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The Doctor Next Door by Parker Fox – Sample

Chapter One


Emily looked at the delivery confirmation email again in disbelief, staring at it in the hopes that she’d misread it the first eleven times. Nope, it still definitely said the same thing.

2642 Walnut St.
Cloverdale, Indiana 46120

The city, state, and zip code were all correct. So was the street. The address was, you know, close. But unfortunately, close didn’t count in package delivery. In fact, close was arguably worse considering the situation.

Looking at the number once more, she confirmed—yet again—that not only was it not the house where she had lived since she was born and was still living in while she took summer classes at the local college, it was, in fact, the address of the house next door.

Worse still, as she looked back at the initial order confirmation email, she realized that she couldn’t even blame the delivery person. She had somehow typed in the wrong address. The vagueness of ‘somehow’ was a little deceptive, though, because she knew exactly how. She’d been nice and tipsy and stroking her clit when she placed the order, and the terrible results of SWI (Shopping While Intoxicated) were now dreadfully apparent. But it wasn’t the package delivery itself that concerned her. It was the contents of said package.

You ordered a vibrator and had it shipped to the hot doctor next door.

Yeah, that pretty much summed it up. Except for one other important detail. Namely the fact that this particular hot doctor next door was the same man who had given Emily her annual exam just a couple of months ago. That exam…

The exam you got soaking wet during, you little slut.

Her sassy voice was on point with making her blush today, but it was correct as usual. She’d spent the last few months trying to convince herself that it must be super common for nineteen-year-old girls to get visibly aroused during a basic gynecological exam. So aroused that their wetness pooled on the table… She sincerely doubted it, though. If anything, the fact that Dr. Justin Mathewson had been a consummate professional about the whole thing just made it worse. Maybe. She wasn’t really sure.

If he’d laughed or smiled or made some small comment about it, she probably would have died of shame right there on the table. But that would have at least gotten it out there, and she wouldn’t have had to pretend he didn’t exist for the last several months. As it was, however, the exam incident made it impossible for her to even look in his general direction without blushing crimson and all but turning tail and running. She had actually, physically slammed the door in his face once already this summer when he stopped by to bring over a piece of mail that had been delivered to his place by mistake.

Doing her best to calm herself, Emily tried to decide what to do next. If she was lucky, Dr. Mathewson would realize he hadn’t ordered anything, see her name on the package, and just bring it over to her front door, or send it back as undeliverable, or throw it in the dumpster. She didn’t care exactly what he did with it, as long as he didn’t open it. But the image of him opening it before he noticed it wasn’t addressed to him, seeing what was inside, and then glancing back and forth from the vibrator to her name on the box with an amused smile on his face was too visceral to ignore.

What were her options then? She could walk next door like an adult, knock on the door, and explain that she’d gotten a delivery confirmation and realized she’d entered the wrong address. He would undoubtedly return her package without argument, and she could go about her day. There was only one problem with this plan. It would require her to look at him and talk to him without blushing scarlet and running away. Slamming her own door in his face was bad enough, but slamming his door in his face would be both more difficult from a logistical standpoint and would defeat the purpose of the excursion, leaving the package still in his hands, with him perhaps even more curious to open it.

She could call the company and alert them to her mistake, but considering it was her fault, the chances that they would send out a delivery driver to pick up the package and then carry it twenty yards next door were slim to none, and closer to none than to slim. On top of that, even if she begged and pleaded her way into them agreeing to do it, it was very unlikely it would get done before Dr. Mathewson came home from work in half an hour or so—she wasn’t stalking him, she just happened to know when he came home from work most days for… reasons. And if he got home while the package was still on his doorstep, all her worst fears would likely be realized.

No, she decided. This called for more drastic action. She would need to take the package from his doorstep herself. Porch piracy was pretty common in this town as it was, and the lazy ass local police had yet to bust a single person as far as she knew, so Emily doubted she would be the first to do the perp walk for such a crime in Cloverdale. Encouraged by the near certain knowledge that Sheriff Jenkins was eating his third donut of the day right now, Emily opened her door and began her best attempt at a stealthy walk—whatever that meant—as she made her way from her front door to her intimidatingly sexy neighbor’s.

Emboldened by the fact that she’d reached her target without having been apprehended by the law, Emily wasted no time in digging through the stack of packages on his doorstop, finding the small box with her name on it, and absconding with it as quickly as possible. There was nothing stealthy about her return home. She didn’t run, per se, but she didn’t walk either. As soon as she’d slammed the door behind her and locked the deadbolt as if to keep out a killer on the loose, she dashed to her room, threw the box in her drawer, and shut it, too ashamed to even think about opening it to examine her merchandise.

As 5:00 PM approached, Emily waited for Dr. Mathewson to come home. He had a routine, she’d noticed. After parking his car in the garage, he would come out, bring in any packages, walk to the curb and check the mail, and then return to the house. Typically, he would emerge a few minutes later in his backyard to do some gardening, or in some cases just sit and read a book.

While Emily’s room only afforded her a view of his front yard, she was ashamed to admit that she was well aware that her parents’ room—they were in Europe for the summer, so she had the run of the house—had a window that overlooked Dr. Mathewson’s backyard. It was a window she had peered out of far more often than she was proud of since the day of that fateful exam.

Today, though, the routine was different, on Dr. Mathewson’s end and on Emily’s. Her handsome neighbor brought in his packages and the mail as usual, but he didn’t reemerge in his backyard. For Emily’s part, she had slid her hand down the front of her shorts and half consciously, half subconsciously had begun to tease her disturbingly needy little clit while thinking about… well, about several things, all involving Dr. Mathewson.

Sometimes her mind would flit to herself lying back on his exam table with her legs spread, her pussy not only bare and on display for him, but sopping wet. She thought about the feel of the speculum inside her, and the gentle expression on his face as he slid it in, warning her that it might pinch a bit, and his clinical, professional tone throughout the exam as she lay dying of shame before him. But other images flitted into her mind too. Thoughts of Dr. Mathewson discovering somehow that she had taken a package from his doorstep, scolding her, or even doing more… what more she wasn’t sure exactly, but something appropriately shameful.

Her mind moved then to thoughts of what was in the package and what Dr. Mathewson would have thought if he had opened it. Would the image of her using it have hardened his cock? She hadn’t been able to tell if he had been aroused during the exam because of his demeanor and also because the long lab coat he was wearing made it impossible to tell if his pants had been tented. Did she hope they had been? Emily wasn’t sure.

Then, she found herself imagining something even more humiliating. She pictured herself lying on Dr. Mathewson’s exam table as he used the toy she’d ordered on the same aching bud she was teasing at the moment. She was on the verge of what seemed ready to be a mind-blowing orgasm when she heard the doorbell ring.

Her libido screamed at her to ignore it, finish what she’d started, and come in her little pink bikini panties, but remembering that with her parents out of town there was no one else to answer it and it could be something important, she very grudgingly slid her hand free of her shorts, wiped her wetness on the back of them, and then rushed to the front door. She opened it without even bothering to check who it was. Cloverdale wasn’t really the kind of town where you needed to look through the peephole to feel safe opening the front door.

She immediately regretted her decision. It was him, and he looked annoyed.

Sheer panic led her to nearly shut the door in his face for the second time this summer, but when she tried to do so, his hand caught the door and held it there easily. Emily was surprised by his boldness, and even more surprised at how hard her pussy clenched at the ease with which he held it open.

Don’t act like he’d have to force open the door if he wanted to come in and have his way with you, you little slut.

After a brief, intense mental struggle, Emily shooed away the image of Dr. Mathewson forcing open her door, throwing her over his shoulder, and carrying her to her bedroom for a thorough ravaging. She failed at pushing it completely out of her mind, but she was able to slide it to the side enough to make room for attempting some form of verbal communication. But what form? Should she feign indignance that he’d blocked her from shutting the door, or maybe even kick it up a notch and threaten to call the police if he didn’t leave her alone? That didn’t seem like the best idea considering he was both the town doctor and her next door neighbor and had even become a friend of her father’s over the months that he’d lived there so far.

Emily opted instead for her best ditzy-girl impression and set about apologizing for her attempt to slam the door. “Oh, I’m sorry! I thought it was just a package delivery and I’ve heard all these stories on the news about home invasions and stuff, and I just panicked…” she trailed off as he continued to stare back at her, his eyes telling her he was deeply unconvinced of her story.

“I’m not sure exactly what you’re up to, young lady, but we both know why I’m here.”

Young lady?

Well, her panties were thoroughly soaked now, orgasm or no orgasm. But what did he mean by them both knowing why he was here?

“Do we?” she said with genuine confusion.

“I’m here about the package, Emily.”

Oh shit.

“What… what package?”

“You know very well what package, Emily. The package that you took from my doorstep for some reason this afternoon.”

Emily struggled to decide what to say next. He must have seen her take the package on a doorbell cam or something like that. Otherwise he wouldn’t be here interrogating her. So, in theory, all she had to tell him was that it was her package, and she could prove it by showing it to him if needed. She secretly thanked her lucky stars that she’d been too frazzled to open it earlier, so he wouldn’t even be able to tell what was inside. But he would still want to know why she hadn’t at least informed him of what she was doing like a civilized person.

Deciding that the truth, or at least some of the truth, was better than risking getting caught in a lie, Emily replied with, “Oh yes, sorry about that. I had a package that I’d ordered, and I accidentally had it delivered to your house.”

She hadn’t needed to fake the silly teenager voice there, because she felt very much like a silly teenager.

“I see,” said Dr. Mathewson. “Is there a reason you didn’t just ring my doorbell and let me know what was going on?”

“Well, I just didn’t want to bother you, and I was really in a rush to get my package. I’ve been waiting on it for a while…”

“Fair enough,” he said.

Emily could tell that he was still not especially convinced, but her story was believable enough that he didn’t seem prepared to openly accuse her of theft.

Seeming unwilling to leave her without a final bit of scolding, he added, “Next time, please knock before taking something from my porch, Emily. Have a good night.”

Then, releasing the door, he stepped back and began the return journey to his house. Though she avoided slamming the door for appearance’s sake, Emily locked it and slumped down against it, her heart racing.

As the evening went on, Emily did her very best to put thoughts of the mild scolding she’d received from her doctor-next-door crush out of her mind. She had no success whatsoever. After a couple of hours trying to distract herself with a Netflix show she was sure would end up being canceled after the first season anyway, she wandered into her parents’ room. Turning the lights off and walking over to the window, she peered through the blinds for a completely innocent, definitely-not-hoping-that-he-was-in-the-pool-shirtless glance into her neighbor’s backyard.

Her definitely-not-stalkerish curiosity was rewarded when she discovered that Dr. Mathewson was in fact swimming laps in his pool, shirtless. Though she did her best to pull herself away from the window and stop perving on her neighbor, the compromise Emily ended up making with her conscience was to keep right on staring at those toned muscles, but to feel bad about it while doing so. With each passing second—or really minute, this had been going on a while now, Emily realized—her shame at behaving so outrageously mingled with her arousal at imagining that muscular body pinning her to the bed, and before she knew it, her fingers had slid down her pajama shorts and she had begun teasing her clit.

When the doctor finally climbed out of the pool and his full upper body was revealed to her, she began to stroke the needy bud in earnest, and by the time he was finished toweling off, she was on the edge of what she expected to be an absolutely delicious orgasm. Then, just at the moment her climax began, it happened. Her phone rang.

While she doubted he could hear the ring—and even if he could, answering your phone in your own house was nothing to be ashamed of—the problem was that the screen also lit up brightly. Until this moment, she’d felt safe ogling him through the window because she’d kept the light in her parents’ room off, and she knew that when looking from his well-lit porch and pool area into a dark bedroom at night there would be no chance of him seeing her. The bright light of her phone screen would change all that, though, if he heard the ring tone or happened to look up at this moment. The fact that her phone was sitting on the windowsill, and she had to get one hand out of her pajama top—where she’d been teasing and lightly pinching her nipples the way she imagined he might—cost her a precious second. And that second was all it took for her fate to be sealed.

By the time she had the phone in her hand and managed to turn off the screen, it was too late. A single glance in his direction confirmed her darkest fears. He was looking right at her.


Maybe he wouldn’t realize she’d been looking at him. She could have just been admiring the starry night sky…

Your hand is still down your pants. He knows exactly what you were doing.

Doing her best to calm herself and be smooth about it, Emily slowly sidestepped away from the window, slid her left hand out from underneath her pajama bottoms, and tried to pretend she was cleaning or something. Even as she began a fake tidying up of her parents’ room, however, she realized how completely pointless this was, because with her phone screen once again dark he couldn’t even see into the room anymore. Plus, she suddenly realized, why would she be cleaning in the dark in the first place? Should she turn the light on for her pretend cleaning? No, she didn’t like that plan at all. Instead, she simply scurried out of her parents’ room and into her own, shut and locked the door, and sat on her bed.

Her mind raced with what to do next. She would have to move. No, even that would involve leaving the house and confronting the possibility that she might have to look him in the eye if he came over to say goodbye. She would simply have to stay in her house forever. She could finish her degree online, get a work-from-home job, and order delivery food only. It could work…

As she lay there with her heart still thrumming at what felt like a million times a second, Emily’s fingers slowly made their way beneath her pajama bottoms again as she let her mind wander to the one place it would find a measure of comfort. The thought of Dr. Mathewson scolding her for what had just happened. Why that provided any measure of comfort she had no idea, but somehow it did, and within a few minutes she was once more on the verge of achieving the climax that the events of a moment ago had so cruelly denied her.

Then she heard a knock on the front door. She told herself that it could be anyone. A pizza delivery driver with the wrong address. A traveling vacuum cleaner salesman. The FBI hunting for a fugitive serial killer last seen in this neighborhood. Any of these would be preferable to what she knew in her heart that it was. Him. Coming to scold her. In real life, not in her fantasies.

Her heart began to race again, her still needy, pouting pussy clenching involuntarily as she lay in bed hoping that he would just go away. Another knock. She continued to wait. When she still didn’t answer after a third knock, she finally heard silence and hoped he’d given up. Then she saw the text message on her phone. It suddenly came back to her that when her parents had left town for the summer, they’d insisted she exchange numbers with him in case of an emergency.

She tapped on the notification and read his words with trepidation.

We both know what was going on a moment ago, Emily, and we need to have a discussion about it. Now open the door like a good girl.

For a long couple of moments, Emily thought about how to respond to the text message before internalizing the fact that no reply text was needed. He was at her door already. All she had to do was open it and accept the fact that she would die of shame as soon as she saw him.

She considered her options. She could slip out the back door, never to return. She could ignore him, but of course there was no pretending she wasn’t home when he’d seen her at the window just a few minutes ago. She could text him back and tell him to go away—or just yell that at him through the door. If she did that, however, then this incident would be hanging over her head whenever she saw him from now on. And who knows, he might even be miffed enough to get in contact with her parents, or even the police. She doubted there was much that the cops would do about her looking out the window of her own house, but just the thought of having to explain to her parents why she’d been spying on their neighbor, the well-respected town doctor no less, with her hands down her pajama bottoms in their bedroom was mortifying.

That left only one choice. Open the door and face whatever scolding he clearly had in mind to give her. Though her feet felt like lead, she forced herself to stand up and plod across the carpet of her room, down the stairs, and to the front door where her doom awaited. Taking a deep breath and summoning all her courage, she unlocked and opened the door.

“Hello, Emily,” said Dr Mathewson in a firm, but not unkind voice.

“Hi, doctor,” Emily all but whispered in reply, her eyes focused on the ground at her feet.

“I think we need to have a discussion, don’t we, Emily?”

Emily didn’t even whisper a reply this time. She just blushed and continued inspecting her slippers. Then, suddenly, she felt the doctor’s fingers lifting her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze.

He asked the same question again. “We need to have a discussion, don’t we, Emily?”

Realizing that he wasn’t going to let her off without answering, she whispered even more softly than before, “Yes, doctor…”

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