Mood Ring Ch. 04

Peter Chapman MD was probably the best plastic and reconstruction surgeon in the world. Not only had he helped restore my beauty, but he also was a personal friend and I had consulted with him on multiple cases as we intersected in our respective fields. I made the decision that this poor girl had suffered enough loss that if I could assist in the restoration of her beauty, it would help assuage some of the guilt from my profligate and toxic lifestyle which had brought much negativity into the world.

I placed the call and told Peter that I had a case that required his special talents and I would handle the cost. This had to happen. Peter could not resist a challenge. He agreed and he flew out to our city and examined our subject; the tragic ER nurse who through no fault of her own had suffered many set-backs. Anything I could do to return her life to normalcy would be a shift in the positive direction on the cosmic balance that I had been throwing negative.

Peter was intrigued. He told me that he would return to L.A. and within the week, e-mail me the results of his treatment plan.

True to his word, he demonstrated that I was not mistaken in consulting his expertise. Peter was a true artist and his plans for this unfortunate woman bordered on the miraculous. I am sure that this girl would have never spontaneously undergone elective plastic enhancement. But as circumstance had it, we could improve on nature to make her a stunning beauty: if, that is, the result of Peter's proposal were to come into fruition.

I approved the treatment plan and would "foot the entire bill" as I understand the terminology of doing such a thing was called.

It took a while for the results of our interventions to reveal themselves. Patience is the name of the game with both cosmetology and neurology. But the results were fantastic!

It took maybe one year from the event of her tragedy until Lynne McKinney looked to be a normal person. My follow-up completed later that year and I pronounced her fully recovered.

My contract with the Trauma-One provider elapsed one year ago and a competing hospital made a very attractive proposal. I knew little Lynne was a nurse at the propositioning hospital and that certainly sweetened the pot. I really wanted to see how everything had impacted her life.

The competing hospital wanted to become a level-one trauma center and had played all of their respective cards. They just needed a trauma neurology expert to complete their on-call field. I was free of contract and open to courting. Of course, I was independently wealthy thanks to René, but I could recognize a negotiable situation when I saw one. We came to terms and that was that.

Part of the accreditation course was a class on Trauma-neurology. I had the most expertise in the field so it was up to me to come up a syllabus for education.

We passed the accreditation process and it was a matter of proposal and state recognition of our accomplishment.

We decided to celebrate and everyone who had participated in the entire process was invited to celebrate our achievement. Only four students were interested and I decided to go along because I noticed that Lynne had made a reservation to go. I was intrigued and curious to see how she had progressed after having had such a life-altering event. I wanted to know she had returned to some form of normalcy. By my topical observation, she appeared to be thriving. I saw her interact with patients and she was warm, caring, and made their needs her priority. She was a good soul. But socially, she was a bit of a mystery.

I surmised she was bisexual, but nobody knew if she was dating anyone. She had not been seen with anybody since the accident. Young Haley had disappeared and apparently Lynne hadn't even realized she was pregnant. She was very confused about it when we told her during her recovery. The father never appeared.

I arrived to the bar a bit early. I had finished my consults for the day early and had not wanted to go all of the way home from the hair salon. Of course nobody was there so I took a place at the bar to wait for them.

Three young men were there and as I took my place they immediately began to harass me. I guess they thought they were being cute.

Zut-alors, they were obnoxious! I finally got them to stop bothering me by telling them I was lesbian and by threatening to rip their balls off or to ask the management to throw them out; whichever action was most convenient in circumstances. The Dragon Lady was still in operation!

They turned their attention elsewhere.

I was reviewing my text from Albert Sherr, my colleague. He was on call and had to respond to an emergency. Nobody else had apparently shown up which upset me. It was quite rude. I am a punctual person and I expect others to respect my time. I decided to wait another 15 minutes in case they were running late and then I would simply go home. But I would express my displeasure to be sure.

I overheard the young boys plotting to harass the lady at the other end of the bar. I did not see her arrive. I watched one of the young men approach her.

She was stunning. Her red hair was cut in an asymmetrical bob cut that looked very fashionable but obscured her face from where I was sitting. The side of her head facing me, the hair reached her shoulder and obscured her face; the length on the right appeared to be chin length, but it was difficult to tell from my angle. She was dressed in a cute little black dress with a mini skirt. Her figure was very luscious. She had an hourglass figure that looked like a pin-up out of a gentleman's magazine. No wonder the young men were trying to get her attention. I looked more closely and realized that she was very tall. I stand 6'1" with flat feet and tonight I had chosen two inch mid heels. I like to look feminine, but high heels make me tower over everyone. As she stood to confront her harasser, I realized that she appeared to almost be my height with her heels.

And she had spirit; I was amazed as she sent the young man off with just an intense look. I could swear I almost recognized her. She had a very familiar look to her but I did not know anyone with that hairstyle. She turned back to her drink and I could appreciate her derriere. She had a great ass.

Her black dress was an open back design and her pale pink skin was framed by lace panels. She could not have been wearing a bra with that dress. No wonder the boys were salivating over her. She had very good clear skin and I did not note any body-freckles. She might be one of the rare redheaded girls that could suntan without getting burnt. She had long slim legs that were encased in black hosiery. She was very attractive to me and I thought I must make a point to meet her.

Another of the young men approached her and she sent him off without much drama. I had overheard the boys plotting to "pick her up" and I thought with an internal smile; "I should ruin their plans." No young lady should have to deal with these cretins.

I walked over to introduce myself and received a pleasant shock after I tapped her shoulder.

She exclaimed "What does it take..." as she turned around quickly and then stopped, apparently stunned to see me.

I looked into her green eyes and realized that I knew this gorgeous young woman! It was Lynne McKinney. My young protégé was all dolled up and looked fabulous. I was so proud of her.

I told her, "I just had to come down here and see who was working the young men into such a frenzy. I should have known you would be involved somehow!" I told her she looked ravishing (I wanted to ravish her without a doubt.) grasped both of her hands and greeted her with a kiss to each cheek.

She smelled lovely, like vanilla and sandalwood and I rashly decided on a course to discourage the young men at the other end of the bar from bothering her further. Looking back on it, it was very foolish for me to have done so because it could have embarrassed us both. But to tell the truth, it worked in a way I had not anticipated. Oh Fortuna!

I maintained my hold on her hands and whispered in her ear "This is for the benefit of those who are watching us, Please play along." Grabbed her by the hips and ducked in for a quick mouth kiss. She stiffened up out of surprise, but to my amazement, she was returning my kiss almost passionately. Her body molded into mine and I was almost supporting her in my arms. Although it was a closed mouth kiss, I snuck my tongue against her lips a fraction of a second before I ended it. I couldn't resist. She tasted of alcohol and strawberry lip gloss. The kiss was magical and I had to break it off before it actually became passionate. I was not here to put on a show!

I broke off the kiss reluctantly and as I did, she followed me a bit with her head as if she did not want it to end. I heard a plaintive little cry escape her. I was enamored with her. She had feminine charms that I had not encountered in anyone before. All of my previous dalliances had been calculated. This was a raw spontaneous encounter and I was simply enthralled. Apparently I had been correct about the status of her and Haley's relationship.

I looked at her closed slightly slanted almond shaped eyes and told her that she was perfect. I meant for playing along, but I think I also meant that she felt like a complement, my match. She was of my height with her heels. I like women to be tall, but not as tall as me, her body was simply incredible. I had never noticed because she was in uniform every time I had encountered her before and her scrubs obscured a very attractive figure. I had thought she was wearing a corset; her waist was so narrow, but standing here holding on to her with my hands resting on her hips I could tell she had not any confining garments on at all. Her hips were quite wide; des hanches généreuses ("child-bearing hips") as we called them and they perfectly balanced her adequate breasts. Her amber jewelry pendant winked at me from her ample bosom as I took everything in. She was a true hourglass shape. Quite yummy!

We were standing there and she had relaxed her hands onto my chest while we kissed. As I pulled away from the kiss, she had reflexively grasped the lapels of my crème jacket and I thought for a second she was going to pull me back in for another. She stared directly into my eyes and her pupils were slightly dilated against the background green with golden flecks of color. She moistened her coral-colored bee-stung lips and seemed to realize that she was grasping my lapels and quickly released them and then attempted to smooth the fabric.

She must have realized that it appeared that she was stroking my humble breasts because she stopped abruptly, her cheeks colored and I found it enchanting. I told her that she was blushing and that I found it adorable. I reached up to stroke her hair and told her that I had not recognized her but had noticed the boys' behavior and that I would stop their schemes.

I complimented her hair and told her that Dr. Sherr had a call and would not be joining us.

I realized that I was the only one talking. She was just staring into my eyes as I spoke as if she were in shock. I realized that part of the time I had slipped in to French and that if she did not understand French; my kiss would have been a huge surprise for her. How embarrassing! I could feel my cheeks heat up.

This never happens to me, I am always in control.

I asked her en Français if she could speak French? She replied; haltingly, but her grammar was good and her accent, well only native speakers can correctly pronounce French, but she did OK.

I gave a relieved laugh and apologized for not giving her more of a warning before kissing her. She replied that I had caught her off balance and I was amazed at her wit. She told me that she had not spoken in French in a very long time, yet she could still make a pun about her balance as I had completely supported her during the kiss.

Because she had been first my patient and then my student, I had not paid much more than clinical attention to her before; of course I was intrigued by the social aspects of her case but now I found myself enamored with every detail. I sat down and we talked. Her voice was much higher pitched than I would have expected from such a mature looking woman. It was endearing and she had a sweet southern American accent, but it made her a little difficult to understand. I have always had a problem understanding American accents, but hers was little problem if I concentrated on what she was saying. I found concentrating on her easy to do.

Peter had done a remarkable job and I could only slightly detect the scarring from her facial trauma. I realized that she had barely applied any makeup and her appearance was quite natural. Eye-liner, mascara and lip-gloss appeared to be the only applied art. From our kiss, her lip-gloss had picked up a faint echo of my red-wine lipstick. Her light scattered freckles concealed the pale cicatrice across the bridge of her nose and there was just a faint impression on the left corner of her mouth that was barely noticeable unless you knew what to look for. It looked like a dimple. Peter had reconstructed the entire foundation of her face. I was consulted and had realized that she looked similar to a Russian lady that I had known and gave some suggestions. He gave her several implants including cheek and chin, and actually ended up shaving her jawbone and forehead to give a more feminine general appearance. The scars from this radical procedure were concealed in her hairline. Here I was confronted by the end result and was truly gratified with the success. She shone with an inner light that enhanced her outward appearance. She was a true beauty!

She complimented me on my hair. In academic settings, I always wear it in a bun. It is very long and I do not want it to get in the way when I am working and it is just easier to maintain when it is up. However, I am quite proud of it; it is my crowning glory. Also when I let it down, most people do not recognize me. It makes it easier to separate my professional life from my personal. Or it used to; I haven't engaged in a social setting other than the charity work since I moved away from the rotten Big Apple. I needed a break in my personal life because the pace I had been leading was killing me.

I told her that her new hair-cut was adorable and asked how long she had been waiting?

She looked me in the eyes and said "I feel like I have been waiting for you forever." And then she very prettily blushed.

Interesting.

She stammered a quick rejoinder saying that she had been being harassed by the immature young men. Was she covering an indiscretion? She definitely was piquing my curiosity. I decided to play this out and feel out her interest. We were interrupted by the barkeeper who placed two frozen margaritas that we had not ordered. He simply said with compliments of the gentleman and with that we were addressed by the last of the trio of would be sexual-predators.

He was very attractive man and I am sure that his machinations had gained him much success, but I knew how to handle him. I let Lynne know that this was a ploy to appear sympathetique and to gain her trust by telling the young man that we accepted the drinks in the spirit in which they were offered. I could tell by the smile that was struggling to make its way to her lips, she understood me. She was a bright one this little lady.

I decided to raise the stakes for the night and simultaneously rid ourselves of this noisome Adonis. I proposed a toast en Français, "For an evening for only us, the ladies without interruption by the men who are complete brutes when they are drunk and perhaps even worse when sober!"

Lynne replied "Salut!" and we clinked our glasses pretending that this man was not there. But he was unperturbed by our inattention and his next action put into motion a series of events that almost earned him a broken nose and got him kicked out of the restaurant.

Like a lion trying to separate a zebra from the herd, he attempted to turn the tables on our ignoring him by complementing Lynne on her accent. I know that my accent is exotic to Americans and although lovely, Lynne's accent was quite common in this city. I recognized quickly a predator's attempt to prey on a person with low self-esteem by singling her out with intense attention. I guess you can say it takes a predator to catch a predator; I had used this technique myself many times with great success. Strange that he had picked up on Lynne's apparent vulnerability and I had not.

I decided to shut him down right there. Lynne was potentially susceptible and I noticed a protective instinct surface. I had already marked her as mine with my lipstick and I was not about to be side-lined by this amateur. I was very polite, but I let him know we were done with him. He must have had a problem with assertive females because he responded very rudely and very publicly tried to shame us.

Lynne almost hit him. I think she would have hurt him. She was very feisty this one! I stopped her with a touch and was about to put John (the frustrated boy's name) down verbally when the Barkeeper saved us the effort and threw John and his companions out.

We celebrated the turn of events by sharing shots of tequila with the barkeeper who was named Miguel. The tequila was smooth, but it has been a while since I have done shots. I inquired about Mexican wines and ordered his discretion and a glass of water.

Poor Lynne was looking over at me in panic. I did not know why until she revealed that she had already had two of these powerful margaritas, part of a third and then this fourth one had appeared as a gratuity from Miguel. Her words were slurring a little. I think she told me she didn't usually have so much to drink and was past the point of driving home.

She called me Dr. Beecham which was appropriate at work and in class, but here in a social setting, I wanted to grant her first-name rights. I am a Doctor and titled Lady, but in America, the M.D. garners more respect than my nobility. Strange, it was the exact opposite in Europe. But I desired a more equal relationship with this attractive woman and I thought to play with her just a little.

"First of all," I said placing my hand on her arm. "It is Anya, we are not at work and we have already shared a kiss! We are so past first-name basis don't you think?" and I gave a gentle low laugh to underscore the joke. She turned red at my reference to the kiss.

"I really like that I can tease you, but don't worry dear I can run you home or call you a cab or whatever you are comfortable with at this point. Let us just finish our drinks and then we can go from there."

I decided to press. I think she liked the kiss, but wasn't sure if she should. I left my hand on her arm. She was soft and warm and it felt nice to connect with another human-being after my self-enforced exile. I had never appreciated the softer side of connection as I was either forced into the seduction or driven by inner demons. This sweet woman was bringing out a side of me I had never experienced.

As I maintained our touching, I brought my glass up to my aquiline nose and sniffed it.

"I think this had had enough time now to breath." I said, commented on the bouquet and said, "of course it is not French, but not everything can be; correct?" and took a sip.

I was mirroring the circumstances of our kiss to see her reaction and if she would connect it. I had sniffed her and breathed on her ear when I told her to play along, then we shared our kiss and it almost became passionate, but not "French" kiss as I understand is the slang term.

I was not disappointed. Again she blushed furiously and I noticed that her nipples were visible through the lace fabric of her dress. I felt a little naughty and I had to get a closer look.