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Dirty Doctor

Page 21

I even sent her a gift delivery last night ...

I needed to put a stop to this. And fast.

THE RESIDENT

New York, New York

Natalie

Subject: ‘Dirty Doctor’ sent me flowers today.

I’m attaching a picture. How cute are these?! (I think he really likes me.)

He also sent me a sweet, handwritten invitation for a “makeup date” a few weeks from now.

—Natalie

Subject: Re: ‘Dirty Doctor’ sent me flowers today.

He sent you flowers yesterday, too. Are you trying to make me jealous? (And of course he really likes you. **eyeroll** It’s quite obvious from that permanent goofy grin he makes you come home with every day.)

Please don’t stand him up this time...

Wait, you’re not calling him ‘Dr. Nine Inches’ anymore? By the way, why haven’t you told me anything about experiencing these supposed “nine inches” yet?

—Shan-Shan

Subject: Re: Re: Re: ‘Dirty Doctor’ sent me flowers today.

No, he sent me dinner and wine yesterday. The other set of flowers were from the day before yesterday. Big difference. :-)

And yes, I’m trying to make you jealous, but only because I saw some of your notes from Manhattan Medical on the counter today and that made me jealous... (What they did to me still stings, amazing alternative or not. I’m sorry. :-( )

I definitely won’t stand him up. He’s actually insisting that he pick me up that night.

Oh! And I actually like the name ‘Dirty Doctor’ for now, and the only reason I haven’t told you about his ‘nine inches’ is because we still haven’t had sex.

PS—Do you think it’s possible that we really could be a 100% match like that silly NewYorkMinute app suggested?

—Natalie

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: ‘Dirty Doctor’ sent me flowers today.

100% match?

Let’s see: You’re both stubborn, argumentative, and hot tempered when pushed. You also clearly have no morals when it comes to having oral sex in an exam room after hours, so...Yep. 100% match.

On a more serious note, yes. I think something might become of this down the line. I see you two dating for years, eventually.

ALSO—Since you mentioned Manhattan Medical, I’m attaching an internal memo that went out earlier this week. I know you’re enjoying Park Avenue Wellness, but if you’re the slightest bit tempted, read this. (If not, delete it.)

—Shan-Shan

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: ‘Dirty Doctor’ sent me flowers today.

I won’t need to read it, but thank you for sending it to me anyway. :-)

I’ll call you on my lunch break.

—Natalie

THE RESIDENT

New York, New York

Natalie

So much for that...

I hate that I ever started to really, truly like this man ...

It took all of a few weeks for Dr. Ashton to ruin all my memories of what he’d done to me in the exam room, along with all the random sweet things he’d done for me. The scenes of him giving me back to back orgasms with nothing more than his tongue were now erased by the way he’d come into work for the past couple days this week.

He was back to being an unhinged, psycho-boss and treating me terribly for no reason at all.

The office partition had reappeared between our spaces, the bookshelves were next to me once more — brimming with files, and when I asked him why he was doing this again, he simply blew up on me.

As he talked on the phone to what sounded like an angry patient, I pulled up Manhattan Medical’s website and logged into their employee portal.

I’d finally opened that internal memo Shannon emailed me and realized it was probably fate trying to send me a message. It was a Human Resources message that revealed that two residents had been fired last month for recklessness, and the hospital was looking to quickly replace them without much fanfare or attention.

I opened my drawer and pulled out my resume, hoping for a miracle that I would be accepted again. And if I didn’t get accepted, I was going to apply to other places and hope for transfer options with the new semester.

Falling in love with Park Avenue Wellness — hectic days aside, wasn’t enough for me to constantly put up with Dr. Ashton’s hot and cold behavior. Amazing tongue or not.

“Dr. Madison?” He called my name once he hung up the phone. “Dr. Madison?”

I pulled out my phone and sent him an email.

Subject: Yes?

What can I help you with today, Dr. Jekyll/Hyde?

—Dr. Madison

He sighed and stood up from his desk, walking over to mine. “We’re not going through that email-only shit again.”

“Aren’t we?” I typed in University of Maryland into the education section. “I told you before that you can’t treat me any type of way and you did it again, for no reason.”

“There is a reason.” His voice was tight. “A very good reason.”

“Then what is it?” I stopped typing and looked up at him. “What could possibly make you think that you could have me screaming your name in that exam room one day and then completely beneath you like trash the next?”

“I’ve told you before, I would never technically have you beneath me,” he said, walking behind my desk. “And to be honest, the reasoning is —” He glanced at my screen, sucking in a harsh breath as the words, “Thank you for filling out part one of the Manhattan Medical Residency application” popped onto my screen in bold. ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">

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