Nurse Becky's Adventures

"Oh God, hand me the defibrillators before I pass out! Wow. That was bloody awesome! Becky! You were like...like a velvet foxglove. No, a fox full stop!"

As we get dressed, there's a knock on the door. I freeze for a moment fearing someone has rumbled us.

"Relax, it's only Terry," Jeff grins, zipping up his jumpsuit. "Poor old sod must've gone through a full pack of Silk Cut by now."

"About flaming time," he grumbles as I open the ambulance door and step out. "Sorry Terry, we didn't mean to keep you waiting," I giggle. He rolls his eyes. "Can't Jeff find a room for once?"

"More fun in an ambulance," Jeff replies. "There's life-saving equipment in here in case something goes wrong at a critical moment of copulation!"

Terry looks unamused. "I'm getting sick of this," he moans.

"That's just because you can't get laid."

"Aww don't be mean," I say. "You might get lucky, Terry." I plant a kiss on his cheek. He blushes crimson, like a shy little schoolboy who's stumbled upon YouPorn for the first time.

"I think I'm in love," Jeff mutters to Terry. "I really do."

I hurry back inside the hospital. I've had a more-than extended tea break. I hope Sister O'Connor won't notice. What an experience. What a man. I always knew paramedics were heroes but Jeff is more than that. The mention of defibrillators have given me a naughty fantasy. I'm imagining Jeff zapping my bare buttocks with them now. Now that would make a change from whips...

Chapter 4

In which Becky gets to know the aloof Dr Ian Sharp and embarrassing incident occurs when MP Jeremy Hunt tours the hospital...

It's been another hectic day here today on Burkenhare Ward. Unfortunately for me the first cubicle contains Mr Norris. He's been transferred from Dunlivin Ward for reasons unknown. Damn. Alas, he's too healthy for the Liverpool Care Pathway. He appears to be fast asleep at first. I have half a mind to tiptoe past but it occurs to me that I've got to come into contact with him sooner or later so it might as well be now. Maybe he won't recognise me...

"Mr Norris," I croon. "Wakey wakey. Time for your blood pressure check."

Immediately, a scrawny arm shoots out a claw-like fingers sink into the soft flesh at the top of my thigh.

"I want to play naughty nanas with you," husks a familiar voice.

"Now that's enough of that!" I don't want a repeat of the elevator experience.

"Come on, my little chickadee. Pull the screens round and hop aboard the love train. You ever heard the saying, 'many a fine tune played on an old fiddle?' There's so much truth in that. I don't need Viagra. Even Hugh Hefner can't match my talent."

I don't want to pour steaming hot coffee over the dirty old sod, but it's not surprising that I lose my balance when he pulls my pants down and tries to shove a couple of fingers up passion alley.

"Nurse! What's going on?" a stern voice shouts. "What have you done to Mr Norris?" It's none other than consultant Dr Ian Sharp, one of the best-known doctors on this ward, mid-thirties and a total cold fish to boot. I've never met a more aloof and difficult person. Sister O'Connor says his personality reminds her of Sir Lancelot Spratt from those old Doctor films of the 1960s. I have no idea who she's talking about. That's way before my time. I'm more of a Scrubs and Casualty person. Looks wise, Dr Sharp is very easy on the eye, a real doc to send your pulse racing. He reminds me of Jonathan Rhys Meyers, but hairier. Oh yes. I've seen him in surgical scrubs a few times and there's a veritable pelt poking out from his V-neck top. I can only imagine how hairy his chest must be. I like hairy men.

"Don't just stand there, can't you see the patient is in pain?" he barks. For one wonderful moment I think the good doctor is going to ask me to put a pillow over the old swine's face, but no such luck. I have to change his bed and pajamas instead. Since this task is performed behind curtains, there are ample opportunities for Mr Groping Hands to demonstrate that his reflexes are as swift as ever and few of them are missed. When I limp away with a pile of sodden bedding my boobs and butt are tingling from the repeated gropes.

"Is he always like that?" I murmur to Dr Sharp. He glares at me, surprised that I should have the barefaced cheek to address him unprompted. "Always like what?" he says haughtily.

"Grabbing and mauling," I say.

Dr Sharp raises an eyebrow. "I have no idea what you mean." His cheeks have turned a delicate shade of red. I must've said something inappropriate.

"I think he quite fancies you," Tash, one of the other nurses whispers to me.

"What? No way! He treats me and the other nursing staff like dirt, he never smiles."

"It's just a front. I'm telling you, Sharpie has the hots for you. I've seen the way he gazes at you when you're not looking. It's my belief that he's actually a shy man who keeps his feelings all bottled up. A bit like trapped wind."

I'm genuinely surprised. What is it about me? I've only been here a week and already I have three men...well four if I include Mr Norris -- lusting after me. I'm not blowing my own trumpet or anything, there just seems to be something in the water here at Little Rogering General.

I find out later that the hospital is to be visited by a group of po-faced NHS officials who work for the Ministry of Red Tape, and somebody called Jeremy Hunt. I have no idea who he is but Tash informs me that he's a politician - the Secretary of State for Health in fact. I don't follow politics at all and I don't vote so I don't know anything about this Jeremy guy. However he doesn't seem to be popular with the rest of the hospital staff. Sister O'Connor calls him by a different surname...well let's just say it's a word that rhymes with his surname.

For the first time, there seems to be a sense of urgency around the wards. Everyone's rushing around making sure the place looks spick and span ready for the MP's visit. I've done my bit and checked that there are no stains on my uniform. Jeff cornered me in the canteen this morning and we had another little session in the ambulance. I got the chance to give him oral this time and let me tell you, when I'd finished, he looked like a guy who'd died and gone to heaven. I wasn't expecting such a messy facial though. It took ages to sort my hair out afterwards...I persuaded him to use the defibs on me too. Ouch! He thinks I'm a proper kinky little minx now. He gave me a present too. A necklace. That was so generous of him. Shame I can't wear it in hospital as jewellery is banned for health and safety reasons. I think the bosses are worried in case an earring ends up in someone's drip or something. I found out that one of our surgeons left his Rolex inside a patient last year. He opened the guy up again and got it back. The watch still works.

A few hours later and Jeremy Hunt is due to arrive. I feel nervous for some reason, like something big is going to happen. A lot of the admin staff have been busy setting up a table display in one of the fourth floor conference rooms. I'm sure Mr Hunt will find the history of Little Rogering very interesting. Jeff tells me that the hospital was built on the remains of a 19th century brothel. Fancy that.

I'm hurrying down some stairs when I trip, but luckily some kind soul saves me before I can sprain my ankle. It is none other than Mr Miserable himself, Dr Sharp.

"Oh thanks for rescuing me," I splutter.

"Stop snivelling. I can't stand women who snivel. I was looking for you."

"Oh dear. He is such a difficult man. So strong minded and serious. Fancy him bothering to come and look for me. I should be very flattered.

"What did you want with me?" I ask as we stand together on the staircase, his hands still gripping my upper arms. I'm starting to like the feel of his firm chest pressing against mine.

"I want you," breathes Sharp.

Those wild, permissive sensations are rushing through my body again. "Not here," says a voice, which I suppose could belong to me.

"I know the place." Dr Sharp's fingers suggest that his lips don't lie.

"The attic?" I exclaim as he leads me up a cordoned off flight of stairs on the fourth floor.

"Too many people roaming around the usual spots. I hate to be interrupted. Curse you for being so irresistible."

"Why Ian, that's the nicest thing you've ever said to me!"

He turns a bit red. He should just drop the stern act right now. "Mind where you step. We don't want to fall through the ceiling." He takes me by the arm and guides me into the enveloping darkness. "Are there spiders in here?" I ask.

"Maybe. Probably a few as big as tarantulas."

"Ian, don't! I have terrible arachnophobia."

"Relax. I'll smash them to a pulp with my stethoscope if they try to get you."

"Why are you such a cold, cruel guy?"

"Because I wouldn't appeal to you if I was anything else."

Dr Sharp's arms encircle my body and his very personal smell sweeps over me. I imagine that kissing him will be a ticklish affair due to his stubbly chin, but his lips come through with the minimum of tickle.

"You're so hairy," I mutter, unfastening his white shirt.

"I am a forest." Dr Sharp's hands disappear beneath my scrub trousers and slip under the fabric of my panties. He presses me to him and I feel something large and hard like a nuclear submarine breaking the surface. I know things feel bigger in the dark when you can't see them but this is ridiculous. All the men in this hospital seem to be well-endowed. I didn't think anyone could top Jeff though but Dr Sharp seems to have done it.

"Is that a stethoscope in your pocket or are you just pleased to see me?"

"Becky. You're gorgeous and I intend to offer you my more than generous appreciation, if you'll let me."

How could I refuse? Like I said, he resembles Jonathan Rhys Meyers! Actually I'm imagining the dishy doc in period costume. I need to re-watch my boxset of The Tudors now. "Yes, I want you." I reply.

Dr Sharp hurls his mouth against mine and his deft fingers quickly remove my trousers and panties as though they were a strip of Elastoplast. Almost in the same moment he unzips his flies and I feel a rush of hot air like an oven door opening. He plucks me against his body and I come into the presence of his impressive cock at last. It's eye-wateringly large. Surely he's going to take it slowly? Nope! He thrusts inside hard and fast. Now I know what a sausage skin feels like at the moment of truth. After a while I relax and as he pummels my pussy, spreading my walls. Oh God, it feels good.

"Harder!" I shout. My body cries out in ecstasy as Little Rogering's top medic fucks me with everything he's got. Dr Sharp is groaning loudly too and the noise must be enough to raise the roof.

"Ooh Ian, please!"

Whether he hears me or not, I never know. He changes his position and there is a crack like a gun shot. Light floods up through the floor and Dr Sharp drops as if into a hole. In fact it is not a hole. It is the conference room below, in which the hospital management are in the middle of showing a boring PowerPoint presentation to the visitors. I discover this when I plummet past Sharp and land on a display table amid a shower of plaster. Above us, Dr Sharp dangles with his trousers round his ankles. I will always remember the expression on Jeremy Hunt's face and that of the NHS bigwigs as they gaze at me and Dr Sharp, his huge cock hanging down like a boa constrictor peering out of a tree.

Something tells me we are going to get into big trouble for this...