Page 4 of Tasty Tentacles

“And a tip,” he says, pecking me on the cheek.

I hand him one and he gazes at it for a long moment, a big sentimental smile breaking across his face. I tried to capture the look of the ones we had on vacation, with little toasty peaks. After one bite, the smile gets even bigger.

“It’s perfect, BertieBear. Even better than I remember. You really are my magician in the kitchen.”

“Thanks, sweets.”

“You know, these really are delicious. I’m sorry to impose, but could you do a couple dozen for me on Friday? We’re doing a holiday thing for the whole practice, and I think they’d be a big hit.”

“No problem. You can drop by the bakery mid-morning and grab them. Glad you like!”

“Speaking of tasty treats,” he says, nibbling my ear, “I’ve been meaning to mention: you’ve been so busy with the holiday rush, and my appointments for nips and tucks never seem to stop.”

“Good thing, too,” I say. “A girl gets accustomed to the better things in life.” My bakery makes a decent profit, keeping Camila and our bakers comfortable, but Doctor Hideo Genji, M.D., is the one who made our beautiful house possible.

He laughs and agrees, “Of course, but it seems like we’re slipping between the cracks. You and me. Us.”

“You know I love you,” I say, getting worried.

“I’ve never doubted it for a single second, and I love you too, BertieBear, but our work has been getting in the way.”

“And…” I coax, intrigued, worries dispelled before they had a chance to congeal.

“We need to schedule a date.”

I like where this is going. “Sounds fun…”

“A sex date.”

I really like where this is going. “Sounds even more fun…”

“Tonight!”

Jackpot!

I gush, “And there, in one word, I know exactly why I married you. It’s a date. Only one problem. Now I’m going to be horny all day!”

3

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One more appointment, then I get to dash home and rip the clothes off my adorable pocket bear. It’s going to be hard to concentrate with my mind on my furry armful. A sex date! It’s been far too long since I had all that luscious man naked on top of me, and his big one inside me. If I have anything to say about it, when he’s finished with me, I won’t be able to walk for a week.

My last patient has some unwanted growths on his face. He was vague when he scheduled the appointment with my office manager, but that’s what these consultation appointments are for. I’m guessing they’ll be simple seborrheic keratoses, and I’ve done more of those than I can count. We might even be able to take care of them this afternoon.

“He’s in three,” my assistant says, and I put on my most friendly face.

I knock and enter, saying, “Good afternoon. I’m Doctor Genji. It’s nice to meet you.”

He’s wearing a mask, so I take my lead from that and offer him an elbow bump instead of a handshake. Ah, the little rituals we adopted during the pandemic. I’m so glad those days have passed.

My eyes do a quick survey, and he’s remarkable. Young-ish, maybe mid-thirties, and built like a brick wall. He’s not exactly athletic, but he’s tall and chunky, very tall. I imagine he would be imposing if he wasn’t slouching. He has a fair complexion and the brightest ginger hair I’ve ever seen, but fortunately he’s probably too young for skin cancers. I’ll watch out just the same. Hopefully, there won’t be any oncology referrals today.

His mask covers a truly prodigious beard, at least what I can see of it peeking around the edges. Damn, Bertie would love him. Bearded men float my own boat, but my BertieBear is the true connoisseur.

I don’t see any visible issues with the exposed areas of his face, so I ask, “Why have you come in today?”

“I’d like you to sit down,” he says, muffled behind the mask.