Doctor's Orders

Chapter 1 William Thanks for last night, and for your huge c**k. Call me when you get home, the text reads. “You’re welcome, baby,” I say as I delete the message and block the number. “But Big Will doesn’t do do-overs. See ya, Miss 134.” I rev the engine hard. My 400 Horsepower Porsche accelerates briskly towards the calm morning wind, no one else on the road, and the sun rising over the coast. I look at my rearview mirror and check for any cars in the vicinity around me. Once the way is clear of any vehicles for miles away, I hit Spotify on my phone and play my favorite song on maximum volume. You.make.me. Feel like I’m living a. Teenage Dream. The way you turn me on. I sing along, shouting into the air, “I. Can’t. Sleep. Let’s run away and don’t ever look back. DON’T EVER LOOK BACK.” I hope someday I’ll get to confirm if Katy Perry is as good in bed as she claims in her songs because this song has been my s**t for like ever. And nothing would complete my life than to have her riding me to one of her songs. As the first rays of morning light bless the California coast, I gander upon a car on the side of the road, it’s trunk popped up. I speed up, to spare me from the guilt of not helping a fellow human in need until the trunk of the car pops down and a heavenly blonde maiden, who would give Katy Perry a run for her money, reveals herself to me as she carries her car jack to the side of her car. Could this be Miss 135? I must get a closer look. In a trance, I instinctively slow down the car and stop beside her own, “You need help with that?” I shout to her as she sits down on the other side of her car, blocking my view of her. “No offense,” she shouts in return, “But your song choice seems to answer your question. So, thanks, but no thanks.” Imma get your heart racing in my skin-tight jeans. Be your teenage dream tonight––, the song blares on until I finally hit pause. I park the car in front of her and get out. I put on my best smile as I close the door and turn to her, “You know, Katy Perry, is a multi-platinum album selling artist who––“ I can’t finish the sentence as I finally see the woman in the red tank top and leggings. Her soft, wavy blonde hair perfectly matches her soft, curvy body. The sun graciously lights up her almost Norwegian Princess of a face. And I am stunned. “Well, listen here, Katy Perry’s number fan in the world––“ her voice chokes as she turns to look at me. That’s right, baby. The doctor is in. She gives me that ‘look.’ The same look that I always get whenever women accidentally notice me too late. The look that makes them salivate at my chiseled face ripped body and six-foot frame. The look that says, ‘Wow. He’s hot’. “Wow, he’s hot, mommy,” a small boy compliments from the car. “Jake!” she scolds, “Get back in the car and do your homework. We’re already late.” I chuckle lightly as I approach her, “Looks like you got a flat tire.” “No S-H-I-T, Sherlock,” she snaps back frustratingly, “I apologize. It’s been one hell of a day. And it’s just getting started. Do you think you can lend a hand?” I smile and take off my shirt. I can almost hear her gulp as I feel her gaze over my body as I take the car jack from her and place it under the suspension of the car. “Mommy, he has abs!” Jake comments again. “Sit down and do your homework, Jake!” she scolds again. “Wait, shouldn’t we get him off the car first?” “Nah. No need, the jack can handle it. Jake has a good eye,” I comment as I slowly raise the jack and the car along with it. “Jake is…special,” she comments. “Yes, you are Jake,” I address to Jake, “Don’t let anybody in school tell you otherwise.” I feel weak as she smiles. I go to the trunk of her car, and grab the spare tire and place it down near the engaged car jack. “You have a kid too?” she asks me. “Nah,” I comment as I remove the old flat tire, “I was bullied at school for being “special,” too. Turns out, I’m just incredibly effeminate. Your son is probably gay, though.” “I had to convince him to take only his Ken doll and leave the Barbie dolls at home before going out,” she replies. “Hopefully, that’ll stop the bullying.” “It’s ok, Mommy,” Jake replies. “I can just hang out with the girls.” I slowly walk up to him as soon as I finish installing the spare tire on the car, “And there’s nothing wrong with that, Jake. You hang out with whomever you want to because those kids are lucky to be hanging out with the only kid in class who is to break everyone’s heart when he grows up.” “Thanks, mister,” he says happily. “Don’t thank me,” I reply, “Thank your mother for passing on her gorgeous genes on to you, kid.” “Thank you, Mommy. For passing on your cerberus genie to me.” Jake complies. I finally put the old flat tire in the back of her car, as she starts the car up. I walk up to the driver seat still sweating and give her a card, “Call this number and tell them Big Will sent you. They’ll hook you up on fixing your flat tire if you want.” “Big Will,” she remarks, “Creative nickname.” “Would you believe only the women I’ve dated gave me that name?” I joke and flash her a smile. She grabs the card and calls the number. The phone in my back pocket rings. “So this is how you pick up all your girls?” she sarcastically asks and proceeds to what appears to be blocking my number. “Can I at least get your name?” I ask in desperation, trying to salvage the situation. “Goodbye, Katy Perry’s number one fan. And thanks for helping me out. Wave goodbye, Jake.” She says before she slowly drives off to the highway.