Confessions of a Naughty Night Nurse (15 page)

‘Nice try.’ He took my hands from his hair and set them in my lap. ‘Dinner at The Thatcher, next Saturday, and afterwards …’

‘Afterwards?’

‘Then afterwards maybe we can take this thing further.’

Bloody hell, a whole week before any rumpy-pumpy action, I would implode with frustration. For goodness sake, he was a doctor, wasn’t he supposed to make me feel better, not worse? ‘Well, we’ll see,’ I said, roughly clicking off my seatbelt and opening the door.

‘Sharon.’ There was surprise in his tone.

‘Playing hard to get doesn’t suit you, Carl.’ I reached for my purse and stepped out.

‘Hey, I’m not. I just want it to be special. I told you, I really like you.’

‘We’ve known each other for months, have flirted, watched an impromptu sex show, been out tonight, dancing, eating, drinking, kissing. How damn special do you want it to be?’ I slammed the door.

Instantly the electric window whizzed down. ‘Don’t be like that, you know what I mean.’

‘Maybe I do, maybe I don’t.’ I turned and headed towards my flat with my lips pressed together tight. I was mad as hell. I knew I was, and I didn’t trust myself to speak when I’d gotten so angry that little black spots invaded my peripheral vision. Carl had made me feel a fool for wanting him. Treated my turned-on state like it was something to be toyed with, mocked almost. That was something I just couldn’t handle. I might like sex more than most but that didn’t mean I’d given up on pride.

Sure he’d said he wanted me too, but what kind of man turned it down twice? Twice?

There was a perfectly good bed in my flat, no one to disturb us. No urgency to get back to work. I was burning for him and unless my arousal antennae were seriously off, he was hot for me too.

Perhaps he was gay after all. Private school, Eton no doubt, had probably given him a taste for it and he just needed a girl as camouflage as he climbed the career ladder. Couldn’t have a penchant for bumming holding him back, or depriving Mummy and Daddy of the son they wanted to brag about at dinner parties.

Well, I wouldn’t be camouflage for anyone. I wanted a full-frontal relationship or nothing at all, and Carl was running out of chances pretty quickly. Yes, I was more attracted to him than anyone else since Michael, but that didn’t mean he could walk all over me. No way. Not going to happen.

As the entrance to my block slammed shut, I heard his sporty little car drive off.

Sod him.

It was his loss.

Ophthalmology was the dullest ward in the hospital. In fact, it only needed to be open overnight occasionally. Usually, as had happened today, because a list had run over and patients who’d had general anaesthetics needed to stay in for observation.

But apart from a few eye-drops and the odd cup of tea there wasn’t much to do. I was working with Matilda, the most ancient of all the night nurses and one who could do the ophthalmologist’s job better than he could himself, she’d been in the specialty for so many decades.

Great thing about Matilda was she was quiet. She didn’t chat. She was happy to bury her head in a Mills and Boon, knit hats for the baby unit or, if she was feeling like a challenge, puzzle at Sudoku.

Which left me to wallow in my misery, or was it frustration? I wasn’t sure, but whatever the hell it was, I’d been spun into an emotion that didn’t sit well and was making me feel quite nauseous.

‘So how is everything here?’

Oh, great, the icing on the cake. My favourite senior nurse.

‘All settled and stable,’ Matilda said, not even bothering to put down
The Billionaire’s Virgin Bride
when Iceberg walked up to the desk.

‘Good, just what I like to hear.’ Iceberg settled her eyes on me. ‘So you won’t mind if I take Staff Nurse Roane for a while. I have something I want her to do.’

‘Fine.’ Matilda lifted her book back to her nose.

As if life could get any worse. The last thing I needed was Iceberg digging in her nails tonight. I didn’t think I could take it. I already felt like I was in an emotional tailspin without her blasting off about my misconduct.

‘So, staff nurse,’ she hissed as we walked from the ward.

‘What?’

‘Any news.’

‘No, I wasn’t even on duty last night, and now here, with the least likely person in the whole entire hospital to ever even consider nicking benzos. Seriously, it’s like you don’t want me to find anything out.’

‘Of course I do, and if you want to keep your job you’ll be even more anxious to discover who the culprit is.’

‘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 cookie 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?’