It was clear to Frank: women don’t want nurses—they want doctors. And any doctor is better than any nurse—even the old, chubby, short doctors with thinning hair.
CHAPTER II
It was a cool December evening—only a few days before Christmas Eve—when an ambulance brought a young woman to the hospital. She was assigned to Frank’s wing, though Frank was on his break when she was admitted. He came up to her room after they’d already stripped her down and gotten her into a baby blue gown.
One nurse was in the process of applying stitches to a gash on her arm. Another nurse was getting the IV drip ready. The young woman had bruising around her eye, and she was either asleep or unconscious. “What happened?” Frank asked.
“Before she nodded off, she said she fell down the stairs—but I’ve never seen stairs cut a person like this,” said the doctor who was looking over her chart. “That was done by a knife, if you ask me. I think she was beaten up.”
“Is she stable?” Frank asked.
“Yeah—just roughed up,” said the doctor. “She’s out from the pain meds—she might be out for the night. Once she’s stitched up, she’s all yours. When she wakes up, try to convince her to talk to the cops.” He put the chart down and then left, disappearing off to wherever doctors disappear off to for hours at a time.
The other two emergency nurses finished their duties and Frank found himself alone in the small room with that young bruised up woman. He stood over her and looked down at her body. She looked so peaceful in her drug-induced slumber—yet so sad at the same time. Someone had really done a number on her. Maybe she had fallen down the stairs, after she was beaten up and slashed by some lunatic.
Frank pulled a blanket over her body and then he went to check on the few other patients he had for the night.
The hospital was relatively empty that night. It was a Thursday night—notoriously the slowest nights. No one goes to the hospital on a Thursday unless they think they’re dying. It was only 10:00 PM and all of Frank’s patients were asleep, so Frank decided to get half an hour of sleep himself. He slipped into one of the empty rooms and he drifted off with an alarm set on his phone. But his alarm didn’t go off—or if it did, it didn’t wake him up. And no one came to wake him up. When he finally woke up, it was 2:30 AM. As soon as he saw the time on his phone, he sprung up. He’d taken sneaky little naps before, but never for more than half an hour—never mind four and a half hours.
He hurried back towards his post, which was desolate. The other nurses must have been taking their breaks. So he went to check on his patients, and thankfully they were all still asleep—except for one. The young battered woman was gone from her bed. Frank’s heart started pounding as he looked around. He zipped over to the bathroom, but the bathroom was empty. He anxiously walked around trying to locate her, but she appeared to be gone.
Frank found himself back in her room, looking at her chart. She hadn’t been discharged. No one had even checked on her since 10:00 PM—and why would anyone check on her? That was Frank’s job.
When Frank’s supervisor returned from her break, she asked, “How are your patients?”
And Frank panicked. He didn’t want his supervisor to know that he’d spent half of his shift asleep. So he faked a smile and nodded his head. “Good—they’re all fine.”
His supervisor stared at him for a moment with a peculiar look on her face. Then she looked down at her computer screen and nodded her head. “That’s good. Slow night tonight.”
“Very slow,” Frank said.
The IV stand was missing from the young woman’s room, which made Frank think that she was still in the hospital—or she’d escaped with the IV stand. So Frank was on the lookout for either a young woman with a black eye, or an abandoned IV stand. He found neither. “Shit,” he muttered.
In a couple of hours the sun would be up and the doctor would be making his rounds. Frank could survive a stern talking to from his supervisor, but he wasn’t looking forward to facing the doctor.
Frank’s heart started pounding as he continued his search. What if the girl was kidnapped? What if the guy who beat her up came back for her? What if he wanted her dead before she woke up and talked to the police?
Frank made his way to the hospital basement, where the cafeteria was. He ran in with the last of his hope, hoping to see her sitting at one of the lonely tables. But she wasn’t there. So Frank took a seat and he pressed his face against the cold, cheap hospital table. “Shit,” he muttered again. It was official: he’d lost a high-risk patient. He would probably be seeing her face on the news in a few hours: young woman found dead after nurse takes extra-long nap. Maybe her body was somewhere in that hospital, stuffed into some custodian closet. Maybe the IV stand was in there with her—maybe that’s what the guy used to kill her.
Someone tapped on Frank’s shoulder. “Everything alright?” a female voice asked.
“Just having one of those nights,” Frank said. He turned and looked back and then he felt his heart soar high up in his chest, pounding against his ribcage. It was her—the battered woman was standing behind him, holding her IV stand at her side.
“You and me both,” she said.
“Where have you been?” Frank asked, springing to his feet.
“Me?” she asked. “I’ve been exploring. Why?”
“You’re supposed to be in bed, resting and recovering. You got beat up pretty good,” Frank said.
And then he watched as the young woman’s cheeks turned red. “I fell down the stairs,” she said with a strangely defensive tone.
“Right, well you should be in bed regardless. You’ve got a series of nasty fractures and abrasions and bruises and swelling. It’s only going to take longer to heal if you’re up and walking around.”
“But I woke up and there was nothing to do. It’s so boring here,” she said, tilting her head back in an adolescent sort of way.
“It’s not supposed to be fun here. You’re here to heal. And the sooner you heal, the sooner you can go home and have fun,” Frank said. And then the woman—as if she hadn’t heard a word Frank had just said—took the seat across from Frank. She smiled and looked into Frank’s eyes.
“Are you a doctor or a nurse?” she asked.
Frank looked around. The cafeteria still wasn’t open for the night and there was no one around. He thought about lying and saying that he was a doctor, just so he could experience that special attention doctors seemed to get from beautiful young women. But he couldn’t bring himself to do it. “I’m a nurse,” he said.
“Do you like being a nurse?” she asked. “Or was your dream to be a doctor?”
“I like being a nurse just fine,” Frank said.
“You didn’t answer the question.”
“I did answer it. You asked if I liked being a nurse.”
“I asked if your dream was to be a doctor.”
Frank forced a smile. He shook his head. “I like being a nurse. If I wanted to be a doctor, I would have gone to medical school and I would have become a doctor. Now let’s get you back to your room. My supervisor will kill me if she sees us down here.”
“Are you not allowed dating your patients?” the woman asked with a smirk.
Now it was Frank’s cheeks turning a dark shade of warm crimson. He forced a smile. “I’m not allowed to let patients wander around the hospital while they’re recovering with serious injuries.”
“My injuries aren’t that serious, are they?” she asked.
“I don’t know. I haven’t looked at your chart,” Frank said. “Now c’mon—let’s get you back to your room.”
Frank walked around the table and helped the young woman up to her feet. She had large bruises on her legs and she still had heavy pain medication surging through her system, so standing up probably wasn’t the easiest task. “What’s your name?” she asked.
“Frank.”
“I’m Erin.”
“Hi Erin,” Frank said.
“You’re ver
y strong, Frank.” She put her hand on his bicep and then she felt up and down his arm.
“I think we might have put too much morphine into your drip,” Frank said. “C’mon.”
CHAPTER III
Erin fell asleep within minutes of being placed back on her hospital bed. Thankfully, Frank’s supervisor wasn’t around when Frank led Erin back to her room. Frank had dodged a massive bullet. He wouldn’t be taking long naps at work anymore.
It was 5:00 AM when Frank came in to check on Erin again. She was still asleep, looking peaceful despite her black eye and bruised arms. Frank looked down at her for a moment, noticing for the first time how pretty she was. Her skin was perfectly smooth and youthful. Her hair was long and it looked soft. She had thick, full lips—possibly with some help from fillers. But her eyelashes were her best feature: they were long and dark and real.
She stirred while Frank was leaning over her, making Frank jump back. His heart skipped a beat. But she wasn’t awake, just repositioning herself.
She was cute—definitely Frank’s type, but definitely out of Frank’s league. She would probably end up falling for one of the doctors in the morning, and Frank would become the invisible nurse he was so used to being.
Before leaving her room he decided to check her chart. He wanted to see how old she was—and he wasn’t surprised to see that she was only twenty-one. Though he was surprised to see that the nurse who originally filled out the chart had checked the box next to ‘male’ instead of ‘female’. So Frank scribbled out the originally checkmark and he made the correction. “Erin Brooks,” he said quietly to himself. He liked the sound of the name. He could picture himself saying the name to his parents one day. ‘My girlfriend’s name is Erin—Erin Brooks.’ The name sounded a little bit professional and a little bit cute.
Frank put the chart back. He emerged from Erin’s room to see the nurse who would be taking over for the day. Frank’s shift was coming to an end. “How did everything go to night?” the morning nurse asked.
“Everything went fine,” Frank said. He had never been a good liar. His body would always become tense and his voice would raise a few semi-tones.
The other nurse nodded with a smile. “Good,” she said. “Anything I should be aware of?”
“Nope,” Frank said. “The patient in this room here says she fell down the stairs, but the doctor thinks she was beaten up—but I wouldn’t press her too hard.”
“She’s probably defending some scummy boyfriend,” the nurse said—and Frank hadn’t even considered the possibility until that moment. That was probably exactly what she was doing. She was probably dating some stud who roughed her up a bit after she was caught looking at another guy. That was probably her type: assholes. Beautiful women are always attracted to major assholes, for whatever reason.
“Yeah, that’s probably it,” Frank said, feeling strangely jealous and unfortunately disappointed.
So Frank went home, though he wasn’t as tired as he usually was after a long twelve-hour shift—probably because he’d already slept nearly five hours that night. So instead of going to sleep, he found himself on his computer, looking up all of the different Erin Brooks in his city. It was only ten minutes of searching before he found the girl from the hospital.
Her profile was set to be mostly private, only showing her main profile picture and a bit of information concerning where she was born, where she grew up, and where she went to school. Frank could see that she only had a few dozen friends, which seemed strange for a girl of twenty-one. Usually young people (women especially) had hundreds, if not thousands of friends on Facebook. He tried searching for her on Twitter and Instagram, but she didn’t seem to have either—or if she did, she wasn’t using her real name.
After forty minutes of searching around on the Internet, Frank pulled himself away. He knew he was being a creep. He had no business looking her up. Not to mention it was pointless. Like the other nurse said: she was probably in a relationship with some abusive loser. If Frank wasn’t careful, he was going to get her beaten up all over again. That was the last thing he wanted.
But it was hard to get the image of Erin out from his head. Even with her black eye, she was surprisingly cute. Was she the hottest girl who had ever come through the hospital? Maybe not. Was she in the top ten? Probably… But there was something appealing about her—something that wasn’t just her looks. She seemed kind and spunky. She seemed like she would be a lot of fun to hang out with. And it helped that she was beautiful. It helped that she had big stunning eyes and amazingly long, dark eyelashes.
Frank found himself wondering what would have happened had he told Erin that he was a doctor. Would she have gotten that glow in her eyes that girls seemed to get when doctors walked into the room? Could Frank have gotten into her panties? With Frank’s luck, she probably would have found out he was lying and reported him to the hospital administrator.
Even Frank’s dreams weren’t safe from Erin. He ended up dreaming that she was in the bed with him—still hooked up to her IV, still with her black eye—but she was naked. In his dream, Frank sunk down and sucked on her nipples while she fingered herself. She ended up squirting and making a mess of his bed, but he didn’t mind. She begged to suck his cock, so he let her, and in his dream she got him off quickly: bobbing her head, sucking, and slurping with her tongue. She knew her way around a cock as if she had a cock of her own.
And when Frank woke up, he was shocked to see that he’d had a wet dream: the first wet dream he’d had in almost fifteen years. In fact, he was pretty sure that Erin was the first sexy dream he’d had since he started working at the hospital.
CHAPTER IV
The hospital was busy, which wasn’t unusual for a Friday evening. Frank scrubbed up quickly and then he went to his supervisor to find out where she needed him. “Same wing as last night,” she said. “But first, I need you down in emergency. They’re overwhelmed down there.”
So Frank made his way down to emergency and found himself dealing with the usual nonsense: paranoid people who thought their colds were cancer, old people who thought their coughs were pneumonia, young kids with broken wrists, and men who swore that they accidentally sat on the cucumbers that were now stuck in their assholes.
Frank performed at least three anal extractions every week—it was his least favourite part of the job. He once pulled a broken pool cue out of a man’s anus—nearly an entire foot of pool cue. It took over an hour just to pull all the little splinters out. He had nightmares about it for weeks.
That night, he was pleasantly surprised to find out his anal extraction was a woman. She’d lost her dildo up her ass. Apparently her dog barked and startled her while she was fooling around. “Don’t worry. We’ll get it out,” Frank said.
They prepared the room for the extraction. Frank placed the woman’s legs into the stirrups and then he raised her bed up. “This is so embarrassing,” the woman said.
“It’s not embarrassing,” Frank said. “It happens all the time.” Though he didn’t say that it was almost always men and not women.
One of the nurses spread her butt cheeks wide while Frank got the unfortunate duty of reaching in to pull the dildo out. He had to get his fingers two inches in before he could feel it and get a grip on it. He was shocked when he felt that it was vibrating. “Um, is there a way to turn this off before I pull it out?” he asked.
The woman’s face was dark red. “No,” she said. “It’s pressure activated.”
“I see,” Frank said. There were many red faces in the room. The woman was petite and cute—she didn’t seem at all like the type to be sticking dildos into her asshole. She had a childish kind of face and lots of freckles. “I think I’ve got it. I’m going to slowly pull it out.”
Frank was shocked by how thick the vibrator was. It was nearly two inches in diameter—not exactly the most gentle toy he’d ever extracted from an anus before. He started pulling it out. He had to move slowly, as the dildo was ribbed and her anus w
as already red and irritated. It didn’t help that the dildo was ribbed. He had to pull it out in increments, and it seemed like her butthole was trying to suck it back in, as if she didn’t actually want it out.
Frank didn’t even have half of the dildo out when he noticed a slight moan slip out from his patient. “Is everything okay?” he asked.
“Mhm,” she said with her lips pressed thin and her eyes closed.
Frank kept pulling. She moaned again. Her legs trembled and then she let out a long whimper. “Oh God,” she said. And while Frank was pulling the dildo out, the woman squirted a bout of warm fluid out from her pussy, onto Frank’s fingers. Frank pretended not to notice, but it was hard when the woman moaned, “Fucking hell!” and squirted again.
Frank finally pulled the toy out and he placed it down on a metal tray. He took a look into her gaping asshole, to make sure there was no damage that needed attention. Aside from some redness, she looked fine. “Are you okay?” Frank asked.
The woman nodded. “I’m so sorry,” she said. Her face was as red as a face can get. “Did I squirt on you?”
“A little bit,” Frank said.
“I’m so embarrassed,” she said.
“Don’t be. It happens more than you would think,” Frank said. But it had never happened before—he was just being nice.
Frank took a few minutes to wash his hands, and then he found himself seeing another peculiar patient: a prostitute who was experiencing an intense burning sensation in her pussy. She claimed she wasn’t a prostitute, but she came in wearing fishnets, a leather skirt, and a lime green crop top (and no bra). Frank stood next to the doctor while he spread her pussy lips and took a look inside. “We’ll have to swab to check for infections,” he said. Frank was given the task of swabbing.
Frank was very careful not to touch any part of her with anything but the tips of his rubber-clad fingers and the cotton swap. Her pussy seemed clean, but it was slightly agape, as if she’d recently had sex. Shockingly, the swab came back clean. She had no infections—not even common herpes. “It still burns,” she said to the doctor.
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