Success message
Error message
James Stevens didn’t walk into Dr. Hudson’s office. He waddled. That was the best possible description of the side to side sway he was forced to use while getting around, and frankly, even the short walk down the hall left him panting, practically breathless. As he followed the nurse into the wood paneled room, a row of impressive medical degrees framed, mounted, and even illuminated on the back wall, he wondered if it would just be easier to roll over and die there, than have to walk back to his car.
The nurse gestured toward the two chairs in front of the desk, but James took one look at the constrained wooden platforms and elected for the more comfortable and certainly less restrictive option: the sofa. It sat along the side wall and he plopped down with a groan. The nurse frowned, undoubtedly wondering how many orderlies it would take to get James back up, but then she smiled woodenly, and informed him that Dr. Hudson would be with him in a moment.
James waved a hand nonchalantly.
He was used to special treatment. That came part and parcel with being rich, and James was rich in a manner of ways. Not only was he grossly obese, but he was financially rich. Too bad his health prevented him from spending his money in any meaningful way other than eating the foods he loved. Still, it meant top notch health care, not that there was much Dr. Hudson could do. Because James knew what his problem was already. He was eating himself to death.
And that was the crux of the problem. He had tried dozens of diets, health care plans, even a few “trips” to special clinics. Some of them even worked, for a time. He’d lost weight, then bounced right back the moment the controls on his behavior were gone. He had no concept of willpower when facing a Swiss Miss Little Debbie Chocolate Rollup Cake. And he could afford lots of them.
The door opened and James looked up. Dr. Hudson was a short man who was fighting a little bit of a paunch himself, but he was easily forty years older than James, who was still in his early thirties. Hudson was going bald, but doing it elegantly, and his metal framed glasses just made him look even more respectable. He smiled warmly at James, shook his hand, and then grabbed one of the chairs the nurse had wanted James to sit in, and turned it around. He sat down and James couldn’t help noticing the very patient, but still serious look on the doctor’s face.
“I wasn’t expecting to see your office,” James said, glancing around. “Nice. Mahogany?”
Dr. Hudson smiled. “It is indeed. One of the perks of being so highly respected in the industry. People pay quite well for my services.”
James laughed. “I do indeed,” he agreed. “I’m guessing that my test results are something abnormal, which is why you wanted to talk to me like this?”
Dr. Hudson frowned for a moment. “James, I won’t lie to you. I’ve been your doctor for five years now and we’ve tried everything. The reality is that your weight is choking your heart. You’ve got hypertension, high cholesterol, you’re borderline diabetic, and frankly at risk of a dozen different obesity related conditions that could take your life at any moment. Your tests haven’t really changed. So no. You are not sitting in my office to discuss another round of tests that tell me you have a problem.”
That startled James. He wasn’t quite prepared for such a statement. His eyebrow went up and he gave the doctor a confused look. “So why am I here?” He asked.
Dr. Hudson leaned back in his chair. “James, my understanding is that you are financially independent. Is that an accurate statement?”
James frowned. “I suppose. Why?”
Dr. Hudson leaned over to the desk and pulled a small card out of a daily planner. It was plain. Simple white stock with black lettering. James caught a glimpse of some of the larger lettering. “NHPS Health” and on the back a hand written number. Dr. Hudson flipped it over and looked at it with an almost reverent expression.
“There is a private consultant, a specialist, who I have, on extremely rare occasions, recommended to certain clients, who don’t seem to be able to help themselves, and thus need help from someone else. This young lady is a nutritional expert, physical trainer, and holistic health practitioner who might be able to take you in hand.” He paused dramatically. “And save your life. Because the way you’re going, you won’t be my patient in another two to three years.”
James’ eyes narrowed. “Because I’ll be dead?” He asked ruefully.
Dr. Hudson’s nod was serious. “Precisely. James, you need help. Serious help. And not just physical. You need emotional and maybe even spiritual help. Breanne can provide it.”
“Breanne?”
Dr. Hudson held up the pamphlet. “I’m not going to lie to you. She’s expensive.”
“How expensive?” James asked with a laugh.
Dr. Hudson took a deep breath. “I’d have significant trouble affording her services,” he admitted. “But how much is your life worth?”
James glanced around the stately office again, but then shrugged his shoulders. Hudson was a doctor, which despite the reward, was still a service position. James had made his money first in computers, then on the stock market. His penthouse apartment was worth over a million dollars.
James hesitated. “I usually only keep a hundred thousand in ready cash.”
“I would have multiplied that by five to afford her services,” said Dr. Hudson simply.
“Half a million?” James asked incredulously.
Dr. Hudson nodded. “And that’s just to start,” he replied. “There are other expenses. She doesn’t advertise. She’s word of mouth only. And the only reason I’m bringing this up is because she currently doesn’t have any clients and you’ve got the funds to pay her. And you’ll have to. That said, she’ll fix the problem and do it in a way that you don’t slip back into your bad habits.”
James snorted. “I doubt that. I can be difficult."
“Breanne is better,” Dr. Hudson replied with a smile. “She’s vivacious, energetic, intoxicating, and sexy as hell. If any woman can get you to eat right, exercise, and start taking care of yourself, it will be Breanne Erickson.” He paused and gave him a very direct look. “Just... don’t fall in love with her.”
James snorted. Dr. Hudson held out the small contact card. And James Stevens took it.
***
Several days later James collapsed into his office chair after making the taxing trip to the kitchen. The chair was oversized, an expensive custom job that had set him back almost ten grand. In fact, much of the furniture in his penthouse condo was custom built and the fine, expensive materials and designer’s flair had cost a pretty penny. Putting aside the chocolate milkshake he had whipped up, he typed in the web address for Dr. Hudson’s personal trainer. The front page was the standard boilerplate, but at least he had to admit that the girl herself, Breanne Erickson, was something of a hottie. Her picture was there on the front page, wearing athletic clothes that conformed to her ample curves as if the outfit had been painted directly on her skin. With bright auburn hair that looked like it belonged on a fire truck, Breanne was a mixture of luscious goddess and the girl next door. Hell, if this had been a dating site, James might have sent her a message, hoping that his money might get him a little bit of nooky. He certainly wouldn’t be getting it for his looks.
Better yet, half the pictures of her on the website were of her wearing clothing that frequently crossed the line from sexy into the realms of slutty. As James clicked through the pages on the website, he couldn’t help focusing on each picture and he found himself oddly intrigued. There seemed to be a vitality about the girl, her beaming smile, her incredible curves. He suddenly understood what Dr. Hudson was talking about. Having such an attractive woman hanging around the apartment could definitely have an effect on a man. Especially if she were to wear some of those outfits!
There was an application link and after typing in the referral code from the back of the card Dr. Hudson had given him, James began filling out the application. The questions surprised him. It wasn’t the standard medical questions. They asked about his daily routine, his favorite foods, his hobbies, and what he liked to do for fun. Three quarters of the way through the application came some rather pointed questions about his sexual interests and habits. The application urged him to be honest and the way the questions were framed, he didn't feel too awkward answering even the more intimate of queries. Finally he hit the finished button and sat back. A form letter arrived in his email inbox a few minutes later, letting him know that his application had been received and that he would be contacted within a day. He stuck the straw of his milkshake into his mouth and sucked the glass dry, thinking of Breanne.
It wasn’t until the next morning that his phone rang. With a grunt of frustration he grabbed it with one hand while struggling to turn down the volume of the computer with the other. The high pitched squealing of the girl in the BDSM video wasn’t the sort of background noise he wanted for any phone call. "Hello?" he said into the phone, his voice a little thick.
"Hi, is this James Stevens?" a girl's voice asked. She sounded like she was in her late teens, all bubbly and giggly.
"It is," James replied, suddenly just a little leery, wondering what the call was about. Every once in a while some spammer managed to get through.
"My name is Breanne Erickson. You applied for my services. I was wondering if I could talk to you for a few moments."
James blinked. It had only been half a day and for some reason, he expected her to sound a bit older. "Um, yeah. Right. Sorry. I was expecting you to sound a bit more... I’m sorry. Of course.” He paused, wondering if he’d offended her. “My doctor, Dr. Hudson recommended you," James said lamely.
"He's a dear friend," Bre replied brightly. "I've had a chance to look through your application and since you signed the release, Dr. Hudson sent me some of your medical statistics. Right now you fit the profile to be a client. First of all, I have to ask if you understand the fees involved. I’m not cheap."
James coughed. "Well, yes. Dr. Hudson explained some of that. Though I have to admit..."
She cut him off. "Base pay is five-hundred thousand, two hundred and fifty of it up front. That pays for the initial three month investment in my time. It also covers food and equipment costs. I will prepare all of your meals. In three months we can discuss if you wish to continue treatment, or part amicably.”
James blinked. “Wow. It goes on longer than three months?”
She laughed. “It takes an average of sixty-six days to break a bad habit. You however, have already demonstrated resistance. I don’t ever make guarantees, but to be honest, a case like yours usually takes between nine and twelve months.”
James blinked. Suddenly he understood. “Wait. This could take a year?”
“It could. It depends on how motivated you are.” Her voice dropped into a husky, rather seductive tone. “But don’t worry. I can be very motivating.” Then her voice returned to the bright and cheerful, higher-pitched tone. “It’s two hundred and fifty for every three months, so yes, you’ll need to have funds liquid for payment.”
James sat there. A million dollars? He thought back to Dr. Hudson and his question. How much was James’ life actually worth?
“I’m good for it,” he said swiftly.
Breanne chuckled. “I know. I ran your finances. Otherwise we wouldn’t be talking.”
James wasn’t sure how he felt about that. Still, he had to admire a woman that prepared.
“Looking over your profile, I see you don't have a regular job but frequently spend several hours per day working at your residence on private investment matters?"
James nodded, then realized she couldn’t actually see him. "Well, yes. That’s right." Mostly he just sat around playing video games. He had a financial manager to run the day to day stuff.
"That's excellent!” She said brightly. “Normally I have to work around an office setting and that can be a trifle difficult sometimes. You seem to be a perfect candidate. When were you hoping to start? It so happens that I don’t have a client at the moment."
James felt a surge of excitement. "Well as soon as possible I guess, but I was wondering..."
"Yes?" Breanne asked, her voice still bubbly and exciting.
"Well, your website says that you have a foolproof method of helping a man with his willpower. I'm not going to like, get shocked or anything? Right?"
Her laughter was beautiful and James couldn't help grinning. "If I were to electrically shock any of my clients I don't think I'd be in business very long, Mr. Stevens!" She said, emphasizing the word clients, as if there were another option. ”Don't worry. My fool proof method is totally natural and plays to most men's normal rhythms. Believe me, I'll have you eating out of my hand in no time."
James let out a tiny laugh. "I'm pretty hard headed."
"Let me worry about that. How about Friday? Will that be a good day to start?"
James thought about it. One more day to pig out, then the new diet. "Friday. Sounds good," he said.
Again her voice was like butter, or perhaps a delicious jam. "Great. There is a preparation packet that you'll receive via email with just a few beginning instructions prior to my arrival. Follow those instructions to the letter. Okay?"
"Gotcha," James said, feeling a little bit of her enthusiasm.
"All right then. Please make your initial payment via the website. There is an account number provided and you can transfer the funds there. I’ll see you Friday morning, around ten. We can have lunch together!" She hung up and James was left holding the receiver, feeling as if something wonderful had just happened. There was such vitality in her voice! With a grin he put down the phone. He went back to her website and looked at her, now putting her voice and personality to the picture. He couldn't help it. She aroused him. His hand began pumping, ignoring the porn site and the video of the squealing, tightly bound and whipped blond he had been looking at, his eyes and mind filled with a red-haired goddess. It didn't take him long to achieve satisfaction. He cleaned up and then began the long trek to the kitchen for cakes.