Page 84 of The Cajun Doctor

“I’ll think of something.”

Meanwhile, Aaron was getting an earful. He followed their exchange by glancing first at one of them, then the other, back and forth. Finally, he leaned in to Daniel’s ear and whispered, loud enough for her to overhear, “I have an idea.” He paused for dramatic effect. “Someone could get laid tonight.”

Samantha was pretty sure he wasn’t talking about himself.

And Daniel looked interested.

Who was she kidding? She was interested, too.

Chapter Eighteen

If love was a merry-go-round, he was on the Tilt-a-Whirl . . .

“We need to exchange vehicles for the day,” Daniel told Aaron after Samantha went off to care for the mommy cat and her new brood. The prospect of these latest additions horrified him, but he couldn’t think about that now. Especially with that scary cougar cat spread out in a predatory fashion on the bottom step of the mansion, eying a hummingbird in a nearby bougainvillea bush, and with the potbellied pig already sitting on the passenger seat of Aaron’s truck, waiting for Daniel. “I’m gonna use your frickin’ truck to get some frickin’ things from the frickin’ storage facility.”

“No problem,” Aaron said. “And the frickin’ pig?”

It was a sign of Daniel’s deteriorating mood that he didn’t even smile at his brother’s obvious teasing. “I’m taking Emily to the Pet Psychiatric Clinic in Lafayette. She’s depressed. And stop with the constant grinning. You look like an idiot.”

“Whoa! Talk about an overreaction. Are you annoyed with me?”

“Hell, yes. Do you have to be so crude? In front of a woman?”

“What? What did I do?”

“Someone could get laid.” Daniel repeated Aaron’s recent words back to him, words said in the presence of Samantha.

“Oh. That.” Aaron paused to stare at him. “I take it you haven’t done the deed with Sam yet.”

“No, I haven’t, not that it’s any of your business.”

“How can you be a brother of mine? Are you an alien or something? You and Sam practically sizzle when you’re in the same room. I should know. I’m your twin. I can feel your burn.”

Great! Shared lust. “I’ve discussed it with her,” he said defensively. “Sort of.”

“Discussed? You don’t discuss having sex. You just do it.” Aaron put his face in his hands, then raised his head. “Sort of? This oughta be good.”

“I implied, and she concurred.” That sounds dumb, even to me.

“And still you haven’t done anything?” Aaron threw his hands in the air.

“Give me time.”

Aaron rolled his eyes. “She’s not really that attractive, you know. All those freckles. Eew!”

“Are you nuts? She’s so hot, she makes my blood steam. As for the freckles, can you imagine licking them? One at a time. Everywhere.”

Aaron grinned, having gotten the reaction he wanted.

More grinning! Daniel fake-punched his brother in the chest.

Aaron left then, but he was shaking his head at Daniel’s hopelessness.

It was true. Daniel did think a lot about things. It was probably the doctor in him. You could take the man out of medicine, but you couldn’t take the medicine out of the man, or some such thing. That wasn’t hopelessness. It was smart. So what if he didn’t act impulsively! Well, except for his impulsive invitation for Samantha, Angus, Lily Beth, and the animals to come to Rose Plantation. And look where that had gotten him? Drowning in animals . . . and lust quicksand.

As a doctor, a student of science, Daniel knew that sexual arousal had four stages: excitement, plateau, orgasm, and resolution. It began in the brain as an erotic thought (Boy, do I have a few, or twenty, of those.), or image (Can anyone say nudity?), or touch (I wanna hold your haaaaand, or another body part.), or feelings of affection for a particular partner (Not so much that one, except . . . ), each or all of which triggered signals to all the erogenous zones on the body, especially the genitals. Easily explained by dopamine D4 receptors in the brain, as well as biological chemicals, like hormones and testosterone.

Forget the doctor perspective. As a man, Daniel recognized the overwhelming desire to engage in sexual activity, i.e. fucking, simply for what it was. Lust, libido, horniness, the itch that couldn’t be scratched. When he was being nice, or trying to worm his way into a woman’s bed, a man might use less graphic words, like passion, or desire, or even love, if he were particularly desperate, or emotional. Sexual deprivation did tend to make a man desperate. Whatever the word or the cause, sexual arousal to a man was an overwhelming drive for satisfaction that only a woman could provide. Like being caught on a fast train with no brakes. Okay, a man could do the job himself, but that wasn’t nearly as satisfying.