Wake-Up Call. Joaquin De Torres
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bent over me to grab her drink and I felt her full young breasts rubbing my neck.
“That’s a good idea, Brit,” said Faye, still typing. “Take him to the basement game room and play some pool.”
“Yeah, do that, Brit,” Blaine agreed. “Make sure you get him another margarita when he’s done with that one.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of him.” I could feel her nipples hardening on my neck.
“Great, Brit! Keep him occupied for an hour and the food should be ready by then.”
“Actually, I have to go!” I said abruptly. I stood up and turned to Brittany and realized that she was about four inches taller than me. The deep valley between her tanned breasts held my eyes for a moment, to her satisfaction as registered by her appreciative grin. But when I whispered “Brittany, I can’t,” her expression turned to disappointment. As I moved passed her, her hand smoothly slid to my crotch and gently squeezed. I froze again because I was hard! Like a lead pipe, but I couldn’t let the Tuckman’s see that.
“Please stay,” Brittany whispered as she squeezed my penis again. I began to sweat at the temples.
“Come on, Doctor. Just have lunch with us,” urged Faye. I took my seat again, not daring to turn around. I reached for my briefcase next to my chair.
“One second, please,” I stalled. I retrieved my cell, pressed one button and shook my head. “I really can’t. I’ve got another appointment in Hayward and I’ve really got to get going.”
“Well, then leave us your card,” suggested Blaine. “We’d like to know the status of Doug now that we know you’re in charge of his care.”
“I’m not in charge of his care, yet, Mr. Tuckman. First I have to find him. I will let you know when I do.” I put my card in front of Faye, but it was snatched up by Brittany. She picked up her cell and began entering my number into her phone. She winked at me and gave the card to her mother. By that time I was ready to stand up. I took my bag, and extended my hand to Faye.
“Thank you for your hospitality, Mrs. Tuckman.” She shook my hand and smiled, then her cell phone went off again and she forgot I was there. I walked around the table to where Blaine was drying his hands after washing them at the bar. Brittany followed closely behind.
“Thank you again, sir, for your time.”
“Doctor Flores, can I have a word with you privately?”
“Sure.” I noticed Brittany didn’t get the hint and instead stood behind her father.
He made that laugh, but this time it was laced with embarrassment. He looked down awkwardly and I could tell he didn’t want to say what he was about to say.
“Dr. Flores, I have a sizable life insurance policy on Doug, as well as my daughter here. Now I’ve checked with the police department a few times over the years and so far the reports have been negative, thank God. But if anything happens to him. . .” He laughed but cut it short. His voice lowered to a whisper. “I need to know.” I looked at him stonily.
“To collect the money,” I said coldly.
“Exactly.” I looked over my shoulder at Faye and saw that she was now standing on the far side of the pool talking on her cell. So, I unloaded.
“Mr. Tuckman, your son could be dead in a ditch right now! Dead for weeks, and the last thing you want me to know about is your goddamn insurance policy?”
“I’m sorry if that came out bad, Doctor-”
“Came out bad? I’ll tell you what came out bad. You and your wife have no clue about your son’s condition and its ramifications. He may have Axis II mental retardation, syndromal autism, neurodegenerative disease, first rank schizophrenia, or all of the above. More than six years out of a mental hospital, he’s definitely suffering some substantial, maybe progressive mental psychosis. The horrible thing is, every day he spends alone on the street, the risk of him being a victim of a violent or deadly act goes up exponentially.”
Tuckman considered this and looked down in shame; Brittany bit her lip and turned her head.
“Now, I’ve got to find him and get him into my program before he becomes a statistic.” I narrowed my eyes. “Before you get your money.”
Silence.
“I apologize, Doctor,” Tuckman said finally with a straight face. He held out his hand and I took it. “If there’s anything I can do for you, financial or otherwise, please let me know.
“You can start by calling Doug your son.” I smiled respectfully. He still had not released my hand, and gave it another few shakes.
“Thank you for helping our son, Doctor Flores. Please keep me informed, and call me if you need anything else.” Just by the sincerity in his eyes my opinion of him softened somewhat. He wasn’t smiling; he was hopefully, edified. He released my hand.
“Are you sure you can’t join us for lunch?”
“No, really, but thank you. Maybe some other time, when I have some news for you. Good news, of course.” I glimpsed Brittany’s eyes widen with anticipation.
“Honey, the Richardson’s are coming over!” called out Faye. “You need to start the grill!” He waved to her.
“Doctor, Brittany will show you out, if that’s alright?”
“No problem.” Oh God. He left and went back out to the main patio. I turned and headed back into the massive ten-bedroom house. Brittany took my hand, then hooked her arm in mine and snuggled her body next to me as we walked. I was aroused again, but held my own from one massive room to the next. When we reached the main hall, I noticed the family portraits on the wall. Dozens of them of various sizes and time frames. There were no photos of Doogie. Not a one. I made a mental note of that.
When we reached the large mahogany front doors, elegantly carved with inlaid brass and etched glass, Brittany moved ahead of me and quickly turned around, blocking my path. She slid cozily up to my body, her face less than an inch from mine. She looked into my eyes without fear.
“Brittany,” was the only word I was able to get out before her tongue slid into my mouth. My body tensed up like an old tree as she slowly explored my mouth and lips; probing, licking and kissing me. She wasn’t rough; she was gentle and passionate, making my body’s auto-receptor impulses expand. I began to relax and accept what was happening to me. She sensed this and took both my hands and guided them around her waist and down. She placed them on her buttocks; taut and perfectly round. My fingers instinctively slid beneath the bikini and nestled at the valley of her tight crevasse. I felt her panting in my mouth as she took one hand away and brought it up to one breast. She flipped up her bra cup and suddenly my hand closed around a naked breast that was equally firm with hardened nipple. Her breathing increased as I squeezed and groped her. Her hands, gently holding my face, dropped down to her sides and began sliding her bikini panty down. They were at mid thigh when she pulled the hand I had on her buttocks around to her vagina and spread her legs slightly. My fingers were now entangled in a moist forest of hair. She moaned lightly as her tongue lolled deeper down my throat.
“Take me, Doctor,” she panted belabored. “On the couch, over there!”
I hadn’t had sex with a real person in years. My case load and book writing were to blame for that. But I’d learned to hold it together when I needed to make some free time for myself. I had a nice collection of girls on my hard drive thanks to free Internet porn and the ‘Save image as’ function.
But this was huge; this was live! This was real flesh, heat, saliva, hair. So, not only was this a massive surprise in my life, with a massively hot, young woman; it was a massive turn-on that was over-taking my better judgment.
It was also wrong.
I opened my eyes and like a machine, I shut it all down. Years of suppressing my emotions during the most heart-breaking therapies