Well… They at least needed to slow down.
We had parted ways that day, but I kept seeing her around the hospital. Whenever we would bump into each other, we would always stop to talk for as long as we could. Then she became good friends with my brother, Connor, and I started seeing her even more. And each time I felt more and more attracted to her. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I wanted to sleep with her from the first day she spilled coffee on me, but now there was something else, something I wanted to explore.
Wanda said her goodbyes after making sure I was all set with my medication and left the room, Courtney still sitting in her chair.
“You missed a lot. Justin Bieber got arrested and almost deported,” she said with the same conviction as a Fox news reporter.
“Damn. Wake me up when he finally leaves,” I said, still a little weak from the whole ordeal.
“Oh please, you know you have Bieber fever.” She played with a crumpled up napkin in her lap, her mischievous little smile giving her the slightest of dimples, her lips curling upwards at the corners.
“How did you find out?!” I said, feigning shock. I felt the medication start taking a stronger hold on me, threatening to drag me into a blissful, painless sleep.
“You don’t make it hard with all that Bieber paraphernalia you keep in your desk. Sicko.”
“What were you doing in my desk?” I asked, playing along.
“I was looking to see where you kept all those damn grande coffees you have with you. I figure you needed a hiding place since you have one every day.”
I chuckled, my mood becoming a foggy mess as the meds started doing their job.
“It’s called Starbucks,” I replied, becoming happier and happier as Courtney sat there, keeping me company, laughing at her own jokes, throwing her head back and revealing her soft, tender neck. The same neck I was beginning to imagine at the tip of my lips. Soft kisses evolving into something more, something hungrier.
“Well, I think you’re addicted.”
Hah.
“I see you drinking red bulls all the time. Your heart is probably already collapsing,” I said, brushing off her addiction comment.
“Ok, number one, you need to seriously stop creeping on me. And number two, at least if it does implode you can put it back together, Dr. Silvers.”
She said my name with a certain emphasis, one that lead her to tilt her head to the side and produce an incredibly disarming smile. I began feeling my thoughts drifting again, this time my fingers felt light, like they could write out the electron transport chain in the air, leaving behind sparks of electricity to mark their motions. I felt magical. This shit was fucking good and so was Courtney.
“What makes you think I would?” I asked, challenging her.
“Didn’t you take an oath or something? But fine, you don’t have to. I’m sure Dr. Evans would be happy saving me.” And there she was, challenging back. She knew what game we were beginning to play, and I had a feeling she played it just as well as I did. This wasn’t some doe-eyed freshman looking for a hot fuck with a doctor. No, this was a very bright, stunningly beautiful college woman who wanted a hot fuck with a doctor. And damn, was that attractive.
“Good luck with that. Dr. Evans is fine giving boob jobs to Miss America but saving a life? I doubt it.”
Dr. Evans was another hot shot doctor in the hospital.
He was a celebrity plastic surgeon, only taking on the most famous clients in Hollywood. He was booked for the next year and a half, all with A-list clientele trying to fix their “flaws”. One woman coming in because she had the nose of a rabid toucan (her words, not mine). Another woman coming in because her left breast swerved in the opposite direction it was intended to go in. A man coming in because he thought his dick wasn’t big enough. And all of them were from recognizable films and television shows, ones that played over and over again on the screen. It was interesting to watch from the outside but also incredibly annoying. Especially when he would flaunt around the hospital, his brand-new Rolex shining under the light coming in through the huge glass windows that surround the hospital lobby. His huge diamond engagement band glittering out into the crowd, screaming out to be noticed. He loved to be noticed. I could tell he was one of the type to value his appearance over anything else. It would explain why his wife looked like a perfect Barbie doll, probably molded by his own hands.
“Well, I’ll tell you how that goes, I have to go shadow him now,” Courtney said, slapping her knees as she stood up from the chair.
“Thanks for stopping by,” I said, feeling the drugs as they started to hug me tighter.
“No problem! Thanks for surviving,” she said, smiling to me as she walked backwards towards the door. Her body was perfect, her hips swayed just the right amount, her ass had just the right amount of bounce, and her smile, fuck.
CHAPTER THREE
The week after waking up was filled with more tests and excruciating therapy sessions that threatened to tear the inside of my muscles apart. The gunshot wound still pounded with a dull, constant pain that increased in fervor every time I would make the slightest movement. It was incredibly frustrating not being able to do things on my own, especially not being able to work. I felt so worthless laying in that bed, flipping through crappy channels on an old television, trying to find something to distract me, but nothing could.
Well, almost nothing.
I pumped the button at my side. I felt the release of medication rush through the tiny, plastic tubing and into my bloodstream, spreading faster than the bullet that tore through me earlier. Numbing my thoughts and erasing the pain. The emptiness. The boring dullness of laying in bed all day.
At one point, I felt like that was all I was curing. The boredom that came with being immobile. The only thing that could deliver me from it was another dose of the painkiller. It would lull me to sleep before I could send more into my system. And so I laid there, feeling the cold grip of addiction tightening its hold around my psyche, rewiring my brain into craving a hit. It was like a parasite. I once saw something on Animal Planet about a larvae that infects an ant’s brain, turning them into zombies that work for the larvae. That was basically what addiction was. A small creature burrowed into the back of your head, whispering to you, nudging you in the wrong direction, promising to deliver that euphoria associated with paradise.
I felt myself starting to chase that euphoria. But I needed to stop. This wasn’t me. I couldn’t let my parents down again, my friends, my whole career would be destroyed. My grip loosened around the trigger, letting it fall to my side. I took a deep breath and tried readjusting myself in the bed without having to move too much. I wasn’t very successful, a sharp pain suddenly radiating out from my chest and causing me to draw in a sharp intake of breath. I clutched at my chest, the pain overwhelming. It threatened to overtake me.
“Oh my god!” I heard someone say. A female nurse rushed over to me and realized my vital signs were all normal. Just before she was able to call another doctor, my pain subsided and I was able to breathe normally again.
“I’m ok,” I said, a little out of breath but feeling better. My eyes wandered over to the nurse who was just now turning back towards me. A feeling of deja vu crashed over me as I tried to remember where I knew her from. She wasn’t a nurse that I ever interacted with, so why did I feel as if I recognized her? Her dark brown hair shone under the light, highlighting her tanned skin and hazel green eyes. Her Puerto Rican heritage was painted all across her beautiful, model-like features.
“Your heart rate and blood pressure look good,” she commented, standing cross legged and posted next to the pastel green counter. I didn’t even feel like asking for a second opinion, I felt like anything she would say was trustworthy. It could have been those lips, and that accent that made everything sound so much sexier. Even through the pain, I was beginning to feel a familiar swelling going on. I began to realize how long it had been since I last came, and it was a while. I already had two drea
ms of taking Courtney on the top of an examination table after giving her a slow and thorough physical.
They were both really good dreams.
“I’m Ally, I’ll be your nurse and physical therapist,” she said, her voice sounding like an exotic mermaid singing her seductive song to me. I felt all my muscles relax as she pushed a chair over and sat down next to me, flexing her fingers.
“You look so good,” she said, almost sounding like she was reminiscing, “you’re healing very well,” she quickly added. I noticed she looked like something slipped, something she didn’t necessarily want to say. I figured it was just an unprofessional way of saying I was doing better, so I cut her some slack.
“We’re going to start small and work our way up ok? I’ll start with tiny rotations,” she said, taking her hands and placing them under my tattooed bicep, her fingers wrapping around the stylized scene of koi fish swimming through sapphire blue waters. I remember the day I got it, a smoggy California morning that was just calling out for some trouble. I had been wanting to get a tattoo for a while, and I had already put a lot of thought into what I wanted. So I walked into the parlor and gave the little girl with the bright pink ponytail my sketch. It was rough, but she was able to turn it into a vibrant symbol of overcoming your toughest challenges, at least that’s what I saw it as. Koi fish have to swim for their lives up a waterfall, much like what I felt I was doing.
My blood started to pitch up in temperature as Ally’s fingers worked my muscles, smoothing them out, releasing the toxins stored in the form of acid. An accidental grunt of pleasure escaped me. We both locked eyes as she smiled a small smirk of a smile. She knew what she was doing to me. And it was going to become even more obvious when the thin material of my loose gym shorts covering my crotch raised up in a horny salute. I was starting to think I should have stayed in that damn hospital gown, but then again that would have shown my growing cock even more.
She started working my whole arm, making tiny circular motions and relieving the tension and scar tissue from the previous trauma my body had endured. I let my head fall back, revealing my scruffy neck that pumped with every second that passed as my blood pressure was beginning to rise. In fact, it was beginning to flow to places other than my head.
Well, the one that Ally could see at least.
“Tell me if this hurts,” she said softly, as if telling me a secret, something only the two of us could ever know about. I felt her eyes searching me, searching my features, something was there. I just couldn’t tell what.
“No, not so far,” I said, still putting my head back and keeping my eyes shut as I imagined how this beautiful woman would look if she were sitting there naked, her scrubs laying on the floor, her hands exploring more and more of me.
And then the weirdest thing happened to me, something that’s never happened before. As Ally sat there, massaging me, the image of Courtney popped into my mind. Her smiling, perfect face and that flawless body, her foxiness and attitude towards life, it was all somehow getting in the way of me having sex with a very hot therapist. I tried powering through, imagining Ally climbing on top of me as I lay down on that small hospital bed.
It was a hot image, and I can’t lie, it was turning me on even more.
But Courtney.
“How does this feel? Any sharp pains or are you feeling nauseous?”
“It feels great, I’m not experiencing anything except bliss over here.”
“This isn’t a hotel spa, Dr. Silvers,” she said, leaning towards me as she spoke.
“Trust me, I know. Room service here sucks,” I said, keeping eye contact with her the whole time. Her hands still working my strong arms, making sure they weren’t losing their circulation, easing my tension more and more. She asked me to move it for her, showing her the range of motion I could manage. From the side of my eye I could see the outline of my dick start to rise. I shifted a little, hoping to not make my excitement so evident.
"Do you feel like you lost any range of movement, Jason?” she said, watching my movements. I noticed her eyes take a quick glance at the growing tent of black cloth. I also picked up on the fact that she was using my first name, which struck me as slightly odd, but the growing pressure in between my strong thighs was enough to distract me.
"Thankfully, no. I doubt I can do a pushup right now, but I don't think I'm permanently messed up," I said as she ran her fingers over my chest. I started to wonder if this was typical protocol for the physical therapists here.
A part of me doubted it.
"Well, good news is, you'll be able to start working out again by next month. Wouldn't want to lose out on your incredible shape," she said, as she put a hand underneath my head and rolled it to the sides, my body feeling limp under her touch. I was actually beginning to forget I was in a hospital bed.
"And you feel like the medications have been helping you?" she asked, almost purring to me. The heat in the room was reaching a fever pitch.
"They definitely have," I said, not wanting to comment on exactly how much they've been helping me.
"Good. And in case they stop doing their job, let me know... I can help."
And then, just like that, she was done. Pushing her chair back and standing up, smiling down at me in that hot Latin way. I could still see my cock straining against my black shorts and I saw her eyes dart to the same spot, the outline of my thickness clearly imprinted through the thin fabric.
“We’ll take it slow today. Next session we’ll make sure your lower half is working properly,” she said mischievously as she walked out of the room, knowing damn well the effect she was having on me. I saw her leave, and for a split second I felt like I knew her from somewhere.
But that was impossible, unless I had seen her around the hospital.
I was left there, alone, my cock throbbing against me, the soft fabrics of my shorts sliding along the sensitive skin. I had no other option, I slid my right hand down under the waistband, brushing against the tip of my sensitive dick. My pre-cum served as enough lube, I wrapped my hand around my thick shaft and stroked. Up and down, up and down. A small moan escaped my mouth as I cupped my balls and brought them up. Courtney made her way back into my head. This time she was taking me inside of her. Taking all of me. We were making love. I could picture her writhing in pleasure under me as we came together as one person. It was a beautiful and searingly hot image that brought me straight over the edge. I felt my dick pulse hard in my strong grip, blowing my load straight onto my muscular abdomen.
I took a deep breath and laid there, picturing Courtney kissing me in the glorious after-sex glow. Her lips exploring my body, finding new nooks to kiss, new spots to run her tongue over. Her fingers sliding across my muscles, while mine explored hers anew. I took a deep breath and brought myself back to reality, realizing I had a sticky mess to clean up.
I wiped off with the napkins next to my bed and then my finger found its home above the trigger, releasing another dose of painkillers following the euphoric feelings that came after an orgasm. I felt the medication sliver through me, winding through the small passageways that made up my circulatory system. The promises of bliss being fulfilled by the warm, welcoming embrace.
And for the first time in a while, I cried.
I knew I was falling down the wrong rabbit hole.
CHAPTER FOUR
“Holy shit!” Connor, my brother, said from the doorway, my mom and dad framing him with my sister standing to the side. They all held back tears as they walked in, their skin sunburned from being on a cruise. They had no idea what had happened until they got off the boat a few days earlier and seeing them was an absolute rush of emotions. Connor came over to my bed first, clasping my hand in his closed fist, kissing the outside of his hand and smiling at me, happy to have his brother back. My sister, wearing her Alaskan adventure tour t-shirt, came over to me, hugging me as though I were a fragile glass figurine.
“Sky, I’m not gonna break, you know that right?” I said into her hov
ering shoulder.
“I know that, dork. I just didn’t wanna hurt you,” she said, holding back tears.
“I know sis, I was just joking. I’m glad you’re here.”
“Me too,” she said, stepping aside so that my parents could step up to say hello. I felt like I was playing a round of hot potato and I was the potato.
Suddenly I wanted to press the little button. The one that gave me what I needed.
“Jason, we were so scared,” my father said, gripping my forearm in that tender way fathers do. My mom on the other hand was beginning to lose her composure, her body starting to shake against the threat of full on sobs. They lost me once, they didn’t want to lose me again.
“We love you,” my mom managed to say before finally having to turn and quickly scurry out of the room and into the bathroom. I heard her start crying halfway there.
“I’m going to go check on her,” my father said, his Alaskan tour shirt also on.
Connor and Sky both sat down on the bottom of my bed, sinking the flimsy cushion beneath their combined weight and causing a slight dip. Sky held onto my ankle as though I were going to fly away any second now, off into oblivion where they would never be able to reach me.
“So… how was the cruise?” I asked, purposefully adding an awkwardness to my question. Both my siblings got my sarcasm and chuckled at the sort of fucked up fact that they were on a cruise while I was dying. I didn’t blame them though.
“It would have been better with you there,” Sky said, squeezing my ankle reassuringly. Her “save the whales” neon blue wristbands falling down to the tops of her hands.
“Yeah, I wouldn’t have complained being there either,” I said, smiling at them both. Connor was surprisingly quiet. Growing up, Connor was always the very outspoken one, especially out of the three of us. I was the oldest but I was also the wildest and most sporadic, but Connor always had an opinion. He always had a way to bring up some theological discussion and talk about it for hours, disputing the finer points of a particular philosophy. I was always the one making dangerous decisions and not having a clear direction. Sky on the other hand seemed to have all her ducks lined in a row since the ripe age of ten. Her and Connor were twins that seemed to have gotten every opposite gene in the spectrum. But something was working because Sky was also attending UCLA and, in true Silvers fashion, she was planning on going to medical school.
Numbed (The White Coat Series) Page 2