Doctor Kim

Chapter 22

I rode the enormous hospital elevator to the fourth floor and crossed my arms over my chest as I stepped into the chilly hallway. It was hot and humid outside, but in the hospital, it was arctic.

The hallway was lined with windows, and the sun was sinking in the sky, glaring off windshields of cars in the parking lot below. Had Min even seen the sun today? She'd been on call since four a.m.

It was quiet as I walked along the empty hallway. There was a space to my left with a few rows of chairs, but no one was seated there waiting. I pulled out my phone and stared at the text I'd received from her a few minutes ago.

Minji: Go to the desk and tell the receptionist you're here to see me.

My heart tripped along at double-speed. The idea of role-playing as a patient of hers? God, it turned me on. I was filled with anticipation for later tonight, excited to do this. But I also had anxiety about pretending now with strangers. Not just strangers, but her co-workers. It was dangerous, and maybe a little exciting too.

The desk was basically a wall with a sliding glass window, which was open, and when I approached, the woman seated behind it barely looked up.

"Hi. I'm here for Dr. Kim," I said. Could she hear how unsteady my voice was?

If she did, she didn't seem to think anything of it. "Your name?"

"Hanni Pham."

She plucked a Post-It note off her desk with my name scribbled on it and nodded toward the waiting room chairs. "Have a seat. She'll be with you shortly."

I was tight and edgy as I slipped into one of the chairs and ran my sweaty palms along the side seams of my jeans. There was a clock on the far wall, and every loud tick from its second hand reverberated through my body. The wait was both uncomfortable and . . . pleasurable. My mind ran through different fantasies. How far would she let me go in the role play? Could I be the bold, naughty patient I wanted to be for her?

I practically yelped and leapt from the chair when the door swung open and Minji leaned out. "Hanni? Come on back."

I didn't get a full look at her because she stood behind the door, holding it open for me. I shuffled along the carpet, and as soon as I stepped through the door into a new hallway, I was ushered to a room on my left.

There was a nice couch on one side, a coffee table with magazines, and two oversized chairs on the other. It was a nicer waiting room than where I'd just been, but much smaller. Only enough room for six people or so.

This had to be the place where doctors delivered their post-op summary to families. I turned to face her, and all the air whooshed from my lungs.

Minji was essentially wearing a suit. She wore black dress pants, a white collared shirt and a cobalt-colored tie. Her suitcoat was fitted and white, and she completed the look with a turquoise stethoscope slung around her neck. My gaze traced the blue lettering over her right breast.

Minji Kim, MD

Trauma Surgery

It didn't matter that she had faint lines around her eyes hinting at her fatigue, or that her normally perfect hair looked disheveled, as if she'd run a hand through it one too many times. It didn't matter because she looked fucking perfect. My dirty doctor fantasy come to life.

And she gazed back at me like she wanted to eat me whole, which was more than fine with me. She sauntered over, and her confidence seemed to build with each step, widening her wicked smile.

Her voice was deep and sinful. "What seems to be the problem?"

"Problem?" I whispered.

"You're flushed. Breathing hard." She seized my wrist, pressed her index finger to my pulse point, and peered down at her watch, counting the seconds. "Your pulse is elevated."