The Stone Beyond

the careers. And medical careers had other challenges too.
Adultery was rampant among doctors in Jennifer’s experience. She’d never slept with a married man, doctor or not, but she’d seen young doctors she knew to be married sleeping with nurses and even candy-stripers during the long shifts, particularly the nightshifts.
Jennifer could only wonder which one of these sad scenarios applied to Dr. Parker Stone, hoping it wasn’t the last one. But she just couldn’t bring herself to ask. What mattered was that he didn’t seem married or attached, and Jennifer knew the needs and desires of a sexually liberated adult. Reflecting on her recent romp with Tony Valletti, Jennifer could hardly afford to be judgmental.
Jennifer glanced at her wine, taking another sip before looking back at Parker. “It’s not easy, is it, the medical industry? I mean, I’m just an administrator, but … from your perspective, it must be terrible, the pressure …”
“Don’t discount your own position,” Parker said. “Hospitals need administrators. It’s not the glamorous part of the industry, but it’s quite necessary; even vital.” He paused for a moment before asking, “Did you always want to do this for a living?”
Jennifer couldn’t help but cough up an amused huff, shaking her head and trying to imagine herself or any little girl wanting to be a hospital bureaucrat. Reviewing her past, Jennifer had to admit, “I wanted to do everything at one time or another; ballet dancer, secret agent, President of the United States.”
“Please,” Parker said, alerting Jennifer’s ire before he casually added, “you’re far too decent a person for politics.”
Jennifer rolled her eyes, unable not to smile. “But I had a talent for organization, and I liked being around my dad, working in his profession, y’know? It just sort of happened.” Reading his knowing expression, realizing she’d just illustrated his very theory of embracing the unknown in life, she said only, “Point taken on the chaos thing,” and left it at that.
Parker wore a wry little smile when he went on, “And how do you deal with the pressure of your end of things? Can’t be easy.”
“No, it’s not easy, not at all. I mean, it’s not like I have somebody’s life in my hands the way you do, but it does get to be a bit much at times.”
“But you do have their lives in your hands, Jennifer, maybe more than you realize.”
Jennifer let the thought sink in. He had a good point, but it only made her more nervous about the coming conflict at the hospital and what she could or couldn’t do about it.
“Well, that eases the pressure,” she said with a little half-smile. “Thanks.”
Parker smiled. “I know how to relieve pressure like ours.”
“Oh? And what’s that, may I ask?”

CHAPTER SEVEN
The music at Narcissis dance club in downtown Los Angeles was teaming with gorgeous men and women, purple, yellow, orange, and red lights flashing in bolts across the dark dance floor.
The beat pounded through the floor, rising up through Jennifer’s legs in a driving rhythm which seemed to move her whole body to its methodical whim. Bass notes were thick and synthetic, pulsing and deep, vibrating in her muscles and organs, looping and thumping and bobbing. Digital strings shot out and disappeared just as quickly, a woman’s spoken voice droning a single phrase at strategic points in the track.
“Love me, love me, put no one above me / love me, love me, put no one above me.”
The room was filled with men and women in fancy dress, silk shirts and tight pants, short dresses and dipping bust lines. They ground into each other to the rhythm, leaning in and pressing up, filling the room with the musk of their cologne and perfume and liquor and lust. Some kissed on the dance floor, heated passion that paid no heed to anybody around. Others looked like they were having sex right there, standing in a roomful of likeminded strangers.
Jennifer almost felt as if she was in the middle of some crazed orgy, a public sex party sanctioned by the government and sought after by the most fabulous people in the most fabulous city in the world.
Jennifer couldn’t help flash on her lonely years in Colorado. She’d had some recreational fun, of course, but there had been so much time dedicated to the job, too much time building up stress and far too little releasing it. And while there had been the men like Tony Valletti, none of them had been men like Dr. Parker Stone.
He was amazing in front of her, revealing even more to his fascinating and complex persona. Parker moved with amazing style and grace, befitting his athletic build. His long legs were shapely and toned, Jennifer could tell even under his slacks, his lean and narrow waist tapering up to his broad shoulders and long, muscular arms. He moved his tight hips and ass to the rhythm, smooth and easy and confident. He led her in their instinctive exchange, movements natural and keen to the sexual undertones and the rhythm and the dance.
His eyes were locked on hers as they danced, his gaze steady as his body moved. And Jennifer felt transfixed by that gaze, drawn into him like a moth to a flame. She couldn’t resist leaning toward him, then leaning back to draw him nearer. The distance between them disappeared, her legs splayed and swaying in rhythm, her crotch finding his long, muscled thigh, grinding as he slipped it between hers. Their hips gyrated to the beat, her breasts collecting perspiration between them, her nipples already hard against her bra. Jennifer wanted out of it, out of all her clothes, and she wanted him out of his own, right there and then. She wanted to mount him, climb him like a tree right in the middle of that dark, crowded dance floor.
Suddenly it didn’t seem so crowded