by Tia Siren
“Interesting,” I said, “I like painting too.”
“You see that big old thing there?” Mark said, flicking his wrist at the canvas behind our desk, “Jake did it.”
Brooke’s eyes widened, while her full pink mouth formed a perfect ‘o’ before she spoke.
“That’s remarkable,” she said, her eyes scanning the painting furiously, “The brushstrokes, the chiaroscuro,” her gaze went to me now. “You’re really talented.”
Now I was the one embarrassed and looking away.
“Thanks.”
“So, what about a boyfriend?” Mark continued casually, “Anyone you’d like to invite to our annual holiday ball?”
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes, seeing as we had all of three employees—four now counting Brooke—so the notion of a holiday ball was asinine.
“Nope,” Brooke said, without elaborating.
“Huh,” Mark said. I could practically see the gears turning in his head as he weighed the pros and cons of fucking our hot new nurse.
A beep from the intercom on my desk interrupted.
“Doctors. Dolores Gisabelle is here about more Botox,” said Deidre, in her typically nervous voice.
“Send her in,” I replied.
Seeing Brooke still awkwardly positioned on the patient chair, Mark rose.
“I’ll grab you a chair,” he said, stepping out of the room.
So, all of us were standing awkwardly when Dolores strode into the room. Behind her with the chair, Mark gestured her to the patient seat.
“Go ahead and sit down, Dolores. I was just getting a chair for our new nurse, Brooke.”
Brooke gave the woman a wan smile.
“Hello,” I said, trying to redirect her attention back to me. No since exposing Brooke to her wrath so soon.
Dolores swiveled her head to me without a word. Truly, she was a frightening specimen of a woman. A walking talking cautionary tale of too much Botox, so when she spoke, only her mouth moved.
“You know why I’m here.”
Her voice was cold and curt, although no emotion showed in her eyes.
I glanced at Mark, who nodded. Being somewhat of a dick himself, he was better equipped to deal with our dick patients.
“Look Dolores, Deidre already told you what we said. We aren’t in a position to give you any more Botox.”
The woman closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them, her finger stabbed at the side of her cheek.
“You see what that is? A wrinkle. Do you know what gets rid of wrinkles? Botox. I will have it and if you don’t give it to me, I’ll get it somewhere else.”
Mark nodded, smiled.
“That is your prerogative, though of course we caution you against it.”
Dolores rose, eyeing us all with a glittering glare. Her impassive face was terrifying with its emotionless fury. All the anger seemed concentrated in her frizzy white hair.
“Fine,” she finally said, throwing her pink tulle scarf over her shoulder as she stomped off.
“So, this job, it’s not all sunshine and roses,” Mark said, still glaring at the chair Dolores had occupied.
“You’ll see, though,” I cut in with a valiant smile, “It’s like any profession, you’ve got good customers and bad customers. We have more good, though.”
I glanced at Brooke’s face nervously. For some reason, I wanted her to believe me, to like this job and to stay. She looked less shaken than I’d expected, and gave me a valiant smile.
“You have to take the good with the bad,” she said.
“Mr. Antoine Toutou with his wife, Helga,” Deidre’s voice chirped over the intercom.
“Send them in,” I told her.
As soon as they stepped in, we settled and went to work.
The rest of the morning passed uneventfully in comparison to our first consultation. Brooke saw our usual mix of customers, most of whom were harmless, either wanting to improve on what they already had, or to correct an actual deformity.
By one o’clock we were all talked-out and slumped in our seats.
The ting of my metal clock sounding the hour stirred me to life.
“Want to get lunch?”
Brooked nodded.
“Definitely.”
Deidre, as usual, declined to join us with a decided shake of her cropped glossy dark hair. She was always using lunchtime to catch up on her work, and today was no exception. So, that left the both of us accompanying Brooke to Pablo’s.
“Best pizza in town, you’ll see,” I said, as we approached the little open-air hut.
“And if you don’t like it, I could be persuaded to finish yours for you,” Mark quipped.
It turned out that Brooke loved Pablo’s as much as we did. She loved Henrietta, the kindly stout wife of Pablo. She loved the vibrant piñata’s lining the walls. She loved the bright orange and blue tables. And, most of all, she loved the pizza.
“I never would have thought mushroom and pineapple could be so good,” she admitted, surprise still clouding her features, as she took another big bite of her slice.
“We discovered it when Jake tried to do the whole vegetarian thing,” Mark explained. “Lasted about… a week.”
I elbowed him before setting the record straight. “It was two weeks.”
Mark snorted.
“Yeah, and thousands of little piggies and cows owe their lives to you.”
Brooke was a surprisingly quick eater, and was the first to finish.
“So,” she said, her eyes going from me to Jake, “You two know a lot about me now, but I don’t know all that much about either of you.”
“Ask away,” Mark said, spreading his arms, “I’m an open book.”
So, she did. She asked us about how long we’d been in L.A. (forever), and how long we’d been surgeons (three years). She asked me about my art and I told her gladly.
“I’ve even got a studio in my house on the beach. Perfect setting to inspire an artist; the play of the waves, the setting sun on the water. You should—”
I paused mid-sentence after a glance at Brooke found her gaze enrapt, her mind converting my words into pictures in her head. This would be the perfect time to invite her to come see it, and try it out herself.
“Want some mango juice?” Mark asked.
She nodded, and I exhaled, relieved for the save. As attractive as Brooke was, I was not going to go there.
“First, I have to go to the bathroom, though,” Brooke said, heading to the back.
“Thought there was gonna be no nurse involvement,” Mark said, raising his brows.
I nodded firmly.
“And I meant it.”
“Yeah, yeah, we’ll see,” Mark said, with a knowing smile.
I ignored him, clenching my fist under the table. Why wouldn’t Mark believe me? He knew my story, and that I wasn’t a ridiculous reckless playboy like he was.
When Brooke came back, we were treated to a jig on the bright blue piano by Pablo’s wife.
“Would you?” Brooke asked, glancing at the piano, then back at me.
“Sure,” Mark said, before I could answer, rising and taking her hand.
I watched them walk across the wooden floor towards the piano, and bit my pizza with a savagery that surprised me. I had meant what I’d told Mark about Brooke. It didn’t matter how much I liked her, any sort of relationship between us would be dangerous at best, disastrous at worse. But Mark clearly didn’t share my sentiments; look at him there with his arm around her—he clearly had no qualms about trying to incorporate Brooke into his already woman-packed life.
The music was lively, a sort of Caribbean-sounding jig. Brooke and Mark danced gaily, grinning happily at each other. As Mark conveyed Brooke around, she threw me a joyful wave.
I tried to tear my gaze away from them, but I couldn’t manage. Every shift of his hand position, as it went lower down her spine, put me on edge and had me gripping the table. What was going on with me?
I gulped do
wn the rest of my water. The problem was that I was just watching while Mark beckoned Brooke into his bed, as another one of his playmates for the week. The anonymous girls he screwed was one thing, his bed had a greater turnover rate than McDonalds. Figuratively speaking of course, since I doubted if any of them got anywhere near his actual bed. But this situation was different. Was I supposed to sit and watch while he seduced a colleague of mine, a kind and interesting girl who deserved so much better? Not to mention the employment problems that could result. Maybe it wasn’t my place to get involved with her, but it was at least my place to prevent her from the heartache that was practically guaranteed if she got involved with Mark.
When they returned to the table, they were red-cheeked and out of breath. I smiled unconvincingly, and we continued eating our lunch without incident. Brooke enjoyed her mango juice, Jake and I split the bill, despite Brooke’s initial protests, and we all returned to the office. As the rest of the day progressed, we moved from consultations to surgery, my thoughts returning to Brooke more and more.
I found it strange that she was so interesting to me. It wasn’t just that she was hot, with those big eyes set over that button nose and pouty lips. It was the expression she wore when she listened to you, the totally-entranced look that came into her eyes. As if she really heard you.
It was a shame that she was my nurse, because I would’ve given anything to get to know her more. I still hadn’t decided what to do about the Mark situation, but felt like I needed to do something.
Chapter 4
Brooke
“So, which one?” Karly asked.
I ignored her hawk-eyed gaze. Her inquisitive blue eyes trying to see into my soul.
“My first few days have been going great,” I said, “thanks for asking.”
Karly took a sip of her cocktail.
“Oh please, that’s written all over your face. Your perfect job with your perfect bosses—or, maybe too perfect.”
I nodded, taking a sip of my margarita.
“You may be right. We’re all working together seamlessly, like parts of the same machine. But they have been flirting with me, both of them. Jake gets this look in his eye when we talk, while Mark can barely do anything without brushing by me, against me somehow.”
Karly twirled her straw in her drink.
“You totally are going to fuck them—aren’t you!” she declared gleefully.
Horrified, I shushed Karly. The bald bartender with big ears gave us a big smile to let me know that yes, he had heard Karly’s big mouthed proclamation.
“Sorry,” Karly said, lowering her voice and leaning towards me, “Would you really though?”
“I don’t know,” I answered truthfully, “But I do kinda want to.”
I sighed. The words had come out by accident. I hadn’t meant to admit the fact to anyone, let alone myself. But now that I’d said it, I felt better.
“You naughty girl,” Karly said, in teasing tone, lightly hitting my arm with the back of her hand.
I shrugged.
“What am I saying? I probably won’t, that would be stupid. I mean they’re both crazy-hot and fun to be with, but geez, it would be too much of a risk.”
“Personally, I don’t know how you can stand it,” Karly said, just before she gulped down the last of her drink, “Not having sex for seven months. I would die.”
“Shhh. God, would you shut up?” I said again.
“What?” she said, “It’s true. And say what you want, you probably could get away with seducing both of them, you know.”
I took a sip of my drink, then chewed on the straw a bit, thoughtfully. “You really think so?”
Karly nodded her head, her blonde ponytail bobbing its own agreement.
“Remember ninth grade? Howlin Carter. No girl could even so much as talk to him, yet you somehow got to second base with him.”
“Don’t remind me,” I said, shaking my head.
While the beginning of our courtship had been fairy-tale sweet, with roses, compliments and gifts galore, the ending had been nightmarish. Middle-of-the-night prank calls, and telling the whole school I was a slut. Not to mention those pictures he sent around. Ugh. If anything, Howlin Carter was a cautionary tale for not getting involved in sticky situations.
“Besides,” I continued, “they’ve been best friends for over ten years. I wouldn’t want to break them apart. And they probably wouldn’t go for it themselves.”
“Mmm-hmm, whatever you say, Nurse Brooke,” Karly said, her sarcastic tone demonstrating her skepticism.
Now it was my turn to punch her in the arm.
“Oh, shut it.”
“You know I’m right,” she replied, sweetly.
“Whatever,” I said, rising from my seat.
“Where you going?” she asked.
I took her hand and pulled her off her seat.
“We’re dancing—come on.”
It took all of three seconds on the dance floor for the first man to approach. Tall, floppy-haired and morose-faced, he first tried me before moving on to Karly.
Giggling, we laced our arms around each other. This was how we pretended to be utterly engrossed in dancing together, to the exclusion of everything else. This was how I planned to spend the rest of the night. Then he tapped my shoulder.
I paused, and barely turned. In the dark, he was practically invisible with his deep charcoal skin and smoldering eyes. He looked at me with a sort of patient calm, as if he knew I was going to break away from Karly and dance with him. He was right.
His hand was cold, and he didn’t react a bit when I accepted his hand. It was as if he’d already known it would happen. With his black dress shirt and black jeans, he reminded me of a panther, who—now that he had his prey secured—didn’t much mind what it did.
His handhold was supple, yet firm. I needed another drink, but he had one for me already. One sip—that was it, then he guided me to the middle of the dance floor where the disco-light flickered. He was spinning me now, stopping me with his hand on my hip. Moving my hips in sync with his. Wrong, that was how it felt.
Why? The panther was suave and skillful as he turned me and spun me; moved with me and for me. Our bodies were taken over by the same beat, the same rhythm.
Further off on the dancefloor I see Karly’s head-bobbing form, her bleached-blonde hair a flash of bright color.
What was I doing?
The panther knew. He was conveying us to a booth, comfy and noir. Just like him. Everything had blurred into a pleasant unnatural state. His arm around me, his hand on my face, moving it wherever he wanted.
It was when our lips hit that I realized it. That I’d been drinking to forget, but right here, right now, only made it perfectly clear. This wasn’t a man I wanted to be kissing.
No. I wanted to kiss the man with the curly dark hair and dark Bambi eyes. I wanted to kiss the man with the cocky smirk and sandy hair.
Pulling away, I left the panther behind. Karly grinned when she saw me, and raised her brows in a silent question. I shook my head.
“You okay?” she asked, her face worried now.
Nodding, I replied, “I just think I should go.”
Immediately, she took my arm and walked out of there with me. We took a cab home together, since Karly lived just around the corner from me.
“I’m sorry for teasing you,” she said, as we stopped in front of my apartment.
I mustered up a smile.
“It’s fine.”
She threw a lithe arm around my shoulder into a hug.
“I mean it, though. I know it’s a stressful situation.”
“It’s fine,” I assured her, “Don’t worry. I’ll figure it out.”
As I stumbled out of the cab and up to my apartment, I wished I could convince myself of that.
Inside my apartment, it didn’t take me long to get out of my clothes and into bed. There I closed my eyes and immediately thought of them. The ‘hot docs’. Each of them taking one of
my hands, leading me into the office, slamming the door behind them. My hand slipped under my PJ bottoms, towards the place that was already wet. Mmm, no harm in enjoying a bit of fantasy. Not when it felt so good.
Because by now the doctors had started on my clothes. Unbuttoning my blouse, unzipping my pants with a frantic pace that still wasn’t fast enough for the pounding of my pussy. They paused, eyes glittering, to savor my form, only partially clothed in bra and panties now. Then Jake undid the clasp and swept off my bra, while Mark yanked down my panties. Oh fuck, I was so wet already.
They paced around me for a minute, eyeing me up and down as if they were still in doctor mode.
“Yes, looks like it,” Jake said, stopping before me.
“There’s nothing we can do to improve you,” Mark admitted, pausing beside him.
“That leaves only one thing,” Jake continued, his gaze completely focused on my breasts.
Mark lunged ahead, taking me by the throat and growling his answer, “To fuck you.”
Next thing I knew, Jake’s mouth was latched onto my tit, while Mark had his pants pulled down to showcase his impressive erection. Jake sucked deeply, drawing back to lap at my nipple with his wet flat tongue. Mark’s slick black boxers were off now, too. But instead of letting me get a good look at his dick, he dipped his head sucked my other tit into his mouth. They licked, nibbled and sucked moans out of me, as their mouths skillfully pleasured my breasts.
They both paused at the same time. Still face to face at my boobs, they looked up at me with their hot and sexy eyes.
They spoke in unison, “Which one?”
Jake rose and undid his pants, showing off shiny silver boxers and a bulging dick.
Mark picked me up, and shoved the paperwork off the desk before he plopped me onto the cool wooden surface.
He parted my legs with a greedy smile. His gaze met mine, and now his eyes were sea-green and he was advancing. Jake’s lips met mine just as Mark slid his cock into my hot wet pussy.
“Oh fuck,” I groaned.
Jake’s tongue slipped through the seam of my lips, twirling around mine. Our tongues tangled as Mark’s cock, slowly and painstakingly, slipped out and into me again. Slow and deep, was how Mark was fucking me. A perfectly tortuous match to the slow and teasing pace of Jake’s kisses.
