My entry for the Anything Goes contest. This was judge Lolo84 choice for sweetest surprise. Thanks to Alanna/Capricorn75 and Sarah Elizabeth for being the brains behind such a great contest. Thanks for reading and reviewing xo
It was my first year of residency at Seattle Children's Hospital. The 80-plus hour workweeks had long since taken their toll. Countless times I slept in an office chair; waking up with a crick in my neck, disheveled hair, and drool seeping out of the corner of my mouth. Being sleep deprived left me so disoriented I often didn't know what day of the week it was, let alone if it was day or night or somewhere in between. I'd nod off after consuming ten cups of coffee, the caffeine in my veins long since rendered ineffective.
Going into med school, my wife, Bella, and I both knew it was a temporary sacrifice that would pay off in the end but I don't think either one of us anticipated the toll it would take on our relationship. We spoke mostly via text message; I watched my daughters growing up via Instagram photos. Bree was born when we were seniors in college and Jessie was born my second year of med school. I was certain the last time I'd had sex was the night Jessie was conceived. Hell, I was on a first name basis with the parking attendant at the hospital and saw him more than my family.
It was difficult being a part-time father who missed milestone after milestone. Who missed dinners with his wife and lazy Sundays mornings tangled in the sheets with her. It was Bella who encouraged me to follow my dream of being a doctor. And when I was kept at the hospital for extended hours she graciously filled the voids I left; I love her all the more for it.
Even with her unwavering support, I was an elastic band, stretched to the limit and about to snap. Bone-weary, I needed the world to be still for a while - just an hour even. There were days I didn't want to be Dr. Cullen. I didn't want to catch winks of sleep with my head on a desk only to be startled awake by a paging intercom. And I love my wife dearly, but sometimes I didn't even want to be a husband. I didn't want to have to clean up after dinner, or put my dirty socks in the hamper, all of it just one more thing I was required to do. For one day I wanted to quit being an adult, slip back in time to my first year of college when things were simpler; easy. When a Friday night meant hanging out at a bar, getting drunk and laid.
"You're looking wrecked, Dr. Cullen." Dr. Volturi's voice brought me back to the present. I scrubbed my hands over my face, wiping the sleep and wishes from my head. "How many hours have you logged this week?"
I shrugged. "I lost count. Probably close to 85 now."
"And when were you home last?"
"Wednesday, I think. I don't even know what day it is now."
He clasped me on the back. "It's Friday. Wasn't your shift over an hour ago?"
I nodded. "Just finishing up my paperwork, Sir."
"Good. Clock out, go home and get some sleep. Real sleep. In your own bed. Tomorrow you're off and we'll see you bright and early on Sunday."
"But…"
"Doctor, you're of no use to your patients if you're comatose. Go home."
"Thank you. I appreciate that."
"Dr. Volturi to the OR. Dr. Volturi to the OR."
"Escape while you can!" He chuckled as he left me alone.
Scrawling one final signature in a patient's chart, I closed the file and cracked my knuckles. At my locker I swapped my lap coat for my jacket, slipped my wallet into my back pocket and called Bella.
"Hey." She answered on the first ring. "How's it going?"
I sighed. "I'm exhausted, but Dr. Volturi's kicking me out for the day."
"Oh wow. I wasn't expecting that. I'm out with the girls at my dad's house so we probably won't be home for an hour or so. Shoot."
"You know what? Don't worry about it. I think I may do something 'normal' and grab a beer at Jake's Pub before I head home."
"You sure? I'll try not to be long here."
"Yeah, I'm sure. Right about now, a beer is sounding amazing. I'll see you at home. Want to order a pizza?"
"Sounds good. I'll talk to you soon, babe."
"Okay. And, Bella?"
"Uh huh?"
"I love you."
"Love you, too." I could picture her smiling on the other end which made my lips curl into one of my own.
I'd almost made a clean get away from the office when another intern stopped to ask my opinion on a patient. It was half an hour before I could sneak away, but that still left me thirty minutes to grab a beer and get home.
Leaving my car in the parking garage I walked the short distance to Jake's, which was around the corner from the hospital. It was a cool evening but I shrugged out of my jacket and rolled up the sleeves of my dress shirt. The breeze against my face was welcome and refreshing; a respite from the stale hospital air I was used to.
Jake's wasn't too busy so I secured a seat at the end of the bar. I hung my jacket over the stool next to me to keep distance between me and the other patrons - I wasn't in a mood to be social with some drunk who wanted to talk my ear off about sports or politics or some personal drama. It was a laid back, all male crowd. Guys sitting around tables, bullshitting and sharing pitchers and plates of wings. There were a few weary fellows like myself, sitting alone, mesmerized by the game on the big screen or surfing the net on their phones. Along the back wall were a few empty booths.
I ordered whatever was on tap and the bartender set the drink in front of me. The beer—frothy and subzero cold—was the highlight of my day. I closed my eyes for the first sip, imagining the amber ale energizing me. As I drank I came to a realization. It was a Friday night and I wasn't stuck at the hospital. I was any Joe Blow grabbing a pint on the brink of a weekend. It felt… liberating.
Smiling as I drank my beer, I enjoyed the fact that in the moment no one needed me. There wasn't a patient to be seen, or a document to study. No diaper to change, or mess to clean up. Just me and my beer on a Friday night. It couldn't be more perfect.
And then she walked in. Being a happily married man I wasn't in the habit of checking out other women, but in an establishment full of testosterone all eyes flicked to her and mine followed. All the men in the bar, and she zeroed in on me. My chest puffed with pride. Even in my zombie-like state, I still had it.
"Is this seat taken?" She asked. Before I could answer, she'd moved my jacket to the next stool over and sat down, crossing one leg over the other, her thigh exposed. I dragged my eyes up.
"I'm Rosalie." She tucked a lock of platinum blonde hair behind her ear.
"Edward."
She leaned close. "Sorry, I didn't catch that. Emmett, did you say?"
I didn't bother to correct her.
"Buy me a drink?" She batted her mascara-laden lashes.
"Oh. Of course. What would you like?"
I expected her to order a glass of wine but she asked the bartender for a Grey Goose martini straight-up with two olives. She wagged her eyebrows at me and added, "and make it dirty." I gulped and the bartender smirked.
"So, handsome, do you come here often?"
I snorted at her pathetic attempt of a pick up line.
"Only on bad days."
She leaned close and reached up so she could run her fingers through my hair. I averted my eyes but still got a good look at her breasts, which were showcased by her low cut dress.
"I bet I could make your day so much better," she purred.
"I'm, uh, not so sure my wife would appreciate that."
She glanced around, tossing her long blonde hair so I caught wind of her scent.
"I don't think your wife is here right now, is she?"
I slowly shook my head no. She smiled and all I could think was 'Oh Shit!"
The bartender set down the martini. Rosalie suggestively sucked an olive off the spear, her tongue darting around it before she popped it into her mouth. When she rubbed her fingers up and down the stem of the glass repeatedly while licking her lips, I had to look away.
"And, uh, what do you do for a living, Rosalie?" I wouldn't have spit out my drink if she told me she was an escort.
"I'm a flight attendant. I'm on an overnight layover. What line of work are you in?"
"I'm a doctor. Well, an intern, but…" I shrugged.
"I'd break every bone in my body to have you be my physician." A blood red painted fingernail trailed up my forearm, stroking my ego as much as my limb. I noticed she wasn't wearing a wedding ring though there was an indentation indicating she'd recently worn one. Mine felt especially heavy on my left hand.
We didn't talk for a few minutes; I focused on my beer rather than the hand that had moved from my brushing bicep to my caressing my thigh. Damn. It felt good. Too fucking good. Rosalie polished off her martini in record time and pushed the glass aside.
"Did you want another one?" I asked. I had no idea what would happen if she had a second drink but I was willing to find out.
Rosalie smiled. Apparently she was game. "I think I'd like a beer."
I signaled the bartender but she shook her head, tossing her locks. She leaned closer, her ruby painted lips brushing my earlobe.
"I'd rather taste it on your tongue." She licked the shell of my ear.
I wasn't a cardiologist but I was certain I was going into defib.
"Maybe…" I cleared my throat. "Maybe we should grab a booth?" I was close enough to the hospital any one of my colleagues could show up. Being seen with a woman who, with her platinum hair, clearly wasn't my wife could spell trouble. Rosalie nodded. I asked the bartender for two more beers and followed behind my companion to a darkened table in the far back corner.
It was then I noticed Rosalie's outfit. A tight fitting, extremely short black dress which hugged her curves—so much so there were no panty lines visible and I doubted she'd bothered—and three inch stiletto heels she could barely walk in but were sexy as fuck. Rosalie slid into the booth, her legs parting just enough for me to confirm she was, in fact, not wearing panties. I adjusted the bulge in my pants and sat down, scooting over so my left side was flush with her right. I loosened my tie.
"Is it hot in here?" I asked as I unbuttoned the top two buttons of my shirt as well. I struggled to remember the symptoms of a heart attack or stroke, fairly sure I was about to experience one or the other, possibly both simultaneously, if that were possible.
Rosalie shook her head as she bit her lower lip. "Not yet, but things are about to heat up."
Her hand disappeared under the table, briefly resting on my knee. As I attempted to look nonchalant sipping my beer and watching the game, she inched her hand up my thigh until she was palming my dick. Holy fuck. I groaned involuntarily as she stroked and squeezed; stroked and squeezed. As if that wasn't bad enough, she started to verbalize how she envisioned the rest of the night going. I had a feeling I wouldn't be going straight home to a quiet night with my wife and kids as planned.
"Do you know what I want to do to you?"
I couldn't fathom and merely shook my head as words escaped me.
"I can tell you have a massive dick, and I can't wait to give you the best fucking blow job you've ever had. I'll work my way up and down the entire shaft, rolling and flicking my tongue. I'll kiss and lick my way up then slowly take you into my mouth, my tongue swirling, tasting every inch of you. That's the last time I'll go slow, though. My hands on your ass, you'll be fucking my mouth, hard. I bet your wife doesn't deepthroat you, does she? Too much of a good girl. I can assure you, I am not one of those girls."
I gulped.
"It won't just be about you. I want some fun, too. I want you to suck on my tits, lick and bite and pinch my nipples before your mouth devours my pussy. I want your tongue flicking my clit, fingers pumping in and out of my wet cunt. I need you to make me come—so hard that my back arches off the bed, or the table or whatever we're fucking on, and I'm hoarse from begging you not to stop.
And then I'll push you down on your back, climb on top of you, reverse cowgirl, so you can grab my ass. My tits will be bouncing as your dick slams in and out. In and out. And we'll fuck like that until I tell you to stop. And it'll be the best sex of your goddamn life."
Her dirty talk nearly catapulted me over the ledge I was teetering on. Talking dirty for Bella and me referred to the dishes or laundry.
"So, where do you want to touch me first?" She licked her lips, anticipating my answer.
I stilled her hand.
"I'd rather show you," I growled roughly. My fingertips traced the swell of her breasts, dipped low into her cleavage. I made sure no one was watching before my tongue traced the same pattern. My palm brushed against the swell, cupping for a moment before I gave a squeeze. Rosalie's head fell back, her eyes closed, and a smile played on her lips.
My hand moved lower, across her flat stomach, contoured around her hip and caressed her thigh. My fingers traced the hem of her dress. Rosalie's legs parted, inviting me to touch where she was soft and warm and wet. I was compelled to do so; couldn't stop myself. Her inner thigh was smooth, so fucking smooth. I inched higher until my fingers were coated in her wetness.
"Good Lord," she murmured, squirming so my fingers dipped in further.
"You're so fucking wet." My teeth nipped at her collar bone, my fingers delving deeper. Her throaty moans made my dick even harder.
What the fuck was I doing? I looked around but no one was paying attention to us; no one would ever know.
"God. It's been an eternity since someone drove me this insane." I murmured against the sweet smelling skin of her neck. "Let's get the hell out of here."
She readily agreed. Rosalie took a sip of her beer while I chugged the rest of mine, our eyes locked. She grabbed my hand, pulling me to the door. My jacket was left behind in the casualty of the affair.
Once outside, I pushed her up against the wall. She sucked in her breath as the cold brick connected with her back. My body pressed against hers, my erection poking her in the stomach. My right hand grasped her waist, the left wrapped around her neck, holding her exactly where I wanted. My mouth claimed hers with as much ferocity as I planned to claim her pussy in just a short while.
Rosalie's leg hitched around my hip bone; her nails dragged up my chest before she wrapped them around my neck. I grinded myself against her, desperate for more friction. Our tongues were frantic and it took everything in my power to not hike up her dress and fuck her right there on Main Street.
"My car's over on Front Street," she panted. "Wanna play doctor?" She wagged her eyebrows.
"Fuck. Yes!"
Rosalie tugged me down the street and around the corner. We half walked, half ran, intoxicated on the prospect of what was to come. As she fumbled with her purse, trying to locate her keys, I brushed her hair off her neck and peppered kisses across her shoulders, grabbed her tits and reveled in the whimpers she was making.
With keys in hand, she clicked a button and the rear sliding door of the vehicle opened. We clambered inside, slamming the door shut behind us.
"God. I need to fuck you." I staggered the words out between kisses. "So badly. But you have to do something for me first." I halted the kisses and looked into her brown eyes.
"What's that?"
"You have to take off that ridiculous wig."
A pout formed as she smoothed her hands over the blonde locks. "What, you don't like this look?"
I shook my head. "Nope. You're much prettier as a brunette."
Bella took off the wig, and tossed it aside. A wicked smile played on her face. She pushed me backwards and proceeded to give me one hell of a blowjob, exactly as described. I fulfilled my part of the bargain and had her screaming my name soon after. The sex, though in the back of our minivan and halted briefly by an ill-placed Barbie doll, was spectacular.
Basking in the afterglow, I complimented Bella on her disguise."I loved the outfit this time. So sexy. Much better than when you wore the short, spikey wig."
She laughed. "Aw. It was fun pretending to be a pitbull lawyer."
"What was her name again?" I wracked my brain but couldn't remember. Bella and I had been playing the stranger game since college—it was hard to remember all the characters.
"Alice."
I wrinkled my nose. "Not exactly a sex kitten name. Rosalie was much better. But naughty school girl Isabella is still my favorite." I passed Bella her shirt as I buttoned mine.
"I'm just glad you said you were a doctor. The time you said you worked for the city sanitation department I almost walked out on you."
"I'm not good under pressure!" I whined in my defense.
"I wonder if Doctor Volturi knows that his prized intern—who has hopes of being Chief of Surgery one day—isn't good under pressure."
"Well," I paused as I leaned in for a kiss. "I've logged 80 hours this week so I definitely have stamina."
"Oh, that you do, Doctor Cullen. That you do." Her fingers made quick work of the buttons I'd just fastened. "We don't have to pick up the kids for another half an hour." Bella wagged her eyebrows. "Let's see how well you actually work under pressure."