The Fantasy Basket

By Esme Incognito

Inspired by Stephenie Meyers' Twilight series. No infringement intended.

Posted 6/13/12. Re-posted 1/4/13.

Please Review!

Chapter 9—Esme: New Year, New Troubles

January 1991

I love New Years. I sit late at night, all alone, assessing the year that has passed and imagining the one that is to come. I write it all in a journal—it's the only entry most years. As I sat in my favorite red chair pondering the close of 1990, I looked back at last year's entry and was pleased at how far Carlisle and I had come. Last year, I'd been so hopeless, so desperate, so lonely, seeking refuge and escape from my own life. This year, while things still aren't perfect—far from it—my outlook on life is so much more optimistic. Carlisle and I are just so much more… present in each other's lives. We talk and make time to be together, do nice things to surprise each other and really listen to what the other has to say. We show affection by touching and looking into each other's eyes and kissing or hugging or just holding hands once in awhile. It's really, really nice.

As an added benefit, while my relationship with Carlisle has improved, so have my other relationships and my general outlook on things. I'm much happier overall, which makes me a better mom and a better friend. I'm feeling a lot more confident in myself as well. One of the goals I wrote down in the "Self Improvement" column, besides the typical annual goals for more exercise, weight loss, and eating better, is "find a meaningful job or volunteer work where I can use my creativity and make a difference or contribution." It's a tall order, I know, and I have no idea what I really would like to be doing, but with both boys in school now and most of the goals in my "Home Improvements" column already met, I just want to make myself a better person. I want to contribute more to my family, be a more interesting person… It's funny, and completely counter to any feminist tendencies, but I want to be a better person for him.

OK, the ball dropped over an hour ago and I'm starting to sound sappy, even to myself, so I'd better get to bed.

I tiptoed into our room and tried to sneak into bed without disturbing my husband, but I couldn't resist leaning over to give him a New Year's kiss. He couldn't care less about New Years's parties or resolutions and goes to bed at 10:00, just like any other night, but I'm a sucker for the tradition and sentimentality. He celebrates by opening up a brand new date book and flipping through the blank pages with a big smile on his face, like he did yesterday. I was so happy when he took up a pen (not a pencil, a pen) and wrote in a date night for the two of us every other week for the entire year. I smiled at the memory and kissed him gently on his temple. "Happy New Year, Sweetheart." He surprised me when he rolled toward me, half awake. "Sorry. I didn't mean to wake you."

"You didn't. I couldn't get to sleep without you. I've gotten used to having you here again." I smiled at that. "Whatcha been doin'?" he mumbled while pulling me into his arms, cradling my head to his chest.

"Just thinking about the past year and planning things for the next year. I do that every New Year's Eve."

"Hmmm." He caressed my shoulder. As it slowed, I could tell he was drifting into sleep.

"I'm so glad we're happier now, Sweetheart. This will be a great year, I just know it." I don't know if he could feel the tear dribble onto his chest, but he gave me a squeeze, said, "My Ezzy," and I could feel his lips curl into a smile where they rested on top of my head as he sailed off to dreamland.

The kids were back to school after their Christm… I mean, Winter Break (darn PC movement!) and I headed back to the gym. My step class had about twice as many people as usual. Happens every year—all the New Year's resolutions. It's sadly humorous to observe how long it takes for the numbers to dwindle back down to normal. Most years, the room is packed the first two weeks of January. Then, after two or three weeks about half the new people are gone. And by mid-February, we're back to our core group of regulars with maybe a handful of new folks.

I've been coming to the gym three days a week pretty consistently since Emmett started kindergarten. I love the music and camaraderie in class.

I tried jogging before I joined the gym—I ran with Carlisle for awhile, but he wanted to run faster and farther than I could, and I felt bad for slowing him down. Then I tried jogging alone but even with my Walkman it was just so boring! Not my cup of tea at all.

Classes at the gym are so much more fun. They are even more fun now that my best friend Carmen is back. Her baby Gianna is six months old, so she can finally leave her in the childcare center downstairs while we work out and shower.

The time this class meets is perfect for me and lots of other moms. It starts a half hour after I drop the boys off at school, and since I dress in my gym clothes those mornings, packing my clothes and toiletries in my gym bag, I have an incentive to go to class: if I don't work out, I'm stuck with dirty hair and sloppy gym clothes all day. It may be a silly way to motivate myself, but it gets me there. If my granny taught me anything, it was to always take pride in myself by looking my best, so schlepping around in sweats is NOT something I will do.

My step class is great. They introduced it a couple of years ago. It's really fun and it challenges my brain and body more than regular aerobics (a.k.a, "duh-robics"). Over the years, I've developed friendships with many of the other people who take the class, mostly full time moms like me, and with our instructor Irina.

She's awesome. She's got so much energy and enthusiasm. I love that she's in her 30s with kids like most of us in her class. She understands sore knees and stiff backs and sleepless nights spent with babies or sick kids and she can relate to her students better than the bouncy 22 year old drill sergeant who taught the old aerobics class.

We were having fun in class today, though it was kind of slow and simplified for all the new people. I could tell that Irina wasn't 100% today. Something was off. She usually introduces a new routine on Mondays, which she didn't. She missed some calls, got off beat a couple of times, and even tripped during Pump Up The Jam, which is very unlike her. And her energy level was low today.

She's usually such a dynamo. It was nothing the new people would notice, but when Carmen quirked her eyebrow at me and nodded toward Irina during a water break, and when my friend Lisa muttered, "What's up with Irina?" I knew I wasn't imagining it.

The three of us held back after class until the crowd cleared out and Irina had answered everyone's questions. We approached and asked how she was doing, how her Christmas was, etc. She tried to hide what was wrong, but when I put my hand on her arm and asked, "Is everything ok? Are you sure you're all right?" she darted her eyes around the room to make sure it was just the four of us and then hung her head in her hands.

"No, I got some really bad news over the holidays. I'm sorry, I just couldn't focus today." She was close to tears.

"Oh, Irina, don't worry about the class. What's wrong? Is there anything we can do to help?"

"I don't know, I just… I…" She looked up at us with tears in her eyes and sniffed, "Both my mom and my older sister were diagnosed with breast cancer last month. When I went back east for Christmas, they told all of us about it. They're going in together for their first chemo treatment today, so I'm kind of a basket case."

Gasp.

"Oh my god!"

"Both of them?"

"Oh, Irina…" We were all shocked to hear our friend's sad news and supportive as she relayed more details.

I asked what she was doing for the rest of the day, thinking that she may not want to be alone. She had a couple of hours free and another class in the afternoon, so I asked if she'd like to join me for lunch. The other girls have small children and had to get home for naps, so it was just Irina and me.

As we ate, she told me all about her family and shared some happy memories, trying not to worry and dwell on the current situation. She was terrified, knowing that she must be genetically inclined to contract the disease as well. I just listened and tried to be a good, supportive friend, feeling terrible for her and her family.

We parted with a big hug and her promise to keep me posted and call if she needed a shoulder to cry on. Poor thing. I can't imagine…

I drove home in a daze. I knew cancer was out there everywhere; I'd had acquaintances before who had gotten sick, but for some reason, this news really affected me. Maybe because Irina's a friend. Maybe because it hit two of her family members at once. Maybe because her sister is about my age. I don't know, but I was really shaken and depressed.

When I got home I saw several messages blinking on my answering machine. There are usually one or two, but today there were six. oh oh! One was from a friend confirming our carpool arrangements, and two were telemarketers—no big deal. But two were from the boys' school about an hour ago and one was from Carlisle's office, which the school called when they couldn't reach me. Oh shoot!

Edward had gotten into a fight at school and was developing a black eye. He'd been sent to the nurse and then the counselor's office and they wanted someone to come and pick him up early. Poor baby, sitting there waiting!

I called the school back right away to let them know I was on my way there, and called Carlisle's office to let them know the situation was taken care of. Carlisle had been in a surgery, so the office assistant for his surgical group had taken the call from the school and then left me the message. Good. I'd hate to have him stressed out at work about Edward being hurt or about me being MIA.

I picked Edward up at school and got the full story from the counselor. He's been having trouble with a little boy in his class named Jacob Black all year, and today they fought over a tetherball game on the playground. Jacob gave Edward a black eye and Edward gave Jacob a bruised shin before the noon-duty teachers were able to intervene.

There's no excuse for bullying and fighting, but in Jacob's case, his behavior problems are at least understandable. He lost his mom to a drunk driver about a year ago. His dad Billy is wheelchair-bound from the accident and had to go on disability from his job. Billy is having a lot of trouble managing his injuries and his three children all alone. It's such a tragic story.

Carlisle had helped operate on Jacob's mother, but the injuries were too extensive to save her. He's trained not to take his patients' outcomes personally, but since Jacob and Edward were good friends in kindergarten last year, it was hard for him not to. Carlisle had been grumpy for a week after Janine Black's death, so it's no surprise that poor little Jacob had been lashing out this past year. Still, I had a talk with Edward about using words instead of fists, taking a deep breath and counting to ten, and taking it to a grown up if words didn't work.

"Mom, I tried talking to him, but he won't ever listen. I was in the middle of a game with Michael and I was gonna WIN, but Jacob grabbed the rope and held the ball up and we couldn't get it away from him 'cause he's so tall. I told him to gimme the ball, but he wouldn't and he stepped on Michael's foot ON PURPOSE FOR NO REASON and I was jumpin' up and tryin' to grab the ball and telling him to gimme it back and my elbow slipped an' hit his mouth and then he socked me in the eye, so I kicked him! Then the teacher came up and made us stop, but then recess was over, so we didn't get to play anymore and that was my BEST GAME EVER before stupid Jacob messed it up!"

"Oh, Edward… hitting and kicking are not ok, even when someone's being mean to you. And we don't use that S- word in our family. Maybe when Jacob interrupted your game, you could have asked him to wait and offered to let him play against the winner. Do you think that would have been a better way to handle it?"

"No—He won't listen. He's just a big MEANIE! I HATE Jacob Black!"

We had told both of the boys about the Blacks (one of Jacob's older sisters is in Emmett's grade) warning them that their sadness and anger about their parents might boil over at school sometimes, and urging our boys to be compassionate, but I'm afraid the friendship between Jacob and Edward is probably irreparable. Edward is scared of Jacob, plain and simple. Jacob is much bigger than he is, and makes Edward his most frequent bullying target.

"Eddie-Bear, remember what we talked about before? Jacob needs you to be a good friend right now. He's having a hard time since his mommy died and sometimes that makes him act in bad ways." He crossed his arms, grumbled under his breath, and kicked a rock as we walked out to the car. I took Edward home and let him watch a video with some ice on his eye. When the carpool dropped Emmett off at home, he took a look at Edward's shiner and said, "Cool, Dude! It makes you look tough! What's the other guy look like?" Sigh, these boys…

Carlisle arrived home that evening as I was cooking dinner and silently placed a box on my place at the table. It was a new pager, just for me… Oh oh, he's ticked off! I should have known his office assistant would tell him, even though I handled it. Grrr… Carlisle doesn't scream and yell when he's angry, he seethes. He talks really quietly and enunciates every syllable. I think it's similar to the 'calm under pressure' demeanor he has to adopt while he's in surgery.

"No one could find you today, so I thought this might help." He crossed his arms in front of his chest. "Is Edward ok?" Can you say 'passive aggressive?'

"He's fine. Got into a tussle with Jacob playing tetherball. I had a talk with him about fighting again, as did the school counselor. You might want to mention it, too." I took a deep breath. Wait for it… here it comes…

"And you were… where… all day?" he pinched the bridge of his nose. Wipe that smug, pinched look off your face, ya jerk!

"I was in my class at the gym, and then I was comforting a friend over lunch who just learned that her mother and her sister have cancer."

"Oh… that's a shame." Is he backing off?... Nope, the tight line of his lips says "no."

"Yes, it's terrible. And I'm a terrible mother for letting my son sit injured in the office. I'm sorry, ok? I felt awful about Edward, but it's not like I was goofing off and neglecting him. I got to him as soon as I found out." I know I shouldn't let him get to me, but I can't help it, my inner drama queen always wants to come out and defend herself when he's like this.

He huffed a breath in through his nose. "Good. Hopefully this pager will alert you more expeditiously if a situation like this arises again." There are the big, pointy words... "The number is written on the booklet inside. If you could just give that to the school, and make sure you carry this when you're not at home" … And now he's treating me like I'm five.

"I will. Thank you." A little false courtesy right back at'cha, dude. "Would you have a look at Edward's eye, please?" Please leave me alone. Go make yourself useful.

With one terse nod, he walked away.

Funny, his tone of voice changed completely when he approached Edward on the couch. "Hey, how's my boy? You doin' ok, Little Buddy? Let Daddy take a look…" aargh!

I pasted a smile on my face to get through dinner and baths and bedtime.

Carlisle startled me as I stood at the sink, finishing up the dinner dishes. "They're all tucked in." I stiffened when he placed his hands on my shoulders and a kiss on the top of my head. "I'm sorry about your friend," he murmured in my ear. I nodded curtly.

He was going to ignore his earlier tiff—sweep it under the rug. Unbelievable. I shrugged his hands off me and reached for a towel to dry my hands.

"What's the matter?"

"Are you serious? You're just going to ignore that whole exchange we had when you got home?"

He cocked his head to the side. "What… You don't like the beeper?"

I scoffed and shook my head incredulously. "The beeper's fine, but I don't appreciate your treating me like an idiot… like a three year old. 'And you were doing what all day?" I mimicked sarcastically.

"Ezzy…"

"God, you sound just like your mother. She's always mean and condescending to me, but I don't expect YOU to treat me that way. I'm your wife—your equal—I'm not your child, so don't you treat me like one."

He was completely taken aback. "I… I didn't realize I sounded that way."

"Well maybe you should use your little Dictaphone and record the way you speak to me next time you're ticked off about something. Might be enlightening."

He sighed, pinched the bridge of his nose, and ran his hand through his hair. "I'm sorry, Es." His face went completely blank and he turned to walk away, probably headed upstairs to bed even though it's only 9:00. And there's avoidance and the silent treatment. The final step in all of Carlisle's hissy fits…

"Carlisle…" He ignored me. "Carlisle!" I caught up and took his arm, nudging him toward the couch. "Sit down," I sighed. "Let's have some tea."

He slouched on the couch, head back, eyes closed, silently pulling his hair while we waited for the water to boil. Watching him stew, I started to feel guilty. I tried to calm myself and turn my bitchiness down a notch or two.

I set our tea down on the coffee table, gently took his wrists to pull his hands down to his lap, and tugged on his shoulder. "Sit up." I ran my own fingers through his soft blonde hair a few times to try to tame the mess he'd stirred up.

I sat down next to him, handed him his tea, and on a whim I grabbed the VCR remote off the table. I pointed it at myself and pushed the rewind button. "Rewind—Let's do this over."

He looked at me like I was crazy, then smiled as I placed his empty hand on my shoulder, leaned into him, and turned his chin toward my ear. "You had just said…" Moving his jaw with my fingers and using a deep voice I said, "'I'm sorry about your friend." He snickered at my goofiness. "And I should have said 'Thank you, it's been a really rough day.'" I placed my hand atop his on my shoulder and squeezed. "I'm sorry I made you worry about Edward."

He set his cup down so that he could massage my shoulders with both hands and kissed the shell of my ear. "I'm sorry I snipped at you. I didn't mean to make you feel belittled. And I didn't get you the pager to be spiteful. I really thought it might be helpful."

I savored the massage for a few seconds more, then took a deep breath and leaned back into his chest, placing my hands on his forearms as he wrapped them around me. "I know. The delivery just kind of sucked." He nodded into my neck and gave me an apologetic squeeze. "Sorry I compared you to your mother." I squeezed his knee.

"Hey, I learned from the best!" he chuckled.

"Well, I think we need to un-learn that particular communication style. I think we both need to teach ourselves how to… fight… nicer."

"Yeah." He held me tight and rocked us a bit.

Both of our moods started to pick up a bit. "No dumping, right?"

He smiled. "Nope. No dumping." He released me and reached for his tea.

Talk of his mom and my already foul mood dredged up old issues. "I wish she liked me," I whispered, trying not to cry. "I'd always dreamed that when I got married, I'd finally get a mom again."

"Ezzy, you know her actions have nothing to do with you. It's unbelievable to me that she can't see how wonderful and kind and beautiful you are.

No one would have been good enough for her only child, though, you know that. My getting married and moving on with my life meant that she was all alone with Dad, and it's their own damn fault that they didn't prepare themselves for that stage of life. It's her loss, Es. She's missing out on so much by not loving you."

I realized he was right, and vowed to myself that I'd never let my relationship with Carlisle go stale again and that I'd love and cherish my future daughters-in-law as if they were my own flesh and blood.

"What brought on the mom issues, Es?"

My face fell. "My friend Irina."

He took a deep breath. "Her mom and her sister both, huh? That's brutal."

I nodded.

"What kind of cancers do they have?"

"Breast. Both of them. She's scared to death. Her sister's my age."

He lifted my hand to his lips, then held it in his on his knee. "What's the prognosis?"

"The sister's is early, a small lump. But her mom's has spread to the lymph nodes."

He sighed and shook his head. "I'll pray for them."

I nodded, "Me, too. I wish there's more I could do, but they live back east. Ohio, I think…"

My mind started wandering, connecting all the sad stories of mothers passing and leaving their children alone. "At least Irina's grown. Her mom has been to her wedding, her college graduation, held her children… Poor little Jacob and his sisters will never get that." Tears flowed down my face.

"I wish he weren't taking it out on Edward, but I remember what it was like. For years after Mama died, I could be anywhere, doing anything, and without warning it would just hit me. I'd be overcome with these feelings of rage and despair. I'd lash out, not even aware of anyone around me or what I was doing. That died down mostly by the time I met you, but even now, certain places or things I see or hear will set me off. I just get this pang of emotion in my heart. I guess that's what happened today. I'm sorry I took it out on you."

Carlisle brushed my hair out of my face and wiped my tears. "I'm sorry I made it worse. I'll do everything I can to make you feel better. I'm pretty good at fixing hearts, you know." He placed our clasped hands over my heart. I smiled weakly and sniffed. He looked into my eyes. "No more tears, Baby. We don't do red eyes in our family."

"Are you treating me like a child again, mister?" I joked.

He put his hands up in front of him as if being arrested. "No, ma'am! You are 100% in charge around here!"

I laughed, "Well then, I want you to take me upstairs and snuggle me."

"As you wish…" I smiled at the reference he'd made to the great movie we'd seen on our last date night.

The next day, I wanted to surprise Carlisle for lunch. I confirmed with his assistant that his calendar was clear and drove to his office. As the elevator opened on his floor, I could hear someone yelling at him. "What the hell do you think you're doing, Cullen? Get your hands off my wife!"

Oh my gosh, what's going on? I rushed down the hall toward the shouting and looked in to see Carlisle sitting at the feet of Victoria, Dr. Hunter's wife—the fiery redhead who had come on to Carlisle at the Christmas party.

She was on the examination table. His back was to me, but I could see that he had one of his hands on her ankle, the other on her calf. She was shifting on the crinkly paper, moving her knees together. Had she just spread her legs right in front of his face, wearing that short dress?

Dr. Hunter was rushing forward, about to lift Carlisle up by the lapels of his lab coat. Victoria stood up and straightened her skirt, looking very much like the victim of an unwanted advance.

"Keep my hands off her? She's the aggressor here, James! She's the one who lied about twisting her ankle in those ridiculous high heels and probably lied about you being with a patient to get me in here alone so she could…"

"WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?" I demanded, hands on hips.

"Esme…" Carlisle gasped with a mixture of relief and horror.

"Explain yourselves!" I glared at him. Victoria tried to slink off, James in tow, a smug smile on her devious face showing how pleased she was that Carlisle—that scoundrel—got caught by the missus.

"You. Stay." I raged at her. "Are you making moves on my husband… again?"

"Again?" James shouted. "Vic, what's this all about?"

"According to your charming wife, Dr. Hunter, she's just dying to get Carlisle out of his underwear."

"What?" James boomed. "Who do you think you are, lady?"

"Hey, that's my wife." Carlisle fumed.

"And this is mine. She would never…"

"That was a joke!" Victoria shrieked. "Remember when I stole the Santa G-string from her at the Christmas party, Jamie? I just teased her that I was taking it and she wouldn't get to see Dr. Cullen in it."

"No, that's not exactly what you said, Victoria." I was disgusted again, recalling her words.

Carlisle looked on, dumbfounded, his head bobbing between me and the Hunters like he was watching a game of tennis.

"It was more like, 'I'd gladly strip Carlisle of his shorts any day.' And then you winked. Very subtle."

"Esme, you're so full of it! Get over yourse…"

"Actually, I think she used the word 'underwear,' not 'shorts.'" A deep voice interjected from the crowd gathering behind me. Thankfully, Garrett Russell had stepped in to confirm my side of the story. "Yeah, she'd 'gladly strip Carlisle of his underwear anyday,' is what I remember. And she did wink. It was pretty sleazy."

"Mm Hm. And then you and Kate took me home."

"Right. But first, remember when we were putting on our coats? That's when James tried on the g-string and stuffed it with tissue paper after you'd said it would probably be too small for Carlisle anyway." The onlookers burst out laughing.

James gripped Victoria's arm and the Hunters left in a huff.

Carlisle's jaw dropped.

Garrett and I looked at each other and started laughing, too. "Too bad you got paged, Cullen. You missed quite a gift exchange!" Garrett high fived a couple of the guys who had gathered around, describing just what had gone down at the Christmas party as the crowd dispersed.

"Thank you," I mouthed to him. He replied with a wink and a smile.

Carlisle and I were left alone. He circled my waist with his arms and breathed "my hero" into my ear.

"Just doing my job, sir, keeping the innocent safe from treacherous villains."

As we walked to the elevator, Carlisle took my hand and slipped me a little piece of paper as he whispered into my ear, "I kept fingering this in my pocket all morning. It's driving me crazy. Maybe she picked up on my horny thoughts or something. I'll let you enjoy it for the rest of the day."

"That vamp probably sniffed your arousal and tracked you down. I can't believe her. How can her husband not see what she's doing?"

"Shhh… Baby! That's enough about her. She's nothing. Forget about it. Read this. It's perfect." He grinned as we stepped in. I unfolded the slip of paper in the semi-privacy of the elevator and read:

Doctor, I'm not feeling well at all. I've got an itch that I can't scratch, my heart is beating so fast, I'm short of breath, and I feel like I'm going to faint. I will probably need a full examination and maybe even an injection. Can you help me, Doctor? Please?

I looked up at him and raised my eyebrows. Then, with a devious grin, I placed the back of my hand against my forehead, and sighed, "Oh, Dr. Cullen," pretending to swoon against the elevator wall. His eyes were full of lust as he caught me, pressing his body against me. "You're in luck," he breathed into my ear. "I make house calls."

With that, he planted a single, soulful kiss on my lips and backed away, resting nonchalantly against the back wall of the elevator, hands in his pockets, as the doors opened to the lobby.

As Carlisle opened the passenger side door of his sexy Porsche and guided me inside, we spotted the Hunters across the parking lot, screaming at each other next to her car. He gave them a friendly honk of the horn and I waved my fingers at them as we sped by.

Later that night, I found a paper medical robe on my bathroom vanity with instructions written in Carlisle's barely-legible handwriting. 'Open in front. Nothing underneath.' Oh, Doctor!

As I waited on the bed, he knocked twice and walked into the room, donning his white lab coat, "Dr. Cullen" embroidered above the pocket, with a stethoscope draped around his neck. Mmm. He's such a babe!

"Hello Miss Platt. How are you today?" I smiled at his use of my maiden name. Oh, sexy doctor, I think I just soaked a hole through this paper robe.

"Dr. Cullen, I'm so glad you're here. Can you help me?" I looked up at him, eyes wide and flirty, and spoke in a high, breathy, youthful voice.

"What seems to be the problem?" He was all business. Very serious.

"I'm afraid something's terribly wrong, doctor. Every time I see you or even think about you, my heart starts beating so fast. I can't seem to catch my breath, I feel like I'm going to faint, and I have this irresistible feeling between my legs—like an itch that I can never quite scratch. And when I'm not near you, I get this terrible ache." I grasped at my chest. "I don't know what it is, doctor, can you please help me?"

"Well, let's take a look." He wrapped a blood pressure cuff around my arm and I placed my hand on his waist as he ran the test. As the cuff filled with air, squeezing my arm, I thought with a smirk of something else I'd like to squeeze.

He stared at my lips and barely whispered "open" to place a thermometer under my tongue.

He combed the hair away from my face and traced the outside of my ears with his finger before looking inside with his scope.

I pursed my lips around the thermometer, sucking on it as he slid if from my mouth, causing him to gulp. I smiled, knowing he was getting as turned on by our role play as I was. He ran his thumb along my bottom lip.

"Open wide."

He clenched his jaw as my mouth opened into a wide O, took in his tongue depressor, and moaned an erotic sounding, "Ahhhh…"

When he slowly slid his stethoscope from around his neck and placed it in his ears, my breath hitched. As he stood to my side and placed the scope against my back, I couldn't help but shudder with the deep breaths he requested.

I closed my eyes, overcome with desire, and gripped his coat along the button placket. The bare skin peeking between his lapels, and the lean, muscular runner's legs extending below the hem of his coat indicated that he wore no shirt, no slacks.

Was he completely bare underneath that lab coat? Was he naked? The thought of it caused a wave of heat to flush through my body.

As he moved around front to my chest, I placed my hands behind me and leaned on them, dropping my head back so that I peered at the ceiling. This caused my chest to jut out toward the good doctor as he spread my paper robe apart to check my racing heart.

"Hmmm… I see what you mean. Your heart rate is quite elevated. Would you like to listen?"

"Yes, doctor," I purred.

He removed the stethoscope from his ears and placed it gently in mine. He lifted the round disc and whispered almost silently into it, "I love you," before placing it on my racing heart. I closed my eyes and smiled gently, listening to the evidence of my desire for him.

"Only for you, Carlisle," I whispered.

After a brief pause, I heard a slightly different beat and opened my eyes to see him holding the instrument to his own bare chest. I looked up into his eyes and he replied, "And mine beats for you, Ezzy."

I placed my hand over the one he held to his chest. He cupped my face with his free hand and gazed into my eyes, dazzling me with a sea of brilliant blue, as we silently worshipped each other to the steady, strong, beating of his heart. He broke our reverie with a soft kiss, removed the tool from my ears, and resumed his examination.

"Now, Miss Platt, since you mentioned some discomfort between your legs, I'll need to conduct a complete gynecological exam as well. Will that be all right?"

"Yes, doctor, anything you need to do. I'm in your capable hands." I batted my eyelashes at him a couple times and we both tried to stifle a laugh.

"We'll start with a breast exam. Are you checking yourself every month?" He laid me down on my back.

"I try to doctor, but sometimes I forget."

He spread the paper robe open wider to expose my chest and proceeded to give me a thorough breast exam, reminding me how to do a self exam as he did so. When finished, he caressed my cheek and said, "You're perfect," looking tenderly into my eyes and nodding slightly to let me know that I was safe and healthy, reassuring me after Irina's terrible news yesterday. My lips turned up in thanks.

He leaned down to kiss me first on the lips, then on the top of each breast as he cupped them from below. He moved to stand, but I guided his head toward my nipple, desperate for the moist warmth of his tongue on my most sensitive spots. I moaned as his suckling and nibbling on one side and then the other made me dizzy and sent tingling jolts of desire to my pelvis.

He stood with a grin. "That's an exam I only conduct on house calls. You should feel very lucky."

"Oh doctor, I'm the luckiest woman alive." It's true. I feel so blessed that Carlisle chose me and has stood faithfully by my side for all these years. This beautiful man. So many women admire him, desire him… some of them half my age, yet even through our difficult times, I'm the girl he wants. Lucky, indeed.

"Are you ready to move on?" He moved his hands to my waist, ready to tear apart the flimsy plastic sash that held the paper robe closed. I nodded, and with a growl, he tore it open, exposing me to him, head to toe. He began pressing my belly and pelvis to check my internal organs. He reached into his bag for KY Jelly and a latex glove, and then I felt his fingers thrust inside me—two, I think—feeling my cervix and other lady parts.

"You know, at our age, physiological changes start to occur which might make you feel uncomfortable during intercourse. Be sure to use a lubricant every time, Miss Platt, so that you can fully enjoy every sexual experience. Even when your own body makes you as wet as you are tonight, an added lubricant will ensure that you don't miss any of the pleasure."

"Thank you doctor Cullen. That's excellent advice."

Carlisle concluded the clinical part of the exam, and began using his fingers to massage all my most sensitive places. As he concentrated on my g-spot, my breathing sped up and I could feel my nerves and muscles tightening, clenching, twitching as I approached orgasm.

"Oh, doctor," I moaned.

He wasn't ready to let me go over the edge quite yet and slowed his fingers, causing me to pout at the loss.

He moved his hand to my backside, drumming his finger tips over my anus, causing me to clench.

"Carlisle…" I objected, uncomfortable and a little disgusted, freaked out by what he was doing, and what else I thought he might do.

"Just relax and take a deep breath, Miss Platt. Do you like that?"

I squirmed. "It tickles."

"Mm Hm. Do you like it?"

"Um… I guess so." I giggled, embarrassed to admit that it did feel pretty good. "Yes."

He smiled and kissed me.

"Ahhh…" I sighed as he moved down my body, leaving a trail of kisses and nips.

When his face was between my thighs, he spread my labia with his fingers and took a long look. "So pretty," he murmured.

Hungry eyes met mine for a moment before he remembered his role play. "Hmm… Let's have a closer look." He licked his lips and then placed a slow, gentle kiss between my legs. He pulled away quickly, eyebrows knit and trying to hide a grimace as he sought the paper gown I'd worn and used it to wipe the artificial lubricant from my body.

"Sorry."

"It's fine." He kissed me again and looked up with a reassuring smile. Then his tongue darted out and gave me a quick lick. "Yum."

I snickered and wove my fingers through his hair, guiding him closer. He obliged. Kissing, nibbling, sucking. "Oh god…" Flicking, lapping, swirling. "That's so good…" And every so often, tickling my backside again with the hand that was still gloved. "Oh YES Carlisle, right there, just like that."

I loved the added sensation and felt my body building up to the orgasmic state it had been in before my husband surprised me with his first touch back there. I took a deep, cleansing breath in. As I let it out slowly, I felt my stomach, my pelvis, my thighs, clench and tighten and explode in a blast of tingling white light radiating out from deep inside me to the tips of my fingers and toes. I clenched my teeth to keep from screaming out loud. I moaned. "Oh, god… Oh my god… Ooooooh." My chest heaved, trying to get enough oxygen.

Carlisle looked up slowly, looking smug and I heard him snap off the latex glove. Once I'd caught my breath and come down from my bliss, I asked him what in the world prompted him to touch me like that.

"You've surprised me with so many new things with the Fantasy Basket, I wanted to surprise you with something new. I hope you liked it. I love being your first, you know." He gave me a quick kiss and then returned to character.

"Now, Miss Platt, I believe I've identified the problem you're having, but I'd like to conduct an ultrasound to confirm my diagnosis."

"Oh my goodness, I'm not pregnant, am I?" What in the world is he talking about? He doesn't have an ultrasound machine here.

"No, no. I suspect something completely different. I just need to take a closer look, ok?"

"Of course, doctor, whatever you need to do."

"Very well. Here we are." He held up my hot pink vibrator. I covered my face with my hands and laughed. He tried to stifle a chuckle as well, and then cleared his throat to continue, "You've had a vaginal ultrasound before, haven't you, Miss Platt?"

"Yes, Sir, I have." We were barely stifling our giggles.

"Good, so you know what to expect. This should give us a good feel for what's going on between your legs so that I can settle on a course of treatment."

"What a relief that will be."

"I certainly hope so. Let's begin, shall we?" He spread my knees apart, applied a big glob of KY Jelly to the tip of the vibrator, and switched it on at full speed.

"Carlisle, no!" My warning was too late. Lubricant splattered on the sheets and both of us before he quickly turned it off.

"Whoops!" We were both laughing hysterically as we used the paper robe to clean up the mess.

"You have to turn it on after it's already in! Besides, there's no way I can handle high speed, especially right now. I'm still pretty tingly from that last one. I might just die and go to heaven, even on low."

"Death by orgasm," he laughed. "Sounds like a good way to go!" He lay down next to me, needing some rest from his fit of laughter.

As we lay side by side, I asked, "How many guys have you had on your table who've had heart attacks while they're going at it?"

"Uhhhh…." He snorted. "More than a few over the years."

"Any women?"

He nodded. "They're harder to spot, and less likely to admit it, but… yeah."

"That would be horrifying." I burst into laughter.

"Well, for the ones who don't make it, at least they went out happy!" he grinned.

"Oh, you're awful!" I gasped. Our laughter calmed and we were quiet for a moment.

"This is fun." He turned his head to look at me and flashed his gorgeous smile.

I nodded in agreement, silently meeting his eyes with my own. I caught a glimpse of our past: we were best friends, always laughing… teasing… playful. Could we get back there? I hoped so.

He turned to his side, head propped on his elbow. "You wanna finish up, or are you tired out?"

"Oh, Dr. Cullen, I could never stop now." I ran my fingers along the bare skin exposed between his lapels. "I've been dying to find out what's under this lab coat all night…" I giggled.

He sat back up. "Well, where were we?"

"Covered in goo…" I joked.

He laughed, shook his head, and whispered, "stop it!" under his breath.

"Sorry," I snickered and then bit my lips together to hold in the giggles and the sarcasm. He rose to his feet and bent down to give me a quick kiss.

"Doctor?" he looked up at me, eyebrows raised. I batted my eyes once or twice. "I trust your diagnosis without the ultrasound. I think I'd just like the antidote now, please."

"Are you sure?" He raised his eyebrows.

I nodded. I really did think the vibrator might kill me right now.

"Yes, well… I'm fairly certain that my findings are correct, so it should be all right to forgo that final test." He crossed his arms in front of his chest and began pacing the floor.

"Miss Platt, I'm sorry to inform you that you are suffering from something called catellus deserta. It's a fairly common affliction, and not life threatening. However, the course of treatment is fairly rigorous. Many find it very difficult to treat fully," what the heck is he talking about? "but similar to antibiotics, the medicine I'm going to prescribe for you must be applied precisely according to the directions for a full seven days. Even if you're feeling better, it's essential that you complete the full course of treatment. Do you understand?" 7 days of what?

"Yes, doctor, of course."

"Good." He began unbuttoning his lab coat, but stopped when he got to his waist. Darn! "The treatment for catellus deserta is a vaginal cream that must be applied directly to the cervix, using a special applicator."

My eyes grew wide and my lips curled into a smile as it dawned on me. "The applicator will deliver a measured dose of the medication each time it's used, so you'll get the proper amount. It is very important that you apply this cream at around the same time each day for seven days in a row. Will your schedule permit for that right now?"

"I believe so, yes." Hmmm… 7 days in a row? We haven't done that since we were trying to make Baby Emmett.

"Good. Shall we proceed with the first application?" He reached for the remaining buttons on his lab coat, revealing that he wore nothing underneath. Oooh!

"Most definitely, Dr. Cullen." I squirmed and gripped the sheets at the sight of his glorious body, standing fully erect. He dropped the coat to the floor, and I licked my lips in anticipation. I've got to be the luckiest girl alive that this gorgeous, sexy doctor is mine and mine alone.

I sighed as he crawled across the bed, not stopping until his body lay atop mine, covering me completely and providing the warmth and weight that I'd been craving. His eyes were sparkling, playful. He hummed slightly and buried his face in my neck where he began nipping and sucking from my jaw to my collarbone, to my shoulder, paying lots of attention to the sweet spot behind my ear.

"I see that the special applicator is primed and ready, doctor." Well, I couldn't actually see it, but I did feel it pressing against my thigh.

He lifted his head with a devious smirk. "It's been ready and waiting all day, Miss Platt," and he ran his length along my folds, coating himself with the wetness that pooled there. After three passes, I just couldn't stand the anticipation any longer.

"Now, doctor. I'm ready for my shot." I reached down to guide him into my opening and reveled in the feeling of Carlisle, sheathed deep inside me with each urgent thrust. I wrapped my legs around his waist and lifted my hips in rhythm with his. His lips attacked mine. His tongue thrust into my mouth at the same pace as his hips, continuing until he had to release me and gasp for breath.

"Doctor Cullen will take care of you, Baby, your catellus deserta." Oh my!

"Tell me more, doctor." I unhooked my ankles and placed my feet flat on the bed on either side of him, my knees bent to provide more leverage for thrusting my hips into his. I reached my arms above my head, gripping the bars of the wrought iron headboard.

He grunted Latin medical terms into my ear as he pounded into me over and over and over. I took hold of my knees and held them up, straightening my legs so that my ankles were up around my ears. All those years of dance classes and cheerleading as a kid had made me pretty flexible, and I could still do the splits at 38. Came in very useful in times like this… The new position allowed Carlisle to sink even deeper into me, eliciting moans of pleasure from both of us.

"Mmmmm… faster, doctor. Harder, please." He shifted slightly to gain more leverage and pounded faster, harder, hitting the perfect spot inside me, over and over and over again. "Yes… yes… yes… don't stop… right there… Oh, I'm so close… Oh, yeah…." I released one of my legs and reached down to where we were joined, gathering moisture from our coupling on an outward stroke. I flicked my clitoris with the tip of my middle finger, shuddering each time it caught against my fingernail in a satisfying scratch.

"Oh, yeah, Baby. I love it when you touch yourself." Soon, my muscles clenched, my breathing sped, and I felt the wonderful, familiar tingle begin deep within my pelvis and spread throughout my body. "Ohhhhhhh…." I was coming for a third, magnificent time tonight, digging my nails into Carlisle's ass and pulling him into me as close as we could possibly get. The squeezing of my orgasm triggered his own, and he let out a tantalizing series of grunts, groans, and curses as his whole body tensed and I felt him throbbing deep inside me.

As we lay clinging to each other, catching our breath, I kept feeling him throb. With each twitch, I squeezed my Kegel muscles around him, causing his breath to hitch. It sounded like he had the hiccups, and soon we were both giggling. "Stop tha… hup!"

"Are you finished? I'll stop when you do." I teased.

"Hup… I can't help… hup… it." He snickered and nuzzled into my neck, the twitch-squeeze-hitch pattern slowing. When it finally subsided, he lifted his head and looked into my eyes, resuming character. "All right, Miss Platt, we have successfully applied the first dose. Remember to repeat daily for one week."

It was a very good week. Exhausting, but good.

I snuck the doctor fantasy back into the basket.

A/N

Check yourself for breast cancer—every month—unless you have a Dr. Carlisle to do it for you. Sadly, I do not.

Thanks to Besotted for not letting me take things too far.

Thanks for reading. Please review!

JEN