information.” I turn my back toward her so she doesn’t see me as I turn a darker shade of red. Then I pretend to look over the night report from the previous shift.
“Hear that, Gladys? He’s good in bed.” Eileen winks at the larger woman.
“Oh, I bet he is,” Gladys adds . “She wouldn’t be grinnin’ that wide if he wasn’t.”
Eileen continues her interrogation, despite the fact that I’m not answering any of her questions. “How long have you known him and why haven’t you told us about him before? What does he do for a living? Is he blonde or brunette? Or is he a redhead? Ooh, those redheads are hot, Gladys.” She looks at the oversized, black woman, who is nodding in agreement. “I bet he has a nice ass.” She places her hand on Gladys’s arm. “You know she checks out their buns, Gladys, right? I’ve seen her eyeballing some of those fine, young residents who are new to the rotation.”
Gladys purses her lips together, “Mmmmm-hmmmm.”
“I’m not telling the two of you anything,” I say, but from the heat in my cheeks they already know too much.
“ Oh, yes you will. I’ll get some information out of you before the day is over.” A confident smile spreads across Eileen’s face as she picks up a chart, and heads toward the patient behind the first curtain. “C’mon, Mrs. Simmons. I’m going to have an orderly transfer you to maternity.”
“You know she won’t let up until you give he r some details,” Gladys says.
“I know Gladys, but it all happened so quickly. I’m not even sure if it’s real.”
Gladys looks at the chart in her hand. “Okay, well Mr. Wilmington, behind curtain seven, is real. Go find out what’s bothering him.” She hands me the chart and I begin my shift.
When I finish transferring my caseload to the evening nurse, I race home. During the twenty-minute car ride I think about Dylan. The pounding in my chest intensifies and my anticipation builds. I pull into my driveway at 3:30. There’s a note taped to my door. “Willing to massage your feet if you come over. –D.”
Something inside me pulsates. I jump into the shower to wash the hospital smell off me as quickly as I can. In a clean tee shirt and shorts, I practically run to Dylan’s house. I don’t even knock; he yanks open the door. He’s in tight jeans and a tee shirt. He’s absolutely scrumptious. Every tendon in my body tightens. With one strong arm, he seizes me by the waist and pulls me toward him. His assertive, soft lips greet me as if he’s a starving man given a hamburger. Electricity rushes through me as I return the fervor.
S till floating from the effects of his touch, he brushes my cheek with his hand. “I missed you,” he whispers. A tidal wave crests and I press my body harder against his.
He pulls me into the house and closes the door. Then he kisses me again.
I can’t wait. I reach to unsecure his pants. He doesn’t protest. We paw at each other removing bits of clothing until we are both undressed. His body feels incredible against mine. He quivers slightly as my hands wander over his strong chest. I roam lower. When I find my prize I take hold. Despite the velvety smoothness of his skin, he is firm. The urgency of my touch causes him to convulse. A low moan escapes from him. My body reacts as well. His eyes plead with me as I stroke him with slow, gentle movements.
His breathing is rapid, eyes closed. “I can’t hold back,” he whispers.
“Then don’t,” I say . And he lets go.
He looks down when he’s finished. “I’m sorry.”
“Why are you sorry?”
“I can usually hold off much longer than that, but I was thinking about you all day and then when you walked in… your smell, your touch, just you.”
I look down and see he’s ready again. That was fast .
“Now it’s my turn.”
My face twists with confusion.
He offers me a seat on the couch then sits next to me. Starting at my fingertips, he plants butterfly
“Hear that, Gladys? He’s good in bed.” Eileen winks at the larger woman.
“Oh, I bet he is,” Gladys adds . “She wouldn’t be grinnin’ that wide if he wasn’t.”
Eileen continues her interrogation, despite the fact that I’m not answering any of her questions. “How long have you known him and why haven’t you told us about him before? What does he do for a living? Is he blonde or brunette? Or is he a redhead? Ooh, those redheads are hot, Gladys.” She looks at the oversized, black woman, who is nodding in agreement. “I bet he has a nice ass.” She places her hand on Gladys’s arm. “You know she checks out their buns, Gladys, right? I’ve seen her eyeballing some of those fine, young residents who are new to the rotation.”
Gladys purses her lips together, “Mmmmm-hmmmm.”
“I’m not telling the two of you anything,” I say, but from the heat in my cheeks they already know too much.
“ Oh, yes you will. I’ll get some information out of you before the day is over.” A confident smile spreads across Eileen’s face as she picks up a chart, and heads toward the patient behind the first curtain. “C’mon, Mrs. Simmons. I’m going to have an orderly transfer you to maternity.”
“You know she won’t let up until you give he r some details,” Gladys says.
“I know Gladys, but it all happened so quickly. I’m not even sure if it’s real.”
Gladys looks at the chart in her hand. “Okay, well Mr. Wilmington, behind curtain seven, is real. Go find out what’s bothering him.” She hands me the chart and I begin my shift.
When I finish transferring my caseload to the evening nurse, I race home. During the twenty-minute car ride I think about Dylan. The pounding in my chest intensifies and my anticipation builds. I pull into my driveway at 3:30. There’s a note taped to my door. “Willing to massage your feet if you come over. –D.”
Something inside me pulsates. I jump into the shower to wash the hospital smell off me as quickly as I can. In a clean tee shirt and shorts, I practically run to Dylan’s house. I don’t even knock; he yanks open the door. He’s in tight jeans and a tee shirt. He’s absolutely scrumptious. Every tendon in my body tightens. With one strong arm, he seizes me by the waist and pulls me toward him. His assertive, soft lips greet me as if he’s a starving man given a hamburger. Electricity rushes through me as I return the fervor.
S till floating from the effects of his touch, he brushes my cheek with his hand. “I missed you,” he whispers. A tidal wave crests and I press my body harder against his.
He pulls me into the house and closes the door. Then he kisses me again.
I can’t wait. I reach to unsecure his pants. He doesn’t protest. We paw at each other removing bits of clothing until we are both undressed. His body feels incredible against mine. He quivers slightly as my hands wander over his strong chest. I roam lower. When I find my prize I take hold. Despite the velvety smoothness of his skin, he is firm. The urgency of my touch causes him to convulse. A low moan escapes from him. My body reacts as well. His eyes plead with me as I stroke him with slow, gentle movements.
His breathing is rapid, eyes closed. “I can’t hold back,” he whispers.
“Then don’t,” I say . And he lets go.
He looks down when he’s finished. “I’m sorry.”
“Why are you sorry?”
“I can usually hold off much longer than that, but I was thinking about you all day and then when you walked in… your smell, your touch, just you.”
I look down and see he’s ready again. That was fast .
“Now it’s my turn.”
My face twists with confusion.
He offers me a seat on the couch then sits next to me. Starting at my fingertips, he plants butterfly
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