Poison Fruit



I think we have to do forbidden things or else we suffocate. ~ Clarice Lispector


Newspaper clippings of articles he had written lined the walls of the hallway to his exam rooms. Clearly, he enjoyed a margin of success earlier in his career she thought to herself. An MBA in Lit. from Boston College. Impressive.A doctorate in Dentistry from Penn State. She laughed to herself “ a modern-day McTeague”.It had been a week since the doctor had hired her. She was surprised she’d gotten hired at all considering the interview process was uncomfortable and tedious—-and nearly surreal. She hadn’t wanted the job to begin with but during a routine visit, the dentist offered her a secretarial position for his newest office a few towns away. The inflated salary was tempting enough to agree to an interview.The dentist as she was to find much later, was a bit of a known playboy. This amused her as she really thought him on first appearance rather revolting with his large ungraceful way of carrying himself, his puff of curly hair too long on his big head and his red bulbous nose that seemed perpetually flared. He reminded her of Mark Twain.



At 44 he felt like a bumbling has- been with a mediocre dental practice, a marriage and lifestyle he couldn’t seem to keep up with while his deeply intelligent, ambitious and beautiful wife shot her career into the stratosphere with her boutique PR firm. He’d had to sell off parts of his vast and impeccable book collection in order to finance the second office in the wealthier town of Hammond.
He was drawn to this young woman like a bee to honey. She was young, but not too—27 was perfect he thought. Mercurial, sexy as hell and seductive—he had his eye on her for some time. She was also the wife of a patient he’d come to consider a friend.
Like a luscious ripe fruit, he wanted a bite. Somewhere in the vagaries of his mind—he knew the bite would kill him.



CJ Ellis

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