DDD: Daddies Dirty Desire

Hasley winced as she hobbled into the crowded clinic, her right ankle throbbing from the stupid trip on her apartment stairs. Deadlines had her rushing everywhere lately, and now this. The waiting room smelled of antiseptic and stale coffee, and she clutched her bag like a lifeline, trying to ignore the sharp pain shooting up her leg with every step. At twenty-six, she should know better than to run down stairs while juggling her sketchbook and phone, but the client wanted changes yesterday, and her freelance graphic design work didn’t wait for clumsy accidents. “Hasley? Room three,” the nurse called after what felt like an eternity. She limped down the short hallway and eased herself onto the exam table, the paper crinkling loudly under her. The room was small but clean, with posters about healthy eating and flu shots on the walls. She tried not to look as pathetic as she felt, smoothing down her simple jeans and oversized sweater. Her ankle was already swelling, turning a nasty shade of purple. The door opened, and in walked Dr. Markus. He was tall, broad-shouldered, with kind dark eyes that seemed to notice everything and a stethoscope hanging around his neck. His white coat fit him perfectly, and his smile was warm, professional, but there was something disarmingly real about it—like he actually cared instead of just going through the motions. “Hi, Hasley. I’m Dr. Markus. What happened here?” His voice was deep and steady, the kind that made you feel instantly safer. She explained the fall, her words tumbling out a little too fast. “I was rushing with my work stuff and missed a step. It’s probably nothing, but it hurts like crazy when I put weight on it.” He nodded, pulling on gloves before gently lifting her leg. His hands were careful and warm even through the thin material. No flirting, just quiet competence as he checked the swelling and range of motion. But when their eyes met for a moment, something fluttered deep in her chest—a spark she hadn’t felt in a long time. She looked away quickly, focusing on the poster behind him. “Nothing broken,” he said after a few minutes, wrapping her ankle neatly with a bandage. “Just a mild sprain. Ice for twenty minutes every few hours, rest, elevation, and some over-the-counter pain relief. You should be back on your feet in a few days if you take it easy.” He paused, glancing at her chart. “You’re a graphic designer, right? Probably on your feet a lot, chasing deadlines.” She blinked in surprise. “How did you know?” “Patient intake form,” he said with a soft chuckle that made the corners of his eyes crinkle. “And you have ink smudges on your fingers. Deadlines?” Hasley laughed despite the pain, the sound surprising even her. “You have no idea. This project is killing me. The client keeps changing their mind about the colors, and I’m trying to finish the logo before tomorrow morning. I guess running down stairs with my laptop bag wasn’t the smartest move.” They talked a little more as he finished the notes. He mentioned how he unwound with old nature documentaries after long shifts—something about watching waterfalls and forests helped him forget the stress of the ER. She told him how she sketched random scenes in her notebook to clear her head when the screen work got too much. The conversation flowed too easily for a doctor’s visit. It felt natural, like talking to someone she’d known longer than ten minutes. When he handed her the discharge papers, his fingers brushed hers accidentally. A small jolt went through her, and she wondered if he felt it too. “Here’s my direct number,” he added, scribbling it on the back of one of the papers. “For follow-up questions. Don’t hesitate if the swelling gets worse or the pain doesn’t ease up.” Their eyes held a second too long. Hasley’s cheeks warmed under his steady gaze. “Thank you, Doctor.” “Markus,” he corrected gently, that warm smile returning. “Take care, Hasley. And seriously, stay off that foot as much as you can tonight.” She left the clinic limping less from the ankle and more from the unexpected pull in her heart. The afternoon sun felt brighter as she made her way to a rideshare, her mind replaying the way he had looked at her not like just another patient, but like a person. Someone interesting. That night, back in her small apartment with her ankle propped up on pillows and an ice pack balanced on it, her phone buzzed on the coffee table. She reached for it, expecting a client email. Instead, it was a text from an unknown number. This is Markus from the clinic. Make sure you elevate that foot tonight. Feel better soon. Hasley stared at the screen, a slow smile spreading across her face. She typed back a simple reply: Thanks, Markus. I’m doing that now. The ice is helping. His response came quickly: Good. Rest up. And if you need any distraction from deadlines, those nature docs are always a solid choice. She laughed softly to herself, setting the phone down but keeping it close. The flutter in her chest hadn’t gone away. For the first time in months, the loneliness that usually settled in during quiet evenings felt a little lighter. Little did she know, this was only the beginning of something that would turn her carefully ordered world upside down, in the best possible way.

The follow-up appointment came three days later. Hasley’s ankle felt much better, though she still walked with a slight limp as she entered the clinic. She had followed Markus’s instructions to the letter—ice, rest, and elevation and the swelling had gone down nicely. Part of her was relieved it was healing, but another part felt a tiny flutter of nerves at the thought of seeing him again. The same nurse led her to the exam room. When Dr. Markus walked in, he looked just as steady and kind as before, though there were faint shadows under his eyes that suggested a long shift. “Hasley, good to see you,” he said with that warm smile. “How’s the ankle holding up?” She sat on the table and let him check it, his touch professional but gentle. “A lot better, thanks to your advice. I actually managed to finish that logo project without any more disasters.” He chuckled softly as he tested the movement. “Glad to hear it. Looks like it’s healing well. Keep wrapping it for a