I have always been a late bloomer. Daughter of conservative Italian-Catholics, I was raised in a house full of rosaries.

The idea of living with a man before marriage was highly frowned upon. I lost my virginity at 19 and smoked my first joint at 21. Getting braces at age 34 seemed to follow my trend of always being late to the party. Trips to the dentist — or, in this case, the orthodontist — aren’t normally things we look forward to. But that changed after I went in for a consultation with Dr. Martin.

Is this really my orthodontist? I thought when I met him. Dark-haired, handsome, and about my age, Dr. Aaron Martin extended a strong hand in greeting. As we shook, I found myself noticing his toned forearm and biceps in his scrubs.

“Anna, how are you today? Interested in braces, huh?” he said.

The impersonal feel of his office quickly melted away. I was glad I’d made some effort in terms of clothes and makeup before leaving my apartment that morning.

After a brief conversation about my teeth and their history, Dr. Martin created a digital simulation of my mouth and mapped out my problem areas, explaining how we would tackle them. He said that despite what I considered to be a shitshow in my mouth, he thought removable braces would work for me, and the timeline he mentioned wasn’t too horribly long. But as he talked, I lost track of what he was saying, thinking instead about what was underneath his scrubs.

For my next appointment I dressed up. I sat in the chair wearing a snug red pencil skirt and a black off-the-shoulder top.

After reclining the patient chair, Dr. Martin leaned over me and at his direction I opened my mouth wide. His thigh touched my arm. His face was inches from mine. As he worked on the positioning of my new upper-teeth brace, he made conversation, and I tried to keep up, though speaking was difficult.

“So are you from Seattle?” he asked.

“No,” I mumbled. “Moved here after college, about ten years ago.”

“Where’d you go to school?”

“USF,” I said, referring to the University of Southern Florida in Tampa.

“No way. I went to Miami. Are you from Florida?”

I had to resist the urge to shake my head, since his gloved fingers were in my mouth. “Nuh-uh,” I said, speech still garbled. “Grew up in Chicago. Wanted some sun.”

“Guess you got enough of it, huh? Moving to rainy Seattle. I’ve been here two years. Still not used to all the gray days. But I love the mountains. And the city.”

After finalizing the fit of the braces, he raised the chair and I got up. For a quick second, Dr. Martin seemed to check me out, or at least I thought he did. His expression was unreadable.

Then, in a move totally out of character for me, I pulled out my business card and said, “Email and cell on here if you ever want to beat one of these gray days with a drink or something. We can commiserate.”

He smiled and took the card. I had no idea if he was with anyone, but I didn’t see a ring and he seemed okay with my invitation. A moment later I scurried out of there with my newly-minted brace face, worried that my impulsive act might have been ill-advised in terms of our doctor-patient relationship. What if I’d just screwed that up?

But a week later I got a text from him. I couldn’t believe it. It was a gray day, with on and off rain, and Dr. Martin said he wanted to take me up on the drinks offer.

Wow. I kind of got nervous, not really expecting this to happen. But now it had. We picked a night three days later for our date, if that’s what it was.

Getting ready, I felt super excited, in both a good and slightly tense way. I swigged a glass of wine before heading out, then took an Uber to a gastropub near Queen Anne hill that Dr. Martin knew.

We shook hands again, sat down, and ordered drinks. He was in a stylish navy shirt, and once again I found myself daydreaming about his clothes coming off. We made small talk, mentioning the weather, and then, after the first drinks arrived, he said, “You know, I’ve never done this before.”

Even though I knew what he was referring to, I said, “You mean socializing with a patient?”

He nodded, adding, “But I am single. And I like talking to you. And the way you asked me out — it was pretty ballsy.”

I smiled. I didn’t see a need to explain that I wasn’t the kind of person who would normally hand out her phone number in a doctor’s office, no matter how McDreamy the medical professional.

I took a sip of wine. He took a sip of his gin and tonic. I said, “I hope you don’t mind that I’m not wearing my brace. I promise it’s back in the second I’m home.”

He laughed. “I’m just glad we can offer removables these days.”

We had a few more drinks, then he asked if I wanted to see his place, a few blocks away. I said sure.

His apartment was on the 23rd floor of a residential tower with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city and Puget Sound.

It was probably a combination of his place and the wine, but I remember briefly thinking of the book Fifty Shades of Grey. He poured two glasses of wine and we sat on a sofa, taking a moment to gaze silently out the big windows, the rain over, city shining.

Once again I surprised myself by making a move. I put my wine down, leaned toward him, and without a word I kissed him, my hand moving from his thigh to his crotch. Within seconds he was hard.

I opened his pants and began stroking his erection, lightly touching the head with my nails. Then I removed my shirt and bra, and saw his eyes take in my breasts, as if he’d been waiting for this moment. He took off his shirt, revealing a muscular torso, and I lowered my head between his legs and began to suck his cock.

I ran the tip of my tongue around his crown, licked up and down his shaft, and then took all of him into my mouth, making him sigh with pleasure. The mouth he’d mapped, my lips and tongue — it brought him to the edge. Stroking his balls, I was ready for him to come in my mouth, but he gently guided me away from his dick, stood me up, kissed me, caressed my breasts, and used his powerful arms to carry me to the kitchen island counter.

He sat my ass on the granite and knelt down as he slid my skirt and underwear down. He began to flick my clit with his tongue, then slid two fingers inside my wet pussy. His licking and finger-fucking carried me down the road to orgasm, but before I could come, he stood up and replaced his fingers with his cock. He fucked me hard, gripping my bare ass in his hands as he pounded my cunt for several delicious minutes until I wailed, coming.

As I sat there blissed out, he stripped fully, walked over to the wine, refilled our glasses, and returned. We sat side by side on the counter, sipping, luxuriating, and then he said, “Let’s get closer to the windows. Beautiful night. And I have an idea.”

He told me to hold on a moment and disappeared. When he came back, he led me toward the windows, turned me around before an easy chair beside the glass, wrapped his arms around mine from behind, and guided my hands until they rested on top of the chair. Then his hand began caressing my pussy and asshole and suddenly two steel balls, warmed by his other hand, slipped inside my cunt — Ben Wa balls, an experience, a sensation, new to me.

Using some of my wetness, he lubricated my other hole and teased it with the tip of his cock, sliding it along my crack, making me wait for what would happen next. My throbbing pussy clenched the two balls, which created a light, sweet pressure on my G spot.

Then his cock slid into my ass. I felt ripples of sensation, my cunt and asshole squeezing, my hips slowly bucking, his dick sending tingles down my legs. He pushed deeper and I moaned, the combination of the steel balls and his shaft creating a euphoria with an edge of masochism. The world swirled.

Hands on my hips, his breath coming fast now, he fucked my ass with a few more thrusts and we came together, both of us moaning, savoring the ecstacy.

He collapsed into the chair, and I joined him, our bodies slick with sweat, the city’s glittering lights beyond the glass. “From now on,” he whispered, “call me Aaron.”

A week later I had to visit his office for an adjustment to the hardware in my mouth. After closing the door, he stood dangerously close to me, this time on purpose, and said, “It’s another gray one today. But you know, you’ve changed my mind about this weather.”

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