Leeds Lust
"Medical receptionist Chiamaka sees hundreds of patients—but the thick Gambian surgeon who just joined the practice sees only her, and makes appointments for very private consultations."
Dr. Hadja Jallow was brilliant.
She was also impossible to ignore. Thick curves that her scrubs couldn't hide. A presence that made the entire clinic notice.
Chiamaka noticed most of all.
"You're very efficient," Dr. Jallow observed after a week.
"I do my job."
"You do it beautifully." A pause. "Would you come to my office? After hours? I need help with... filing."
The filing happened.
And then something else.
"I've been watching you," Dr. Jallow admitted. "Every day. Counting hours until I could do this."
She kissed Chiamaka against the filing cabinets.
"We could be caught—"
"The clinic is empty. I locked up."
"This is—"
"Perfect. This is perfect."
On the examination table, Chiamaka received very thorough attention.
Dr. Jallow's surgical precision extended to pleasure. Every touch calculated. Every response noted.
"Tell me what you need," she murmured.
"More. I need more."
"Patient demand noted."
The appointments continued.
After hours. Behind locked doors. The clinic's best-kept secret.
"Is this ethical?" Chiamaka asked.
"You're not my patient. I'm not your supervisor." Dr. Jallow kissed her forehead. "We're just colleagues. Who happen to..."
"Examine each other?"
"Thoroughly and often."
Leeds' medical community noticed Dr. Jallow's improved mood.
They attributed it to job satisfaction.
They had no idea how satisfying the job had become.
"Best position I've ever held," Chiamaka said.
"Position?"
"At the clinic. Obviously."
"Obviously."
Their laughter echoed through empty corridors.