DARC Ops: The Complete Series

by Jamie Garrett

  There were times in the past where she’d come close to administering a few healthy slaps to the face, lest groping hands continue their groping. The talking, though, sometimes through the confusion of dementia patients, just had to be suffered through.

  Would all that unpleasantness, the slapping and the suffering, be another trick of the trade she would have to teach the young intern today?

  “It’s a man,” Fiona quietly warned her student as they approached the room. She looked at her closely, waiting for any kind of reaction. But her face was emotionless. Perhaps scared frozen. “Are you okay with that?”

  “Yeah,” said the student, breathing through her mouth.

  “It’ll be a little different than what you’re used to, with the training doll.”

  “Yeah,” she said again, but this time with a girlish icky face. “Yeah, I kinda figured.”

  So who would it be? Who was the lucky gentleman today? Fiona was still hoping for something adventurous. A 600-pounder, perhaps. Someone with enough surface area, both exposed and hidden in folds, to make the job memorable for the student.

  They entered the patient’s room and Fiona turned up her nurse voice. “Good morning Mr.—”

  Her words got choked off by the sight of him.

  Jasper.

  His expression went from surprise to pleasure.

  Fiona was sure that her expression looked a little different.

  “Hi,” he said, casually rolling over in bed to face them.

  Fiona looked back at her student, who seemed a little taken aback by Fiona’s surprise. “Go ahead, come in.” She waved in the student, who entered the room with a little embarrassed smile for Jasper.

  Fiona did as best as she could with an introduction, and then explained to her patient why she had stopped by. Was he busy? Would he like a bed bath now? Did he have to use the bathroom first?

  While going through the usual formalities, she checked his paperwork, and was surprised to see his health had drastically deteriorated overnight. He’d moved rooms. Not only that, but he also seemed to have squeezed in an emergency hip replacement.

  Fiona looked up at him from the clipboard with a quizzical look. “How are we feeling today?”

  Jasper grinned. “We’re pretty good.”

  She had emphasized “we” for the amount of personalities he’d taken on since his arrival at the hospital. Each of them having something different on their charts. Jasper pretended not to notice.

  “Ready for a bath, I think,” he said.

  Fiona rolled her eyes at him. Of course he was going to play along with this, like a spoiled brat, most likely. She expected him to drag it out and enjoy every minute of the torture.

  But maybe she could torture him back . . .

  “Okay, Chelsea, step over here and we’ll get started. First with the hand sanitizer.” Fiona rubbed the cool anti-bacterial gel on her hands and then glanced over to Jasper. “Next, we’ll have to put on some gloves.”

  Jasper looked disappointed about the gloves.

  “We wear gloves every time,” said Fiona. “Especially with the . . . the private region. That’s for our safety as much as theirs, because, while I’m sure this nice young gentleman is in perfect health, you never can tell.”

  “Never can tell what?” asked Jasper.

  “Do you want us to wash you down there?” Fiona asked in an almost Mom-sounding timbre. She wanted to scare him off. “Or would you rather take care of that on your own today?” And then she looked over to Chelsea, saying, “You always want to ask first. Sometimes the patient might want to do it themselves and in private.”

  “No, I’m fine,” said Jasper, smiling devilishly.

  “You’re fine?” said Fiona. “You don’t need us to help you there?”

  “I do need help,” he said. “I need. Very much.”

  Fiona continued on as professionally as she could, desperately trying to forget that she’d ever known him, that she’d ever touched him in a more intimate and fun way than a Tuesday morning bed bath. She shook off a few dirty thoughts and memories, and instead refocused on her task, on her student. She began describing the steps to Chelsea as she performed each of them, gathering the tools and prepping them. Two bowls filled with warm water. A soap dispenser. Two large towels and two small wash cloths. One large bathing towel. Another medium-sized towel, which she had Jasper lie on top of.

  As she worked, Fiona had several times caught Chelsea staring at Jasper with this incredibly dopey expression. She’d look at his face as if he was the cutest boy in school, staring just long enough for eye contact, after which she would turn away, looking embarrassed and a little red-faced.

  “The first thing we do is pull the privacy curtains around the bed,” said Fiona. “Can you help us with that, Chelsea?”

  “Oh. Yeah.” Chelsea spun into action.

  “I really appreciate it, by the way,” said Jasper.

  Fiona glared at Jasper’s silly grin while Chelsea cordoned off his bed with the thin white curtains, the sound of scraping metal filling the room. Jasper just looked happy, like he was having a great time.

  “Okay, and now we’ll cover the patient,” said Fiona, covering Jasper with the bathing towel. “This is the biggest towel, and it goes over everything.”

  The two girls unfolded the towel over Jasper and spread it out to all four corners of the bed.

  “Thank you, Chelsea.” Fiona cleared her throat. “Okay, so now . . . Now is when he can undress underneath.”

  Jasper, without a word, had already begun to undress, starting with his pants, lifting his hips off the bed to slide them down. And then he began working on his shirt, taking some time with his sore wrist, all while his grin had eased into a sense of relaxation. Before long he was lying there, fully nude under a single towel, eyes closed as if he were enjoying a day at the spa. Or an after-hours massage parlor in Bangkok.

  Chelsea, meanwhile, had been looking to Fiona rather nervously. “So, where do you . . . ? What do you do first?” Her mouth sounded dry.

  Fiona added some body soap to a washcloth and said, as calmly as she could, “We’ll start with his chest.” Her own mouth had gone a little dry, as well.

  Meanwhile, Jasper, still with his eyes closed, took a deep breath, his chest rising and almost quivering before falling back down again. He was already enjoying this far too much. The anticipation. Fiona had begun feeling something as well.

  “So,” said Chelsea. “You just, uh . . .”

  “Yes, Chelsea, you just slide the washcloth under the towel. And start rubbing.” Fiona was making slow circles with the soapy cloth, circling over Jasper’s firm pec, the cloth dragging slightly on the smattering of hair there. He breathed deeply again. “And make sure you always ask if it feels okay.”

  “Okay,” said Chelsea, watching intently from the opposite side of the bed.

  “Does it feel okay?”

  “Yes,” said Jasper. “Thank you.”

  Her hand was scrubbing lower, across his stomach in several strokes back and forth, his ab muscles flexed tightly as she worked her way lower, just low enough, and then back up his sides.

  “You use the wash cloth in segments,” said Fiona. “In corners. You want to end off this corner with his armpits.” She started scrubbing under Jasper’s arms and his expression went a little silly, like he was holding in a sneeze.

  Fiona finished scrubbing and pulled her hand out from under the towel. “Next, you take a wet towel to rinse.” She returned underneath the towel, warm water gushing out of her fist as she squeezed the towel over his chest. She could almost hear him groan in pleasure. “Is the water warm enough?”

  He nodded. “Yes.”

  “You always want to keep a constant dialogue,” Fiona instructed her student.

  She kept working under the towel, scrubbing his arms, then rinsing. Every now and then she’d have to say something to Chelsea to keep her attention, after which Chelsea would just usually nod her head or say “Uh-hu
h,” before going back to her standard mouth breathing.

  It was sad, in way. Not because of how desperately horny this poor girl seemed. But because this was like a dream. This, a guy like Jasper, never happened. His sexiness. The magnetism. It was setting the bar pretty high for future bed bathers.

  “You still watching me?” Fiona asked Chelsea.

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Good,” said Fiona. “You’ll have to do this someday, too.”

  Him and his perfect body . . .

  Jasper was setting up some pretty unrealistic expectations for what the typical bed bath was like. He knew it too. He played along.

  “Thank you,” said Jasper, his voice so faded and relaxed it almost came out a whisper. “This feels so good.”

  That bastard . . .

  She was soaking his body. And he was doing something similar to her. She could feel it. She wanted to touch herself, even just over her pants. She wanted to—

  “And then, um, you do his legs next?”

  “That’s right,” said Fiona, scrubbing down his thigh. “Wash, rinse, and then dry, every step of the way.”

  She tried not to notice how the towel above his crotch had begun lifting, a small peak emerging ever so slightly. And under her touch she could feel him tensing up, and heating up, the air between the towel and his body getting considerably warmer. Jasper coughed a little bit, and then tried to adjust his lying position. Finally, he might have been at least somewhat self-conscious about something. Perhaps even embarrassed, smiling and looking away. Finally showing some emotion from how fucked up this was. It was fucked up, but also, oddly, hot as hell. Giving a patient a bed bath was usually one of her least favorite activities, right up there with catheters and enemas. Would he have made those sexy, as well?

  No, no. There was no amount of hotness possible for that to—

  “Um,” Chelsea held back a giggle. “Yeah, so um.” She turned around, facing away from the tent that Jasper had kept erecting.

  Poor Chelsea was reaching her breaking point.

  “You okay, Chelsea?” asked Fiona while she rubbed the warm, moist towel from kneecap to ankle.

  “Yeah,” Chelsea said, turning around, her face as red as ever. “Oh, my gosh . . .”

  “Sorry,” Jasper said with a pained expression.

  But Fiona knew he wasn’t sorry at all. She still wanted to be in charge of that, of how sorry he’d be.

  “Chelsea, do you think you can take over?”

  “What?” Chelsea yelped. The word came out quickly, the fear unguarded. “I mean, excuse me?”

  Fiona caught Jasper’s glance, holding it. She winked at him. “Chelsea?”

  “Yes?”

  “Do you want to finish?”

  The whites around Jasper’s eyes glared up at Fiona.

  “Finish . . . ummm . . . finish what?”

  “Finish his leg.”

  “Oh, um . . .”

  His eyes turned crazy, mad almost. He didn’t seem to want Chelsea to finish.

  “No, um.” Chelsea laughed very quietly. “I’m okay, thanks. I’ll just watch you.”

  Jasper seemed to not be enjoying his bath as much anymore. He kept fidgeting, and then finally saying, “Excuse me, Fiona?”

  Fiona stopped drying his leg for a moment to look back up at her patient. “What can I do for you?”

  Jasper smiled. “I think I can handle the rest.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah, it’s okay.”

  She started rubbing again, moving higher up his inner thigh. “You sure about that?”

  “Yes,” he said, struggling to lean up on his elbows. “Yes, thank you.” He seemed to be inching away from Fiona’s hand. How strange . . .

  “Are you sure?” said Fiona. “You can do it just fine with your sore wrist?”

  Jasper smirked. “Yeah, thanks. I can do it just fine.”

  “Your behind?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You can wash your behind okay?” she asked with that polished, annoying nurse tone.

  Jasper looked at Chelsea for a half second, and then back to Fiona. “What? Yeah.”

  “With your bad hip and everything? It’s no problem for us to do it. Right, Chelsea?”

  “Umm, right.”

  “That’s what we’re here for,” said Fiona.

  Jasper was lying on his side now, his knees curled up a little bit so that his erection—if he still had one—was hidden from view. “I’m okay,” he said finally. “Really.”

  17

  Jasper

  What began as a simple joke turned into much more than he’d bargained for: blue balls.

  He’d been left alone, by his own choice, but left alone with one of the firmest erections he could remember. It was almost painful. Not since he’d been a teenager had he felt so absolutely full and ready to explode. And now he was left to deal with it himself.

  But what were his options? The alternative would be to have allowed Fiona to continue her bed bath, and if she’d gone ahead and carried out what she threatened him with, he would be, right now, rolled onto his side and probably staring at Chelsea, his audience, while his ex-lover and potential future girlfriend wiped his ass for him.

  And if that were to indeed happen, then all would be for naught. For, after she’d finished, there wouldn’t be anything left to take care of. He would’ve probably shriveled up faster than he would during a winter swim in the Potomac.

  Jasper, still lying, still naked, knew for a fact that he had not jumped into any icy water. Though at this point, he wished he had. He shifted his weight under the towel and rolled onto the side of his hip. He could feel the pressure of his cock still fully erect, the tip poking into and rubbing against the towel.

  It would be hilarious, if he hadn’t been so turned on.

  “Fuck,” he muttered to himself.

  He felt like such an idiot.

  It was awkward, and embarrassing, but that seemed to make it hotter. Even the fact that he had an audience, and that Fiona had no choice but to at least attempt to stay professional throughout the procedure. He thought back on how she looked, his view from below her breasts. How her hand, more than a few times, came within inches of his manhood.

  His own hand slipped down there now while thinking of her. It seemed to have happened automatically, his fingers wrapping around the base of his shaft and slowly massaging the skin. The head was still full and large and he was rubbing a little harder now. He needed to. There had been such a buildup . . .

  A few coherent thoughts finally crossed his mind as he lay there naked in his hospital room, bringing himself to completion. A disbelief at how he’d arrived in such a position. And rational objections to what he was now doing: mainly, jerking himself off harder and faster under the towel, hoping and praying that no one would walk in. And then harder now, hoping that Fiona would walk in.

  He’d never dreamt of masturbating in a hospital, in his workplace. But, then again, he’d never imagined he’d be in such a position that he’d simply had to. How likely had it been that he’d ever see Fiona again, let alone be given a sensual bed bath by her delicate, soothing touch? And her naughtiness, the way she teased him about Chelsea, the way she teased him in general . . .

  She had teased him before, too, back in training. That first time, in a most public and crowded hospital elevator, backing up into him to make room for a patient in a wheelchair. She made sure to make as much room as possible, her plump ass grinding back into his crotch and then holding there, as if she was waiting for him to respond. The response he wanted was to wrap an arm around her and pull her in closer, maybe kiss the nape of her neck. But that would have been too obvious.

  The less obvious response, and what actually ended up happening, was his cock firming up against her body. All this after only kissing once before. It was the start of a fun final month of rotations. And then she left, in a rush, not too differently than how she’d just left him today. She had left him hard and diabol
ically frustrated. Such cruelty, however, was perhaps deserved by the way he’d carried himself during the bed bath. He’d been a bad boy.

  And he was still being a bad boy, the towel above his crotch fluttering now like a flag in the wind as his fist pumped faster, as he approached some sense of relief that had long been required. He edged closer, and closer, just needing to finish. No matter the insanity of it, his task needed to be completed—with or without Fiona’s touch.

  Of course he preferred for that touch to return, by any means necessary, some miracle bringing his nurse back to her patient. What he wouldn’t have given for just a little more “bathing,” even with a gloved hand, even with an audience. It could have been Dr. Wahl watching for all he cared. It could have been—

  And then the door creaked open.

  And then his brain scattered into a panic, an electrical storm, his quick deliberation of whether or not it was worth it to continue toward his goal.

  He had turned to check the door, watching it open wider.

  Fuck!

  Fuck it, he had to stop.

  No orgasm, at least one that was self-administered, was worth getting caught and humiliated and fired.

  He kept watching the door while he reluctantly dropped his hand, praying that the emergency would subside. And in walked a wine-colored shape. A nurse’s outfit. And the most beautiful face he could imagine. That smile . . . And then the voice he’d wanted so badly to hear, saying his name. A question. “Jasper?” She asked it with a quavering voice. “Jasper . . .” A quiet, nervous inquiry.

  She closed the door behind her, shutting it carefully and silently, before walking up to his bed.

  He was out of breath from his activity. But maybe more so now that she had returned. “Hi,” he said quietly, trying to make his voice sound normal. But it came out high and tight.

  Upon entering, she had looked nervous and fidgety, but after he spoke, she seemed to relax. She softened up, moving with more fluidity, her hands now propped up on the bed and feeling their way toward his thigh as he rolled flat onto his back.