“Mister Drahcir, so glad you could finally make time in your busy schedule to come down and see us,” Callista spoke with a dignified, professional tone, catching the wolf off guard based on his body language. “You’d been living in town for what, close to eight months now?”
With the removal of Miribel Oniker as a patient, Callista had felt more free to dress how she wanted to dress at her practice. The hateful mouse had imposed her will upon not just the lion but the nurses and miscellaneous staff as well. With that newfound sense of freedom, the lioness wore an outfit that turned heads as often as her physical appearance had.
Her thick green hair was kept up in a bun, one of the few changes that had survived the mass culling of the ways the elder had fought so viciously to keep in place. Gone were the loose-fitting, bland scrubs, and in its place was a pure white doctor’s coat that hung just above her shins. Beneath that was a black skirt and matching tight-fitting top, unbuttoned enough to expose ample cleavage and even the tops of the lion’s breasts should they catch her at the right angle.
In her breast pocket were various pens, markers, and her phone. A pair of thin, wired spectacles rested atop the bridge of her short muzzle.
Her list of patients had skyrocketed following the dismissal of Oniker, an act that had initially worried the lion from a business perspective. The eight new patients and nearly twenty applications that followed had quickly assuaged her of that concern. Dressing so seductively and unprofessional as a doctor had been a gambit that paid off remarkably well in the end.
She just needed to remember to button up in front of the children, is all. Couldn’t afford another horny thirteen-year-old plunging his hand down her shirt again.
The wolf shifted awkwardly in his seat, the crinkly white paper beneath him sounding louder than it had any right to be. He rested his hands in his lap and focused his sights on the blue lioness that sat before him.
Her long, powerful legs crossed before her, exposing the fleshy pads that lined the bottom of her paws. Her right paw bopped up and down to the beat of the music coming from the break room down the hall.
“Says here you haven’t seen a regular doctor in seven years,” she cocked an eyebrow, her yellow feline eyes glistening as the light struck them. “Can you elaborate as to why that is, Mr. Drahcir?”
The wolf’s ears fell flat. “Ah, uh, yeah, about that. I just never had a reason to go, is all. I was barely making it as it was, and I couldn’t really factor my health into the equation when funds were so limited…”
“Health care is expensive, yes.” She said, tapping the butt of her pen against her chin as she reviewed the wolf’s admittedly barren medical file. “Still, an occasional visit wouldn’t have hurt every few years.”
She minimized the window and then turned her full attention to the wolf, the fiery embers in his eyes meeting the goldenrod-colored spheres of her own, a primal sensation of being a prey species striking the wolf as a result. “Well, seeing as how that is, that just means the list of tests and exams I’ll need to do on you will be an extensive one.” The professionalism in her voice was gone, replaced with a sultry, smooth, and sexy tone that hit the wolf with enough force that could have knock a building over.
She stood up, towering over the wolf by a good six inches. Maintaining eye contact with a vice grip, she leaned forward, bringing her face within inches of the wolf. His eyes, for a brief second, broke the focus he’d with her own, glancing down her shirt to the two large globes that hung from her chest, held firmly in place by an impressive black bra with low-cut cups. The lioness smiled seductively as his eyes returned to hers. She licked at one of the elongated fangs that protruded out of her upper jaw.
“I’m telling Brigid you looked at my tits.” She said suddenly, the heaviness that had rapidly filled the room swept away in a heartbeat! The tone of her voice had gone back to the casual one he was familiar with.
“Oh, hell’s bells! I had you going there for a second, didn’t I? I’m so sorry, Advrik. Brigid put me up to that. I’d never make moves on a taken beast…” She lied.
Thirty minutes and two vials of blood later, the exam was over, and the plasma samples were packed and ready to be shipped from examination. The wolf rose from his prone position across the table, dizzy and slightly nauseous from having his blood taken.
“You need a drink? A snack cake, maybe? Hey Leif, bring me one of those little tree cakes in, please.”
The opossum appeared a moment later, holding a singularly wrapped snack cake shaped like a Christmas tree with red streamers and green sprinkles. He handed the wolf the package, then excused himself.
“Well, your heart, lungs, eyes, and ears all seem to be okay. I didn’t see anything off about your throat, and your pulse was normal. If there’s something physically wrong with you, I couldn’t find it.” Callista said as she rapidly typed in the results of her exam into the computer and populated Advrik’s file with much-needed info. “I suppose I could check you for a hernia just to be sure,” she cast a side eye at the wolf.
He stopped chewing, and a piece of the white crumbly cake dropped to his lap, bounced off, and then fell to the floor.
“I’m kidding; I’ve no reason to do such a test. Fuck knows how Brigid would feel knowing I got to feel your nuts before she did.”
Advrik hacked up the second bite of the cake. “Ahem, well, besides that and the blood work, does everything seem all right?” The wolf wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, leaving a tiny streak of white cream smeared into his fur.
“Oh, for sure. You could stand to lose a few pounds, but besides that, you’re perfectly healthy for a grey wolf. And I only say lose some weight because you weigh as much as a…” she paused, aware that her next remark could be considered hurtful if not worded correctly. “Well, you’re just a little pudgy, is all.” Nailed it, the lioness thought.
“But besides that, I believe we’re done here. If you’ll talk to Winstead at the front desk, she’ll give you the date for your next appointment.” And with that, the lion excused the wolf as she let her friend out while she retreated to the break room.
The small break room was a modest one and looked as if it had at one time been a kitchen of some sort. There was a working sink and a that hung over the counter top, which Callista had assumed to be where a range once stood.
She sat at the small table, a fresh cup of steaming coffee before her. After sending a few texts to Brigid, she navigated to a different contact. Elliot Chandler, her booty call. The doberman had been out of town for a few weeks now on business. What that business was, the lioness had never thought to inquire.
There hadn’t been a single reply to any of her texts. Padding through the list of messages between the two, she realized she’d never given the canine much reason to be anything but hit it and quit it in their interactions together, but she’d assumed that some form of friendship had existed beyond that.
The silence was deafening.
Callista had never been one to keep the company of her sexual acquaintances. She’d establish a booty call, lay a firm groundwork, then lay THEM after. Elliot had been different somehow, but in which way, she couldn’t tell. Maybe the small-town spirit was beginning to seep its way in and change her way of thinking.
Maybe.
No comments:
Post a Comment