Lunch Break

The first time he came into the nurses’ station I noticed him. I don’t always notice the specialists. We call them when we are puzzled, when our usual resources are stumped. They are voices on the phone or, less frequently, white coats that come in, bookishly peruse the chart, offer learned opinions, and go. They aren’t familiar like the surgeons who make rounds after hours on their feet, their hands pale and precise, wrinkled from washing and gloves, or the ER docs and hospitalists who respond, panting from the sprint upstairs, to the overhead page, “Code Blue, ICU. Code Blue, ICU.” There was something about this one though. He got my attention.

I smelled him first. He just smelled like clean man. That’s a rare smell in a hospital. No smell of sickness or sanitizers, just him. He arrived like a gift in the middle of environmental services bleaching down a newly vacated room. I turned into the smell and found him, still several feet away, talking to Sarah, one of the other RNs. I was surprised at how young he was. I guessed I was older than him by a good ten years, putting him in his early twenties, young for a doc. His hair was so red that I almost couldn’t look at it, a bright copper orange, half pumpkin, half new penny. His lab coat was too big and made him look like he was playing dress up in his father’s clothes. He looked up to see me staring, met my eyes for a moment, and then gave his attention pointedly and, it seemed to me, reluctantly back to Sarah.

I forced myself to turn back to my charting, eavesdropping enough to know that he was here to consult on the patient with H1N1 in room 19. I felt him brush behind me on his way out, his smell wrapping so tightly around me that my lips parted to taste it. The tips of his fingers sliding across the soft cotton seat of my scrub pants sent a startled spasm through my pelvis, a hot, squirming bolt of sensation straight from the point of contact to my clit, which promptly stood up like a sentinel. “Shit… shit!” I thought and the second the door closed behind him I beelined for the staff bathroom.

It had to have been an accident, I argued with myself as I scrubbed at the damp crotch of my panties with a paper towel. No, the nurses’ station was crowded, sure, but he had to have known where his fingers were. Didn’t he? Thinking that that it might have been purposeful made my pussy ache. Oh, why did he have to be a redhead? I feel funny about how much I love redheads. Like it’s a masculine thing to find delicate, creamy skin erotic. I sat on the toilet, my underwear stretched between my knees to dry, picturing what his cock must look like. Blue veined, the head a pale pink, dark red curls. I could almost feel it slipping past my lips, the skin soft across my tongue. I slid two fingers deep up into my cunt, curling them forward to hit that sweet spot. My other hand rubbed quick circles around my clit. I came fast and hard, biting my lip to avoid moaning too loud, my hips grinding forward. I sat there a minute panting, my fingers locked into position by the quick, tight squeeze of my vaginal muscles. My breathing slowed and I pulled my fingers out, looking at the sloppy, wet mess I had made of my hands. “So much for dry panties,” I muttered.

I looked at myself in the mirror as I washed my hands. My cheeks were pink, making my hazel eyes look greener than usual behind the lenses of my glasses. My dark brown hair was in it’s typical bun, escaped tendrils curling around my neck and ears. I contemplated trying to make it more presentable, but decided it really wasn’t worth the effort. I knew that strands would start working their way out again immediately, they always did. I finished washing up and headed back out to the nurses’ station.

I was half expecting that everyone would somehow know that I had just diddled myself right down the hall. Sarah was the only one who even noticed my return. “You ok?” she asked. “You look a little flushed.”

“Sure, fine. Just ran down to the cafeteria to grab a power bar. Took the stairs.” I was discomfited by how easily the lie popped out. Dishonesty is high on my list of unacceptable behaviors. I rushed to change the subject, “Hey, who was that doc you were talking to?”

“Who, the ID guy? That’s Williams.”

“Infectious disease, huh? Haven’t seen him before.”

“No, just moved here I think. From New York or something. Seems like a good doc.” She shrugged.

I spent the next several weeks thinking about him off and on. I convinced myself that my reaction to him was overblown by the fact that I hadn’t gotten laid in way too long. I mean, beyond the redhead thing, he wasn’t even my type. He was too young, too small, too serious. I generally went for big, jolly, bull-necked guys that I could swing on like a jungle gym.

It was a Tuesday the next time he came in. I was charting again, sitting in one of the semi-private cubicles at the back of the nurses’ station, concentrating with my head bowed over my work. His voice startled me, “Is that Brighton’s chart?” He was leaning over me from behind to see which chart I had. I sat up suddenly, my head colliding with his firm belly. He reached to steady us both, his hand landing on the nape of my neck.

We froze, that odd intimate touch out of place. I felt pinned by the fragile contact, unable to heed the little voice in my head telling me that it was inappropriate to be enjoying the touch of a stranger, a colleague no less. A couple of long seconds ticked by. Neither of us moved. “This is no accident,” I thought. A delicious shiver ran through me and he slowly exhaled his held breath, fanning the tendrils of my hair.

“Sorry, did I startle you?” he murmured, his hand tightening tentatively.

“Yeah.” I felt heat from his hand seeping into me and, unable to stop myself, I arched my neck into his touch. “Just a little. And, uh, I do have Brighton.” I started to close the chart to hand it to him.

“Can you just turn to the progress notes?” His thumb had started tracing small patterns below my right ear. My breath caught and I shivered again, flipping awkwardly through the chart for the pages he wanted. He squeezed into the cubicle to read, leaning over me. The smell of him invaded my senses and I could feel heat and dampness spreading between my thighs. “How’s she doing today?” he asked.

“Um, ok. Better than yesterday. Her electrolytes look good and her blood gasses are improving.” I went to push my chair back a little to access the slide out computer keyboard under the desk, saying, “Here, let me bring up her labs for you.” As my chair moved, his hand tightened again and my upper arm brushed against his half-hard cock. I heard his quick intake of breath at the contact. I leaned into him, feeling suddenly bold, and sandwiched his rapidly growing erection between us. “She’s still requiring the bi-level ventilation and quite a bit of PEEP, but respiratory has been weaning her down a little at a time and she seems to be handling it.” I succeeded in getting the lab results up on the computer screen. He leaned in a little further to look at them and flexed his hips forward, briefly grinding against me. I choked on a stifled moan.

“Shall we go see her?” he asked, stepping back and pulling his too-big, white coat around himself. I got up, wondering if there was a visible wet spot on the back of my light green scrub pants. He motioned for me to precede him and, as I passed him, I took my first close look at him. He was older than I had originally thought and taller. Still younger than me by a bit, but definitely a man. His eyes were an odd shade of blue, like mineral hot springs, and he had freckles. Lots and lots of pale freckles.

“She’s in 15.” I led the way to the patient’s room. We stopped at the door to don yellow paper gowns, masks with eye shields, and gloves. I handed him his gloves, pulling a pair out of the box marked ‘large’ based on how his hand had felt against my neck. They fit. I avoided eye contact, feeling a little flustered and trapped between my obligation to my patient and my growing curiosity about her doctor.

The patient was intubated. The breathing tube curled out of her mouth and over her left shoulder. Her eyes were closed. I knew that she had enough meds on board to tranquilize a small elephant. She’d needed them to calm down enough to let the ventilator do the work of breathing for her. Dr. Williams closed the door and then went around the bed to look at the settings on the vent. I busied myself double checking the IV lines while he quickly assessed her. “Her lungs sound pretty coarse still,” he said, pulling his stethoscope out of his ears. I nodded in agreement and grabbed a swab to moisten her mouth.

He came around behind me as I was wetting her lips with the swab. I heard him take off his gloves and gown and wash his hands. I reached for the suction tubing and suctioned out her mouth, telling her, “I’m just getting the extra water out of your mouth. Just like at the dentist, Mary.” She didn’t open her eyes and I knew that the chances were slim that she could even hear me.

I was leaning over the bed, both hands occupied, when I felt his hands, warm from the hot water he had used to wash them, sliding through the opening at the back of my gown. I stiffened; surprised that he would touch me in a patient’s room. His mask rustled next to my ear. “I know,” he whispered. “We shouldn’t be doing this here. I can’t help myself. I just want to…” He stopped talking as his hands slid around my waist to the front and found their way up under my scrub top. He rested his fingers on my round belly.

“So soft,”he breathed, stroking lightly. The face shield on my mask and my glasses underneath it were both starting to fog up. I was aching to touch him. I imagined reaching around and running my hands over the ridge in the front of his wool slacks. Never had I been so acutely aware of being contaminated. I looked down at the bumps his hands made in the front of my yellow gown and then at my own gloved hands, still holding the suction equipment. He withdrew one hand as the other wandered up, leaving a trail of heat as it slowly closed in on my left breast. He untied the back of my gown and stepped in close. My knees turned to rubber as he pressed me forward, his prick a hard knot carving into my sacrum, my hips pinned to the bed rail. He was reaching for the tie on the front of my pants when his pager chirped loudly. We both startled. “Crap,”he said, fumbling his way out of my clothes. I was pleased to see that he was shaking as he unclipped the pager from his belt and looked at the message. “I have to…” He raised the pager. I nodded.

I watched him adjust his pants and coat, taking off his mask as he left the room. “God, I’m sorry, Mary. That was, wow, that was…” I trailed off, barely able to see her closed eyes through my fogged mask, “…inappropriate,” I finished. I stood a few minutes at her bedside, listening to the clicks and sighs of the vent, waiting for my own breathing to return to normal.

When I had myself fairly well collected, I took off my protective gear, washed my hands, and headed back out to the nurses’ station. He was gone. I was not sure if I was disappointed or relieved. I was contemplating a quick trip to the bathroom when two of the phone lines rang at once.The unit secretary answered one and then turned to me, her finger poised over the second flashing light. “Line seven is for you,” she said.

“Who is it?” I asked.

“Dunno, just asked for Brighton’s nurse.” She punched the other line, “Intensive Care Unit, may I help you?”

I picked up the nearest phone and hit line 7. “ICU, this is Maggie.”

“Maggie. I was wondering what your name was.” The muscles in my pelvis clenched in response to his voice. “Your name badge got turned around somehow. I couldn’t read it.” I glanced down, sure enough.

“Oh,” I said, flipping the plastic card around so that my name and picture faced out.

“What time do you go to lunch today?”he asked.

I felt my heart rate jump. “Um, 1330. Barring catastrophe.”

He chuckled, “Barring catastrophe, of course, would you like to have, uh, lunch with me?”

“Very much,” I said. I heard him exhale like he had been holding his breath again. “Where?” I asked.

“I’ll meet you in the unit and we can discuss it. See you in, what? An hour?”

I looked at the clock, 1225. “Yeah, an hour is great.”

“I look forward to it,”he said. I heard a click as he hung up.

I rushed through the next hour. I couldn’t believe that my co-workers weren’t noticing how flustered I was. I was sure they could smell me if nothing else. My panties resembled a swamp and I caught whiffs of myself with every movement.I was pretty sure that someone, Sarah at least, would have been teasing me if they knew though; so I pushed the thought of being caught out of my mind. I managed to get a little bit of work done. I passed some meds, triple checking each one, knowing I was distracted enough to make major mistakes if I wasn’t extra careful. I finished my charting.

The big doors swung open at 1324. He nodded to me slightly and kept walking down the hall to stand in front of room 15.

I followed after a few seconds, wondering if he actually meant lunch. I was praying he had something else in mind.

He shuffled a bit awkwardly as I approached. I was startled to realize he was nervous. I was not expecting nerves from him. I smiled at him and he stopped shuffling. His impossibly blue eyes bored into mine and he flushed a deep pink, his freckles darkening. Nervous and horny as hell, I decided.I took a deep breath. “I’ll be headed down the stairs in about 5 minutes,” I said, looking at my watch. He nodded and turned on his heel, leaving the unit without glancing back.

I went back to the nurses’ station and gave a quick report to David, the RN who I was lunch buddies with on Tuesdays. He watched my patients while I was at lunch, then I watched his during his break. “See you in 45 minutes,”he said.

I left the unit, turned right down the hall, and opened the stairwell door. He was waiting on the landing, his hands thrust deep into the pockets of his coat. We both stood perfectly still as the door swung slowly shut behind me.The click of the latch echoed up and down the empty space.”Hi,” I said softly.

Faster than I could react, he had me pressed against the cold cement wall. He pinned my wrists over my head with one hand and his mouth was on mine, hard and desperate, like he wanted to devour me. I could feel the edge of his teeth. My lips parted and his tongue snaked in, I sucked at it, frantically trying to free my hands. God, I wanted to touch him. His other hand was up the front of my shirt again, wrestling with my sturdy work bra. His long fingers found their way under the fabric and he gave my already hard nipple a gentle flick. He swallowed my gasp and my legs went to rubber again. I started sliding down the wall. His knee came up and I found myself riding it. A breathy moan escaping into his mouth with each roll of my hips. I felt the first flutter of an orgasm building.

He stilled suddenly. “Sh, sh,”he breathed against my cheek. I whimpered, still grinding against his leg. He released my nipple and grabbed at my right hip to stop me. I heard the fourth floor door slamming closed and foot steps coming down. We waited, frozen, until we knew they had passed the third floor landing just above us and were continuing down. “Come on.” He released one wrist and pulled me by the other one, nearly running down the stairs.

“Wait,” I panted, fumbling to straighten my glasses with my free hand. “I can’t… my legs.” My wobbly knees threatened to give way and I grabbed at the railing. He slowed down and I managed to make it to the first floor on my feet.

He let go of my wrist and opened the door. “Follow me in just a sec.” He walked out into the busy first floor hall. I counted to 10, listening to the second floor door open and then close above me as our unknown pursuer exited the stairwell. I pushed through the door. I looked at my watch, 40 minutes left of my break. Circling past the crowd that waited at the bank of elevators, I caught a glimpse of him as he rounded the corner at the end of the long hall. I hurried toward where he had disappeared. I never went down that hall and was trying to remember what was there. Storage, I knew. Was that where he was leading me? I imagined pushing him down on a stack of boxes, riding his cock surrounded by containers marked ‘fragile’ and ‘sterile’ in big red letters. I was smiling, almost giggling, when I rounded the corner. He was not in the hall. I stopped.

“Dr. Williams?” I called quietly.

“Here,” he called back from a doorway at the end of the hall. The old physician’s lounge. Only the nightshift on-call docs used it anymore. They’d nap there between cases. There had been a remodel a few years back and the new lounge was down by the ER. It was more comfortable, but noisy at night with the ambulances coming and going.

I hurried down to meet him. He took my hand. We walked back to one of the cot rooms. I followed him in. There was a twin bed, a small bedside table, and a tiny rectangle of floor space. He stretched his long arm behind me to swing the door closed and lock it. His arm wrapped around my waist and he kissed me, almost tenderly. I took off my glasses and set them on the bedside table. “Will you take your hair down?” he asked, still holding my waist. I took out the hair tie that now barely held my bun in place and shook out my hair; it fell in dark waves down my back. “Beautiful,” he groaned and buried his face in it.

I clumsily worked the buttons on his shirt, shoving it and his coat off of his shoulders together. His chest was nearly hairless. A few dark, red strands swirled around each pale areola. I followed their path, swirling my tongue around one and then the other until his nipples were small, hard points. I rubbed my palm over the front of his pants, up the length of his cock. He inhaled sharply. His hands were inside the back of my shirt, yanking at the stubborn hooks of my bra. I felt it when he got the last one undone. My breasts swung free of the cups and his hands were there, lifting the weight of them, shoving the layers of shirt and bra up out of the way.

He rolled my nipples between his fingers, his eyes widening as he watched them grow. “Suck them, they get even bigger.” I grinned at him; he wasn’t the first one to be surprised at the size of my nipples. He pulled one into the heat of his mouth, sucking hard. He popped it out of his mouth a second later, admiring his handiwork. It stood up, the color and size of a large raspberry. His mouth sealed over the other one and I closed my eyes, feeling like I had electric pulses buzzing from my nipples to my clit and back.

He crowded me against the bed. I went over backwards, dragging him, mouth still full of nipple, with me. I tugged ineffectively at his belt, then gave up, hooking one leg up over his hips and grinding my drenched crotch against his. He reached between us, unfastening his belt with one hand and then going to work on the drawstring of my pants. “They just pull off,” I gasped. He knelt up and dragged my pants and underwear down. One of my clogs thumped on the floor as I scrambled to all fours in front of him, my ankles trapped together by my pants and my shirt and bra hiked up around my armpits. I held my breath as he unzipped. He yanked his pants down just enough for me to get at his hard prick. Blue veins stood out like ropes along its length; I traced them with my tongue. He tangled a hand in my heavy hair and guided his cock into my mouth. I loved the feel of it sliding toward the back of my throat. His precome left a salty trail across my taste buds. He slowed down, half way in. I grunted in protest, trying to swallow him deeper.

“I think this might have to wait.” His voice shook. His hand tightened in my hair, slowly cranking my head back and forcing my shoulders down to the bed. He pulled out of my mouth, groaning as his purple glans popped past my lips.

“Why…” I started, but then he was shifting behind me, a condom packet in his hand. I heard the package rip. As soon as his cock had the latex smoothed over it, it was in his hand, rubbing slowly up and down my burning slit. I bucked as the smooth head flicked past my clit. “Oh, please…” I tried to back onto his teasing shaft.

“So wet.” He put a hand on each of my hips, steadying himself and drawing a ragged breath. I stayed as I was, face and shoulders down, ass up. I reached between my legs, fingering my clit with one hand and spreading my fat, pink lips with the other.

“Please,” I said, raising my hips toward him. “Fuck me.”

He hissed through his clenched teeth and I felt the broad head of his cock pushing slowly into me. “Oh, god,” I said, “You’re a fucking tease! Come on!” He grunted and slammed the rest of the way in. Slammed and stopped. “Uuungh!” I gyrated back against him, my fingers still working my clit, “Fuck me!” I begged. Now my teeth were clenched. His hands were shaking where they gripped my hips, squeezing handfuls of flesh. Holding us both locked into position. I knew I was going to have big bruises there, but nothing mattered next to having my pussy stretched and full. I rubbed furiously at my clit, using my other hand to fondle his balls. They were tight up against me and slick with my juices. His shaking got worse and I realized he was trying not to come. I felt the first of my pulsations start deep, down where his prick was wedged up against my cervix. “Oh, I’m coming,” I told him in a small voice, all of my energy directed toward following the progression of this monster orgasm. I felt my muscles clamp down around him.

He pulled out a little and rammed back into me, growling. He held me there, panting as my pussy clenched and unclenched around him. Again he pulled out, further this time, and hammered back home. My arms flopped to my sides, the intensity of my orgasm building after the initial spasms. I had never had that happen before, never had an orgasm just keep on going. I had my mouth open, gasping into the bedding. He picked up his speed, pistoning in and out. His chest rubbed along the length of my back with each thrust. His arm wrapped around my waist and he reached for my abandoned clit. I pulled back from his searching fingers, expecting to be too sensitive. He burrowed his face into my hair, biting my neck through it. He found my clit despite my attempts to squirm away. He gave it an exquisite, sharp pinch and then traced delicate circles around it. Pain and pleasure bloomed and I felt a new wave of spasms starting. I bit the sheets, muffling the guttural grunts that he tore out of me with every thrust. I felt his cock swell inside me and he locked his arm around my waist. I shuddered as he held me motionless, smashing me into the bed as he strained, jerking and gasping as he came. The last few flutters of my orgasm passed as we lay there, sweat-slick and breathing hard.

I squinted at my watch. “You timing us?”he joked.

I smiled back at him, “No, but I only have a 45 minute break.”

“Did we make it in under the wire?”

“Yeah, 10 minutes left.”

“Shit, I should have kept going.” He grinned and slid his softening penis out of me. I felt a cascade of my fluids dripping down my thighs.

I smiled back. “I don’t think I could have handled any more. Am I as big of a mess as it feels like I am?”

“Um, bigger, I think,”he said, tracing two fingers through the slick puddle between my legs.

I shuddered and my hips rose of their own accord. “Jesus. You have to stop. I have to get back upstairs.” I kissed him hard and stood up to straighten my clothes. He stood too and wrapped the condom in a handful of kleenex before burying it in the trash can.

“There’s a shower in there.” He nodded to the door leading to the main lounge area. “And I brought you fresh scrubs from the unit. I stashed them down here with the condoms while I was waiting that horrible hour for you.”

I kissed him again, “Thanks, you’re awesome.” I kicked off my remaining shoe and stripped down the rest of the way. Twisting my hair back into its haphazard bun, I unlocked the door, and scurried naked across the lounge. I took the fastest shower of my life. I scrubbed off the sweat and funk and hopped out. I opened the linen cupboard and was surprised to find it empty. I dripped on the floor while drying myself with handfuls of paper towels.

I ran back to the cot room. He was gone. This time I was sure I was disappointed. I struggled into my bra, my still damp skin sticking to it, and then squirmed into the clean scrubs he had left folded on the bed for me. He had done well with the size, large pants and an extra large top, the pants were a little snug, but close enough. My dirty scrubs were gone, as were my panties. I slid my feet into my clogs and ran out into the hall, pushing my glasses up on my nose. I walked quickly to the staircase and forced my still rubbery legs to climb to the second floor.

Back in the nurses station I sat down next to David. “Anything happen while I was gone?”

“Hi. Nope, not a thing. Must have been a good lunch,”he dimpled at me.

I froze and muttered, “Yeah, it was alright.”

“What’d ya eat?” He winked.

“Oh shit, David,”I hissed. “Does everyone know?”

“Nope and I ain’t saying a word.” His voice lowered, “But I tell you if I weren’t a happily married man, I would’ve been sniffing after you like a blood hound. Woman, you reeked of pussy walking out of here. Glad you had time to shower, might’ve made me crazy if you had come back smelling like that.”

“David!” I wailed. Really, I was only a little bit shocked. He and I had always been straightforward with each other, just never quite that personal.

The phone was ringing and the unit secretary was away from her desk. I picked it up to avoid David’s knowing grin. “ICU, this is Maggie.”

“Maggie, do you work tomorrow?” Dr. Williams asked without preamble.

“Do you have a first name?” I blurted, blushing as David waggled his bushy eyebrows at me.

“Yes, I do,” he laughed. “I’m Michael.”

“Michael, I believe I do work tomorrow. Barring catastrophe.”

Yes, well, barring catastrophe, would you like to have lunch with me?”

I took a deep breath, “I’ll be off shift at 1900 tonight. How about dinner?”

© 2010 Juniper Maclay. All rights reserved. Content may not be copied or used in whole or part without written permission from the author.

Bio: Juniper Maclay is a word geek, a voracious reader, a bookbinder, a people watcher, a photographer, a blues singer, and a damn fine cook. She’s been a casual scribbler of mainstream fiction since she learned her letters and, after stumbling across the ERWA website while hunting for juicy online reads, she decided to try her hand at writing erotica. She hopes that you have as much fun reading her stories as she has dreaming them into existence.

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