Better call the doctor

by Clavyus

This is a slow burn AU Brucas fic. Lucas is a thirty two year old surgeon, smart, kind and serious. Brooke is a nineteen year old party girl, who's never been in love. She doesn't understand what's happening when she can't stop thinking about the odd doctor from the apartment above. He thinks she is just a kid, out to have some fun.

3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

How much clothes do you need for a four night stay in New York? There's a meeting at Victoria's Secret on Monday, and for that I would have really liked to use my own stuff, but I've never designed business clothes. So, I'm going for a below-the-knee black Dolce pencil skirt, a bottle green embroidered silk top and black Manolos. What else? A flower print summer dress, one of mine, white wedges, some naughty girl underwear in case someone gets lucky, True religion jeans and shorts... Make up case. Damn. I end up with a fully packed large suitcase, still feeling I'm leaving behind something I might need. I'm still pondering the philosophy of packing when I hear a very familiar and wholly unwelcome voice.

"Brooke"

I don't bother turning around. "Julian. What do you want?"

"I just came to say hi."

"Hi. Bye."

"Don't be like that. I miss you Brooke."

I have history with the knucklehead. Beginning of senior year, I decided the old party girl routine was getting a bit frazzled. So, I thought, why not give romance a chance? Julian is charming, funny and good-looking, and he said he liked me. In fact, after a while, he said he loved me. He said all the right things, and I began to fall for him too. Then, a few months in, things changed. He got jealous, controlling and, when I pushed back, abusive. We fought, and we made up. Several times. The final drop came at a party, when we had a fight, and an hour later I found him half naked, making out with an ex-friend of mine. Truth is, by then, he'd become a disgusting habit. Afterwards, I went back to the occasional one-night-stand routine and felt much better since. "Move on, Julian. Find someone else to bother."

"I love you, Brooke. It was a drunken mistake, I'm sorry."

I decide to have a little fun. "Will you take this thing downstairs, please?"

Julian is a good looking guy, and he exercises some, but I swear I've got more upper body strength than he does. And that suitcase is at least seventy pounds. I walk past him and his look of dismay, heading downstairs. I serve two glasses of iced tea and sip mine, as I wait for him to shlep my suitcase down the stairs.

I hand him the iced tea. "Thank you. You're looking a little pale."

"You're evil."

"Well, you come here bugging me, I can at least get something useful in return."

"Where are you going?"

I laugh, probably a little forced. "You're joking, aren't you?"

Now, he finally loses it. He hates it when I don't answer his questions. He raises his voice. "You slut!"

I reply in a dry tone. "Sure. Not your slut, though."

He closes his fists, and presses his lips together, assuming a threatening pose. He's got six inches and forty pounds on me, but I was the captain of the cheerleading squad and he still is a movie nerd. If he wants to get physical, I bet on myself. I whisper. "Bring it on, bitch."

He deflates and turns around. He goes out the door nearly running, and taking the iced tea glass with him.

First class on a red eye flight is a snore concert. I can't stand the earplugs, so it's movies or tossing about, pretending to sleep. Rachel comes back, looking smug, and I whisper at her. "That was disgusting, slut."

She lies down, her face six inches from mine and smiles. "He's good looking."

"For a forty-year-old. I'm sure there's all kinds of sagging shit under that suit."

"I didn't check, but you're probably right. The equipment works ok, though. And he gave me a card."

"A card? No shit."

"Shit you not, whore. He's an attorney. And he wants to see me again."

"Right. Good luck with that."

"At least I got my mile high club card punched."

"Congrats."

"Have you ever?"

"Nah. You know my type. Fresh faced, cute looking surfers or drummers don't travel first class."

"You should branch out a bit. I'm sure New York will offer interesting new experiences. No surfers, though."

"We'll go out tomorrow night. See what the city has to offer."

We enter the elevator, and I focus my attention on her. The bright eyes and the subtle smile are still there, but I can feel she is tense, by the coiled way she holds herself. I give her a little space.

"Hey, Allie. No expectations, all right? Whatever you want, I'm game."

She doesn't say anything, but her smile broadens. She rubs her shoulder against my chest while stepping out of the elevator and grabs one of my hands, pulling me after her. She's got the springy walk of the habitual runner. We walk slowly, hand in hand, silently for about half a block.

"I know what I want. That's not the problem."

I think a bit before replying. "Whatever happens, it's no strings attached. I'm not looking for anything serious, and, if I understood the message, neither are you."

We walk another half a block and she stops at the corner, turning to me and standing in the balls of her feet, while keeping hold of my hand. "There's always strings." Her fingers from her free hand dance briefly in my face. "And you're so damn compelling."

"You afraid of getting too attached?"

"No." She looks a little vulnerable for a second. "Yes." I smile. She frowns and presses her lips into a thin line. "No."

"You're damn charming yourself. It feels like there is a world of fun behind those bright eyes of yours."

Something changes, a decision is reached. She relaxes, smiles and lets go of my hand. She takes half a step forward, throws her hands behind my neck and pulls me down for a kiss. I taste her for the first time, a hint of wine in her darting tongue, an expensive perfume over her own sweet woman smell and the feel of her tight little body against mine. I hold her up, one arm around her waist, another exploring her back. We deepen the kiss, exploring each others mouth and tongue. We separate. Was this kiss the beginning or the end? I look into her eyes, and I can see a hunger matching my own. A beginning then. Good.

She grabs my hand again and walks fast. Apparently, now, there's not a second to be lost. I don't mind. I'm in a hurry to be alone with her too. I know next to nothing about her, which makes this situation... unfamiliar. I've only been with five women. Peyton, high school sweetheart and bane of my existence, Lindsay, my first editor and still a dear friend, now married with a second child on the way. Three others, long, complex relationships with busy, competitive people during med school and residence. For me, sex has always been the end result of a slow courtship. I think Peyton finally killed the hopeful romantic in me, the guy that yearns for the heart of a beautiful woman, before I can really enjoy exploring her body.

We kiss again in the elevator, and as she fumbles for the keys to her apartment. We get in, still kissing, my hands on her buttocks, lifting her up as I push her against a wall, and her legs wrap around my waist. She puts her hands on my chest and gently pushes us apart, her eyes locked on mine. She turns on the light, and I can see the small apartment. We're standing in a room, living room with a two-seater floral-pattern couch, flat screen TV, coffee table, a bookcase with knicknacks and a few books, a six-seat dining table, and a small, efficient looking kitchen. An open door leads to a darkened bedroom bedroom. The place is very neat, and very feminine, like its owner. She removes her shoes, leaving them on a little shelf next to the door, and I do the same. She takes her phone out of her pocket, fiddles with it, and places it in some kind of speaker. She chooses some kind of new age cheesy crap. Shitty music, but I'm not about to complain. Anyways, I quickly forget the music, as she climbs on the coffee table and sways a bit, unbuttoning her jeans and shimmying out of them. She's got beautifully shaped runner legs, with small, well-arched feet. We unbutton our shirts together, and soon she is standing on the coffee table, legs planted slightly apart, wearing a beautiful matched pair of lacy gray underwear. She has a small tattoo of the yin-yang symbol right above her panties. She is tight, with a faint suggestion of muscles under the skin and a flat abdomen. She turns around, to show off her back dimples, prominent little ass and a well-marked waist. She has another tat, a two-inch caduceus right between her shoulder blades. She's not just being seductive. She is also showing off something that makes her proud. With good reason, too. There's a lot of exercising and self control on display. She is in her late thirties, with a body that would do a twenty year old proud.

I finish undressing and step up, unhooking her bra on the back. I pull it out, revealing her small breasts, with brown aureoles and hard buttonlike nipples. She pulls her shoulders back, lifting them up. Show off. I latch my mouth onto the left breast, circling the aureole with my tongue, and eliciting a soft moan in response. It's the first sound coming out of her mouth in quite a while. I pull her panties down and finger her wet folds, as I switch my attention to the other breast. She keeps moaning, as I switch breasts and enter her with two fingers, while caressing her nub with my thumb. I continue, until her legs threaten to sag.

I pick her up in a bridal carry, and she slowly opens her eyes, smiles, and kisses me, as I take her to the bed. I place her down gently and stand a bit, just enjoying the view. She scoots to the side of the bed and opens a bedside drawer. There's quite a few toys in that drawer, including a few rather bent ones. She pulls out a couple of condoms from a box in the back, a battery, and a small white vibrator. She closes the drawer, leaves the condoms on top of the stand and puts the battery in the vibrator, turning it on.

She gives me the vibrator, and I place it between her legs, rubbing it slowly against her, watching her eyes unfocus with pleasure. I lie beside her, and she takes me into her mouth, as I continue to play with the vibrator. She begins to squirm, getting ready, I stick two fingers insider her, and I press the vibrator against her. Her moaning becomes more urgent, and then muffled, as she takes me all in. She comes, and she would be screaming, if she didn't have my full length down her throat. As it happens, she thrashes about, and I warn her. "I'm coming too." And I start screaming her name. "Ally!, Ally! Ahh..." She pulls me out and pumps me with her hand, taking my load straight into her now giggling face.

She straddles me, going for a deep kiss, where I can taste myself and her. She seems gloriously happy. She gets up, picks up the vibrator and removes the battery. and grabs my hand, pulling me to her bathroom. She has a large glass shower stall. She leaves the vibrator on top of the sink. From a cabinet, she grabs an extra towel, which she hangs next to hers. She's still giggling as she turns to me and places both hands on my chest. "You made a nice mess. Now you wash me, big boy. Starting with the hair."

The water is stinging hot. I put a handful of lemony scented shampoo in my hand and spread it in her hair, massaging the scalp. Her hair is thick and feels unruly. I lather it thoroughly. She purrs with pleasure, pressing her back against me. I turn her around and I rinse her head, giving her soft kisses in her lips and throat. Next I pick up a bar of soap and wash her body, paying special attention to her face. I take my time with her breasts, her folds, buttocks and legs, her arms and hands, kneeling down to wash her feet. Then it's my turn. I keep kneeling, enjoying the view, as she shampoos and rinses my hair and stands me up, soaping and rinsing me with the same slow deliberation I offered her. By the time we're done drying up, we're both getting nicely worked up again.

We get back to the bed, and this time I go down on her, using my tongue and lips, blowing, nipping and caressing her When she feels herself getting closer she stops me, and gets me to lie face up on the bed, standing to attention like a flagpole. She opens a condom, sweetly kissing my tip, and rolling down the condom until it's securely in place. Then she straddles me, slowly impaling herself. She is tight, very tight. I watch her, as she closes her eyes, and starts humming to herself, as she moves up and down on me. She sways her hips back and forth, playing with her own nipples, and lost inside herself. Her mouth opens slightly and her humming turns to low moans. Her movements become more vigorous, and I begin to lose myself. I grab her hips and slow her down, deepening her motion. She begins to crash, opening her eyes and staring directly into mine. Her orgasm is long, peaking several times. As she finishes I let go, losing myself to pleasure and her eyes.

We're both spent. She snuggles up to me, and I wrap her in my arms, eyes closed, listening to her slow breathing. After a few minutes I feel myself beginning to fall asleep. "Ally."

"Lucas?"

"Do you want me to go?"

"No. Please stay."

"With pleasure."

"You can make me breakfast. And I want to try for an encore tomorrow morning."

I smile in the dark. "You're a greedy little minx."

"You have no idea, big boy. Yet."

"Welcome to the Marriot, how may I help you?"

"We have a reservation for tonight. The name is Davis. A double room."

"Yes, we have your reservation in our system. Four nights. You may check in after two." Damn. It's eight in the morning.

Rachel walks up to the counter and smiles at the concierge. She produces two folded twenties and asks sweetly. "Would it be possible to check in a little early? We took the red eye from LA, and we could use a shower and a little rest before going about town."

The twenties quickly disappear, and the concierge clears his throat. "Hum-hum. Let me check. Oh, yes. We happen to have a room you could check in right now. Here. Room 1122. Do you require two keys?"

I clearly have a lot to learn from Rachel. "Yes we do."

"The bellboy will take you to your room Miss Davis and ... Gattina. You have a nice day."

I wake up spooning with a naked Ally, feeling relaxed and rested. I check her alarm clock, and it's eight o'clock. Slowly I retrieve my arm and get up. Bright Eyes is a sound sleeper. I go into the bathroom, piss, take a quick shower and borrow her toothbrush to brush my teeth. After last night, I don't think she would mind. I go to the kitchen and get together the works for coffee, french toast and bacon. I'm about ready to call her when she comes out of the bedroom, wearing a large, ratty Aerosmith t-shirt. I set a place for her, with a mug of coffee, black, a glass of orange juice and a plate of french toast and bacon. "How do you like your coffee?"

"A bit of cream and two sugars."

I let her get through half her breakfast before I talk to her. "Good morning."

"Good morning. And thank you. This is nice."

By the time we finish our breakfast, she's got her tiny smile and the expectant gleam in her eyes back on. So I put the dishes in the sink, and when I turn back, she is standing on the balls of her feet, right next to me. We start kissing and she jumps me, arms around my neck, legs crossed around my waist. I drop my boxers and, after a little wiggling, I am right inside her again. I hold her buttocks and move her back-and-forth, while walking towards the bedroom. I place her in the bed and get out, continuing to work on her with my fingers. I reach for the condom on the nightstand and give it to her. She quickly opens it and places it on me. I climb on the bed and get back inside her, continuing to move while keeping eye contact. I'm getting there, but I can can see she is not close yet, so I think of knee replacement surgery and hospital lime jello and I look into her eyes and she is moaning loud now, abandoning herself. I let myself go, and we crash together.

"I'm sorry. I really wish I could stay and cuddle, but I have an appointment."

"Lucas."

"Ally?"

"Do you want to do it again?"

I look into her eyes. "No strings? Just for fun?"

Her little self contained smile opens into a full happy one, which I'm seeing for the first time. I hope I'll see it again, sometime. "Just a few strings. We'll talk."

"All right."

"I'm going for a twenty-four hour shift, beginning in a couple of hours. Come back Sunday night at ten. Bring a change of clothes."

"Am I allowed to visit you at the ER?"

"Sure, but I might put you to work, if you do."

"I'll come by, then." I'm curious to see Dr. Allison Cameron in her working hat. I suspect the curiosity is mutual.

I take a cab back to my hotel, and a pair of stunning teens, a brunette and a redhead grab the cab as I leave. Even as thoroughly and well-fucked as I am this morning, I can't help it but ogle those two a bit.

"Did you see guy that climbed out of this cab?"

"You mean a tall, blonde, well built, blue-eyed, old guy?"

"Not that old. Early thirties, I guess. And he was checking us out."

"What's with you and old guys?"

"Did you ever do it with an older guy?"

"No! Anytime I have someone older than, say, twenty one or so, ogling me, the first thing that comes to mind is "yuck, perv"."

"That used to be right. But you're eighteen now. You're legal and guys are sort of entitled to ogle you. The thing with older guys is that some of them really know what they are doing."

"How can you tell?"

"Gossip. And you might want to pay attention to the woman next to the guy. If she seems well fucked, she probably was."

"Rachel Gattina, life coach. Living and learning"

It's the eighth apartment they have seen. Third floor walk-up, east eighty-six, four-and-a-half blocks from the park. A large one-bedroom facing an alley, tall ceilings, antique wooden floor, both kitchen and the bathroom recently renovated. The location is fine, far from Parsons, but near the Victoria's Secret atelier and a great neighborhood. Two big pluses are the big bathtub and two walk-in closets. Price is fine, within their range, and the realtor is saying that the owner is planning on putting an elevator. It's the best of the lot, so far.

As they are walking down the stairs, two people are walking up, a sharply dressed platinum blonde in her fifties and the hottie from the cab earlier today. Rachel wastes no time. Their realtor and the platinum blonde know each other, and start a fast conversation in low tone. Rachel, being Rachel, get right down to business.

"Hi, handsome. We meet again."

"Hello. I'm Lucas."

"I'm Rachel, and the tongue-tied one is Brooke. You staying at the Marriot?"

"Sure."

"So are we. We are going clubbing tonight. Care to join?"

"Well..."

"C'mon, blondie. It will be fun. We promise to bring you back to the hotel with your virtue intact."

I can't help but giggle at Rachel's chutzpah. He looks at me, and his icy blue eyes seem to see straight through me. "Do you also want an old guy's company?"

I recall the earlier conversation with Rachel. Also, as far as old guys go, this one looks kinda interesting. Finally I shrug. "Sure. Why not?"

"All right. What time?"

"Eleven-thirty at the hotel bar."

"I'll see you there."

"Bye, handsome."

I give him a cautious smile. "Bye."

I ask the realtor. "Are we competing with that guy for the apartment?"

"No. He is looking at the fourth floor apartment. It's the whole fourth floor, three thousand five hundred square feet. It's not for rent, it's for sale."

"What's the asking price?"

"One million eight. You can probably buy it for one five or six. The blonde, his realtor. That woman only gets out of her air conditioned office for serious wealth. Not to say climbing four flights of stairs in those Jimmy Choos."

"So, what's left?"

"I've four other places to show you."

"They any good?"

"I think 3B is the cream of the crop. If you can afford it."

"What do you think, slut?"

"It's fine by me, whore."

"Let's go back to your office and sign a lease. We gotta go shopping."

"Why did you invite him, slut?"

"Well... several reasons. First, he looks fine. Second, it's a little safer with him, he will shoo away undesirables. Third, I don't think he'll get in the way. Fourth, one of us might get lucky, and , as I said, he looks fine. Why, do you mind?"

I think about it. I get it about it being a little safer, and the real possibility of walking back alone to the hotel. "No. I don't mind at all."

"Do you know what those girls were looking at, Ms. Marshall?"

"One of the rental units. That realtor doesn't handle sales. All right, here it is. Why don't you take a look? I'll just catch my breath a little."

The place is pretty nice. High ceilings, with modern light fixtures, windows on two sides. The entrance hallway opens into a large rectangular room, like thirty feet by fifteen, with the kitchen to one side and a side room for a formal dining room with a half bathroom. Then there is a corridor with a single room to one side, with a spiral staircase leading to the roof, two bedrooms sharing one bath, and two rooms with bath ensuite. The master bedroom is double-sized, with a huge bathroom and a walk-in closet. The roof is part of the apartment. The only access is through the spiral staircase. There's a small garage in the basement, with space for three cars. One of the spaces belongs to 4A, one is empty and one is currently being rented by one of the tenants.

"You're saying the owners will put an elevator."

"Yes. You might have to sacrifice a corner of you dining room. It would be spelled out in the contract."

"All right. What else do you have to show me?"

"There's a couple of penthouses near the park, and a nice three thousand square feet duplex at those towers over there."

I see the other places. The truth is that a ostensibly wealthy address at the park, or in some of the other places I was shown doesn't really appeal. I decide try an offer for the

fourth floor walk-up on eighty-sixth, after an inspector clears the property of hidden problems.

I get to the ER bringing a couple of iced caramel lattes and a bag of scones. I get to the nurse in charge, a portly black woman with a competent look. "Dr. Cameron?"

"Try the attending lounge Dr..."

"Scott. Lucas Scott. Ortho fellow."

"Nice to meet ya. I'm Edna Calloway, chief shift nurse. Careful with that Cameron gal, Dr. Scott. She's a cold fish."

"Thanks for the warning, Edna. I'll keep it in mind." Cold fish. I have to struggle to keep a straight face.

She is alone at the attending lounge, sitting in a sofa, with her feet up on a coffee table, napping. I get near her, squat and touch her face lightly. She doesn't start. She opens her eyes slowly, and, for the second time, I get to see her unguarded smile.

"Hey. Iced caramel latte."

"Thanks. I was hoping you would show up. Come with me."

She grabs a folder from the nurse's station and leads me to an image viewing room. She puts up three torax shots of a young boy. "Ten-year-old, presents with respiratory distress. Chest X-ray and auscultation indicate bronchitis, and the pending bloodwork should indicate the origin of the infection. But..."

I see what the problem is. "There's at least ten fractures, over a large period of time. Some of them show sign of treatment, and some are poorly aligned, suggesting no treatment at all."

"Pattern of abuse?"

"Could be, but I don't think so. These fractures are too random, and they all seem consistent with different kinds of common accidents. I think this boy's bones are more friable than they should be, probably due to poor calcium metabolization or fixation. There must be twenty possible causes, the most likely being improper nutrition. I would admit, order a full body X-ray and a very complete blood panel. That way we might narrow those twenty to something a little more manageable."

"I'll admit him with you as primary. Is that Ok?"

"This is not surgical, and I'm not a pediatrician. I don't mind, but you should clear it with Callie. I like a puzzle just like anyone else. Just let me know."

"Let me take you to meet the patient."

She introduces me to a small, scared looking blonde boy with huge brown eyes and the mother, a

tired redhead in her early thirties. We talk, and I ask about his history of bone fractures and his eating habits. She realizes he tends to have fractures a bit too often, but never caught on that as a symptom. I examine the boy, palpating his long bones and joints, examining his spine and his teeth. I show Ally that his teeth have had cavity repairs, he has mild scoliosis and the white in his eyes have a slight blue tint to them.

Back at the attending lounge, we talk again. "I'm strongly inclined to a diagnosis of Ostheogenesis Imperfecta, type one. The whole body X-ray and a skin punch biopsy should firm up the diagnosis."

"I don't know much about OI. Can you treat it?"

"Oh, yes. There are a number of protocols for it, including special physical therapy and exercise, drugs and even surgery. Actually, you can definitely admit him as my patient on one of the pediatric beds."

"You said it's not surgical."

"I'm doubly certified as a surgeon and as a sports medicine clinician. We can send him to a specialist later, but the initial treatment definitely falls within the scope of my clinical specialty."

I look into her eyes, and take her hands. "Ally, it was a great evening. And I'm looking forward to tomorrow night."

"I agree."

"I don't know where we're taking this, but I'm telling you. Right now, you're my girl. I'm not going to be with anyone else, before ending things with you. Is that ok?"

She smiles. "That's fine, big boy. Same here. Exclusive works for me too."

"Having said that, I need a little help."

"What?"

"I have a date tonight."

"Really?"

"I'm going clubbing with a pair of teenage girls. Very good looking ones."

She giggles. "How did that happen?"

I tell her the story, and describe Rachel and Brooke. "So, given the circumstances, how does one dress for the occasion?"

She looks at me with her small smile and a totally impenetrable stare. "I assume money is not an issue."

It isn't, but I wonder why she would assume that. "That's right."

"Then go to the men's section at Neiman-Marcus, tell the salesperson that you're going clubbing with a young date and ask for help. They will fix you up just fine." She slides a finger down my chest. "And I mean, really, really fine."

"Thanks."

"Two things. First, I want a picture."

"All right."

"Second, you use the same outfit when you come tomorrow. Rachel and Brooke may take you out for a spin. But I get to unwrap the package. Deal?"

I give her a quick kiss. "Deal."