tagInterracial LoveDoctor Does Diesel Ch. 11

Doctor Does Diesel Ch. 11


Madison slid out of bed taking care not to wake Diesel. He'd tossed and turned most of the night and just recently settled into what appeared to be a peaceful sleep. She dressed in a blouse, tweed blazer, pencil skirt and heels and grabbed the two manila envelopes from the file cabinet in her office. Her phone rang.

"Dr. Attard, I got your message. What's your ETA?"

"I'm actually on my way right now, should be there in about a half hour," she said, grabbing her briefcase and leaving the house.

"Great. Hope you have some good news for me, Dr. Attard. Diesel's a good kid. I want to know he's alright."

"It will all be explained, Sergeant Ford, I'm on my way."

She climbed into her car and started the engine, stared at her bedroom window, bit her nails. Two envelopes, one contained a medical evaluation that would clear Diesel for duty, the other a medical evaluation that would suspend him from duty and place him under the care of a close colleague until further notice. Even as she drove to see Sergeant Ford, she was undecided about which diagnosis she planned to hand in.


Diesel sat up in bed the moment he heard the door click shut. He got out of bed, shoved a cigarette in his mouth and watched Madison drive away, curiosity circling in his stomach. He started a shower, finished the cigarette in the shower and after imagining Madison's breasts vibrating under the power of his thrust the day before on the river bank, he held himself in his hand and stoked his cock until he came. He wished she hadn't left, she would've marveled at how hard he got. He was always hardest in the morning.

He finished his shower, lit another cigarette and allowed his mind to be blank for a few moments. After he'd thought it over long enough he called his mother, and when she answered he exhaled a breath he hadn't been aware of holding.

"Ma, I'm getting married," he said before she could start on some line of conversation that might take him away from his point.

"What? Diesel, married? I haven't spoken to you in two years and that's the first thing you do? Drop a marriage announcement on me?"

"Ma, I know, I'm sorry, but I didn't want to lose my nerve."

"Well I guess I should just be happy you called and told me. Who's the lucky lady? A fellow Marine?"

"No, my therapist."

Diesel lit another cigarette as the woman laughed. He even managed a smile himself. She couldn't have given a better response. Once she'd gotten past the initial shock she suggested she fly in from Alabama to meet Madison. Diesel agreed, and told her that he would call her back later in the week to iron out the particulars.

After the call he took a fitful catnap during which he experienced a nightmare so bad and vivid that he woke up drenched in sweat. Mounting stress made him light his fourth cigarette of the morning before he made another call. Her voice was honey over the phone, and instantly he was hard, his nightmare forgotten. He stroked himself through the fabric of his sweatpants. A small laugh preceded his words. "Girl your voice alone..."

"My voice alone, what?"

"Your voice alone gets my dick hard. What you think about that?"

"I think you shouldn't say things like that to me while I'm at work."

"I shouldn't huh," he blew a plume of smoke at the ceiling and chuckled, "so I better not say how I wish you were here with me right now with your pussy in my mouth."


"Or I shouldn't tell you about how I'm holding my dick in my hand right now, thinking about sticking my tongue in every sweet hole you got on that tight little body of yours."


"What is it, Maddy. Do I got you thinking now? Remember last night? How we could hardly wait to get in the house, I had your tits in my mouth as we went up the stairs, while you were trying to open the door I was hiking your skirt up, pressing that my dick all up against that ass."

"Oh my gosh, keep talking, I've got five minutes until my next appointment," she breathed.

"You touching that pussy?"


"Is it wet?"


"How wet?"

"So fucking wet."

"You wearing a skirt?" He asked.


"Slide a finger inside," he said, standing up and letting his pants fall to the floor around his ankles. He put the cell phone on speaker, braced one hand against the wall and squeezed the base of his cock, gave it three hard jerks.

"Oh God Diesel, keep talking. I'm gonna come."

"Dirty girl, picture this, when you get home tonight, I'm in bed with this big cock all hard and ready for you to just hike up that skirt you're probably wearing and ride me until you can't take me anymore, how's that sound?"


"Just when you think I'm done with you, you'll feel my tongue sliding over every hot inch of that pussy until I get it wet enough to shove this big motherfucker I got all the way in until you can't take anymore," he said. He listened to the sharp intake of breath that he knew so well, a breath punctuated by a tiny high pitched moan. He watched his cum spurt into the sink, a bit dropped down the drain. "I just came," he rasped.

"Where'd that hot load go?"

"All over my fingers, some down the sink."

"Ooh, what a waste," she moaned.

"Dr. Attard you ready for Mr. Santoro?" her receptionist's voice crackled over the intercom.

"Fuck no!" she whispered into the receiver. They shared a laugh. "My panties are sticking to me, and I want to come lie on top of you."

"I know the feeling. Hey, how long that appointment gonna last? I was thinking that maybe I could stop by, we could fuck all over your office for old times sake, unplug the intercom and such."

"Ooh, sounds like a plan, I should be done in about an hour, forty-five if I'm lucky," she said. She took a lingering glance at the clock, her mind wasting no time in ticking down the minutes. She felt the familiar strike of guilt as she contemplated how distracted she was going to be, yet again, during Carlos' session. She'd seen him about four times, and she could honestly say that she'd only been sufficiently rapt once. It was all the same every time anyway. Carlos spoke about being dropped by a lover for whom Madison decided he had developed a grand obsession. He spoke of the lover's past relationship with a woman who was unable to understand him, who didn't know him. To be honest, the story made her uncomfortable, and she wasn't sure why.

"Hello Mr. Santoro," she stood and shook his hand, it was cool and clammy to the touch.

"Dr. Attard."

"How are you today?" He didn't look well, in fact, he looked so bad that she found herself pulled to full attention. She watched him sit down, and then she went to her coffee pot and poured herself a cup, asked him if he'd like one, he declined.

"I'm feeling a little under the weather," he said in a low voice, "but otherwise I'm fine."

"To tell the truth, your appearance is a cause for worry with me." She sat down and got comfortable and pinned the man to his seat with the most searching look she could muster, and it wasn't just for show. "I'm guessing that he won't answer any of your calls, respond to you. Maybe he's been talking of going back to the woman you spoke of."

"Well doctor, one things for sure, you are a shrewd thinker and a decent therapist," Carlos said. "All of this is true. He's been avoiding me, threatened to call the police when I showed up at his condo the other day. He spoke of trying to get back in touch with his ex, because he thought he might love her enough to change. As if."

"You think he's bluffing?"

"Oh, he's not bluffing. There's not much he'll say and not do. If he does go back to her, though, it will be a disaster. He's a homosexual male and therefore, is not sexually attracted to women."

"What of bisexuality, Carlos?"

"He's not bisexual, doctor. He likes men and only men. The sooner he admits that to himself the sooner everyone, including that clueless bimbo ex of his, can move on with their lives and find happiness."

"You think it's that simple for him? It seems to me, if you love this man the way you say you do you would understand his struggle and try to help him through it, be there for him, not manipulate him to your ends."

"Manipulate him? I'm not, but I would be doing him a favor if I was. He's a nutcase, anyone who repeats the same damaging behavior over and over while expecting different results is crazy and surely you agree with that, doctor."

"I agree," Madison answered.

"There's only one thing for me to do, and that's alleviate his suffering the only way I know how."

"How's that?"

"I'm going to fix things, shift the variables. Maybe remove them all."

"I don't like the way that sounds, Carlos."

"I bet you don't," Carlos said. His eyes fell to her left hand where her engagement ring glinted on her finger. He stood suddenly and Madison nearly jumped out of her skin. He looked stranger now, his brow knitted together in shockingly palpable anger. "I'm going to get going now. I suddenly don't feel up to talking."

"Carlos!" Madison stood, followed him out of the office past a startled Lisa, but she stopped at the main foyer, a bit frightened to follow him any further. He shot through the glass entrance doors and was gone. Madison's cell phone vibrated in the pocket of her blazer. She answered, taking note of the fact that she'd only been in session with Carlos for ten minutes before he bolted.

"Madison? Madison I need you!"

"Who is this? Pete?"

"Yeah, could you meet me at my mother's? I need your help."

"What with, Peter, what's the matter with you? Are you crying?"

"Just get here, please. If you ever cared, put it all behind us for a moment and come here."

She thought of calling Diesel to tell him about everything, explain where she was headed and why but she decided against it. He had enough to worry about without her adding to it. So much had already happened today that she was disconcerted by the fact that it was only 11 a.m. She climbed into her Mercedes and pulled out of the parking lot, trepidation cresting in her stomach.

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