Hot Bodies Boxed Set: The Complete Vital Signs Erotic Romance Trilogy (15 page)

“Well done, everyone. We’ll need to suction out the excess blood from the abdominal cavity before it clots. Dr. Grenoway, do that, please.”

“But suction is
your
responsibility, Nurse!” The young doctor looked close to throwing a temper tantrum right on the OR floor.

“Dr. Grenoway, with all due respect, I don’t think you should be going anywhere near a scalpel until further notice,” Joanna snapped, her voice cold. “I imagine it was you who nicked the aortal artery and got us in this mess in the first place. Do the suction, or I’ll be forced to report your incompetence to your residency director.”

Without another word, Dr. Grenoway began the suction.\

Joanna undressed in the locker room in silence. She tried to ignore the fact that Shirley Daniels kept shooting her dirty looks from across the room, but so far it wasn’t working.

“You had no right to yell at Dr. Grenoway like that,” Shirley snapped.

Joanna slammed her locker shut. “Well, if I hadn’t, we would have had a dead patient on our hands. Bottom-line, the man’s a crummy surgeon. I think the hospital should get rid of him.”

Those words cut Shirley to the bone. Joanna saw her wince and shudder at their impact. Now she knew for sure that Shirley and Dr. Grenoway were probably intimate.

“Dr. Grenoway
is
a good surgeon,” Shirley protested. “He’s just, well,
distracted
lately.”

Joanna chuckled. “By what, pray tell?
You
?” She stood up from her bench and slammed her locker shut. “You do realize that Dr. Grenoway is engaged to be married, don’t you?”

Shirley blushed beet-red. “I don’t know what you mean,” she muttered. But it was obvious from her sex-flushed face and heaving chest that she did.

Joanna put her hands on her hips. “Look Shirley. I don’t have anything against you as a person. I never have. You’re a very good nurse-anesthetist, and the hospital is very lucky to have you on staff. So I don’t know why all of a sudden you seem to be in some kind of cutthroat competition with me. Over what, I have no idea. Surely not my job. I work even longer hours than you do.”

Shirley ground her teeth loud enough for Joanna to hear. “Let’s just say there’s something around the hospital that we both want, and that we’re both willing to do anything to get,” she chirped. “And I do mean
anything
.” With that, she turned on her heel and marched out of the locker room.

Joanna watched her go, dumbfounded. Was the thing that they both wanted Harlan? And if so, what exactly was Shirley willing to do to get him and keep him all to herself?

Joanna didn’t want to think about that right now. All she did want was to take a shower, and perhaps a little something else to help clear her head.

Joanna stepped into the stall, turned the shower knob all the way to “HOT”, and stood under the scalding stream for a full minute, oblivious to the screaming nerve endings in her back. She needed the hot water to help relax the heavy tension and fatigue that was knotting her neck and arm muscles.

Joanna stood under the scorching hot water for another thirty seconds, then slowly added some cold water until the temperature was more tolerable. She scrubbed, soaped, and shampooed, knowing full well she was due back in the OR in less than half an hour for yet another complex operation—this time, a hernia repair on a morbidly obese teenage patient, Todd Palmetto. Todd’s young age, extreme obesity, and history of heart murmur would make this operation even more difficult to manage than Mrs. Small’s. And the last thing she needed right now was to worry about whether the nurse-anesthetist she worked with every day had designs on the man she was in love with.

Wait a minute—she was
in love
with Harlan? No, that couldn’t possibly be true. Not at all.

Could it?

At the very thought of Harlan, Joanna felt the heat rise in her nether parts. And it wasn’t as if she could satisfy that rising heat via another tryst with Harlan in the elevator. After all, it was clear the man despised her now.

But the heat between her legs had to be satisfied somehow, or Joanna knew she’d never be able to concentrate in the OR.

Desperate times called for desperate measures.

Her fingers strayed south until they landed between her sweating labia. She lathered up her free hand with soap to give herself some more lubrication, and then spread that lather around all her nooks and crannies, enjoying the sensations it brought her. After stirring things up a bit in the slick folds of her sex, she transferred her attentions to her clit.

Having been sexually frustrated for almost her entire marriage to Bob, Joanna was well-acquainted with how to bring herself to orgasm quickly. It was a skill she’d taught herself out of necessity. And now she put that skill to good use.

She put her middle finger squarely on ground zero and became to rub. She started slowly at first, letting a slow burn start to rise first around her clit, then around her vagina. Then as that slow burn started to take over her lower half with its slow, red-hot vibrations, Joanna picked up the pace. She squatted low, leaning against the tile wall of the shower stall to give herself stability and the best access to her most sensitive parts. She pried her lips wide open with her left hand, and really started going to town on her clit with her right.

Joanna pressed and spun her middle finger against her clit at light speed, bucking her hips as she felt her orgasm approaching. But try as she might, her orgasm seemed always just out of reach. Frustrated, she squatted lower, spread her legs wider, pressed and rubbed harder and harder. She gritted her teeth and concentrated hard while she rubbed herself into a frenzy—and still, she didn’t come.

She had to take things up another notch.

Joanna kept a long-handled back-scrubber with her at work that she used to scrub herself clean all-over in the shower after long stints in the OR. It had a thick wooden handle, about two inches around. Not the most ideal thickness for filling her up, but it would have to do. She picked it up, running her soapy hands along the smooth maple as she prepared herself for what was to come.

She held the scrubber handle-up, then lowered herself down onto its thick wooden length. She moved up and down on the improvised dildo, relishing the feel of it inside her. She maneuvered herself until the handle’s tip pressed itself against her G-spot, then rotated her hips around and around for a spectacular fake-fuck. She rubbed her clit in time with each sway of her hips, with each stroke her body made against the wooden handle. She moved faster and faster, harder and harder until the sensations were gripping and shaking her body with their intensity. It wasn’t quite as good as a real fuck—but it was pretty damn close.

And just when she thought she could stand it no longer, she came.

It was an orgasm for the record books—one that had her vaginal muscles clenching so hard against the back-scrubber handle she worried she might not be able to pull it out of herself after it was all over. Joanna had to bite down on her wrist to keep from screaming, and thrashed so hard in her ecstasy she almost cracked her head open on the shower tile.

She stood back up under the showerhead and turned the taps all the way over to “COLD.” It was going to take a lot of icy water to bring her back to earth after such a mind-blowing orgasm. Joanna had never experienced such an intense release while pleasuring herself before. She supposed if anything good could come of her botched relationship with Harlan, it was the new sexual power it had awakened in her body.

And that new sexual power told Joanna she had to make one last-ditch effort to bring Harlan back into her life.

Now calm, cool, and relaxed, Joanna rinsed off, got out of the shower, dressed, and headed for Hospital Administration.

****

“That’s impossible!” Joseph Middleton, President and Chief Executive Officer of Covington Community Hospital, barked when Joanna suggested that Harlan be brought back from suspension. “He’s injured, and by his own clumsy hand too!”

“I’m not asking that he actually
perform
surgery until his hand heals,” Joanna replied, keeping her voice calm. “But given what happened in the OR with Mrs. Small, I believe it is absolutely imperative that an experienced attending surgeon be present while those two green residents are doing the bulk of the work. Otherwise, you are putting Covington’s patients at unnecessary risk. Which of course increases the hospital’s potential liability.”

Joanna knew from experience that curmudgeon hospital administrators like Middleton generally only responded to terms like “risk” and “liability”.

Middleton chewed the end of his expensive fountain pen for a moment. “I hear what you’re saying, Joanna, I really do. But I can’t be giving anyone the idea that I don’t discipline surgeons when they screw up royally. And Wilkinson screwed up
very
royally.”

“Don’t you think it’s punishment enough for any surgeon to be rendered unable to operate?” Joanna countered. “He might never be able to hold a scalpel again if too much scar tissue forms in the wound. And even if his hand heals completely, he’ll still be unable to fully operate for at least a month, maybe two.” Joanna tried hard not to sound too eager. Even if she was only doing this a ploy to melt the hardass-SOB surgeon’s heart, Joanna knew she had to come across to Middleton as making the suggestion because it was in the best interest of patients, not Harlan’s. And certainly not her own.

“We don’t want what happened during Mrs. Small’s operation to happen again,” she went on. “Fortunately we were able to save her, but we might not be so lucky next time. You don’t want to expose your hospital to any unnecessary
liability
, do you?”

Middleton chewed his expensive pen again. “Joanna, I don’t think I need to remind you that what happened during Mrs. Small’s operation, for all intents and purposes,
did not
happen. Officially speaking, anyway.” Joanna could tell that the seasoned old administrator was nervous. “You know our liability insurance premiums are high enough as it is.”

“Of course, sir,” Joanna said, smiling sweetly. “It
did not
happen, officially speaking. But
unofficially
speaking, I think it would be prudent to have an attending surgeon on hand for all operations. We can never be too careful.”

Middleton set down his fountain pen and paused to think. “Well, Joanna, I suppose you’re right. I’ll see what I can do to bring Dr. Wilkinson back right away. But he’d still technically be on suspension, and I’d only bring him back as a consultant, on half-pay.”

“Thank you, sir,” Joanna beamed. “I’m sure the patients will appreciate knowing their surgical care is given under Dr. Wilkinson’s expert supervision. Do you think you could get him back in time for Todd Palmetto’s hernia operation? That’s scheduled in about half an hour, and it’s quite risky given Mr. Palmetto’s—ahem—large size.”

Middleton got up from his desk and went to stare out his large picture window. “Well, I’ll have him paged, but Wilkinson left here a couple of hours ago in an absolute tizzy, and I don’t mean just about being put on suspension. Seems he’s pretty angry with
you
especially. Can you tell me anything about that, Joanna?”

Joanna swallowed hard. “I’m afraid I can’t, sir. I haven’t the slightest idea why Dr. Wilkinson would be angry with me,” she lied.

“Well, I suggest you find out why as soon as he gets here,” Joseph ordered. “I can’t afford to have the guy mad at this hospital’s best nurse, no matter how much of an arrogant SOB he might be.”

“I will,” Joanna said, stifling a chuckle. Maybe there was hope for her and Harlan after all.

Twenty minutes later, Joanna was at the scrub trough, elbow-deep in PhisoDerm suds when Shirley Daniels burst into the room.

“What a load of bullshit!” the nurse-anesthetist screamed. “What a load of fucking bullshit.”

Joanna smiled to herself. She had a pretty good idea what had Shirley so upset, but she wasn’t about to give away what she knew. “What’s the matter, Shirley?”

“Darth Vader is coming back! He’s going to supervise the Todd Palmetto operation!” Shirley rolled up her sleeves and joined Joanna at the scrub trough.

“Well, well, well,” Joanna sang. “Looks like we’ll both get a chance to see Dr. Wilkinson in action again. I’m sure you’re as excited about it as I am.” Joanna rinsed off and started pulling on her surgical mask and overgown, and she couldn’t help but notice that Shirley was purple with rage.

“Pshaw,” Shirley scoffed, and set herself to scrubbing. Joanna left her covered in PhisoDerm and went into the OR to start preparing the instrument trays.

She’d won this round.

Joanna was arranging rows of sterile scalpels on the main instrument table when Harlan came into the OR, already gowned and masked. “Greetings, Watson,” he said gruffly, not even meeting her eyes.

“Good evening, Dr. Wilkinson. We’re all so pleased you could join us for Mr. Palmetto’s operation.” Joanna kept her gaze focused on the surgical trays.

“Like hell you are,” Harlan seethed. “That cranky nurse-anesthetist practically drowned me in suds at the scrub trough. Among other things.”

Joanna smiled underneath her mask. “Shirley’s just overtired, is all. She’s been pulling double and triple shifts all week. Two of the other anesthetists quit, you know.” Joanna was careful not to mention they’d both quit because of him.

Harlan did not comment on this. “If this were any kind of hospital, you’d have an MD-level anesthesiologist running the gas during operations, not a two-bit nurse.”

Joanna cleared her throat. “I’m sure you’re well aware that small rural hospitals can’t afford to have full-time anesthesiologists on staff, Dr. Wilkinson.”

“I’m aware that small rural hospitals can’t afford to have a lot of things” Harlan’s ice-blue eyes bore into Joanna. Try as she might, she couldn’t look away from them.

Joanna felt her cheeks burn as Harlan broke off his gaze. He turned his back on Joanna and went to read Todd Palmetto’s patient history.

Joanna finished counting scalpels and turned to face him. “Harlan, about what happened the other day. I’m sorry if what I did upset you, but you have to understand that I felt you weren’t being honest with me. And if you want to talk more about what Bob was suggesting—”

He held up his hand. “Watson, there won’t be any further discussion about what happened back in the parking lot.” Harlan’s voice was austere, businesslike. “I mean it. Case closed.” The fire that had once burned in his blue eyes at Joanna’s very presence had vanished.

“What happened in the parking lot?” Shirley chirped. She apparently had slipped into the room unnoticed; there was no telling how much of their conversation she’d overheard.

“Nothing,” Joanna stammered. “Dr. Wilkinson and I were having a—a political disagreement.”

“Riiiiiight,” Shirley said. She glanced from Harlan to Joanna, then back to Harlan, and chuckled. “A
political
disagreement, sure. Whatever you say.”

“Daniels, I’d appreciate it if you kept the running commentary to a minimum,” Harlan barked. Joanna gave him a warning look, but he ignored her. “It’s bad enough that I’m stuck with you as my anesthetist, since apparently everyone else has quit.”

“I’ll quit too if you don’t watch your mouth,” Shirley shot back. Her tone was harsh, but her facial expression was sultry and flirtatious, almost as if she were a call girl playing hard-to-get.

Harlan rolled his eyes and ignored her. The tension in the OR hung so thick you could spear it with a fork. “Where the hell’s this hernia patient, anyway?” Harlan barked. “And where are my two residents, who probably can’t even slice butter properly, let alone a person.”

As if on cue, Dr. Brown and Dr. Grenoway appeared, already gowned and masked. Three more masked orderlies followed them, all pushing a gurney that held the largest person Joanna had ever seen. Todd Palmetto was already partially sedated. The folds of his fatty flesh spilled over the sides of the gurney like so much Jell-O. He was more than half-asleep on pre-op meds, and his mouth hung open, dripping with two very long, iridescent cords of drool. Joanna guessed he had to weigh at least four hundred pounds. Small wonder the poor boy had a hernia.

“Is this the patient?” Harlan said with noticeable distaste.

“Yes, sir,” Dr. Grenoway replied, eager to impress the gruff attending surgeon. “He has a strangulated hiatal hernia which has currently wrapped itself around both the large intestine and part of the aortal artery, causing significant pain and digestive problems, not to mention significant circulatory risks. Adding to the regular potential complications, he’s—“

“Morbidly obese,” Harlan finished. “Yes, I can see that, Grenoway. Perhaps one of you two young punks can tell me how you plan to operate on this poor guy.” He nodded towards Dr. Brown.

“With all due respect, Doctor, I’m older than you,” Hattie Brown said.

“It was a figure of speech,” Harlan said, softening his tone a little. “Tell me your game plan, Dr. Brown.”

The stout middle-aged woman arranged herself at the head of Todd Palmetto’s gurney as if preparing for battle. “Well, once he’s under anesthesia, I thought we would start by making four incisions in the lower abdomen—“

“Wrong answer,” Harlan cut her off. “You forgot to address proper anesthesia for a morbidly obese person. Isn’t that right, Daniels?”

Shirley nodded, obviously pleased Harlan was paying her some attention.

“Daniels, why don’t you inform old Dr. Brown here about the importance of proper anesthesia.” Harlan’s tone was patronizing, but Shirley showed no outward sign of offense.

“Administering anesthesia to morbidly obese persons requires adjustments in dosage, as well as increased monitoring of blood pressure and blood oxygen levels,” Shirley said matter-of-factly. “I’ve already made the calculations for increasing Mr. Palmetto’s dosage by eighteen percent, and I have additional monitors in place for checking his blood oxygen levels as well.”

“Good, Daniels. Maybe you’re competent after all.” Shirley beamed.

Harlan turned back to the two residents. “Good surgeons always consult their anesthesiologists—or in this case,
nurse-anesthetists
—before making any cuts. Do you know who else good surgeons consult first?”

Both residents shrugged.

“The lead OR nurse. Right, Watson?”

Joanna nodded. “I’ve already briefed the residents, Harlan. Two hours ago. It’s a pretty standard hernia, caused by the pressure and strain of extreme obesity.”

“Watson, please do not use my first name in the OR. That is highly unprofessional. Isn’t that right, everyone?”

Shirley clucked. Dr. Brown and Dr. Grenoway exchanged glances, but said nothing.

Joanna felt herself flush. “Pardon me,
Doctor
Wilkinson,” she cooed. “Since you’re so cavalier about how you address your nurses, I wasn’t aware you were so sensitive about your own name.” A more than witty comeback, considering the circumstances. Joanna smiled to herself.

Harlan didn’t miss a beat. “Well, if you had taken the time to read Mr. Palmetto’s MRI report more closely,
Ms.
Watson, you would have seen that his hernia was not caused by his obesity, but by a botched lap-band surgery. By the looks of it, he got it done on the cheap in Mexico.”

“Mexico?” Dr. Grenoway was impressed. “How can you tell?”

Harlan pulled an MRI film out of Todd Palmetto’s file and hooked it onto the light box. “Here,” he said, pointing to a barely visible gray line on the mottled gray image of Todd’s digestive tract. “That’s the electronic signature of the Inamedic 2000 Lap-Band, a low-tech precursor to today’s lap-band devices. The Inamedic 2000 has been illegal in the United States for almost ten years due to its high complication rate. You’re getting a nice, up-close-and-personal look at one of those complications right now. The only place you can get one of these babies put in your belly anymore is in rural Mexico. Not pretty, is it?”

Joanna was stunned. She’d had no idea what looked like a simple hernia was really a botched weight-loss operation. Harlan had managed to one-up her once again.

“Watson, as the senior nurse in this OR, I expect you to set a proper example for others.
All
others, even inexperienced residents, who are still medical doctors and therefore always outrank you.” Harlan’s tone was vicious and cutting. Girding herself with resolve, Joanna refused to give him the satisfaction of unnerving her in public.

“My mistake, Doctor,” she said flatly. “It won’t happen again.”

And it wouldn’t. From that moment of humiliation, Joanna decided she was through with Dr. Harlan Wilkinson, once and for all.