He was black, as the sin of the devil.
She was pure and bright as the angle's halo.
A medical conspiracy brings Dr. Robert and Dr. Misha together on a path of pain and darkness fused with love and unspoken fears, protected by each ones walls.
Will t...
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'When the day ends, when it's just you and me, when I don't have to mask myself, when it's just you and me.' When life leaves no choice, all one is confined by are darkness, the inner corruption and murk, that's when alcohol becomes a man's best friend. As much as it hurts it's also a tranquilizer, the best sedative. Hooch is loners' life shortening companion. It's strange for people, how a glass of some hard liquor can gulp down all their sorrows, pain, agony, and despondence. But that, certainly, wasn't the case with the 41 years old doctor. Alcohol only reminded Robert how much sinned he is. Every evening Robert would sit in bar drenching himself in alcohol only to scourge himself. It reminded him, his noble profession doesn't change the fact that he is cursed. The day falls followed by alcohol nudged him that his clean white lab coat can never camouflage his Black soul. Why was the hard liquor so hard on him? Why his best mate is his worst enemy at the same time?
Like a perpetual groove, Robert was back in the bar mulling over his past. He sat on his reserved corner booth, quaffing down his umpteenth glass of whiskey, he takes the opportunity of taking out two cigarettes and ignites them up to bedeck his lips. Robert not only was an alcoholic, but an average smoker too. If he didn't spend preponderant amount of time in hospital he, definitely, would be expanding the business of cigarette manufacturing companies.
"I've been here all evening, is there any drink you haven't tried here yet" a blonde stood beside Robert while his gaze was focused on the half-filled glass of whiskey. Dr Downey wasn't just a brilliant surgeon but also a proficient observer too. He knew the woman had been watching him ever since he stepped in. But Robert wasn't a person who would make the first move. Initiation has never been his thing, neither for sex nor for moving forward in life. He was an egotistical man,he very well knew he was an ambassador of sex appeal. He never had to look for women for coitus, his presence was enough to have them on their knees. His spunky phiz and erotic movements were his ammunition to deprave women.
"It took quite a few glasses of Old Fashinoned to pull off some courage of coming here and making a move." He says with a elicit smirk, finally looking up.
She was even hot from close, her blond hair fell on her shoulder, her blue eyes were the highlights of her countenance, a red knee length backless with strings bodycon satin dress characterized her curves. She didn't look like she had been here before, nor did she looked like she would be down for getting laid with an unknown man.
She takes a seat across The Doctor, his eyes never leaves her as if to equivalent his intentions with her on coming copulation "Okay then Sherlock, too conceited to come up and engage in some conversation?"
Robert releases a hoarse laugh as he stubs out cigarettes in ashtray, "I'm not slave of my sexual urges, honey." Robert's not beating around the bush answer made her frown disbelievingly. Dr Downey might be a mysterious and secretive man but he has always been transparent about his opinions. He didn't care if his sardonically ironic comments qualifies him to be a certified jerk. His too honest callouses made him look arrogant and brutal, not that he wasn't but as said before he didn't care.
