I check my schedule and Maddox’s name leaps out at me. My pulse picks up. I’ll go see him next. Hopefully, our meeting will be less standard.
Chapter 5
I’m in a cold, white room. I am placing an IV in Maddox’s arm. The smell of disinfectant burrows in my nose. Maddox looks up at me. My gaze falters and stops to meet his, as my eyes flick from his to my work placing the needle. My heart beats a little faster and I wonder if he notices. I inhale to draw in his scent and commit it to memory.
“What is this stuff?” His voice is low and alluring. It warms me to my core. A strange effect for being attached to such an innocuous question, but it’s him, it’s being close to him that has this kind of effect on me. The florescent lights hum quietly overhead. I can’t escape it, I can’t resist the pull he has on me. Every part of me says I shouldn’t feel it, this irresistible draw of my attention. I shouldn’t want it, but I do feel it and I do want it. I tuck my chin to my chest, averting my eyes, hoping to hide the blush in my cheeks propelled there by secret thoughts of what it would feel like to have his arms around me, to feel his lips on mine, his tongue trace around the edges ever so lightly.
I rip a piece of tape and secure the plastic IV tubing to his skin. My fingers trace down his forearm ever so slightly as I step back, putting some well-needed space between our bodies to calm my nerves. I clear my throat and force myself to focus on the job at hand instead of Maddox's deep blue...green…oh, God, his eyes are the craziest color I’ve ever seen. Every time he looks at me, my emotions spin. This is not good.
“It’s contrast. It makes your blood white and will help highlight the lesion in your brain,” I say with the same cold sterility as the room we are in. I use it to disguise my feelings. It’s not professional. It’s too much temptation. too much of a distraction. I can’t have distractions now. I’m in my residency. Focus, Lily, focus.
“So it’s like a dye?” Maddox asks, arching his eyebrows at me.
“Yes.”
“And then what’s next?”
“You will get a CT scan.”
“What’s that?”
“It’s a procedure that enables us to accurately see into your head.”
“Is radiation involved?”
“Yes.”
“So you are going to dye my blood, expose me to radiation, and have me lie naked on a slab while probing my brain?”
My eyebrow shoots up. The thought of him naked on the CAT scan table makes my stomach clench. “You won’t be naked, but otherwise, yes.”
“Doctor, are you flirting with me?” Maddox says this as he puts his palm to his chest. And I let a smile begin to form. I have to quell his confidence before he thinks I am actually entertained. But I am.
“Let’s not ruin our time together with petty romance. I’ve already held your hand.”
“Whoa, and the doctor goes for the throat. Don’t you have to be friendly to your patients or something like that?”
I cock my head to the side, saying, “I thought you were a tough guy.”
As Maddox laughs, his lips part, showing his white teeth, which for some reason I assume will be yellowed and crooked. But his smile is pure and his laugh unbridled and rich. It pierces me to my soul and I imagine again what it would be like to have those lips on mine. Those perfect lips with that perfectly dimpled smile.
He doesn’t hold back his laughter and it fills the room for a moment, making the humming lights, chemical stench of disinfectant, and the frigid air disappear. It’s warm and inviting and it weakens my defenses. Damn, he’s good at this.
I show Maddox to the CT machine, and use the excuse of needing to help him onto it as an opportunity to be close to him. I take hold of his upper arm to assist him and stop for a moment. I am facing him with my small hand wrapped around his muscular bicep and I lift my eyes to meet his. Like I could really help this hunk of a man up onto this little table.
Our eyes lock and I know he is enjoying this way too much. His eyes seem to pull something from me, like he’s taking me right now, right here in this split second. I almost imagine that in the next moment he will lean in, and I wet my lips with my tongue. Then I tell him to hold still until the procedure is finished and let go of his arm, and he lays back onto the small white table of the CAT scan machine. The real reason I want him to hold still is so I can admire his gorgeously-sculpted body. But then I look to the glass window, into the control room, and Doctor Mandel is the machine’s operator, waiting to begin. Mandel, you are a buzz kill.
I enter the room and take my seat next to the doctor. He’s busy filling out boxes on a form in Maddox’s file. Keeping his eyes on the paper, he says, “Do you realize how much money is being wasted right now?” I turn my head to face Mandel, totally uninterested, expecting him to look away from his paperwork, but he keeps filling in boxes. I’d better say something, otherwise he’ll raise his voice out of some insecure notion that to repeat one’s self is the mark of a fool. This man wears me down.
I say, “I haven’t a clue.” Of course I don’t know. Why would I know that? And furthermore, why is he concerning himself with money? But I suppose that when he finds himself in polite company, the discussion inevitably turns to mortgages and car payment and some sort of monetary tie that links him to a validation in society. In Mandel’s mind, there must be a price on everything in order to make sense of what it is. But I’m just not that concerned right now. I have more pressing things on my mind. Like how long can I clearly view Maddox in his most magnificent state; next to nakedness?
Mandel shifts in his chair and lectures me about things I am not concerned with, but I know I’m going to hear about it anyway. “In this room alone there are hundreds of thousands of dollars being wasted.” He looks up at Maddox as he says “wasted”. Oh, he has no clue as to how wrong he is; leering at Maddox is anything but wasted.
“The maintenance of that machine.” He points to the CT scanner. “Paying someone to operate it and the various doctors who must be consulted after the procedure has finished.” Mandel inflects the end of his sentence with disgust. “And for what, so that some brute can be patched up and sent on his way to harm more people?” Mandel is staring at Maddox when he says, “That man has no worth. He is just a drain on our resources and our time.”
He talks in that rhetorical tone fathers use when they discipline their kids. He continues to talk about Maddox, but I stop paying attention...to him, anyway. Maddox is a much more interesting specimen to observe; those muscles, tanned skin stretched taut, flexing as he flinched on the CAT scan table. My blood begin to warm and course through my veins at an accelerated speed. Oh, Mandel, just shut up and let me relish this moment.
When Mandel finally finishes his rant, I ask the technician when we can start. There is a system of speakers in each room which enables us to talk to Maddox. Just when the technician is going over each component of the scan, our observation room fills with whistles. What the hell? I look over to Maddox, rocking his head from side to side as he blows out a tune.
“Maddox, we need you to keep still, please,” I say into the microphone. My voice goes through the wall and out to Maddox.
The whistling stops, then the technician resumes. But now, the room fills with a deep exhale. Dr. Mandel slides his chair over to me, saying into the microphone, “Is something the matter?” But Maddox isn’t responding. “What’s the matter with him? Can’t he hear me? Hey, hello.”
“Maybe the speakers are broken,” I say, swiveling in my chair toward the technician. He grabs the microphone, saying hello and calling Maddox,, but he doesn’t respond. “He can’t hear us.”
“A fine observation,” Mandel says sarcastically back at the technician. “On top of everything else this happens.” He stands up, putting his hands on his knees to lift himself and walks over to the door. I see Maddox rise to his elbows from the table to listen to Mandel tell him, “We are having technical difficulties. Just be patient.”
“Just be patient? Is everyone arou
nd here this funny all the time?”
Mandel stares blankly back at Maddox. “Just sit tight.”
“Okey dokey, Smokey. You got it, sit tight.”
Maddox continues to ramble; his voice goes from echo to speaker quality as Mandel shuts the door behind him. I smile as the doctor walks back to his seat. He looks down at me and grumbles, “Is this funny to you?” His tone is now in full dad mode. The edge in his voice rises, “Because now we may have to cancel this procedure due to something as asinine as a speaker.”
“It’s fine. I’ll tell him to relax and we can get through this scan as fast as possible.” I don’t think I sufficiently convince him. He huffs and shakes his head but agrees, nonetheless.
Over the speakers, Maddox’s voice comes in again. “God, that doctor’s a dick.” A laugh accidentally slips out of the technician’s mouth. The sharp ‘pffft’ sound that the technician made would have troubled Mandel if he weren’t focusing every bit of his attention on Maddox.
“Can we just get these speakers fixed, please?” barks Mandel.
I cover my smile with my hand. Not realizing his words are simultaneously entertaining and enraging people less than five yards away, Maddox now goes on, this time singing. “Hey, Mr. Busdriver man, don’t be slow, ‘cause I got somewhere I gotta go...”
“What’s he singing?” the technician wonders, his smile spanning from ear to ear.
A minute later, the technician assures Mandel that the procedure can continue. I stand and walk out, pleased to have an excuse to go into the room with Maddox and drink in his massively-sculpted body once again.
Once in there, I tell Maddox all he needs to do is lie still. My eyes rake up and down the length of his body as it lies stretched out on the CAT scan table. He notices my lingering stares and his jaw flinches. He asks me why it’s taking so long and I tell him the speakers are broken, but it isn’t a problem. Maddox groans as if this exhibition of his is pleasing him, as if he relishes the squirm he sees in me as I have to stand here and talk to him underneath the gaze of the CT machine.
I start to head back to the control room when I look back to see Maddox tapping his toes together. He lets out a gust of air and wipes his face with his hands. I think he’s panicking in the tight, claustrophobic space of the CT scan machine. I rush back to his side and tell him to relax. I find that my hand is over his and there is a sparkle in his deep blue eyes. Was he teasing me, pretending to be nervous just to get me to rush to his side?
“Are you okay?” I ask.
“I am now that you’re here.” He smiles mischievously. Taking my hand that was laying over his, he presses my palm underneath his gown to the thick meat of his outer thigh. My palm burns like fire as it touches his bare skin. My pulse shoots sky high. I am caught by his charm and I am excited at the same time. I swallow hard and struggle to control the blood that is madly rushing to my cheeks. The urge to push my hands up his leg and across the pack of muscles of his abs threatens to overpower me. Desires well up inside of me that have been held at bay for way too long. But instead, I snatch my hand away and spin on my heels to leave.
“Perv,” I say as I walk away. He can’t see the smile on my face. Although I don’t see his face either, I hear him laugh as I return to the booth.
Chapter 6
“How do I know you’re telling the truth?” I ask, taking a step closer to the back door of the ambulance parked outside of the emergency entrance. The EMT moves in front of me, blocking my path.
“Get outta my way,” I say with my head tilted down. I must not look very threatening because the EMT doesn’t budge. His face is plastered with anxiety.
“Please, doctor, I can’t let you.” The EMT’s voice is exhausted, like all his energy is being sucked out of him. I put my hand on the door handle. His eyes beg me not to open it, but I swing open the doors and see Elizabeth bent over the gurney with her scrubs down around her ankles and the other EMT slouched over her. My mouth is slung open, my eyes want to move to fill them with other images, and I think I am sweating from the embarrassment all four of us are now nose-deep in.
“Jesus, Lily!” How the hell does she know my name? I just stand there, dumbfounded, with exactly nothing to say. “Can we have a little privacy?” Elizabeth shrieks as she puts her hair up. The guy “servicing” her says nothing the whole time. He just zips his pants and wipes his face, which is plastered with a silly grin.
Finally, I remember how to talk but I can only seem to say, “I’m sorry,” or just, “Sorry”. I slam the door shut and lean against it, crossing my arms over my chest.
The EMT stands next to me, looking up to the sky, and says, “Maybe you should get some coffee or something.”
“Yeah, or maybe something harder.”
He turns to me. “It isn’t that bad.”
I turn to meet his gaze. “I just saw my co-worker having sex.” Like this is part of the normal routine? I give him a deadpan stare.
He returns my stare with no emotion on his face. “Yeah, me too. It was weird.”
“You would’ve thought she was being killed or something, the way she screamed.” I finally loosen up at the absurdity of the whole situation and give a little chuckle.
I shake my head. This place never ceases to amaze me. I leave Elizabeth in the ambulance and walk back into the building. I welcome the monstrous amount of work I have yet to finish. I need something to push out the images that have been seared into my brain.
As I pass Eleanora in the hallway, I decide to tell her what I saw. I need to let her know she was right and that I won’t doubt her again. She laughs when I tell her about Elizabeth and the EMT and how I know now that the thumb rings are worn like badges to show paramedics and EMTs which nurses are open to free sex. Or so I thought.
Eleanora stops me and says, “No, Lily, the thumb ring lets the guys know which nurses like anal sex.”
Oh, God. I don’t know what to say to that. Who thinks of these things, anyway? I am so embarrassed, I fake getting a message on my pager. Anything so I can just sit at a desk and deal with paperwork, at that point. But as I work, my mind filters the ordeal through the proper channels in my mind. I really didn’t want to know about the thumb ring situation, but curiosity and my imagination conspire against me and I find myself fantasizing.
Soon, thoughts of Maddox creep into my daydream. My pen pauses on the paper and my eyes glaze over. I imagine walking into Maddox’s hospital room when I am grabbed by the wrist and pulled into his dimly-lit room. He swings the door shut and in one swift movement he pins me against it, pressing the mass of his chest against mine. His deep, green eyes pierce me to my soul. I feel the warmth of his breath as he leans close to my face. It is heavy as he breathes deeply to inhale my scent. He grips both of my wrists now, pushing them firmly against the hard wood of the door. My heart pounds in my chest, but I don’t flinch. I am not afraid. Instead, hot flashes of desire bolt through my veins like lightning. His lips are almost on mine. He hovers. My knees go weak and I blink.
My pager buzzes, dragging me out of my pleasure state. I throw my ink pen on the tablet of paper and pull out my pager. I decide I need a break to get a cold drink and clear my head.
Chapter 7
I’m sitting in Mandel’s office. I was told to meet him here and that he had good news for me. After the thumb ring incident, I didn’t allow my mind to be overrun by my imagination, so I am sitting in complete indifference until I am given a reason to think any differently. I look around the office and notice that on the walls hang placards and degrees, framed in a minimalist black wood. The pictures on his desk face me. One of them depicts a stern Mandel with his wife and children outside of a university. His wife is very beautiful; she smiles as she holds her kids by their hands. She squints in the sun, smiling; as she does, her cheeks push wrinkles into the corners of her eyes. She is a wonderful-looking woman, elegantly dressed, and she stares into the camera like she is seeing a good friend.
Mandel looks at the camera with
mild bemusement, otherwise uninterested. He is wearing a nice suit. His hair is combed and parted, as it is today. It looks as if he has been Photoshopped into the picture. He is noticeably older than his wife, not by years but in looks. Mandel is bloated, his hair gray and his posture rigid. The deep-set wrinkles in his forehead contour and shape to look menacing. His children look about my age, maybe a few years younger. They are dressed well; the boy in a blue suit and the daughter in a black and white dress.
Next to Mandel’s computer there is a magnifying glass. It has a black handle and the glass is held by a gold band. It has a long crack on the glass, running the length of the diameter. It’s by far the most interesting thing in Mandel’s office, owing to the fact that it has no reason for being here. Mandel’s sight isn’t ailing him, at least not so far as I know. Besides, the magnifying glass would be of no use. It seems odd that someone as utilitarian as Mandel would have this kind of thing in his office.
Lily's Temptation Vol. 1 Page 4