chanaud
Literotica Guru
- Joined
- Oct 2, 2001
- Posts
- 3,024
OOC: A closed thread for my Dr. Moreau!
The waiting room was small and sterile. The walls were painted a light gray with a bluish tint, the baseboards and crown moldings were a darker shade of gray matching the two doors. Along the walls were various black and white photographs of different scenes, signed by an indescribable signature. They looked like photographs of Paris, but Kendra couldn’t tell since she’s never been to Paris or anywhere outside of Detroit, but since one photograph was of the Eiffel tower, she assumed all the others were various scenes of Paris.
Tapping her sharp toed black boots, she waited anxiously and nervously. Her hands balled into fists, then released them before her nails cut into her palms. It felt strange to be alone in a waiting room without the customary receptionist and waiting patients. But this doctor she knew was different from all the others. She only hoped he would be the last. Broke or cured, at an astronomical fee at $250 an hour, he will definitely be the last, she mused silently. Then she frowned at the reminder of why she was there. Flashes of bodies in various twisted positions and voices flashed before her, making her shiver and tremble.
“Ms. Kendra White?”
A deep voice woke her out of her reverie. She turned to him and smiled, gratefully and shyly. She tucked a few dark auburn strands behind her ear only to have it fall back into her face again when she grabbed her small pocketbook and stood up.
“Yes, Dr. Moreau?” She asked, looking directly in his eyes. He was younger than she expected and much more handsome than all the others.
“Please call me Sebastian.” He answered, his voice warm and even. She wondered briefly if it his natural voice or practiced. “Come on in, and have a seat.” He opened one of the dark gray doors widely, allowing ample space for her to pass him.
Inside the walls were painted the same grays, but the large window with a scene of another mirrored building allowed just enough light to make this office a tad warmer than the waiting room. Similar photographs decorated the walls. She recognized the Seine and smiled.
She felt eyes watching her, following her own. She turned to Dr. Sebastian Moreau and found him leaning against the door and watching her with keen intensity. Red dots emerged from alabaster skin overshadowing dark freckles. She turned quickly away, looking for the standard wing back chair. But all she found were two identical oversized black leather sofas facing each other. Blast him! She cursed inwardly. This really isn’t going well.
“Uhmm… where should I sit?” She asked.
The waiting room was small and sterile. The walls were painted a light gray with a bluish tint, the baseboards and crown moldings were a darker shade of gray matching the two doors. Along the walls were various black and white photographs of different scenes, signed by an indescribable signature. They looked like photographs of Paris, but Kendra couldn’t tell since she’s never been to Paris or anywhere outside of Detroit, but since one photograph was of the Eiffel tower, she assumed all the others were various scenes of Paris.
Tapping her sharp toed black boots, she waited anxiously and nervously. Her hands balled into fists, then released them before her nails cut into her palms. It felt strange to be alone in a waiting room without the customary receptionist and waiting patients. But this doctor she knew was different from all the others. She only hoped he would be the last. Broke or cured, at an astronomical fee at $250 an hour, he will definitely be the last, she mused silently. Then she frowned at the reminder of why she was there. Flashes of bodies in various twisted positions and voices flashed before her, making her shiver and tremble.
“Ms. Kendra White?”
A deep voice woke her out of her reverie. She turned to him and smiled, gratefully and shyly. She tucked a few dark auburn strands behind her ear only to have it fall back into her face again when she grabbed her small pocketbook and stood up.
“Yes, Dr. Moreau?” She asked, looking directly in his eyes. He was younger than she expected and much more handsome than all the others.
“Please call me Sebastian.” He answered, his voice warm and even. She wondered briefly if it his natural voice or practiced. “Come on in, and have a seat.” He opened one of the dark gray doors widely, allowing ample space for her to pass him.
Inside the walls were painted the same grays, but the large window with a scene of another mirrored building allowed just enough light to make this office a tad warmer than the waiting room. Similar photographs decorated the walls. She recognized the Seine and smiled.
She felt eyes watching her, following her own. She turned to Dr. Sebastian Moreau and found him leaning against the door and watching her with keen intensity. Red dots emerged from alabaster skin overshadowing dark freckles. She turned quickly away, looking for the standard wing back chair. But all she found were two identical oversized black leather sofas facing each other. Blast him! She cursed inwardly. This really isn’t going well.
“Uhmm… where should I sit?” She asked.
