"Well, hello there," she purred, her eyes meeting mine with unmistakable intent. She was in her forties, but she was hot as fire in bed, the kind of woman who knew exactly what she wanted and how to get it. "Fancy meeting you here, Doctor," she said, her voice dripping with suggestion. She was the only one that I had fucked more than ten times already, a record I hadn't planned on setting. But her case was different, complicated in ways I hadn't anticipated when we first crossed paths.
At some point I was thinking of getting married to her because of the way she loved me. Not to mention her high society connections and wealth, but then I kept her only because she was always chasing me, even if I broke up with her many times. But then I realized I don't need a woman like her cheating on her husband with me. She wasn't a permanent patient, just a blip on my professional radar. "I remember you," I said coolly, maintaining my distance as best I could in the confined space. She had visited my clinic once for a routine procedure. We didn't do anything then, maintaining strict professional boundaries behind closed office doors. She didn't come back later for any follow-ups, but we met by coincidence at a charity gala downtown. "'Fate has a funny way of bringing people together,' she'd said that night, champagne glass in hand. As it turned out, we were neighbors, living in the same exclusive enclave. "Small world," I'd remarked, surprised by the revelation.
Her mansion was very close to mine, nestled among the area's most opulent homes. Only one other mansion separated us, a buffer zone that had proven insufficient. She told me she has a husband, a powerful executive at some Fortune 500 company, who was always traveling, rarely home. "What he doesn't know won't hurt him," she'd whispered that first night together. She asked me to keep our affair a secret, her eyes serious despite her playful tone. "Discretion is non-negotiable," she insisted, which was the best for me anyway, perfectly aligned with my own preferences. "I'm not looking for complications," I assured her. I needed no commitment and had no interest in chasing women or playing relationship games. She knew very well that if she tried to make a fuss, create drama where there should be none, without prior notice, I would go and visit her husband and tell him everything. "'Mutually assured destruction,' I'd called it, half-joking. "'How romantic,' she'd replied with a sardonic smile.
She was a bit clingy, though, more so than I'd anticipated when we started this arrangement. "'I was just thinking about you,'" became her constant refrain, too frequent to be a coincidence. She started to appear everywhere I went, from my favorite coffee shop to my exclusive gym. "'Another happy accident,' she'd claim, eyes wide with false innocence. She began to call or text me a few times a day, messages growing increasingly needy and demanding. "'When can I see you?' 'I need you now,' 'Are you ignoring me?'" And that was taking a bad turn in our sexual relations, with the desperation seeping into even our most intimate moments. "'You're the only one who understands me,' she'd whisper, and I'd feel the noose tightening. So I had decided to get rid of her by the weekend, to cut ties completely before things spiraled further out of control. "'It's been fun,' I'd rehearsed saying, 'but it's time we moved on.'"
...But here she was, standing in front of me in the elevator, wearing a dress that left little to the imagination. "I've missed you," she said, moving closer than propriety allowed. She deserved what was coming, I'd decided, the clean break I'd planned to deliver. but I wondered if she might also deserve one more fuck for old time's sake. "You look tense, Doctor," she observed, running a finger down my chest. "I know just how to help you relax." To be honest, I'm only thirty-one years old, successful beyond what most men my age could dream of. "'Hard work and good genes,' I'd tell anyone who asked about my rapid rise. But I look very manly next to any woman, commanding and powerful in ways that transcend mere physical appearance.
"'You make me feel so small, so feminine,' Stella had once gasped. She was forty, with years of experience and confidence behind her. 'Age is just a number when chemistry is involved,' she'd said early in our affair. I didn't get bored of her body, the curves that fit perfectly against my hands, but I worried that she might create a scandal, the kind that could tarnish my carefully cultivated reputation. "'What would your colleagues think?'" she'd teased once, too close to blackmail for comfort. She was always roaming around my professional spaces; always asking for more time, more attention, more of me than I was willing to give.
The elevator door shut with a soft pneumatic hiss, sealing us into our private world high above the city. She wrapped her arms around my neck, fingernails grazing my scalp, licking her lips seductively like a predator eyeing its prey. "I've been thinking about you all day," she whispered. I frowned and pushed her hands off me, establishing a boundary she'd crossed too many times. "What now, Stella? I thought I told you, DON'T EVER COME HERE!" I said this sternly, my voice low but intense, emphasizing every word like hammering nails into a coffin. "This is my workplace, for God's sake. Have you lost your mind?" She pushed her hands inside my shirt, fingers cool against my skin, and said, "But I have missed you so much, more than you could know. I want you to fuck me now."