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The first time their paths cross at her impromptu bar birthday party, Robby approaches her first.
“Having a good birthday?” he asks.
“Well, it had it’s ups and downs,” she chuckles nervously. “On account of...everything.”
Her brain plays her a whirlwind slideshow of snapshots from the day, and she takes a long drink.
Robby laughs in solidarity and understanding.
“Next one is on me,” he says.
She checks her phone. It's only 9:52. Suddenly the music gets turned up. Victoria takes another drink.
The next time she sees him at the bar, they make eye contact, and Robby goes over to her right away when he sees that her margarita is almost empty.
“This is really strong,” she says.
Robby makes a face and indicates to the room being too loud to hear her.
“This drink,” she shouts, “is really strong.”
He smiles.
“Good! Let’s get you another one!”
She’s lost count of how many drinks she's downed. She's been handed shots, bottles, and glasses. She had sips and tastes of others. She needs some bar food, an orgasm, and a nap. In that order.
While trying to decide how to accomplish this mission, she bumps into Robby again. Literally. He turns around good-naturedly, but then his face suddenly looks concerned.
“You okay, kid? Let’s sit you down.”
“I’m fine, really. Just thirsty and tired. And hungry.”
And horny. And so very horny. The alcohol had practically set her clit on fire.
Robby leads her over to a dark corner and helps her sit in the booth.
“Don’t go anywhere.”
She gives him a thumbs up before leaning back and closing her eyes. The thumping of the music matches her heartbeat. She presses two fingers to her jugular, but she’s having a hard time focusing on anything other than the buzz of the bar and the throbbing in her pussy.
God, it’s not like anyone would see her if her hand slipped down, just out of view under the table. Everyone was busy eating and drinking or dancing or flirting. There was probably someone else in the bar right now getting it on, maybe in the bathroom or in the back alley. If the table was blocking her, then she’d be fine. It wasn’t like it would take her very long to get off anyway.
She closes her eyes and lets her hand drop into her lap before easing up her own thigh and into the waistband of her scrubs. She sighs in pleasure when she finds her swollen clit between her slick folds.
Victoria isn’t sure how long she’s been playing with herself when suddenly someone is saying her name. Her eyes pop open in time to see Robby plunking down a burger, fries, a can of Coke, and a glass of water in front of her.
“You don't have to finish all of it, but you need food in your system.”
Shit.
She had been so close too. It strikes her, then, that the longer she takes to remove her hand from her pants, the more conspicuous the removal will be. And Robby does not look like he’s dropping this off and heading back into the fray.
“Thank you!” she says, far too brightly. She can feel herself smiling so hard that it hurts, but she can’t make her muscles relax. “You didn't have to do that. They probably charged you out the nose for it.”
Robby shrugs.
“Consider it a birthday present.”
Her hand is still in her pants. Her hand. Is still in. Her pants!
Robby looks at her expectantly, and when she remains frozen, Robby’s eyes begin scanning her with the keen eye of a man who has spent the last two decades honing his skills of observation, proficient in sewing together fragments of information in order to see the whole picture.
He blinks. And she knows, she knows that he knows. It’s her birthday, but the party’s over because her boss knows her dirty little secret now.
“Oh.”
“I’m—It’s not—”
Her mind supplies her with a hundred ways of continuing that sentence, but they all die on her lips.
Robby is kind enough to clear his throat and duck his head down, giving her enough time to pull her hand out of her pants. Her fingers glisten under the moody bar lighting, which Robby notices when he picks his head back up.
Her eyes are two large moons, staring forlornly at Robby, silently begging him to put her out of her misery in one way or another.
“The meal came with some wet wipes,” he says.
Before her brain can catch up enough to reach for the little foil pack, Robby reaches for it. She watches him tear it open and unfold it before carefully reaching for her hand as though trying not to spook her off. Victoria finds herself letting him take her hand in his and letting him carefully clean it of her own wetness before restoring her hand back to her and crumpling the used wipe into a napkin.
She can’t help but stare at him, though she knows she should say or do something. But all she can do is wonder: was that it? Was he just going to touch her like that, so sweetly and gently, and let it go? He just going to sit there and let her twist in the wind? He wasn’t even going to tease her? Chastise her? Both?
A shiver goes up her spine, and she’s not sure if it’s because she does or doesn’t want him to press further now that they’ve made it this far.
“It’s okay, Victoria,” he finally says.
She’s pretty sure that’s the first time he’s said her name like that. It’s certainly the first time he’s said her first name.
“Is it?”
God, she hasn’t spoken a word in what feels like hours, and that’s the best she can do?
Robby huffs a laugh.
“You’re allowed to celebrate your birthday however you want.”
Had Robby’s voice gotten husky from shouting to people in the bar, or is it for an entirely different reason?
“Yeah?”
Robby nods before scooting his chair further into the table. He stretches his long legs out until one slips between her legs, prompting her to spread them. He watches her, trying to suss out how she feels about this development.
She thinks about how close she was to coming. She thinks about the liquid heat thrumming in her veins. She thinks about Robby taking her hand in his, softly cleaning up her own mess.
Victoria lets her legs fall open.
“C’mon, baby,” Robby husks. “You’re almost there, aren’t you.”
Victoria moans.
God, she was. She really fucking was. And fuck him for being able to read her so quickly and easily like that. She was too old to be condescended to like that!
Robby crushes their mouths together again, and her admonishments get pushed to the back of her mind. Her fingers run through his hair as he moans into her mouth. He pulls away to take a breath and to nibble at her exposed neck. Victoria throws her head back against the backseat of Robby’s car with a whine. From her upside down vantage point, she can look out the back window and see illegal fireworks bursting in the air.
“I know what you need,” he teases.
“Yeah?”
He lets go of her hip and brings his hand down between them to find her neglected clit. She moans at the first contact, louder than she had been before.
“There you are,” Robby says. “There’s my girl.”
He can’t just say that to her. This wasn’t that. This was just a birthday fuck. It wasn’t supposed to—
“Fuck, Robby.”
He quickly finds the right pace, the right pressure. She can feel her cunt drip; she can feel him sink deeper inside her as he teases more and more pleasure out of her.
“Let me hear you. Let me hear how good I make you feel.”
Victoria keens, but she also rakes her nails down his back for fucking her like this, like she was his and his alone, like she wasn’t his fucking med student, like they weren’t fucking in the backseat of his car on the roof of the parking garage he’d parked in.
“Come for me,” he rasps. “Wanna feel you come on my cock. C’mon, honey.”
And god, she doesn’t want to. Not like so easily or so readily like this. But she does. Because he’s good and experienced and reads her so well. She’s smarter than everyone—her parents claim—but Robby is so much wiser. He knows what people want, and he knows what people need, and he’s spent his entire adult life giving people exactly that in one way or another.
And maybe her ears ring, and maybe she loves that she can feel him come inside her while he grunts in her ear, and maybe she trembles a little bit, and maybe she doesn’t want to let go when he makes to pull back, pull out, pull himself off of her.
“Robby.”
“Hm?”
He’s looking down at her, eyes soft and sad, mouth holding a hint of a smile. She’s seen him look at patients and their family members this way. She’s seen him look at Dana and Dennis this way. Langdon, too, when he thought no one was looking. But never her. Because she had to be good. Because she had to be the best. And you don’t get coddled when you have to be the best. You don’t get cared for when you have to be the best. And maybe that was something Robby understood better than she realized.
“Nothing. It’s—Thank you?”
Robby chuckles softly and carefully extricates himself from her hold on him. First from her hands in his hair, then from her legs around his waist. He pulls his pants up as he stands up and smooths down his shirt.
Victoria would do the same if she wasn’t dripping with his come, and he seems to catch on to this when he pulls the crumpled napkins from his pocket.
“Glad I kept these,” he says, handing them to her.
In the same way that doctors who are about to do a gyne exam will step of the room while you undress before they poke, prod, and probe you do, Robby turns his back to her, using his body as a shield from the elements and whoever else may be at eye level with the roof of the parking garage.
The napkins mostly do the job. She can clean herself up better in the bar bathroom if she needs to. Because even though her birthday has been weird as fuck, Robby is right: she needs to eat something.
She lifts her hips and shimmies her underwear and scrubs back up. Victoria leaves the napkins in Robby’s car. His semen, his problem.
“I’m ready to go back,” she says.
“Oh, sorry.”
Robby steps out of the way so she can exit the car. She closes the door behind her, and they lean against his car as more fireworks go off in front of them.
“They seem awfully close to those buildings, don’t you think?”
“Probably.”
Only, he not looking at the buildings, and he’s not thinking, like Victoria is, about how all those people in those buildings are potential patients. He’s looking up at something rare: something that is bigger and grander than he is.
He tears his eyes away from the show and looks over at her.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it? It doesn’t matter how many displays you see in your life, it’s always beautiful. Because one display is never the same as another.”
Victoria gets the feeling that he’s not talking about fireworks anymore, but she looks up and watches a burst of red and blue flash across the sky anyway.
“I think you’re right,” she says. “I think it’s very beautiful.”
Robby gently bumps against her, and for a brief moment, they let themselves melt into each others’ warmth before they separate once more.
“C’mon,” Robby says. “Let’s get back to your party before your mom shows up and threatens to kill me.”
“Not if she doesn’t kill me first.”
Robby laughs and lets her lead the way back to the elevator.