I hurried along the sidewalk, my feet moving swiftly. My head down, first one then the other, flashed out from under me. I was late for my appointment with Dr. Ramirez. I hadn't met him, but had been assured by the brilliantly kind and gentle Dr. Leal, that Ramirez was the one I should see. He'd apparently had success with cases similar to mine. And Dr. Leal was seldom wrong about these matters.
It all started three weeks ago. I had already gone down in public four times and once at dinner with my aunt.
Before I explain what I am experiencing now, I must give you a little background. I am a wine drinker. Everyone knows I drink nothing but red wine-the deeper, the richer the better. All my friends and family keep this stuff in stock just for me. It's always around me. And under normal circumstances, that is a good thing.
But a few weeks ago I walked into my friend JoAnn's living room. She was watching a movie. Some dark thriller from a few years ago. She was so intent on the screen I began to watch, too. And I saw him. He handed her a glass of red wine and looked into the camera. I fainted.
I
fainted dead away when that splendid vision of a man had held out a glass of
wine. Like it was for me, right through the 76 inch screen. Then, as my friend
handed me the glass of wine she'd had waiting for me, well, I fainted again!
"Hey, I know Antonio Banderas is sexy, but Linda, please get up off the
floor," JoAnn said.
Antonio
Banderas. I heard the name through the fog of the short faint. I was afraid
this was going to be serious.
I sat up and got closer to the TV screen. Yep, there he was. Sexiest actor I'd
ever laid eyes on. What I needed now was a glass of wine while I watched the
rest of the movie.
But I got so light-headed I almost fainted at the mere thought. And that was
only the beginning.
The
affliction has been more and more of a burden during the past three weeks. Hurt
feelings, rumors of pregnancy and accusations of snobbery had all come my way.
JoAnn said, "Go to Dr. Leal. He's just the one to find a cure for this.
In fact, I believe either he or one of his colleagues have dealt with similar
weaknesses and spells.
So, I went to Dr. Leal's Clinic. And he, indeed, was all she said he would be,
and more. I thought the gaze from those melting brown eyes would cure me right
there on the spot. I could see right away why the majority of his patients were
women. Anyway, he referred me to Dr. Ramirez who'd been away when Leal and I
met, so I'd not met him. I certainly hoped Dr. Leal was right again and this
session would be all I might need to get my life back on track.
I ran up the stairs and opened the door.
"Good morning," said Joann. Oh. Did I mention she is Dr. Leal faithful assistant? She is.
"Hi, JoAnn," I said.
"I'm so glad you're here," she said. "Dr. Ramirez is waiting for you in the office at the end of that hall." She pointed to the hall to my left.
"Thanks, I'll talk to ya later," I said. I lifted my hand in a half wave and headed toward the hallway she'd indicated.
My heart was beating a little faster. A new shrink. I hoped he wouldn't want to plumb the depths of my painful childhood or anything. After all, it's just a bad reaction to red wine. Surely it had nothing to do with childhood trauma. But you just never know with shrinks. Sometimes they make you think about things you'd rather forget. I prefer painless healing, myself.
I found the door with the brass plaque declaring it the office of Dr. Anthony Ramirez. I knocked. A deep voice called, "Come in."
The room was furnished as one would expect the office of an affluent doctor to be. Leather arm chairs, heavy oak shelves and desk. But then there was this wire structure around the three sides of a sofa. It looked like a cage. Oh, no, I thought. This guy must get some real crazies in here.
Then I saw the venerable Dr. Ramirez. My breath caught in my throat at half-inhale. This guy was gorgeous. There was no other way to describe him. Big dark eyes, framed by luxuriously black eyelashes were fixed right on my face. A generous smile widened his full lips. And tattoos. The doctor had tattoos and no suit. He wore a white long-sleeved t-shirt. It looked like an old fashioned undershirt and hugged his firm muscled torso. I remembered to breathe.
"Ms. Lindsey?" he said. I nodded. He stood and stepped around his desk, reaching out a hand to shake mine. His tight blue jeans were frayed in places that emphasized the luscious curves of his lower body.
I smiled. I smiled a big smile and reached out to take his hand. His warm grasp sent little tingles past my elbow and straight to my stomach.
"Please sit down," The melodic quality of his deep voice was hypnotic. He extricated his fingers from my grip and held his hand out guiding me to one of the chairs with a nod.
I sat.
He placed his luscious butt right on the desk in front of me. He sort of lifted one of his legs half onto the desk, too.
"Now tell me what is bothering you," he began.
Well, I told him the whole story. He gave me all of his attention. Oh, boy, could that man concentrate!
When I finished he didn't say a thing for a few minutes. But he was still looking at me, apparently deep in thought. Then he said.
"You need more wine."
"I need what?"
But he'd already turned his back on me as he swung around, leaning over his desk and opening one of the drawers on the other side. With swift movements he brought out a bottle of expensive burgundy and two stemmed glasses.
I felt my head spin.
"No, no, no," he shook his head. "Don't worry. You don't even have to take a sip."
I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and opened them again.
"Okay, just don't let me smell it, yet."
I squinted my eyes, but couldn't keep them off of Dr. Ramirez as he lifted the bottle and poured a long stream of wine the color of dark red rubies. I felt my head begin to spin and closed my eyes again. The next peek revealed the good doctor sipping from the glass. Eyes still on me, he took another sip. He set the glass down beside the empty one. He stood up. He reached down and took my hands where they lay on my lap. He pulled me up to stand in front of him.
He wrapped his arms around me and dipped his head toward mine. Those lips smacked mine and I almost swooned. He pressed against me and pressed his lips to mine. His tongue slid between my lips and I opened my mouth. That tongue filled my mouth with the most intoxicating taste!
Hey, wait a minute. It was the taste of the wine he'd just sipped.
And I didn't faint!
He pulled his mouth from mine and lifted his head.
"Well, any better?" he asked with a smile.
"Well, I'm not sure. Maybe we should try the treatment again," I said.
"Perhaps you are right." Dr. Ramirez turned and took a long drink of the burgundy. He turned back toward me and, well, I almost jumped into his arms. I mean, this kind of treatment, I could handle.
This time I just left my mouth up there waiting for treatment number three. He must be a very good doctor because he seemed to know I needed a third treatment without even asking.
"Okay,
you are cured," he said when he pulled himself out of the treatment posture.
He picked up the other wine-glass, poured a couple of inches of the wine into
it and held it to my lips. I sipped. I did not faint.
What a relief.
"Thank you so much, Dr. Ramirez," I said. "I'm cured. You did it."
"Okay, speak to the receptionist on the way out, Ms. Lindsey," he said.
I started to go. I stopped and turned to Dr. Ramirez.
"But
doctor. I still have a very serious problem."
"And what is that?"
"Well, there is the actor. I swoon each time I see a picture of him or hear his voice. This habit is becoming increasingly debilitating. Don't you have a cure for that one?"
"Oh, Ms. Lindsey, that is a case for Dr. Leal. It sounds like you may be a candidate for his famous 'cave cure.' It is an intense treatment, but almost one hundred percent effective." Dr. Ramirez smiled and began to walk me to his door. "Just make an appointment with JoAnn at the front desk."
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