Hospital Harpies Series
Healthcare workers and the healthcare setting, in my estimation, provide an exceptional milieu for exotic liaisons. There is something about the combination of working in close quarters in a high stress environment with energetic, outgoing and compassionate people that dissolves social constraints and inspires heated coupling. Furthermore, you find yourself doing things you never dreamed of with partners you’d have thought unattainable. The grand design for ‘Hospital Harpies’ is to give life to some fantasies that have been bouncing around in my brain for some time now. While some tales will be concocted whole cloth, many will be based on actual events. Most will feature actual individuals and places encountered during a long career spent saving lives and stamping out disease. Hopefully readers will find these adventures entertaining and perhaps will encourage others to share similar stories.
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I get what I want.
Stepping through the doorway from the hostess station to the main bar area, I expected to see my usual gaggle of locals. Drink specials sometimes drew in a few strangers, and that was what I was hoping for. It was a Thursday, ladies’ night at my local watering hole and I was looking to mingle and catch a buzz.
The Shannon, it was called, an Irish themed pub. A passing patron might think it was named for the famous river, but we more frequent barflies knew better. While the proprietor, Megan Shannon, did claim to have family in the old country, she also had a proclivity for bending the truth. So, who knew? Located right around the corner from my apartment made it convenient. Additionally, it was frequented by many of my old friends, some of which I’d known since high school.
I could be found there a couple nights a week, but almost always on Thursday night. My game was simple but somewhat affective. Being around that many people I knew gave me confidence, a kind of home field advantage. I’d look around for non-local chicks, usually in small groups and try to lure one over to my place. A fair amount of the time, hand to God, I could score some strange. Even if I didn’t, I’d at least exchange digits or maybe start a dialog that could get lead to something later. Last resort: hell, maybe one of my fellow lushes and I would get drunk and lonely enough that we’d just settle for one another.
My thirtieth birthday would be coming up this fall. These were interesting times, as best I remember; a young professional, confirmed bachelor. I really felt like I had the world by the short and curlies.
Well established in my job as an ER nurse, I was doing well enough by most standards. I mean, I wasn’t rich, but could pay my bills with enough left over to have fun. I had my own place, a small one bedroom stabbin’ cabin and could afford hobbies, like fixing up classic cars, fishing and cycling. Best of all, I had the resources to chase pussy at will.
The chill of the air conditioning took a minute to adjust to after walking across the hot parking lot. Once inside, I looked around and beheld a familiar scene. A few guys I went to high school with were playing cutthroat at one of the pool tables. Jerry and Tracy, a couple in their early forties, were at one end of the bar entrance playing one of those electronic puzzle games. A mish mash of familiar faces sounds of classic rock and the smells of deep-fried comfort food made me feel like I was right at home.
I had a talent for spotting hot, single women like a shark smelling chum in the water and it did not fail me today. My intuition drew me to the main bar. There sat a long lean young lady with wavy blonde hair. She wore a long black dress with a red rose pattern. It probably wasn’t her Sunday best, but she was overdressed for this mob. She sat alone in the middle of the bar, plenty of stools on either side. If my assessment was correct, I knew I had better pounce before anybody else did.
Kyle was working the bar and must have seen me walking in. He was already pouring a pint of hefeweizen, which I usually ordered. He looked up at me before I approached the bar and I gestured, wide eyed at the lone interloper. With a shrug and a nod, he communicated that she indeed was indeed a tourist. Also, the look on his face made it clear she would be prime pick-up material.
As I made my approach, Kyle was so kind as to place my beer near her on the bar. With a hearty handshake, we exchanged the usual loud and obnoxious bro greetings followed by some trivial small talk. He played wing man, letting me peacock while seemingly ignoring the babe next to me.
“Your Braves are sure in a skid.” I jabbed.
“Shit, Ted, tell me about it,” he groaned. “I can’t even watch.”
We carried on like that for a minute or two until he was flagged down by a customer. “Be right there,” he called. “I’ll catch up with you in a little while,” he said to me before getting back to work.
“Yeah, eryaman bayan escort no prob.” I replied.
I took a long, slow sip of my beer before even acknowledging her. When I did turn to take a glimpse, I was awestruck. Chiseled facial features, full lips painted dark red, she looked like a runway model. Actually, she looked more like a fitness model. Her sleeveless dress showed off her sleek arms, rippled with muscles and veins from shoulder to wrist. I knew the type and was dreading the inevitable conversation about Cross-fit that she would insist on bringing up within the first five minutes, but it would be worth sitting through if it meant I could get a shot at getting her naked.
While trying not to sound cliché, I started. “Can’t say I’ve ever seen you here.”
Cocking her head to the side, she whipped her hair back. Her haunting green eyes met mine and they narrowed against a welcoming grin, which enveloped her face. “I guess I could say the same.” She quipped back.
“Fair enough,” I ceded, smiling to match her expression. “You look about half empty, can I buy you another?”
She agreed and we introduced ourselves. Her name was Amy. I repeated it over and over in my head, as I tended to forget names. Many a time I made a fool of myself that way, but not today.
Small talk followed and soon, I began asking slightly more personal questions. I found out she was single, not from around here and was at least intelligent enough to hold down a conversation.
“Public relations,” she replied when I inquired about her job. She did her best to explain the ins and outs of what she did, but to be honest, I was distracted. I was just so floored that a chick this hot was giving me the time of day. While I looked like I was hanging on her every word, I was secretly thinking of all the crazy things I wanted to do to that body.
When I mentioned that I was an ER nurse, she seemed to be impressed.
“Emergency room, that sounds exciting. I’ll bet you have some crazy stories to tell.” She gushed.
Trying to sound humble, I replied. “It’s a job, I guess, but yeah things do get crazy.”
“So, how long have you been a nurse?” she asked.
“Eight years as of a month ago.” I said proudly.
“Wow, congratulations. Whole time in the ER? She probed.
“No,” I said. “I’ve done other stuff; clinic work, ICU, step down. I just usually come back to the ER.” I also mentioned ‘by the way’ that I spent a couple of years working for St. Timothy’s, which is a prestigious cancer research hospital. The place was known the world over for treating children with all kinds of diseases but was best known for oncology. As a result of their aggressive fund raising and publicity, mere mentioning of it, would always pique interest.
She was enamored. Her face lit up and she inclined in my direction. A volley of questions followed as she wanted to know all about it.
“When did you work there? How long? Why did you leave?”
The queries came so fast, I could barely keep up. I have had success bringing up St. Timothy’s before, but it has never worked this well. At this rate, if I could keep her attention, we would possibly be locking legs and trading gravy before long.
I was elated at how well I was doing. Normally, I’d expect some push-back. Even if a girl had her mind made up that she liked you, usually she’d make you work for it. This chick was eating up everything I could dish. For some reason I wasn’t put off by how forward she was.
More than once, I peeked down at her well sculpted body and more than once she caught me. My pervy glances didn’t seem to bother her. In fact, she was giving me every indication that I was welcome to look and probably more. She mimicked my posture and laughed at anything remotely funny I said. Soon I began to notice her gently touching me while she talked and would sometimes put a finger in her mouth or play with her hair. Delicately she was giving every sign that she was here to hook up and I was being given the go ahead.
While telling one of my best anecdotes from work about a woman that got so horny, she stuck a crochet hook up her urethra, I noticed a change in her demeanor. A kind of far-off look washed over her. Her brow furrowed like she was frustrated. So put off by the drastic character swap, I looked over my shoulder to see what distracted her.
Normally this story was a hit. I understood it was kind of a lewd topic, especially for an unfamiliar audience, but she didn’t seem the prudish type. When I turned back trying to try to resume the story, she interrupted.
“You really don’t recognize me. Do you? Her eyes squinted with disgust and she shook her head. “I thought you did for a minute, but you really don’t know who I am.”
“You have to be confusing me with someone,” I said, trying to appear flippant. Fact is, I was panicking inside. While she did not look familiar, it is possible she was a drunken hook up. It’s possible I somehow scorned her in the past and she was here escort etimesgut to exact revenge.
“Besides, a pretty face like that, there’s no way I would just forget.” I said, hoping a little flattery would gain me favor.
“I’m serious,” she said swiveling on her stool to face me. “Okay, I used to wear glasses. Maybe that’s throwing you off.”
“Sorry, not ringing any bells.” I declared. Frustrated, I said, “Look, Amy is it? You clearly have me at a disadvantage. Why don’t you tell me where I should know you from?”
“No,” she bemoaned. “You’re going to get this.” She stared at the ceiling for a moment and then exclaimed, “got it!”
With a mischievous smirk she erected her posture and sat facing me, knees together and palms in her lap. Once set, she gestured for me to do the same. I complied, wondering what she was up to as she grasped my hand in hers and moved it to her left knee. Excited with this new development, I let my hand creep up to her thigh, daring to push the boundaries.
“I like where your head is at.” I said with a goading smile.
She squeezed my hand and forced it back. A wag of her finger put me back in my place. Reaching out with her other hand she took mine and placed it on her right knee. At least, it should have been a knee. Whereas my right hand was met by the warm, sinewy, flesh of a young woman, my left found some cold and unnatural material. “A brace, maybe?” I thought. “No, definitely a prosthetic limb,” I decided.
Drawing on my experience as a nurse, things quickly calculated in my head. A woman her age with a prosthetic leg meant one of very few things. Either she was in some traumatic accident or she had some infection, disease or something. From working at Timothy’s, I was familiar with osteosarcoma, a type of bone cancer, which almost certainly meant amputation.
“Come on, Teddy Bear.” She urged.
When it hit me, I was equal parts jubilant and embarrassed. Of course, I knew her. Dumbstruck, all I could say was the nickname, I gave her years ago. “Skully?”
* * * * *
She was a patient of mine, Amy Skullark, to be precise, back when I was a new nurse at St. Timothy’s. While she was months past her eighteenth birthday by the time we met, she was diagnosed as a young teen. The cruel disease demanded that her leg be taken off. At first below the knee, but later, above after finding out the cancer had spread.
It was my job to care for her while she got chemotherapy and radiation treatments in the hospital. She had to be cared for on an inpatient basis, sometimes a month at a time due to the harsh side effects of the chemo. A port was surgically implanted in her chest through which she got all her meds including three to five infusions of chemo per week. That was our routine. We gave the drugs and tried to keep the pain and nausea at bay until she was discharged home. A month or two later, she’d be back to start all over again.
The other staff hated having to be assigned to her, so she generally fell to the new guy; me. She, in the past, had been difficult to deal with, and I guess I understood why. She was a young woman in a childrens’ hospital. If I were in her shoes, or rather, shoe, I’d probably be difficult too. It was undoubtedly hard not to resent it all and act out her frustrations with the staff.
She was willful and opinionated, but a good patient, as best I remember. I admired her for never letting others see her looking down in the mouth. Additionally, she didn’t take herself too seriously, always willing to laugh at herself. Once she was admitted over Halloween weekend and she showed up dressed like a pirate, proudly brandishing her stump.
Before long, she took to me. It might be that I didn’t put up with her bullshit, and insisted she show me the respect I was due. Perhaps it was that I spoke to her like a peer and not like a child. Most likely, it was because she had a bit of a girl crush on me.
Whenever she came in for treatment, she would badger the staff to find out when I worked and insist that I be assigned to her. Her mother, a hot, tall, thin, blonde divorcee in her early to mid-forties was always with her. They loved it when I worked, and both would flirt relentlessly with me. I’ll admit I reciprocated a little, but always maintained a professional posture.
Don’t get me wrong, if the situation was different, I’d have taken a run at either……or hell, both. They were each a beauty, Amy, a spunky, vibrant young hottie and her mom a statuesque golden MILF. As tempting as they were, I never breached my ethics and kept up a healthy nurse-patient relationship.
That didn’t keep me from daydreaming. I made up fantasy sagas where we would meet by chance and each one ended up with me plowing one or both of them. I knew it was perverted, and something that could get me fired, but it was all safely hidden in my head. No harm could be done there.
My favorite little reverie was particularly twisted. I often had to elvankent escort check her private areas for sores as part of my assessment. She would have been wearing only a hospital gown, lying on her side facing away from me with her leg and stump spread apart to give me unfettered access. Without exception, I would have a fellow nurse, a female, accompany us as to witness that nothing untoward happened.
One time, I dreamed I did my assessment without a chaperone. While doing my checks slipped a finger into her tight little pussy, making it look like an accident. Feigning embarrassment, I pulled it out only to have her beg me to put it back into her. I took off my exam gloves and forcefully shoved two fingers into her, making her raspy voice moan. Thrusting vigorously, I brought her to climax just as her mother entered.
Unphased, she began disrobing and clasped her hand tightly around the tent in my scrub pants. Grabbing the back of my head with the other hand, she forced my face down onto her tit. Dutifully, I sucked at each nipple as I removed my fingers from her daughter’s pussy and plunged them into hers. She bit onto my earlobe and groaned with pleasure. Still wet from Amy’s juices, I met no resistance and reached deep into her canal.
Amy then untied the string holding my pants up and took a mouthful of my cock. Unable to take any more, Amy’s mom snatched me away from her, spun around and grabbed the footboard. Heeding her cue, I slammed full force into her. Content to wait her turn, Amy flipped onto her back, discarded her gown and began playing with her tiny tits and dripping wet cunt. Fearing I might cum too quickly, I withdrew and pushed her down onto the bed next to Amy.
I lined them up horizontally on the bed and adjusted the height so that their slits perfectly level with my throbbing rod. Hooking an arm around Amy’s good leg, I began pounding her mercilessly. Just as her passions reached crescendo, I switched over and started into her mom. This time, I plowed her until she came, making her daughter watch. In turn I did the same for Amy.
This went on for hours before I, at mother’s insistence, I blew my load onto both of their faces. Cheek to cheek they took it, some in their mouths, but most on their necks and chins. After the last dribble of cum left me, they turned and sloppily kissed each other, sharing the savory goop. The vivid image ended with the three of us cuddled together on the hospital bed. We kissed and fondled each other as all five of our legs lay intertwined.
That is all it was though, fantasy. Although I enjoyed the attention that they gave me, I’d never betray my professionalism nor risk losing my job. Even with all the catcalling, suggestive language and the occasional goosing, I never broke character. It wasn’t unusual, though, for me to get a little to wrapped up in my daydreams and feel the need to lock myself in a restroom to rub one out.
* * * * *
The shock of seeing her in my bar was mind boggling. I hadn’t even thought of her in years. Since working there, I had taken the emergency room job at another hospital. Hell, I had barely talked to any of my former co-workers, never mind former patients.
On top of that, she wasn’t even from here. She, like most of my patients, traveled to the hospital for treatment; most from the states, but many from other countries. Her family was from Florida, and I was certain she had moved back there for college after her last round of chemo.
“What in God’s name are you doing here?” I gassed.
“I work here.” She said, “at the hospital……at least I did until this week. I had an internship in the PR department.” She went on to explain that she had gotten her degree and took the intern spot to boost her resume. Now that it was over, she was headed home to consider her options.
“Holy shit, how long has it been? You’re already finished with college? It couldn’t possibly have been that long.”
“Yep, over four years now.” She stated bluntly. “I’ve had this gig for almost a year. I’ll be flying out to LA tomorrow, then it’s back home to interview for some jobs.”
“Well, that’s amazing. I’m so happy for you.” I trumpeted, squeezing her in a warm embrace. I gave her a look again, head to toe. “You look amazing.” I gushed, now more than a little embarrassed that I was trying to pick her up. “How is the whole…”
“Oh great,” she interrupted. “I’m pretty much cancer free. They’ve been watching this spot on my lungs for a while now, but it hasn’t changed. My oncologist says it’s operable, so I’m getting it taken out ASAP”
“Hell yeah! That’s great! I’m so proud of you,” I said. I couldn’t help but go in for another hug. “So, when will that be?”
“I have a consult on Monday. That’s why I’m going to LA.” She explained. “I’ve arranged to have the surgery there and while I’m under anesthesia, I have a world-class plastic surgeon that is going to take care of a couple of…” She paused, clearing her throat. “…vanity projects that I wanted done.”
“Plastics?” I queried.
Yep, a little lypo, a little nip-tuck and then…” she grabbed her breasts and boasted. “…getting these puppies done, five hundred cc implants. That should take me from killer B’s to double D’s.” She laughed.