Midnight Toxicity

9.

Dr. Royce Moray couldn't have been a day over thirty. It wasn't as if I expected an old fart to escort me into a typical doctor's office down a narrow hallway with Dotty grinning idiotically behind us. However, he must have done something naughty to work out of a rundown building.

The crisp white coat he wore had his name embroidered on the front, and with his shiny leather loafers and pleated pants, he looked important. Someone to be admired. An uneasy feeling settled in my stomach when he requested a urine sample, then pointed to forms on a clipboard, indicating to fill them out.

A chipper Dotty retrieved my pee after I exited a surprisingly clean bathroom across from the examination room, and I sat down to a six-page questionnaire. Damn, what didn't Andy Golding need to learn about me? The only thing he left out was the side of the bed I preferred to sleep on.

Moray returned within twenty minutes, his cheeks pinking while asking me to undress. "I have further questions, if you don't mind, Charlize."

Since I practically grew up in a strip club, nudity was not a big deal to me. I shed my clothes with care, folding each item to avoid wrinkles. I left on my matching light blue with white lace trim panties and bra, and he hurried to locate a paper gown. Really? He should have led with that. Grabbing the disposable shirt, I covered myself before sitting on the exam table.

"Shoot," I purred, crossing my long legs. "I'm an open book, Dr. Moray."

He was handsome with slick blonde hair, and his blush only added to his appeal. "Great. Eh... um..."

An awkward amount of time passed before we spoke. He sounded shy and uncertain. He didn't inspire confidence, that's for sure. "Are you alright?"

"Yes," he chuckled, shifting on his feet. "When did you last engage in sexual intercourse?"

No wonder he hesitated. Dr. Moray worked for Andy Golding — that much I understood — but why? Was he a pervert or cheating on his taxes by seeing patients off the record? Educated men did not spend years earning degrees to piss it all away without cause. Unless I asked, he wouldn't say, but right then, his involvement sat low on my list of concerns. Not with him stammering and looking so uncomfortable in my presence. He came off as harmless, and it put me at ease. Not a lot, but enough to speak.

This could be fun if he kept his shit together.

"I'm a virgin!" I widened my eyes, pressing my palms against my racing heart.

He blinked several times, clearing his throat. "Should I invite Dotty in here? Will that make you more comfortable?"

I lifted my shoulders innocently. "No. Sorry, you aren't the first to not laugh at my jokes."

He sighed, perching on a rolling stool. "Yeah, sometimes I forget not everyone understands why he does this."

He — meaning Andy Golding. How much info can I harvest from this pretty man?

"I have no idea why I'm here," I confessed. "Are you allowed to discuss Golding?"

"Not exactly." he frowned, reaching over to grab the clipboard I set on the counter. "Let's focus on your exam, shall we?"

Pompous jerk.

"What did you ask? Oh, that's right. When's the last time I fucked? Not on Friday. He only ate me out." I jumped off the table as his blue eyes bulged at my rambling. "Let me check the calendar on my phone. Hmm, two months ago, I screwed a guy outside his ex's house. He wanted to drive her crazy with jealousy, but she recorded us as blackmail. The bitch deserved what happened after that, but you didn't hear it from me."