After that first night together, Adam and I agreed we wanted to see more of one another but because we also ALWAYS worked together, we decided to keep it private. Over the course of a few months we began spending more time together. Around three times a week we’d meet after work, take turns making dinner for one another, watch a movie or play video games and then get down to business. It was fun—we got to learn about one another, share delicious meals and have amazing sex. It was very, very nice and we both agreed that we would continue to keep it secret and continue to keep it as just friends with benefits. Yes, good plan.
Good plan except that Adam was insanely gorgeous, so very smart and seriously funny with a sharp wit. And in bed—that Southern boy knew very well how to please a woman. While our plan to keep it casual made sense because of work, I was also starting to feel a little bit… attached.
The thing was, though, it felt different with him. I didn’t have to ever explain my silence after a particularly long and horrible 12-hour day in the ER. There was no hidden agenda or silly games—we wanted to just spend time together and be happy and it felt very grown up. And sexually, as a thirty-year-old woman I’d yet to experience an orgasm from a penis in vagina sex and here I was, having the sexual awakening I never knew I desperately needed. Things were really good. And at work, no one was the wiser as we had no grab-ass or on-call trysts; we were mature and very much wanted things to stay just between us.
With the pandemic ramping up, the hospital had implemented some changes, seeing as how we needed more isolated beds. Myself, Adam and another nurse (one who had started a contract position at the hospital just months before) were all assigned to one specific room for the duration of this patient’s illness. We were isolated to this room due to cross-contamination fears not to mention this patient had contracted COVID and in a matter of days he had gone from thinking he had pneumonia to being in a full-blown coma with lots of complications, like blood clots and lung damage.
Did you know that being a nurse is more than administering meds, writing in charts, taking temperatures and asking questions about how you feel? That, my friend, is the easy stuff. It’s not hard to look at your watch and remember when you’ve given someone pain medicine. It’s not hard to stick a needle in someone’s arm or to help them go to the bathroom.
You know what nurses do, every day, that is really hard? We hold up cell phones for loved ones that are desperately trying to lay their eyes on their husband, their daughter, their partner. We ask them to look up for yes and look down for no, hoping upon hope that they can understand so that their families can look into the phone screen—forced to be away because of this cruel virus—and see something to bring them a sliver of happiness. A slice of hope. And we have to tell the family when the person isn’t responding; we feel their disappointment and we feel our own disappoint to not be able to do more. We meet families outside, covered in our scary suits, and tell them things aren’t going well. We look into the eyes of every kind of person at the most scared, desperate time of their lives.
Have you ever been in the room with someone when they are told that they’re no longer going to be alive? That their time that was once filled with boundless possibilities is now, abruptly, coming to an end because we’ve tried everything that we could and we just cannot do anything else. Nurses are there for it all and it’s a wild ride on a normal day but the difference is that a normal day brings a sporadic sprinkling of severely or fatally ill folks. Pandemic days meant that you knew most rooms you walked into would be bleak, struggle-some and depressing.
On this day, Adam, floater nurse and I were in the same room. We had been on a rollercoaster with this patient and grown to love him. We had found hope in test results, silver linings in the bad ones and overall, just worked really hard to see this person through to the moment where we could say ‘you’re out of the woods!’. But that moment did not come. And that patient that we lived and breathed for the last three weeks had gone to a point of no return. And I felt completely lost, as a nurse and a human being.
That night I showered at the hospital—something I rarely did because let’s face it, nothing beats your own shower. I peeled off my scrubs and tossed them onto the floor and stood on the old, taupe colored tile and turned the water on. It was freezing cold at first, I knew it was because I saw goosebumps rise up on my body. But I couldn’t feel it. My mind couldn’t be bothered to register the temperature—I stood under the icy water until it warmed up. And I knew it warmed up because my goosebumps melted away and I felt my muscles relax just slightly. I soaped up, not caring that I’d left my curtain open or that my scrubs were getting soaked on the floor next to me. I just kept picturing that man and how much I felt like we failed him—though I know we did nothing of the sort.
I got out and put on clothes that were in my locker. If you asked me what I was wearing I really didn’t know. I walked out into the dark parking lot, alone, exhausted, depleted and got into my car. I put the key the ignition and rather than zip home to go on with my life, I sat there and a warm tear rolled down my cheek into my lap. That one tear turned into sobbing, uncontrollably, and I didn’t know if I’d ever be able to stop. I howled, the tears feeling like an endless flow of despair trying to leave my body. It was in the midst of ugly crying that I heard a rap at my car window. I wiped my snotty nose onto my sleeve and wiped my eyes before turning my head to look up and see Adam, leaning on one arm over my window, peering in at me.
He opened my door, pulled me out of my car and hugged me so tightly that I couldn’t breathe for a moment—but I was okay with it. I buried my swollen face into his neck and sobbed deeply as he held me, stroking the back of my head with his strong, capable hand. I don’t know what was said from there, I just don’t remember. I do know that he put me in my car, in the passenger seat, and he drove us back to his house. He took me in a ran a bubble bath where he helped me in. He sat behind me, cradling my naked exhausted body, and we laid there in silence. I cried some more and he washed my hair for me, our silence not awkward but comfortable and freeing. He understood.
He pulled me out of the bath and wrapped me his bathrobe and sat me down at his table. I watched this beautiful man make pasta. He rinsed it and boiled it, and while it cooked, he chopped fresh vegetables and made sauce. He poured it all into a bowl and fed me a warm, nutritious meal and I ate it while he combed my hair and massaged my shoulders. When I was full, and when my face was so swollen from crying that I didn’t think I’d be able to open my eyes if I shed another tear, he carried me, like a groom carries a bride across the threshold, to his bed. He laid me down gently and opened his robe. He stood above the bed, looking down at me, my nude body partially exposed under his terry robe, my nipples hard. He dropped his towel from his waist—all that he had put on after the bath—and laid down next to me.
I closed my eyes. I felt his hand—those hands I found to be so sexy and such a turn on—slip into mine, our fingers interlocking instantly. He squeezed and his whole hand swallowed mine and, in that moment, I felt so understood and safe. I rolled onto my side and leaned over him, pressing my lips against his. My tongue slipped into his mouth and found his; I reached down and found his cock and wrapped my hand around it softly. I felt him grow to my touch as I moved my kiss from his mouth to his cheek, then his ear and down to his chest. I kissed him everywhere, wanting every inch of my lips to feel every inch of his skin against them.
“Are you sure?” he asked, as he grew larger and larger in my grip. I continued kissing him everywhere before my lips met his cock. I wrapped my hands around his length, pushing his head past my lips, onto my tongue and down my throat. I was so insanely turned on to have this man in my throat that I swear the intensity of the moment had me deep-throating all 10” of him. I bobbed up and down on him, his swollen head pushing against the very back of my throat, causing me to gag. Each time I gagged I lifted up slightly, a pool of my saliva forming on his body. Down and up, I wanted to feel his warm cum surging down my throat and inside me. He was moaning now and lifted up, paying special attention to his head by circling it tightly with my tongue as I wrapped my hands around his shaft and moved them in opposite directions. When I felt him nearing orgasm, I went down on his cock and opened my throat so that his head was as far down my throat as possible. He released a huge load of cum, burst after burst, down my throat, warm and sweet. I could taste it on my lips as I came off of him, gently stroking his thighs as I did.
It was evening and so it was dark but our eyes met. I wanted to smile to show him that I was happy to be there but I didn’t feel like I could muster a smile after the day we had. “Thank you,” I said, “for everything.” I laid back down next to him and found his hand once more. We held hands in the dark as he leaned over and kissed me on the cheek and said, “there’s nothing to thank me for.” I rolled into his nook—his warm, perfect, sensuous nook—and fell asleep. We slept together in his bed, all night, and never moved an inch. It was quite possibly the most perfect ending to the most awful day.
When we woke up in the morning, we had a text message from one of our coworkers who was in our social circle. She was planning a trip to the lake with a bunch of people from the hospital as a weekend getaway for all of us to get some clarity and clear our heads. It was myself and Adam’s first weekend away and we had to still pretend we weren’t having sex. We agreed to go.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/hcnb2v/the_nurses_chapter_3_nsfw