it's not my dashing good looks or my witty banter."

"I don't know," she said looking over at me quizzically. "You seem to have personality. You're a nice looking guy, not stuck on himself. Besides there's a feeling I get when you look at me. It's like you're looking at me, not just my body."

"Actually, if you want to know," I said leaning farther forward and lowering my voice. "It's your eyes. I've never seen eyes the color of yours and besides, well this might sound strange, but you look really cute when they kind of cross."

"You like me because I'm cross-eyed?"

"Well that, and your sexy overbite."

She held a hand up to her mouth for a moment.

"And your sense of humor," I added.

She smiled again.

"You are a charming man," she said, looking up as the waitress stepped up.

We ordered a pitcher of margaritas and later on some dinner. Our conversation expanded to cover where we grew up and lived; she on the east side, I on the west side; where we went to school; she to a Catholic school and Notre Dame, I at public school and MSU; what we did for a living; she worked for an advertising agency, I was an engineer. Despite the differences, we found that our love lives were similar. We had each almost gotten married once, but both had gotten cold feet before making the plunge. Both of us had come out of a long-term relationship that had dead-ended recently and neither of us had gotten back into dating scene.

"Sometimes, I think that I'm destined to be an old maid," she remarked sadly. "Despite the best efforts of my roommate, love just never seems to work out for me."

"I know that feeling all too well. I mean, even my mother once asked my sister if I was gay because I didn't have a regular girlfriend."

"Are you?" she asked apprehensively.

"Oh, not at all!" I laughed, trying to reassure her. "Believe me, my orientation is definitely toward women."

"That's a relief," she confessed. "I dated a real nice guy for almost a year. Things were going great, a little slow maybe, but I thought he wanted to take his time and it felt really great. But then he admitted that he was gay and really only wanted to be my friend. It took me a long time to get over that. And the next thing I know is I'm thirty-five years old and my family doctor is hitting on me."

"You're kidding!" I exclaimed. "That's too much. Although I have to admit that I wouldn't object if the good Dr. Kowalski hit on me."

"You would like that wouldn't you," she laughed. "Actually, though I was suspicious when he kept having me come back for test after test and could never seem to find anything conclusive. I felt fine and didn't think that there was anything wrong with me. I think he finally recommended that I go to another doctor so that the bastard could hit on me without any qualms about ethics."

"I can't say I blame him totally," I said. "You are a pretty woman and look ten years younger."

"And you are a liar of the first degree," she laughed.

After dinner we ordered another pitcher of margaritas. As the evening progressed, I got the feeling that she was getting kind of loaded. She had progressed from sitting with her legs and arms crossed to where she had slipped off her jacket and would lean forward, casually resting her elbows on the table. Then there was a lock of her hair that kept slipping out of the pin that was holding it back on her head. She even went to the restroom to effect repairs and within a minute of her return it had fallen back down.

"Oh this stupid thing," she disgustedly trying to stuff back.

"Here, let me," I said reaching over to the side of her head.

I tried to tuck it behind her ear but could see that it was going to slip back out. So, I reached behind her head and tugged at the large clip that was holding her hair back.

"What are you doing?" she asked as I pulled the clip away from her head.

"Let your hair down, Rapunzel," I said, letting her lovely dishwater blond hair fall about her shoulders. "There, that's better."

"And here I am on a bad hair day," she remarked. "I always put it up like that when I can't do anything with it."

"Well, you look terrific to me."

She shook her head a couple of times to fan it out about her shoulders. Although she had looked pretty with her hair up, she looked absolutely beautiful with it down about her face and shoulders. It gave her a softer and more sensual look, especially since she had exchanged her skeptical tight-eyed look for a relaxed wide-eyed smile.

The waitress finally brought the bill and we spent a half hour arguing in fun over how to split the bill. Trisha wanted to stop at the restroom on the way out.

"Wait for me, okay?" she said, setting her hand on my arm for a moment.

"Sure, Go ahead. I'll wait."

I stood by the door for a while and then took a seat after a few minutes had passed. I had to brush off the dark-eyed hostess who kept thinking I was waiting for a table. After what seemed like a half hour she finally came out of the restroom, her hair a little tousled and looking a little pale.

"I think I've had one margarita too many," she confessed. "I don't normally have this much to drink."

"Are you okay?" I asked, taking her by the arm.

"Yeah, I think so," she replied in a weak voice. "But can you give me a ride home? I don't feel up to driving."

"What about your car?"

"I can get it tomorrow."

"All right."

I took her arm and walked her out to my car. She leaned heavily on my arm and I had to help her climb inside. She told me the address and gave me some sketchy directions but enough to get us there. She leaned back in the seat and let her head fall to the side to watch me as I made my way through traffic. In a minute or two her eyes closed and she appeared to be asleep. It was only a few more minutes before we were pulling up to her apartment building.

"I think you're home," I said reaching over to touch her arm. "Trisha, you're home."

She sat up with a start.