"I'm afraid that as your doctor I must recommend that you stop smoking." Without seeing his face, I know it's him, Jay. "Not only is it very bad for your health, but it sets a terrible example when members of the medical profession smoke in public."
I laugh, turn around, and see that up close he's even sexier than he looked from across the room. He's taller than me but not too tall, and his face is gorgeous: deep green eyes set in pale olive skin but with high coloring in his cheeks and lips like two petals, more feminine than masculine, contrasting beautifully with the trace of stubble on his chin. Under that shapeless white coat I can make out broad shoulders and slender hips. I take in all this in a second.
"I do apologize," I say, "but I've had a terribly hard day at the hospital, and this is the first chance I've had to relax. You doctors may be able to boss us nurses around on the job, but here you have no authority over me."
He laughs, too, and says, "In that case I'll join you," as he whips a pack out of his pocket. "Hang on, I know I've got a lighter in here somewhere," he says, fumbling.
"Allow me," I say, offering him my box of matches. When he leans in I can smell him for a split second, and he smells good, sweet and creamy, the way some men do. He pulls away to drag on his cigarette, and all I can do is think about how I can get him to lean in close again.
"I'm Dr. Jay," he says. "Thank you for the light."
"Nurse Leila," I reply. I notice that he's holding a white plastic briefcase with a red cross on the front. "So what's in your bag?" I ask.
He smiles and then flips it open. It's a children's toy medical case with dummy plastic blood-pressure kits, a molded-plastic toy syringe, and a reflex hammer made out of soft rubber. Looking closer at the stethoscope around his neck, I see that that's fake, too.
"I never travel without it," he says. "You never know when someone with a mysterious illness will need to be diagnosed."
"Oh," I say, returning his sexy smile. "And do you think there's anything the matter with me, Dr. Jay?"
"Well, Nurse Leila," he replies. "At first glance, you appear to be a specimen of rare physical perfection in robust health. Apart from your evil smoking habit, of course." He sips his beer and takes a drag on a cigarette as he tells me this, and I giggle, blushing, because he called me perfect.
"But of course to make any kind of real diagnosis, I'd need to do a more thorough hands-on examination of you. Will you allow me?"
"Of course," I say.
"You must come into the light first," says Jay, leading me over to what is perhaps the darkest corner of the room, a little alcove with a picture window that looks out on the river. He begins by breathing on his stethoscope. "To warm it up," he says. "It can be very cold, and I'd hate to make you jump." It's not cold; rather, it's warm to the touch as he slides it down between my breasts. His fingers close over it as he pushes it deep into my right breast, hooks it into his ears, and pretends to concentrate. His fingers on my flesh are warming and arousing. The flesh of both my breasts begins to tingle, and my lips buzz; I know that if this carries on, my pussy will start to throb, and then I'll be in real trouble. I clear my throat.
"Excuse me," I say. "I think you'll find that the heart is on the left side of the body."
"I know that," he replies, quick as a flash, "but how else do I get to feel both your tits?" And with that, he slides the palm of his hand across my breasts, so that he's now poking and prodding my other breast. He puts the heel of his hand down to where my nipple is and allows it to warm pleasantly as it hardens under his touch.
"There appears to be some reaction in the left breast area," he says. "I'll have to make a note of that." He unhooks his toy stethoscope from his ears, lets it fall away from my breast, but his hand stays flat against my tit, my nipple getting harder all the time until it's so engorged that it's poking through my bra and pressing against the stiff nylon of my nurses' uniform. I look around the room. Can anyone else see me standing here like this, letting a complete stranger fondle my tits? And if they can, can they see the desire etched on my face? We're in the corner, and everyone's busy, but if anyone were to stand still and look, that's what they'd see: a doctor and nurse indulging in a very private conversation.
Jay takes his hand away. "Right," he says. "Just a couple of extra symptoms to check you out for, and then I can make a diagnosis." He brings out a tiny light, shines it in my eyes, and leans in so closely that I can feel his breath on my face. I could, if I wanted to, lean in and go for the kiss now, but despite what he's just done I don't know how to read him. All this doctor/patient baby talk and flirty banter might be tongue-in-cheek, but my desire is very real. His physical closeness makes my heart beat hard, and my body wants him to finish what he started when he placed his hand on my breast that time. "Interesting," he says.
Then he places a finger on my lower lip, forces my mouth open, and says, "Say aaah."
I giggle as I try to make the noise he's after, but I'm so distracted by the sensations all over my body that it comes out as a prolonged "ooooh," more like a sigh I'd make during sex than one I'd usually let escape from my body during a routine doctor's examination. I bite down on Jay's finger and close my lips around it, tasting his salty sweat.
He leaves it there, closes his eyes, and breathes deeply. I suck his finger like it's his cock, my tongue caressing first the underside of his digit, then the end, showing just what I can do with my mouth given half a chance. When he next speaks, he's the one with the wavering voice.
"I see dilated pupils and an increased heartbeat," he says, half joking, half serious. Our bodies are almost touching, and I can feel the heat from his radiate toward mine. As I wonder what it would be like to press our bodies together, my pussy pumps out a hot little rhythm in reply.
"I diagnose a serious case of sexual arousal," he says. "I'm afraid it's terminal. There's only one cure, and I'll have to administer it. But before I make sure, I need to do an internal examination."
He bends forward so that the sides of his white coat hang like curtains obscuring my body from view. We're looking each other in the eye, locked in this moment, silently daring each other to back down. The flirty banter of earlier has given way to something raw and powerful. I know that I'm about to cross a line and that I want to.
Jay reaches between my thighs. My skirt is so short that access is unimpeded. His soft dry fingers toy with the garters, tracing the skin on my inner thighs, sliding between the stockings and my flesh, before softly drawing my panties to one side to expose my pussy. I'm fluttering with anticipation, and I can't believe I'm letting him finger me in the middle of this party. He runs his fingertips along my labia, probes the fold between my cunt and the tops of my thighs. I spasm, then relax as he inserts a finger into me. It's wet inside, and he swirls that finger around before drawing it out tantalizingly slowly and then pressing it gently against my clit. It's all happening so quickly. I can't believe I'm ready for it, but I am. He rubs the eager little bud, and my knees tremble beneath me. I stagger backward and lean on the window for support.
Jay takes a step forward but doesn't break the rhythm of his fingers sliding in and out of my hole, around and around my clit. The cold glass of the window soothes my aching flesh, and I'm glad I've got something to lean on. The rushes travel along my limbs, and my cunt swells and engorges, each tiny movement he makes getting me wetter and wetter and wetter. I close my eyes. If anyone is looking, I don't want to know, because I can't stop something that feels this good.
Jay takes his hand away from between my legs.
"Oh, you're definitely suffering from a severe case of nymphomania," he says. "It's the worst I've ever seen. There's only one way to cure it, I'm afraid," and as he talks, I see him tugging at his belt, loosening his trousers. "An injection. Do you know what kind of injection?"