Nurse · Part 1

Nurse · Part 1 (1/2)
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Dave lifted her pinstriped dress and white starched apron, his hand reaching for the elastic of her knickers. This was 1975, and nurses still wore time-honoured attire.

It was the stuff of medical fantasies and Benny Hill skits.

Lying on her bed, Kay sighed and studied the ceiling.

She noticed some peeling paint, nothing unusual.

The Victorian nurses home was chronically shabby.

“Dave, not now. I’ve got to be on shift soon.” It was an excuse. She didn’t fancy him, or what he was offering. He bored the shit out of her.

“C’mon Kay. Just a quickie.”

She felt him try to slip them off. “Fuck off Dave. Leave me alone!” Her vehemence surprised her.

“God you’re a cow!”

“Yeah. I’m a cow, and anything else you feel like calling me.

I don’t want to do this. I don’t feel like it.” She watched his brow knit as he took in her words, and then he sat up, before silently reaching for his tobacco tin and rolling a cigarette.

“Dave, things aren’t working out between us…”

“Really? Maybe that’s because you’re too busy eyeing up the doctors. I’m not good enough for you now.”

Kay sighed in frustration.

She’d known Dave three years, since she was eighteen.

Now she was a student nurse, half way through her training.

He couldn’t take her new career, or more to the point, he couldn’t take her new friends. “Dave, I’m sick of carrying the load. You’ve not worked in months, and the payments on your motorbike aren’t my job.

How come I’m the only one who worries about them? You’re six years older than me. It’s not supposed to be like this.”

“That’s all you care about isn’t it? Money?”

“Well you obviously don’t give a damn, and you’re more than happy to use mine. I’m fed up with searching for pennies down the side of the bed at the end of the month.” After that, she didn’t remember much, only flashes of a screaming row that ended when he roared off on his Norton 850, courtesy of her keeping the finance company happy.

“Among others, you’re looking after a Mr. Smith, aged

42, in bed 10, one of the private rooms. He had an appendectomy yesterday evening. He didn’t want a bed bath this morning. See what you can do with him this afternoon. You can read through his notes; it’s all here.

Keep a close on eye on his drip, and make sure he’s passed urine by 8

Kay saw the ward sister peer at her over her steel rimmed specs as she finished her instructions; the old bat always made her feel nervous, as well as giving her the shittiest patients.

Mr. Smith was officially hers; he must be gross.

A few minutes later, she looked round his door.

All she saw was the outline of his back and shoulders beneath the counterpane.

“Mr. Smith?”

He stirred slightly.

“Mr. Smith?” He stirred again, before very slowly lifting his head and turning in her direction.

Maybe it was imagination, but for a second, she thought he was going to growl at her. He didn’t though, he smiled.

“Aaahhh, sweetheart.

What a pleasant sight. The nurse this morning was a wretched creature.

Wanted me to do the impossible. No consideration, and damn ugly. I can see you’re much nicer. A friendly, beautiful face.”

Kay frowned. “Mr.

Smith, she was only trying to do her job – and looks don’t have anything to do with it.” She saw him smile again.

“Oh but they do, specially when I have the honour of being looked after by such an attractive young lady as you.”

She could see why she had this one.

He’d obviously caused hell this morning.

Despite that, she felt herself warm to him.

Dave never complimented her, and Mr. Smith’s flattery filled a hungry spot.

“Well then, maybe you’ll keep me out of trouble with the dragon by letting me give you a wash, and generally doing as you’re told?” She thought she saw his eyes widen, and his tongue flick over his lips.

“A wash? You mean a bed bath? You know, I didn’t feel like one earlier, but I think I’m up to it now. And call me

Michael, please.”

She looked at him more closely. He seemed younger than forty-two, and had a pleasant face.

He wasn’t bad looking, in a ruffled kind of way.

“OK then Michael, let’s get on with it.”

She filled a metal bowl with warm water, and then got everything else she needed, before cranking up the head of the bed and helping him sit up.

She handed him a soapy flannel. “Here, do your front.” He stared at her with mock indignation.

“You mean I’ve got to wash myself? You’re not going to do it?

What’s the National Health Service coming to? What do they teach you now?”

Kay felt herself blush.

“You’re a grown man. You can um… wash your own private bits. I’ll do your back, and any other parts you can’t reach.” She thought she noticed a wriggle of delight when she bathed his arse, but she let it go by. By the end of the procedure, he looked shiny and new in clean sheets, and in clearly expensive and just pressed PJ’s.

She noticed the portcullis symbol of the House of Commons embroidered on one pocket. “Where did you get those pyjamas from? They’re pretty fancy.” She saw him grin.

“Well, a Member of Parliament has certain standards to maintain.”

“Oh” Kay was surprised, “you mean you’re an MP?”

“Yes, that’s right.

Got caught off guard yesterday. I was in the Commons bar, and suddenly thought I was dying.

The pain was bloody awful, so they rushed me round the corner to this dump.”

She raised an eyebrow.

“Well if it’s a dump, it’s up to you to do something about it – isn’t it?”

“Should you be talking your patients like that, especially one as important as me?”

She could see he was teasing, and she enjoyed the banter.

“Maybe, and maybe I should tell you to vote for decent pay for nurses while I’m at it, before we all starve.”

“I’ll buy you dinner, will that do?”

The big twinkle in his eye was hard to miss, but this was a step too far “I don’t fraternise with my patients…”

“Fraternise, now that’s a good word.

Sounds interesting. Would you fraternise with me if we met in different circumstances?”

Kay pursed her lips and crossed her arms, despite the appeal – or maybe because of it. “This conversation is at end. The only thing you should be concentrating on is getting better. Ring the bell if you need anything. I finish at nine, and I’ll be popping in and out until then.” And with a swish of a starched skirt, she was gone.

The walk to the nurses home only took a few minutes.

She unlocked her room, flicked on the light and then noticed a small note on the carpet. Someone had pushed it under her door. She read it, ‘Call me when you finish your shift. I’m sorry. Love Dave.’

Bugger it; she couldn’t be bothered.

She was tired.

The next couple of weeks passed routinely.

She let Dave make love to her a couple of times; it was passionless.

He was a familiar warm body, that’s all.

She knew she needed to make changes; finding the time or energy was the problem.

It had been a day like any other, until she knocked off the morning shift. She was walking past the home wardens office to her room, when someone called her name.

“Kay, there’s something here for you.

Can you come and collect it?”

She was puzzled. She had no idea what it could be. “Oh my God!” she clamped a hand to her mouth, “who an earth sent me these? It must be a mistake.”

“Well, it’s no mistake.

They’re for you. They’ve stood here in water all morning.”

Kay gazed at the huge bunch of blood red roses in disbelief, and then read the card. The

House of Commons symbol gilded the front, ‘From Michael, a very bad patient, to my ministering angel.’ She looked up at the middle-aged woman who’d handed her the blooms, “Thanks – and thanks for keeping them for me.” She hurried to her cubbyhole, and clicked the lock behind her. No one saw the smile on her face.

She quickly arranged the flowers in a vase and admired them briefly, but it had been a busy morning, and she hadn’t slept well the night before. Tiredness soon made her lie down and drift off. As hard as she tried, getting up at dawn really wasn’t her thing. Eventually, the sound of a phone ringing disturbed her, but she ignored it. The extension was in the corridor outside; it probably wasn’t for her.

“Kay – Kay, there’s a call for you.”

It was the voice of her neighbour. Damn, she was too weary to move, but she did anyway.

“Thanks, I’ll be there in a minute.”

Opening her door, she sleepily wandered out.

“Hullo?”

“Hullo. Is that Kay?”

She didn’t recognise the voice. “Yes, who’s that?”

“It’s Michael, your very bad patient.

Did you get the roses?”

When the penny dropped, she was startled he’d called.

“Yes I did, thankyou. You shouldn’t have done that you know. It wasn’t necessary. They’re beautiful.”

“No more beautiful than you.”

His words were charming; she remembered the warmth and attraction, but she still felt awkward. “How did you know where to find me?”

“Aaahhh, well – yes, perhaps I should explain.

Let’s just say that when I set my mind to something, there’s very little I can’t do.”

“Well, you still shouldn’t have done it…” He interrupted her.

“Can I take you to dinner tonight?”

This put her in a quandary. Dave was coming over later, not that his visit was a dazzling prospect. “Well, I don’t know…”

“Have you been to the Savoy? It’s first class service, I’d love to take you.”

“The Savoy? You’re kidding?”

“No I’m not, I never kid.

Come on. Take risk.”

“I don’t know, I really shouldn’t…”

“Please?”

Maybe there was devil on her shoulder when she made the rash decision. “Yeah, OK then –

I’ll will.” She heard the happiness in Michael’s voice.

“I’ll get my driver to pick you up at six thirty?”

“Yeah, that sounds fine.

What’ll I wear?” God, was she really saying this…?

“You’d be stunning in anything.”

“Thanks for the compliment, but that’s not the point.

I’ve never been to the Savoy before.”

She fidgeted on the end of the line.

“Well, if you insist.

Maybe just a little black dress, something simple and classy.”

“Classy. OK, I get it. I’ll go simple and classy. See you later.”

“I look forward to it.

Take care Kay.”

She put the receiver down, and her heart began to race.

She didn’t have a little black dress.

Chronic poverty, and a lacklustre boyfriend who spent all her dough, left nothing spare for fancy clothes. She knocked on her friend’s door, and was relieved when she answered.

“Jen, do you have black dress I can borrow?”

Jen looked at her through narrowed eyes.

“I might have. Where are you off to then?”

“The Savoy.” Kay watched her mate’s mouth drop.

“What, has Dave come into money?”

“I’m not going with Dave…” Kay watched a grin spread across her confidante’s face.

Oh, I see. It’s about time you dumped him.

Let’s search my cupboard then…”

Kay was pleased with her borrowed gear, a tiny black outfit that followed her hourglass curves, and a low cut neck that showed off her breasts. She twirled in front of the mirror.

Her diamond stud earrings and fine gold necklace added just the right touch. Of course, they were fake.

She spent a good forty minutes applying her make up, smoky eyeliner, mascara, a wispy film of foundation, a hint of blusher and crimson lips.

She felt good when she added the final touch, a few dabs of perfume. Then she thought about Dave.

Damn. She headed to the public phone at the end of the hall.

“Dave? Look, I’m not feeling well. I’m getting an early night.

Don’t bother coming over, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure. Bye.” She slammed down the handset with relief.

At six thirty, she went outside. It looked like Michael’s car was already there, a sleek grey Jag. A smart suited man leant against the bonnet. He was a big guy, solid and hard looking. “Is this Mr. Smith’s car?” she asked a bit nervously.

“Yes madam. I take it you’re Kay McPherson?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“Allow me.”

He opened the back passenger door with a flourish and motioned her inside.

At once, she smelt the polished leather.

Everything was perfect and expensive, very different from a noisy British motorbike. Michael’s driver chauffeured her through the streets of London like a princess and soon, they swept up to the foyer of the famous Savoy.

Michael was there to greet her.

“Hullo sweetheart. You look stunning, quite gorgeous. I’m humbled you let me take you to dinner.”

Kay gave Michael credit; he knew how to treat a lady.

The meal was wonderful, the surroundings opulent and her host completely attentive. She also adored his wickedly irreverent and self-deprecating humour; it drew her like a sunflower to the light. The greyness in her life had crept up slowly; she’d barely noticed until now.

And then as she sipped the after dinner coffee, he stared at her, slowly tracing the rim of his glass with a finger.

“I keep a small flat just round the corner from

Parliament. Come back for a nightcap with me?” he asked.

“A nightcap? Is that all?”

“Depends. You’ll have to keep me in check.”

The sparkle in his eyes was impossible to miss.

“I can do that…” she said, smiling.

Though the devil on her shoulder probably had other ideas.

The Victorian terraced house was imposing, obviously a wealthy address. Michael undid the black gloss front door – and then showed her to the lift.

It silently glided to the fourth floor, and then standing aside, he ushered her out. When he unlocked his apartment, the neatness and expensive style struck her at once.

All antique wood, leather upholstery, thick carpets and heavy curtains.

“Want a drink? What’ll you have?” he asked.

“What have you got?”

“Take your pick.”

He opened a well-stocked cabinet. Kay chose a shot of vodka, sweetened with lime.

Michael just had whisky on the rocks.

She curled in one corner of the sofa; he stretched in the other, ankles crossed. She felt butterflies when he looked at her keenly, over the edge of his malt.

“Stay with me tonight?”

She gulped. Dave was her first lover; she needed to enlarge her horizons. She made a sudden decision. “OK, I will,” and then she deliberately caught his gaze, “I’ve not done this before…”

“Well then princess, it’s about time you did.”

He held out his hand, and she took it. The warmth and firmness steadied her jangling nerves. In the bedroom, he treated her like a Goddess. She shivered when his mouth trailed down her neck, before he devoured one nipple. A hand played with her other breast.

“I love your tits,” he said, between mouthfuls of flesh.

Michael had turned her on for once; Dave was nothing like this. His lips continued to wander down her body, paying special attention to her navel, and the small stretch of tummy beneath. Then his warm breathe hovered over pussy. Kay arched towards him.

“Don’t be impatient Kay,” he said softly, “we’ve got all night…”

She turned one cheek to the pillow and groaned gently.

She couldn’t help arching towards him again.

He rewarded her with the touch of his tongue on her bud.

The hot wetness played mercilessly with that vulnerable spot, and then she felt two fingers tenderly slip inside.

They were tentative and reverent, like Michael was in awe of her.

He whispered again.

“I’m going to make you come, I want to feel it and see

She made another faint sound of approval, and then unthinkingly wiped a hand across her brow, brushing stray hair from her eyes. It was damp with sweat. He was controlling her perfectly, gradually turning up the heat.

Each time she squirmed and moaned, his mouth and hands pushed her further. Finally, she became a writhing whore, desperate to keep this man between her legs. Her thighs started to tremble, and when he gently carried on lapping at her most responsive part, she came quickly in huge shudders of pleasure. When they subsided, she saw him look up and grin.

“You’re fantastic Kay, a dirty little tart beneath that starched apron – and I just love dirty little tarts…”

Before she could reply to his teasing, he was on top of her. She felt his cock push inside.

“Christ, you’ve got a tight little pussy…”

His hands slipped under her bum and pulled her closer, before gripping her tight. It must have been too much for him, because he didn’t last long; he orgasmed hard, and quickly, staying there until his breathing steadied. When he finally rolled off, she could see he was soaking.

“Jesus Kay, you’re too sexy. I never come that fast.

What did you do to me?”

She looked across at him and nipped her lower lip.

“I didn’t do anything Michael, you just turned me on very badly.”

“Aaahh yes, you did seem to enjoy it.

Not like my wife.”

Kay took a breath. She already knew he was married, but she’d avoided the subject.

This was just fun, a crazy experiment.

“Let’s not talk about her.”

Nurse · Part 1 (1/2)
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