The Fever Doctor novel · Chapter 1 of 12
Chapter 1: Check Me Over Quick
"Doctor, please, check me over quick."
I was standing at the door of the doctor's office with an appointment sheet in my hand.
On my uncle's exam table, a woman was lying face down like she was settling into her own bed.
She had on a yellow dress that hit mid-thigh and hips that took up half the table.
She wasn't looking at me. Her face was buried in her arm, and her long hair spilled over one shoulder.
"Ma'am, I think you've got the wrong..."
"It's a chronic problem," she said, her voice muffled. "It's been driving me crazy for years."
"I'd be happy to give you an appointment for tomorrow with Dr. Eusebio."
"Dr. Eusebio is in Bogotá with a new hip. I already know that."
I stood there holding the sheet.
"I'm just the nephew," I said. "I handle the front desk."
"But you're wearing the coat."
I looked down at the white coat my uncle had left hanging on a hook for me.
The sleeves were too short.
But I'd been wearing it for three days, because people in the Boston neighborhood don't understand a man without a coat.
Everyone called me doctor.
I'd tell them no, twice, and by the third time I didn't have the strength left.
"Ma'am, I'm not a doctor," I said finally.
The woman raised one hand without turning around and tugged the hem of her dress up toward her waist.
Underneath was a small black lace thong that barely covered any of her ass.
I swallowed.
"I know you're not," she said. "Check me anyway."
Then she did it.
She brought her hands to her hips and hooked her fingers into the little shorts she wore under the dress.
She pulled them down to her knees.
Her brown skin gleamed under the fluorescent light on the ceiling.
It was the softest skin I'd ever seen in my life.
And I hadn't touched anyone in four months.
"With all due respect," I said, and I was surprised at how hoarse my voice came out, "you know this is insane."
"Yes."
"A patient could walk in."
"You already put up the closed sign. I saw it when I came in."
It was true. I'd put it up myself five minutes earlier.
"What's the symptom?" I asked, because I couldn't think of anything else to say.
She laughed, a low, hot laugh that crawled up my spine.
"Fever, doctor. Chronic. It climbs up my legs every night and nothing brings it down."
I set the appointment sheet on the desk.
I washed my hands in the sink in the corner, because that much I did remember from med school.
When I turned around, she'd spread her legs a little.
I walked over to the table, my mouth dry.
I put one hand on her ankle and slid it slowly up her calf.
Her skin was warm and a little damp with sweat, like anyone's in Barranquilla at four in the afternoon.
"You're hot," I said.
"I told you."
"Very hot."
"Keep going up, doctor."
I went up behind her knee, and she let out a deep sigh against the paper sheet.
I stroked her thigh with both thumbs, outward, inward, and I felt her legs tense.
"Higher."
"There's a lot of heat here," I said, and my palm landed right under her ass.
"Right there."
I squeezed her cheek with my whole hand.
It was firm, round, the kind that fills your palm, and she pushed back without shame, wanting more.
I ran my thumb along the lace seam and noticed she was soaked.
"There's moisture here," I said.
"I know."
"That's not normal."
"Doctor, don't be shy."
I pushed her thong aside with two fingers.
She was wet, swollen, open, and so hot I felt the heat on my fingertips before I even touched her.
I ran the tip of my finger down her pussy, top to bottom, very slowly.
She let out a moan that must have been heard from the street.
"Oh, God."
"I need to do an examination," I said.
"Do it."
I slid one finger in, and she took half of it at once.
She was tight, slick, and she clenched around me like she'd been waiting years for someone to get inside.
"Another one," she asked.
I pushed in a second finger and started moving them, slow, curving upward.
With my thumb I found her clit, hard as a button.
"Like that," she said, her cheek pressed to the paper. "Exactly like that. Harder."
"Does it hurt here?" I asked.
"It doesn't hurt. It burns."
I picked up the pace, and the table started creaking under her body.
She grabbed the edges with both hands and lifted her hips to take me deeper.
With my free hand I hiked her dress up to her back and spread her ass to look at her.
I watched my fingers slide in and out, glistening, and felt my cock get so hard it ached against my pants.
"Tell me not to stop," I said, and the informal you slipped out without me noticing.
"Don't stop," she panted. "For the love of God, don't stop."
I rubbed her with my thumb in faster and faster circles, and her pussy clenched tight around my fingers.
"Doctor," she said, breathless. "Doctor, it's coming."
"Let it come."
She came with a strangled cry into her own arm.
Her legs shook so hard the table slid two centimeters across the tiles.
I felt every spasm against my knuckles.
She lay still for a long moment, breathing as if she'd been running.
I pulled my hand out slowly, and she let out a whimper of loss that almost made me come too.
She turned over calmly and sat up on the exam table, her dress bunched at her waist and her hair plastered to her forehead.
Her eyes were a dark brown, and she had a mole under her left one.
I recognized them the moment I saw them.
"You," I said.
She smiled sideways and brought my wet fingers to her mouth, cleaning them with her tongue.
"Six months," she said, between one finger and the next. "Six months coming up to my door with my husband's pills, Nicanor."
I stood there speechless.
"You never looked at me."
"I..."
"But I looked at you."
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