by Lily Harlem
‘And how do you suggest I do that, stuck in ophthalmology with Matilda?’
‘You’re not stuck in there any more. For the next couple of hours I want you to have a snoop around. Lurk near pharmacy, see what you can see. It’s been two weeks since anything went missing and I’m pretty sure whoever it is will strike again soon.’ She held up her mammoth bunch of keys. ‘See this little silver one.’
‘Yeah,’
‘Someone has a replica of it. I need to know who, sharpish.’
‘But what if they never go back for more? I could be hanging around for years watching the cupboard.’
‘They will. One thing I know about druggies is they’re greedy. One hit is never enough. One stash and they always need more. It was a Saturday night last time it was taken. I reckon between midnight and three. Go and skulk around.’
I resisted rolling my eyes. Though the minute she turned, I did just that. Seriously, go and hang out in dark corners and shadowy doorways for three hours, just in case someone had a replica key? Was this really all I was qualified for?
Turning, I heard Iceberg walking away, no doubt off to terrorise some other poor soul.
Bugger it. My mood was as black as the night outside. Just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse it did when a sign for Rose Cottage generated a tug of sadness in my chest. Tom would be married by now. Today was the big day for the big boy. I should be happy for him and I was when my mood wasn’t so dark, because it wasn’t that I wanted him for myself. I just liked his incredible dick. Not only was it a perfect specimen, he was a master at using it. I hoped his new bride was coping with him tonight. From what he’d said over the year or so we’d been banging, she wasn’t particularly accommodating of his size, tended to do a lot of squeaking and squealing and crossing her legs.
She’d just have to learn, and when she did, boy would she be glad she’d put the effort in. She’d have a smile on her face for the rest of her life.
The theatre department still had the main lights on. I guessed all the lists were running over, either that or something had come through Accident and Emergency. Carl was working. I knew he was because Hartley’s team were on call, so he was no doubt in there, scrubbed up, doing his stuff.
I didn’t give the theatre a second glance. He could apologise to me. He’d have to if he still wanted to keep the table booking at The Thatcher. Otherwise, well, otherwise, he’d blown his chances instead of getting blown himself.
Dumb guy with his old-fashioned values. Seriously? The walls we worked within might be Victorian but we weren’t.
A rattle and the rhythmic clatter of fast footsteps caught my attention. I turned and saw Sister Taylor rushing towards me with a porter. They had a female patient on a trolley, who was groaning and moaning and clutching her enormous abdomen. An anxious, about-to-be father was jogging at her side, gripping her hand and swiping at his brow.
I pressed into the wall to allow them to pass. Sister Taylor gave me the briefest of smiles – she was clearly anxious about getting to the maternity unit before the delivery. The porter, the new young guy who’d helped me to the mortuary with Mr Parslow, looked about to break into an Olympic sprint. I got the impression that although he didn’t enjoy moving dead bodies around the hospital it was preferable to women in the final stages of labour. He should maybe re-think his career.
They turned the corner and I was left alone on the long corridor. Silence wrapped around me once again. The nights were quiet, especially after one o’clock, but still, anything could happen.
Mooching along, I finally came to the pharmacy. Cupped my hands around my eyes and peered through the dark window on the dispense hatch. I only ever saw pharmacy shadowed like this and without the frenetic activity of the day – the bustling laboratory geeks measuring out micrograms and milligrams, fussing over contraindications and side effects.
I liked it quiet. Rows upon rows of medication all neatly labelled and ordered. Everything you could possibly need and very little in there I wasn’t familiar with, except perhaps some of the chemo drugs and the fertility drugs – they were for day clinics. I never went there.
Satisfied all was as it should be, I headed towards the maze of back corridors. Directly behind the pharmacy there was a small room, kind of like an office, but with a sofa bed. If the on-call pharmacist was brought in for some reason they used it. But as far as I could tell those occasions were few and far between. I’d made good use of it just after Michael had left and I had hooked up with a hunky porter called Raif. He’d been charming and gentle, knowing that I was just out of a long-term relationship. Trouble was, eventually he’d wanted more and I’d just wanted his hot body. Too many years with the same person had made me curious to find out if I’d been drawing a short straw.
Turned out I had. Raif was incredibly skilled with his tongue and I managed to convince myself that was a positive for Michael and I splitting. If we hadn’t, I wouldn’t have spent dozens of happy night-time breaks receiving oral sex in that pharmacy room. Unlike Michael, Raif never seemed to get tired of doing it. His tongue had the stamina of a racehorse; it could run marathons and twist like some spinning ride at the fair. And one orgasm was never all I got. The first fast hard one was just the starter for several more slow-building, gloriously deep climaxes that made me want to scrunch up into a ball at the same time as flail my arms and legs wide.
A little tremble attacked my belly at the memory. It was a damn shame he’d wanted more from me. We’d connected in the sack, but apart from that we had nothing in common. I’d never had a long conversation with him. It was just a series of texts arranging to meet. My pussy had stared at his face for more hours than I had.
I opened the door to the room. It was warm, dark and peaceful. Perhaps I could use it to hide out for a couple of hours.
Flicking on the small desk lamp, I looked at the sofa. The thought of flopping down, perhaps flicking through one of the Country Life magazines on the desk, then having a doze, was very appealing. I yawned and stretched my arms out to the sides. Yes, a lie down would suit me well. After last night’s late arrival home and then a fitful sleep that had resulted in an early morning masturbation session, I was pretty exhausted today.
I sat, dropped back onto the sofa, and as I did so all my worries came knocking on my brain. What the hell was I going to do if Iceberg carried out her threat and went to Personnel? I’d lose my job; in fact, I’d lose my registration, of that I had no doubt. Chances of finding one of those bigwigs in London who shared my compassion for a helpless, aroused man were slim to none.
Then, without my regular wage, I’d run behind on my loan repayments and the mortgage. I’d have the flat repossessed, have to sell everything and declare myself bankrupt. My only choice would be to head to Mum and Dad’s, which wasn’t really an option since they were in Spain living out their retirement in a one-bedroomed apartment. No, I’d be on the street. No one would care. Not a soul. Michael was long gone. I had friends but not one firm friend who I could crash with.
The shit was about to hit the fan big time, and I couldn’t see any way of avoiding it.
I bit back the desire to cry. What good would that do?
Nothing. There was only one thing for it and that was to get Iceberg off my back once and for all. I would have to be her damn bitch and do her snooping. Find out who the hell thought it was OK to dip into the drug cupboard whenever he or she wanted to.
I stood, snapped my uniform straight and squared my shoulders. I was made of better stuff than this. I would not be defeated by an impromptu handjob, an evil witch and a druggy-thief. I’d worked too bloody hard to get to where I was and to be self-reliant and independent.
Silently, I slipped from the small room. My gaze fell on the corridor light switches. Perhaps if I dimmed them that would make any light-fingered individual feel more secure, and in turn, I’d be able to seize my moment and catch them in the act. I fingered my iPhone in my pocket. I’d take a photo of them with their hand in the co
okie jar and then show it to Iceberg, that should do it.
After reducing the corridor lighting by half I wandered up to the large, grey metal cupboard that was the solution to my dilemma. ‘I wish you could tell me who else opens you,’ I whispered, stroking its cool surface. ‘It would help me out no end, you know. Maybe if you can speak, only once, you could do it now.’
The cupboard was bolted to the wall, its doors securely closed. It remained stubbornly silent.
‘Hey, bella Sharon.’
‘Javier.’ I spun around. ‘You scared the crap out of me.’
‘I am sorry.’ He pressed his hand to his chest. ‘I wouldn’t make you feel bad for anything in the world. My only desire is to make you feel good.’ He waggled his eyebrows. ‘More than good.’
‘What are you doing here?’ I asked, thoroughly appreciating the way he filled out his pale-blue scrubs – a scribble of chest hair poked from the V in the top, his impressive package bulged and his white coat was left wide open.
‘I have come to have quiet five minutes in that little room over there.’ He pointed to the pharmacy office. ‘I discovered it a few months ago. Perfect for sneaky little interludes.’
He stepped closer and his aftershave clung to me like some weird kind of hypnotising drug. ‘Yes, it’s a very useful little room,’ I managed. ‘Have you just come from surgery?’
‘Yes, a complex hemi-colectomy. Kept bleeding every time we tried to close.’
‘Not fun.’
‘No, not at all, but perhaps …’ He placed his finger on the back of my hand and traced a delicate line up to the crook of my elbow. ‘You would like to join me in my interlude?’
Really?
Now?
Damn that tug in my belly was back, that furiously insistent pull that was demanding satisfaction with flesh and not some silicone moulding.
Javier’s offer was tempting. More than tempting. It seemed like a great opportunity after my recent let-downs by Carl.
But I was supposed to be watching the cupboard.
‘Sharon, why do you look so worried?’ he said, sliding his hand up my arm to my shoulder. ‘You do not think I will show you a good time?’
‘It’s not that,’ I said. ‘I just …’ OK, so maybe I could leave the cupboard for half an hour; but I had to ask him about Iceberg. What was going on between them? I didn’t want her secondhand goods, that was enough to put me off the whole idea.
‘Just what?’ He leaned closer, slid his other hand around my waist.
‘Javier.’ I pressed my palms against his hard chest, his pectoral muscles solid rises of warm flesh beneath my hands. ‘I just need to know, there’s this rumour, you see.’
‘A rumour?’
‘Yes, about you.’
He pulled back, looked down at me, his lips a straight, tight line. ‘So tell me. I do not like the fact that people talk about me.’
‘Well …’ Why did the words feel like they were stockpiling on my tongue? Buck up. Just say it.
‘Sharon?’
‘You and Iceberg,’ I blurted. ‘I mean, Lisa Stanton, you know, senior night nurse.’
‘What about her?’
‘Are you shagging her?’
‘What?’ He stepped away as though I’d just electrocuted him. Raised his eyebrows and shoved his hand through his luscious thick hair. ‘My goodness, no, people are really saying that?’
‘Yes, lots of people. Apparently a porter saw you at it, in out-patients.’
‘Well, that is ridiculous.’ He stepped away, rubbed his hand up and down his face. ‘Completely untrue. Why would the man say such a thing?’
I could have punched the air with relief. Of course it was untrue. The whole idea of him and Iceberg was preposterous.
‘And people believe this lie?’ he asked. ‘That there is a romance between me and her? I don’t mean to sound unkind, but she is not really my type.’
My thoughts exactly. ‘She isn’t?’
‘No.’ He stepped closer again, cupped my cheeks in his palms. ‘For the record, you are my type. Sharon, I have wanted you for so long. Too long. It pains my heart that we are both too busy to spend time together.’
‘So why am I your type?’
‘I have told you before. Pretty and intelligent, and your body, I just want to worship you, hold you in my arms and feel you melt against me.’
I looked up into his dark eyes. He had beautiful long lashes and skin like silken caramel. Melting against him seemed like a reasonable option for the next half an hour.
‘OK,’ I said, touching his smooth cheek. ‘Let’s take that interlude.’
The right side of his mouth twitched and a flash went across his eyes. ‘Ah, my bella, you won’t regret.’ He linked his fingers with mine and led me the dozen steps back to the pharmacy office.
I’d left it in darkness, and Javier didn’t bother to turn the light on when we went inside. Instead, as soon as the door shut, he swept me into his arms and kissed me with fervour. I pressed my body into his and the evidence of his arousal shoved into my abdomen.
Finally, some action. Good, solid action by the feel of it.
I pushed his white coat from his shoulders, heard it land on the floor. He tugged up the skirt of my uniform and roamed his hands over my satin knickers, tracing the outline of my buttocks without once breaking the kiss, his tongue an insistent force searching my mouth.
Damn, he tasted delicious; spicy and rich, maybe with a hint of coffee. Not like Carl’s fresh, sweetness.
Carl!
‘Ah, baby, you are a doll in my arms. I want to love you so much,’ Javier whispered into my ear, his accent thicker than usual. ‘So perfect, so delicious, you are my every fantasy come true.’
‘Really?’ I was a little breathless his kisses were so enthusiastic.
‘Oh, really.’ He groaned. ‘I am so hard for you. So long being so hard for you.’
That hardness was straining at my hip but I had other ideas of where I wanted it. I tugged at his top, pulled it over his head and threw it on the floor. ‘Condom,’ I gasped.
‘Yes, here. In my wallet.’ He released me, stooped, scrabbled, then was up and over me again.
I shoved at my knickers, felt blindly for the sofa and dropped down onto my back. Damn, I was hot for him. Carl had teased me once too often. All this rubbish about dates and dinner and being old-fashioned.
Carl!
An image of him hovered before me in the darkness. I could hear Javier breathing heavily as he rolled on the condom. He didn’t sound like Carl, not his voice but not his breathing either. And he didn’t smell like Carl.
I wondered if Carl would take off his glasses to make love. I’d never seen him without them. Not that I was complaining, they were sexy in a way that was newly appealing to me.
‘Bella, where are you? It is so dark,’ Javier said, shuffling towards me. He touched my arm. ‘Ah, there you are. Come here, let’s finally be as one.’ He moved over me, his heat, his smell, his weight, all folding down on my body, suppressing me.
I suddenly felt as though I’d been punched in the chest. My breath stuttered and a rise of panic made the hairs on my nape spike.
Shit. I don’t want to do this!
Those words flooded my mind. It was like having someone shout them loud and clear. But the shout was in my voice and held a note of anger.
A realisation of what I did want flashed in front of me. Bright and gaudy like Las Vegas sign-lights, the clarity of the message could not be ignored.
I wanted Carl. Just Carl.
Having Javier inside me would be no better than the vibrator. A substitute – Quorn not beef, water not wine.
I wanted more than this. I wanted to believe in the person attached to the sex drive. For so long I’d been using guys for their appendages and between-the-sheets talent, but not any more. That had to stop.
Carl had gotten under my skin. He’d wormed his way into my head and, dare I admit it, my heart too.
Th
e thought of Javier kissing me, entering me, just didn’t appeal the way it used to. I liked Carl kissing me, Carl holding me, dancing with me, talking to me.
Damn it, he’d ruined everyone else for me.
The sudden change in my mindset was too powerful to ignore. I had to get out of there. Ditch Javier and go and apologise to Carl, see if I could salvage what we’d started together.
My first instinct was to clamp my legs shut. But when I tried I realised that Javier was already settled between my thighs.
‘No,’ I said, trying to sit.
‘Yes,’ he murmured, connecting his chest to mine and finding my mouth. ‘Ah, yes, so sweet.’
I shoved at his shoulders. Tore my lips from his. ‘Javier. I’ve made a mistake. I can’t do this.’ Bloody hell, why was he so big and heavy? It was like having a damn concrete slab lying over me.
‘Yes, you can do this. Yes, I am big but not so big that you won’t be able to take it.’ He stroked my hair. ‘Don’t be scared of Javier’s penis, just relax and let it in.’
‘No, no, it’s not that.’ As if!
‘Let me give you great pleasure, bella Sharon.’
‘But I don’t want to, I’m … I’m with someone else.’
‘Well, he is not keeping you satisfied if you are here with me.’ He prodded my entrance with the tip of his cock. ‘Let me do his job for him. I will make you more satisfied than you have been ever before.’
‘No, I can’t, please.’ I shoved harder, tried to twist away. Months of anticipating, dreaming of this moment and now it was the absolute last thing I wanted. I felt sick, panicked. Jesus, was this rape if I’d wanted it until the final moment before penetration? I didn’t know, but what I did know was that I had to get him off me.
I kicked, twisted my body, put all my strength into pushing his shoulders.
‘Sharon, bella, what are you –?’
A sudden wild beeping filled the small room. Fast and furious, an insistent, manic alarm. It was his pager. The rapid, loud tone indicating that he was needed urgently, patient-about-to-die urgently.
We both stilled.