Confessions of a Naughty Night Nurse
‘Yeah, I have actually.’ He yanked his sleeves over his hands and strode back to the door.
Tom followed and I heard him lock it shut, as was standard procedure at Rose Cottage. The NHS couldn’t risk body snatching, that’s why Tom was employed as night security here.
‘Poor sod,’ Tom said, wandering back in. ‘Looked white as a sheet, didn’t he?’
‘They all do to start with.’
Tom pulled open the drawer and together we slid Mr Parslow onto the metal; his body, although light, was a dense weight. Tom then pushed the drawer shut and closed the door with a resounding slam.
He wrote Mr Parslow’s name on a piece of card and slipped it into a slot beneath.
‘So how long have you got?’ he asked, a naughty smile tugging his lips and his smoky-blue eyes twinkling.
I raised my eyebrows. ‘No time at all. Change of plan, I have to get straight back, sorry.’
‘Ah, Sharon,’ he said, frowning. ‘Why do you go and tease me like that? You know how much I look forward to your visits. They’re the only thing that keeps me going in this lifeless place.’
‘Sorry.’ I glanced down his body. Through his uniform – dark-navy trousers and shirt – Tom’s well-defined muscles could be made out, as could a fantastically long wedge of flesh behind his fly.
My pussy clenched as I remembered last week when I’d paid him a visit. He’d bent me over the desk and rammed himself into me for nearly an hour. It had been so damn hard to walk back onto the orthopaedic ward I’d actually considered nicking a pair of crutches.
I hitched in a breath, knowing I wouldn’t be able to keep up my pretence for more than another few seconds. Tom’s big dick and his skilful use of it was too damn irresistible. ‘The ward is crazy busy.’
He reached for me but I stepped away. ‘Just a kiss and a quick grope then, to keep me going.’
Quickly I moved even further away, towards the autopsy room. ‘Ha, ha,’ I said gleefully. ‘Just kidding, I’m on my break now.’
He flattened his lips into a tight line, as if holding back a broad smile, though at the same time narrowing his eyes as though furious with me. ‘You little minx,’ he said. ‘You’ll pay for that.’
‘Only if you can catch me.’ I darted into the autopsy room, dark except for a couple of low lights over a set of huge scales. The air was cool and laced with disinfectant.
I glanced around. There was a big, steel surgical table in the centre, a row of cupboards, several filing cabinets and a desk holding an ancient computer monitor.
‘Sharon,’ Tom called, the door shutting behind him with a soft whoosh. ‘You can’t escape.’
‘No, please, no,’ I said with a giggle and ran towards the far side of the room.
He chased but I dodged at the last minute, went to run for the door. He cut me off and I swivelled, found myself barging into the bolted-down table in the middle.
I gasped as the air flew from my lungs, but recovered quickly and, with my hands flat on the cool surface, scooted to the end.
Tom was facing me now, his face strewn with shadows, but I could see the thrill of the chase had flushed his cheeks and caused him to pant.
‘Come here,’ he said, edging closer.
‘No.’ I moved away from him in a circle around the table.
But it was futile; he was tall, fast and strong. Suddenly I was grabbed and tugged to the end, my body pulled up against his.
He pressed his lips down hard on mine and instantly the game was over. Now it was all about carnal satisfaction. With Tom, I was always guaranteed a spectacular orgasm and I couldn’t wait to start riding towards it.
‘Ah, yeah, baby, I’ve got you,’ he said, shoving my coat off and flicking it out of the way. ‘You gonna take it good again? Like you did last week?’
‘Yes,’ I panted, tearing at the buttons on his shirt. ‘Yes, that was so hot, I could hardly bloody walk the next day.’
He chuckled, low, deep and sexy, then kissed me again, the stubble on his chin scraping my skin and his breaths blowing hot and hard on my cheek.
He had my uniform up around my waist now and was forcing me to lie back on the ice-cold table. He stepped between my legs and leaned over me, pressing his groin into the gusset of my knickers.
‘Really, on here?’ I said, slotting my fingers into his hair and drawing my knees up so they pressed either side of his hips. ‘Where they chop up dead people? Isn’t that a bit freaky?’
‘The French for orgasm is petite mort so it’s kind of fitting.’ He was fiddling with the elastic of my underwear, at the juncture of my thighs.
‘Yeah, I suppose, but, oh –’ My words were cut off and turned into a delighted moan. He’d plunged two fingers high up inside me and found my clit with his thumb.
‘Oh, you’re such a dirty nurse,’ he murmured, kissing and licking over my cheek. ‘I bet you’ve been getting wetter and wetter ever since that poor old sod croaked, haven’t you?’
‘I –’ Words wouldn’t come. My brain could only concentrate on his touch.
He pulled out a little, shoved back in and set up a steady rhythm. Small squelching noises echoed around the room, mixing with my panting breaths and the sound of my pulse raging in my ears.
‘I love it when you get so wet for me,’ he said, gripping the back of my neck with his free hand and nibbling the side of my neck. ‘I’m going to really miss your cream, Sharon.’
‘Ah, yes, Tom, please, I want you in me.’
His hand was good, but a hand was a hand. Tom’s equipment was sensational, the sort of specimen that should be pickled in a jar when he died and saved in a museum as a perfect example of the human penis.
‘Coming right up, baby,’ he said, withdrawing and fumbling with his flies.
I shoved at my knickers, gasped briefly at the chill on my buttocks, then kicked the material away. I tried not to think of the bodies that had lain lifeless where I was about to be screwed senseless. Perhaps it would re-balance the karma for this table – if furniture held karma, that is.
Tom was rolling a condom on with astonishing efficiency. ‘You’re the only one that ever takes all of me,’ he said, looking me in the eye. ‘And it feels amazing.’
‘Tell me about it.’ I reached for him and kissed him hungrily as he pressed me back onto the hardness of the metal. He tasted of coffee, chocolate and perhaps a hint of tobacco. He tasted of Tom, which to me meant sex and pleasure and orgasms of the super-intense variety.
He was nudging into me. I locked my ankles in the small of his back and gripped the sleeves of his shirt. This part always required a good amount of concentration on my behalf if it was to be erotic pain and not ow-that-hurts pain.
‘Yeah, that’s it,’ he said into my mouth and gaining the first inch of entry.
I held my breath, waiting for more, desperate for more, all of it, all of him.
‘Damn, you feel so hot,’ he said, pressing his chin against my temple.
His stubble would leave a telltale red rash, but I didn’t care, to hell with any consequences. Right now I just wanted more of him inside me.
I rocked my hips up to meet him and he pushed in – much faster than usual.
‘Oh, yes,’ I cried out as red flashes filled my vision. ‘So good.’
‘Only good?’ He stilled.
‘Fantastic, and you know it.’ I half-heartedly thumped his arm. ‘Just give it to me.’
He hesitated for a second, then shunted in completely.
I cried out, so did he.
The brutal entry and the swirling pleasure-pain had my entire body tensing.
‘Ah, yeah,’ he groaned, lifting his head and staring at the wall behind me. ‘Fuck, yeah.’
I felt like I would burst. That at any moment the tip of his cock would come right out of my throat. How was it possible for my little body to take such a monster? I didn’t know, but it did, and it felt bloody incredible.
Tom began to move. Keeping himself lodged high, he churned his hips in a circular movement, catching my clit just right.
Groaning, I arched my back, lifted off the table and clung to him. Already the first blissful sparks of orgasm were there. It wouldn’t take long.
‘Ah, yeah, this isn’t going to be a marathon session like last week,’ he said. ‘You’ve got me too damn hot for you. I’m near already.’
‘Me too.’ I smoothed my hands over his shoulders. ‘Me too.’
He pulled halfway out, sliding easily, then rode back in. We both grunted and I harnessed the growing pressure.
‘Yeah,’ he said, repeating the process. ‘Oh, yeah.’
‘Faster, harder,’ I said, catching his fleshy earlobe in my mouth and sucking.
‘Your wish is my command.’
Suddenly our mating cranked up a notch. If it had been desperate before, now it was frantic, wild and utterly animalistic. Breathing no longer mattered, nor did the rest of the universe. Tom inside me and the explosion about to detonate was all that existed.
‘Ah, I’m coming,’ I shouted, biting down on his earlobe.
‘Fuck, fuck, fuck,’ he groaned, shifting his head but not escaping my teeth.
He was rod-hard, as hard as he ever got. And I was being impaled; he was ramming me down as much as he was forging into me.
It was there. I was spinning through ecstasy, my body not my own for a few sweeter-than-sweet seconds, but belonging to a glorious state of heavenly pleasure.
And then came the best bit, my pussy contracting and spasming around Tom’s cock. My internal muscles rejoicing at the incredible length and girth they had to grip and shudder against.
Tom was coming too, at the perfect moment. He was groaning and moaning like a dying man. I released his ear, found his mouth and kissed him. He kissed back, hungrily.
‘Oh, yeah, that was so good,’ he said, breathless and finally slowing his thrusting hips.
‘Tell me about it.’ I was trembling, my flesh prickly and sweat-coated.
‘You’re incredible,’ he said.
‘Kind of you to say so.’ I brushed his hair back from his face where it was hanging like dark fingers around his forehead. ‘How are the wedding plans going?’
‘Not bad, Cheryl is stressed but her mum’s helping her.’
‘It must be a nightmare planning such a big event for so many people.’
‘Yeah, well, it’s what she wants.’
He touched his nose to mine, rubbed it in an Eskimo kiss. ‘Are you sure we can’t still do this once I’ve tied the knot?’
‘We’ve had this conversation before.’ I stroked his earlobe – it was wet and slightly swollen from my exuberant kisses and bites.
‘I know, but bloody hell, Sharon, we’re so damn good together.’ As if to prove the point he ground into me, extracting another delicious tremor. I couldn’t hold in a satisfied groan.
‘I have some morals, you know,’ I said when I’d recovered, ‘and screwing married men is definitely on my list of no-no’s.’
‘But how is this different? I’m engaged to be married right now.’
‘You haven’t promised to forsake all others yet, though, have you?’
‘No, I suppose not.’ He kissed me gently. ‘I will miss this, though. You. Us.’
‘Me too. But Cheryl makes you happy and will do for the rest of your life.’
‘Yep, she’s great.’ He pulled out and straightened.
I became aware of the cold, unyielding surface I was lying on and the dampness between my legs.
‘I’ve got cheese sandwiches and a pork pie in my tuck box if you want to share,’ he said, tugging off the condom and slipping his still semi-erect cock away.
‘Sounds great.’ I jumped off the slab of metal, pulled on my knickers and straightened my uniform.
I would miss my time with Tom and his talented dick, but that was just the way it was. Cheryl would have to learn to cope with him and I’d have to find myself another well-hung pastime.
Perhaps an Italian one was in order.
The plastic surgery department was set slightly apart from the general wards. It had its own gardens, a small canteen and several overnight rooms for visitors as it was a regional centre.
I was always happy to be sent there. The staff were hugely committed and experts in their field. The atmosphere was one of nurturing and support, not just for the patients but also for their families.
‘Hey,’ I said, strolling into the cluttered office. It was my second night on duty out of seven so I was still feeling pretty energetic. Plus last night with Tom had meant I’d had a lovely, deep, satisfying sleep all day.
‘Oh, good, it’s you, Sharon,’ Felicity said. She was the department’s head night nurse and I knew her well. We’d both been around since scalpels had been made of flint and bandages of mammoth hide.
I grinned. It was nice to be wanted. ‘You busy?’ I asked, grabbing a report card from the desk.
‘More than usual. There’s been a clinical inspection today and it knocked the late shift back several hours with everything.’
‘Bummer. You want me to get on with anything straight away?’
She glanced down her chart. ‘Yes, could you bedbath Ted Graham in room three? I promised I would, but I have to do the drug round first so it will be ages before I get to him.’
‘No problem at all.’ I glanced at his details on my sheet. Thirty-four-year-old with third degree burns to both hands. Ten days post second skin graft and reconstruction.
‘Great,’ Felicity said. ‘But don’t rush him, will you, if he wants to chat, let him. He’s one of us after all.’
‘He is?’
‘Yep, a fireman, flames got his hands when he was rescuing a pregnant woman from a house fire.’
‘Oh, damn.’
‘Indeed.’
After slipping a plastic apron over my dress, I knocked quietly on the door of room three and stepped in. I shut it tight behind myself.
Ted lay on the bed, a sheet up to his waist and his head sunk into a stack of pillows. He looked big and tough with a wide chest and thick biceps, but his hands were wrapped tight in bulky white bandages, rendering him practically helpless and creating quite a contrast to the burly masculinity of his body.
He smiled when he saw me; his jawline was a wide angular shape, his teeth neat and white. Everything about him was big. He was on a whole different size scale to me.
‘Hi,’ I said and turned down the volume on some chat show he was watching. ‘You must be Ted?’
‘That’s me.’ His voice was deep and rasping, almost smoky. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he spoke.
‘I’m Sharon, would you like me to help you freshen up? Seems the day staff have been frantic.’
He rolled his eyes. ‘You can say that again, they’ve been buzzing around like a bunch of bees that’ve had their nest kicked.’ He laughed. ‘Quite funny to sit back and watch, and not have to do anything to help. I’m used to being in the middle of all the action.’
I liked Ted already. It was the twinkle in his eye, the buoyancy of his voice. He was having a rubbish time, but when people could still smile in that state I couldn’t help but admire them. I didn’t know if I would, given the same situation.
‘We’ll keep ourselves locked out of the way,’ I said, pulling a face. ‘Far from the madding crowd.’
‘Good plan.’ He tried to sit up but struggled when a pillow slipped and he couldn’t stop it falling to the floor.
I pulled his table away from the bed and adjusted his back support. Redoing his pillows.
‘Sorry,’ he said, ‘these damn hands are not up to much at the moment.’ He lifted his bandaged fists causing his pectoral muscles to flex and twitch.
I touched his warm, tendon-rich forearm and smiled gently. ‘That’s why I’m here, to help.’
‘I haven’t seen you before,’ he said. ‘Even though I’ve been laid in this room for three weeks now and going backward and forwards to theatre.’
‘No, I haven’t been here for about a month.’
‘Ah, have you been somewhere exotic on a long, luxury holiday with a handsome doctor?’
I laughed. ‘I wish.’ Mmm, four weeks on a deserted island with Javier would certainly give me a boost in all departments. ‘Nope, I’ve just been working on different wards. I’m a bit of a jack-of-all-trades, they send me wherever is low staffed at the beginning of each shift. Tonight I’m afraid you’ve drawn the short straw.’
‘Hardly the short straw,’ he said, tipping his head and studying me with a naughty glint in his eyes.
I laughed. ‘Nice of you to say so. Do you want a drink?’ I nodded at the empty glass on the table. It had a white straw sticking from it.
‘Please, there’s some Coke over there.’
I glanced at where he’d indicated. He had a small, bright red fridge humming in the corner.
‘I had it delivered here from Argos.’ Ted smiled. ‘I hate warm drinks, even in the winter. A habit from days in sunnier climates.’
‘Great idea.’ I opened the small glass door. ‘Hey, you’ve got some beer in here. Want one?’ I turned to him.
He looked at the closed door that led to the ward, as if seeing a frowning authority on the other side. ‘Well, I don’t know if I’m allowed.’
I laughed. ‘Yes, you’re allowed. It’s your beer, you’re a grown man. Have one if you want.’ I picked up an icy cold can and held it aloft.
‘Will you join me?’
I shook my head and widened my eyes. ‘I think that might just get me fired faster than a ball out of a cannon.’
He grinned and I sensed he was swaying.
‘What about the drugs I’m on?’ he asked.
‘No worries. It isn’t strong beer, so one will be perfectly fine and it will probably help you get a good night’s sleep.’
‘I could sleep for the Olympics these days. Not much else to do.’ He rolled his eyes and I thought his mood might switch, but then he grinned. ‘Go on then, if you’re sure it’ll be all right.’
‘I’m sure.’ I shut the fridge and picked up a tall glass from a shelf. ‘Have you had family in today?’
He shook his head. ‘No, not today, and not tomorrow either.’
That surprised me. I would have thought his people would be swarming around him. ‘Why not?’
‘Just how it is for me.’
‘No family?’
‘Nope.’ I held the glass as he took a sip of the beer through the straw. His lips were wide and plump, the bottom one held a small dink at the centre. I noticed there was a good couple of days’ worth of black stubble over his cheeks, jaw and down his neck.
‘Ahh, that’s so good,’ he said with a sigh. ‘Reminds me of being in Greece; with the sun on my back, a heart full of hope and a lust for adventure.’
I walked to the sink, set about filling up a bowl of water and collecting washing paraphernalia. ‘Greece. I’d love to go there.’
‘Beautiful place if you can cope with wasps and earthquakes.’
‘Can you tell me about it?’
‘You really want to hear?’
‘Yes, absolutely. I’ll give you a bit of a wash while you talk. It will make me feel like I’ve had that holiday. I could do with one.’ Plus I liked the lilt of his accent, I couldn’t place it but it was light and complemented the rich throatiness of his voice.
‘Couldn’t we all.’ He paused, then, ‘I grew up in Greece. My father had a job with the government and was posted in Athens. It meant we had a nice house with a pool and a maid. Me and my sister went to a private English school but also learnt to speak fluent Greek. It’s like that when you’re kids. You pick up languages without even having to think about it, don’t you?’
I nodded and wiped his face with the warm, soapy flannel. When I dried, the sound of stubble rasping on the towel was loud in the quiet room. ‘Would you like me to give you a shave?’
He opened his eyes and looked straight into mine. They were a stunning shade of dark blue, like the deepest part of the ocean. ‘Would you mind? Have you got time?’
‘No, not at all, and yes I have time. It won’t take long.’
‘That would be great then.’ He smiled again and then clicked his tongue on the roof of his mouth. ‘I hate being so dependent. It’s not me at all.’
‘Hopefully it will only be for a few more weeks, and that’s why we’re here, to help.’ I reached for a razor and a can of shaving foam. Flooding my hand with white froth and beginning to spread it around his jawline, the short tough hairs were sharp on my fingertips and the feeling briefly reminded me of my fun with Tom the night before.
‘Well, thanks, I appreciate it, everything you all do,’ he said, his mouth a dark slash in the frothy mess on his face.
‘No worries.’
Silence descended upon us as I began to carefully scrape the wet razor down his right cheek. I was aware that he was watching my face intently, almost like he could see the reflection of what I was doing in my eyes. I was leaning in close, I had to, breaching personal space was the only way to perform my task, but if he looked downwards there was no doubt he’d get a flash of cleavage.
But he didn’t look down, he carried on starting intently at my face and carefully twisting his mouth to stretch the skin on his cheek.
Little waves of prickles ran up my spine, nape and onto my scalp. I had a sudden sweep of self-consciousness. I was being scrutinised, closely, but I was also being trusted to wield a razor against a stranger’s face and throat. It was a great privilege to be so trusted. Who was I kidding? I was hot and tingly because Ted was an incredibly handsome fireman and I was performing an intimate task for him. Donning a nurse’s uniform didn’t quell my appreciation for a gorgeous bloke with a sexy smile, a roguish voice and a history of saving women from burning buildings.
I straightened and jiggled the razor in the water to rid it of the stubble and used foam. ‘Carry on telling me about Greece. I sense there’s an “until” coming up,’ I said with a smile then nibbled on my bottom lip.
He twitched his eyebrows. ‘You’d be right. I was seventeen when it all started to go wrong. I had dreams of going to university in the UK and studying marketing.’
‘Marketing, interesting.’ With my fingertip I gently smoothed the froth beneath his nose, trying my best not to get it in his nostrils. He kept very still while I shaved around his top lip, just pulling his mouth down a little to elongate the skin.
Top lip smooth, I carried on shaving, moving around to the opposite side of his face. Still he didn’t talk, he stayed silent, his breaths warm and tickly on my arm. My own breathing became slow and steady as I concentrated.
The stubble came away easily, leaving a perfect stretches of golden skin in its wake. I repeated the process over and over, sloshing the razor in the bowl of water after each downward track. Eventually I finished and dabbed his now silky jaw with the damp flannel and a warm towel. Admiring my work as opposed to the ruggedly handsome planes of his face – or so I told myself.
He touched his cheek to his hunched up shoulder, rubbed briefly, as if checking my work. ‘Thanks, that’s great. I can tell you’ve done that before.’
‘A few times.’ I smiled, tipped the water away and refilled the bowl. ‘So did you do your marketing course?’
‘Yep, I applied to several universities and was accepted into Manchester. I couldn’t wait to go and start my new student life. Though to be honest, thoughts of girls were considerably more prominent than my desire to learn. Well, unless you counted my interest in studying the female form, that is.’
He laughed as I wiped the warm flannel over his broad chest. His muscles were firm and solid, neatly squared pecs and small dark nipples. Just a hint of hair over his sternum. His flesh held an olive glow, like the Greek sunshine was still within him. It was impossible not to appreciate his sturdy, sculpted physique, though I was careful not to linger with the soapy flannel. That wouldn’t have been professional at all.
‘And I was right,’ he said as I dried with a long sweeping movements. ‘The girls at uni were hot. Hot with a capital H. And willing too. Not like where I’d grown up. Back in Athens, I’d been seeing this local girl, Phedra. She had long black hair; it felt like silk and never tangled in my fingers. I found it fascinating how I could stroke right through it and it flowed like water and tickled the back of my wrists. You know, this sensitive part?’ He lifted his hand, the underside of his wrist facing my way.