5

Dr. Knight.

"Please," she cried, her voice thin and strained. "Slow down. It's so painful," she begged with a voice that trembled with each brutal thrust, her hands splayed against the elevator wall for support. "You're hurting me, really hurting me this time."

...But I ignored her pleas, deaf to anything but the roaring in my own head. I wasn't really punishing her for her clinginess or her demands.

I was trying so hard to erase Bella from my mind, to exorcise this unexpected obsession, that I lost the ability to control my anger and frustration. I was throwing my anger into Helen, using her body as a vessel for my confusion.

I pushed her hard, pulling her hair back sharply and yelling at her with words I'd never used in my professional life. I was acting like an animal, possessed by something dark and unnamed.

I said hoarsely, my voice barely recognizable even to myself, "Do you like it? Do you? I SAID, DON'T EVER COME HERE... DO YOU LIKE MY PUNISHMENT?" I shouted at her, screamed at her, my voice echoing off the elevator walls.

She stuttered, trying to form words that wouldn't come. "P-p-please..." but nothing substantial found purchase in the storm of my rage. Her fingers scrabbled uselessly against the metal wall.

I continued harder and harder, driven by demons I couldn't name, until it was time to stop, my body responding to some primal rhythm beyond conscious control.

Then, as was my preference, my signature move that women had come to expect, I turned her body to face me. I lifted her legs up to my waist, her weight nothing to my strength, and continued without pause or gentleness.

This time, she moaned, her discomfort forgotten as I hit that spot inside her that made her eyes roll back. "Oh," she sighed, her head falling back against the wall. "Yes, right there. Give me more. More of you."

I leaned down as I continued, the delicate flesh responding under my attention.

Her sounds filled the elevator, bouncing off the walls and probably seeping through the doors to the world outside. Everyone could hear her voice, her abandon, and I marked her neck, leaving evidence of our encounter that couldn't be hidden by makeup or scarves.

I wondered, absently, as my movements maintained their punishing rhythm, what she would say to her husband later to explain the marks that bloomed like violent flowers on her skin. Not that I cared about her marriage or her excuses. "Tell him you fell," I'd suggested once, and she'd laughed like it was a joke.

I felt her body clench around me as she reached her climax, the pulsations in waves that would normally drive me over the edge with her.

I was ready as well, my own release building at the base of my spine. But Bella... bella... bella. In that moment, Helen disappeared and became Bella for me - the beautiful girl from my clinic, with her wide eyes and nervous smile.

Her name described her perfectly, Italian for beautiful. It fit her frame and her features, the delicate arch of her brow, the fullness of her lips that spoke so hesitantly about her concerns.

Even as I thought of her, lost in my fantasy of innocence and first times, I couldn't finish. My body was rebelling against my mind in a way I'd never experienced.

There would be no release for me, I realized with growing frustration. It was a strange feeling, unsettling and confusing.

I wanted Bella or to be alone in the darkness of my bedroom, thinking about her body and imagining her responding and new to pleasure. "Oh, Dr. Knight," she'd say in my fantasy, "I never knew it could feel like this."

But... how could I make her mine? She was my patient, protected by professional ethics and boundaries I'd never before considered crossing.

"I will though," I decided, the thought crystallizing into certainty as Helen continued to react around me. She will be mine. Somehow, someway, I would find a path to her.

I pulled away abruptly, leaving her gasping and incomplete. She stared at me in confusion, her pleasure interrupted, her expectations shattered. "What's wrong?" she asked, searching my face for answers.

She thought I needed her to continue differently, a natural conclusion given our usual pattern, so she sat on her knees right there on the elevator floor, not caring about the dirt or germs.

I tried to enjoy it, the warmth and wetness, the sight of her expensive haircut moving before me, but then I pulled away, my mind elsewhere. It was of no use. I pushed back into my pants and zipped them up with finality.

I pushed the elevator button that had a P on it for parking, eager to escape this confined space and the woman in it.

She adjusted herself hastily, tugging her torn dress back into some semblance of order, and placed her hand on my chest, her touch no longer welcome. "What's the matter?" she asked with curiosity tinged with hurt. "Did I do something wrong? You seem a million miles away."

I threw her a glance that was filled with disgust, for her, for myself, for this whole sordid situation. "I don't want to see your face again," I hissed, the words sharp and final.

She clutched my jacket while I was stepping outside the elevator as the doors opened to the concrete expanse of the parking garage. Her desperation was palpable, her voice breaking as she said, "But I LO...."

I cut her off before she dug a hole that she wouldn't be able to get out of, before she spoke words that would change the nature of our arrangement irrevocably. "Don't speak," I said, my voice cold as ice.

"Don't say it. I have no interest in you and I will never feel anything towards you beyond the physical. I cannot respect someone who betrays trust, spreading falsehoods while your husband travels for work.

You acted without a second thought. I could only care for someone truthful and sincere. Back off. Get out of my life or I will reveal everything about your behavior. I'll tell everyone what you've done."

I stormed off to the parking lot, leaving her standing in the elevator doorway, makeup smeared and dress torn, a picture of abandonment.

I hopped inside my black Porsche, the engine purring to life beneath my hands like a well-fed predator. I started up the car and drove away, tires squealing on concrete, while asking myself one question that echoed in the emptiness of the vehicle:

"Did I really mean that? Would I only fall for someone genuine and truthful? Is that what Bella represents to me?" I thought that I had made a vow with myself to never fall for anyone, not even someone with questioning eyes and a hesitant smile. "Emotional complications are something I don't need," I'd always told myself.

"God!" I cried, slamming my hand against the steering wheel. "All of this confusion is because of Bella! One innocent consultation and my world turns upside down."

I wish that I had never met her, that she'd chosen another doctor, another clinic, and I hope she won't show up tomorrow for her scheduled follow-up.

But even as I thought it, I knew I was lying to myself. I wanted to see her again. Needed to see her. And that terrified me more than anything else.