The Prescription Pt. 01

-A day in the night-

The alarm clock blared instantly waking me from fitful sleep. Though my phone was on the nightstand, it sounded like it was right in my ears. I quickly reached to turn it off. I adjusted my eyes to the setting sun seeping through the blinds. It was 5 PM, just enough time to get ready for work without being rushed. I lay there for a moment staring at the ceiling. I had barely gotten six hours of sleep, now it was time to put in another twelve hours.

I slowly rolled out of bed and stumbled to the coffee pot. My favorite brew and all-natural cream was just what I needed to jump-start the night.  Roughly an hour later, I was freshly showered and clad in my scrubs. I flew up the side stairs of the hospital, my beat-up converse announcing my arrival in the stairwell. Through a few doors, and I was at work. Heart monitor beeps, blaring IV pumps, and ventilator alarms greeted me like a gaggle of upset children: a full intensive care unit with a few one step from heaven. It was going to be a long night.

Having gotten a passable report, and checked on my patients, I had given medications and was about to sit down to chart. The same doors I had entered, opened and shut behind me. It could be anyone, a respiratory therapist, a surgical nurse, or cleaning staff. Not this time. It was Dr. Jamison. It wasn't his good reputation, successful surgery cases, or even his looks. He was actually nice to the nurses. That was rare. And wouldn't he be rounding on one of my patients tonight?

'Fuck.'

He waved back at a few polite hellos and went into Mr. Smith's room. I grabbed my report sheet and followed him in. Dr. Jamison briefly talked with the patient and checked the abdominal dressing concealing his incision made earlier that day. He had to be around six feet tall and you could see the muscle definition of his arms through his sleeves. Doc had a kind face with light-colored eyes which I was entirely too nervous to explore. Wavy dark hair and that freaking beard. It wasn't fair really.

He began asking me a few pointed questions, which broke me out of my ruminations. I mentally slapped myself and quickly replied. He gave a few additional orders and his thanks before passing out of the room and on to his next patient down the hall. I ensured Mr. Smith that I'd be back, and retreated to the desk behind my computer. My heart was pounding and my mouth was dry.

"Keep it together!" I scolded myself. I punched in the new orders and proceeded to chart. I was just getting into it when I heard that friendly voice again. I jerked my head up, because it wasn't right.

'What did he just ask me?'

"I'm sorry?" I clumsily asked.

"My number, do you have it? I want you to call or text me if you have any problems with room 3. I'd rather you reach me directly rather than using my answering service." He was all business as he was checking something on his phone.

Nodding I grabbed my cell off the desk and pulled up the call app. He relayed the number and I saved it.

"Thank you. I'll watch him." I replied, now smiling at his back as he headed toward the stairs, his white coat disappearing from sight.

The night went off without a hitch. The patients were stable and comfortable. I was able to relax some and listen to music while I watched their rhythms on the central monitor. Between 5 and 6 AM, was the normal time for the surgeons to round, and like clockwork, Doc came through. Seeing everything was in order, he did not linger, but went the way of the surgery wing.

Later that morning, I'd returned home, showered, and dressed in my skimpy pj's. I read a few erotic stories on lush until I fell asleep.

 -Two weeks later-

Tonight was a shit show. The shift started okay, but gradually declined. We admitted a patient from the emergency room who was already trying to check out -- permanently. The little old lady next door kept thinking it was time to wake her grandchildren and make breakfast. This was despite constantly reorienting her to the clock on the wall reading 0230 in bright red lighting.

In the midst of code blues and babysitting, I noticed my post-op patient started behaving differently and his vitals were trending the wrong way. I did what I could for him, and called Dr. Jamison. His patient very well could be going into shock. I filled him in and did what I could. I'd laid him flat and increased her IV fluids. I got a bag of Dopamine, just in case. Things were quite busy, and before I knew, Doc was there checking on the patient. Ms. Shoffner was a risky case anyway, and her frailty did not help.

After assessing her, he gave me more orders, including to go ahead with the dopamine to help her blood pressure, and called back the surgery team. She was whisked off back to the O.R. less than thirty minutes later. As my shift was ending, they called a report and wheeled her back into her room. She was hardly out of the woods yet, but she looked more stable at least.

I had punched the time clock and was walking to my car when my phone dinged. I pulled it out in question of who would be texting me this early in the morning. It was the Doc.

Dr. Jameson: "Good job last night. You may have saved her life" smiley

I didn't have a prideful bone in my body, but one knows when they have done a good job. I did. Still, seeing that message froze me in my tracks mere steps from my vehicle. A slow smile spread on my face as I quickly typed out a reply.

Me: Thanks. My pleasure.

We had formed a comfortable working correspondence over the last days, but it was always very professional. This was a slight departure. I dared not read into it or expect more. That would just lead to disappointment. I headed home by way of the normal route. It was always strange ending my day when the rest of the city was rushing to begin theirs. Angry commuters, garbage trucks, and school buses blocked my path. I was waiting behind such a bus when my phone dinged again.

'Omg!' Grinning I looked at my phone.

Doctor Jameson: You've got a good eye for detail and you anticipate problems well. They should have you training the new nurses.

Me: Thanks. I do from time to time, but there isn't much call for it on the night shift.

Doctor Jameson: That makes sense. How would you like to get some coffee this weekend? You can tell me how you got to be so good. -wink-

I stared down at the screen slack-jawed. I was frozen so long that the honking of the car behind me was startling. Dropping the phone in my lap, I made my way the last three minutes to my apartment. I parked and slowly read the message again.

Me: I'd like that. Let me know when

Dr: Jameson: Saturday? How about the Pecan Press? Brunch time.

Me: Thumbs up

I was shaking with glee as I unlocked my door and set my bag down. He wanted to go on a date with me? I mean he didn't call it a date but it was. Wasn't it? It was Friday morning and I was off for the weekend -- for a change. It was going to be a long day.

-Saturday morning-

It took an eternity to decide what to wear. Silly me, but this was his first time seeing me outside of work. I'd chosen a tight but comfortable pair of skinny jeans, a plaid shirt, and combat boots. Innocent enough, but cute. It would show off my 5'4 curvy frame without being too obvious. We'd agreed on 10:30 to meet and I pulled up at the coffee shop at twenty-five minutes after ten. I didn't know what he drove, but I got out anyway and went in with the intention of getting a table. Oh my sweet Jesus, he was already there. Near the back in a quiet corner, he sat quietly. He wore a blue long-sleeve shirt that strained over biceps, triceps, and pecs, and dark jeans. Were those biker boots?

'Surely not.'

I approached him past the counter with assorted baked goods stacked neatly and the cold display with waters, fruit juices, and fresh pie. As I neared, I met his eyes. They were the same color as that aqua shirt. He stood and I saw the leather jacket on the back of his chair.

'Yep. I'm so screwed.'

"Hey Doc, " I said in greeting.

"Matt, please." He corrected me and opened an arm to offer me a hug.

I smiled and stepped into it. I was sure he could feel my heart racing as I pressed myself into him. I closed my eyes for just a second and inhaled.

'That fucking scent.'

We took our seats and the waiter came over to take our order. Turns out it was an espresso day. We had the same thing.

I'd hoped it wouldn't be awkward, and it wasn't. We settled into an easy back-and-forth. We talked of his schooling, residency, and how he ended up back at home on contract. My education and training was discussed. I asked what kind of bike he rode. He started spouting off something I was too naïve to understand completely. I stared baffled for a second, then replied, "So... a freaking fast motorcycle, got it," I laughed. He joined me in laughter which seemed to be the theme so far that day.

We finished our coffee, but the conversation was just warming up. In fact, I wished I'd dressed lighter. He was burning me up and didn't even know it. The waiter came by and asked if we wanted to order lunch. We did, and continued without a lull. Somewhere between hospital politics, the last Braves game, and the correct method of making tea, past relationships came up.

"Fuck"

I'm sure it wasn't an interrogation, but it suddenly felt like I was being probed. I danced around the fact that my exes weren't dominant enough for anything to last, but the more I talked something entered his eyes. A kind of knowing. I finished my thought awkwardly and stared down at the condensation on my water glass. Moments passed and when I looked up, he was signaling the waiter for our ticket. Disappointment flooded me.

'Well, that's that.'

He paid the lady in cash and stood. Slipping into his jacket,  he beckoned me,

"Come on. I'm sure they are sick of us."

I looked down at my watch and was surprised at the time, it was almost noon and the place was filling up. I nodded and stood with my purse to follow him out. He led the way and opened the door for me. We burst out into the cool autumn day. The breeze ruffled our clothes. He asked where I was parked, and I pointed to the silver Nissan on the side of the building.

He walked me to my car and when I turned to thank him for coffee and lunch, he crowded me, forcing me to look up at him and my body back on the car door. My heartbeat picked up as though I ran for my life. For all it knew, I might. He looked down at me and said he knew why it didn't work with the other guys. They weren't him. He leaned down and I thought he was going to kiss me. I closed my eyes and parted my lips, but I felt his mouth grazing my ear.

"I know what you need. I see you." He whispered to me.

I groaned and wrapped a leg around his trying to get friction between my pussy and his... anything. "Please."

"Please what?" He teased as I felt his hand grab hold under my thigh and run it up to my ass.

I was breathing heavily now. "Please, I need it. Take me." I thrust at him again.

"Oh I'm going to take you", he promised. I felt his other hand slide up my other thigh to my pussy and grab it through my jeans.

'Fuck. Yes!'

My moans were getting louder. I tried to control them, but it was too much. His lips sealed over mine and our tongues went to war. I realized later it was to quiet me. Still, I ground into his hand and groped for his erection. It seemed like I barely had my feel when he removed his hands and lips from me. My eyes shot open and I moaned in protest without realizing. He was grinning at me. I wanted to be mad that he stopped, but we were in public, and there were our reputations to consider. I pulled myself together and straightened my clothes. I was about to say something when Matt spoke.

"Meet me tom..." He began to ask as I cut him off with a reflexive.

"Yes."

He chuckled and said,  "My place around five. I'll text you the address."

"Alright," I answered.

He raised a finger up to my lips and, looking into my eyes said, "No playing with yourself until I say." My eyes widened at the implication, but I nodded.

"Yes, Sir," I breathed out.

"Good girl," He praised.

He motioned for me to get into my car. When I was safely in, he strode away to the motorcycle I could now see in front of the shop. I watched him effortlessly don the helmet and swing his leg over the back to straddle it.

'My God. I'm so screwed.'

-This story continues in The Prescription - Filled