“I hope that Matron doesn’t notice that I’m late again,” fretted Nicki as she hurried down the hospital corridor, the rubber soles of her shoes squeaking on the polished linoleum. “Nicki! In my office, this minute!” barked the voice she was dreading to hear. “What time of the day do you call this, Missie?” asked Matron Sloan, with a glare that pinned Nicki to the spot much like a lepidopterist crucifying a butterfly. “The morning?” Nicki tried, a little optimistically. “It is exactly 9.05 A.M.,” the Matron informed her, “in the five minutes for which you are being paid, but have been absent, three patients have filled their bedpans, one has vomited, and two have died.” “Two of my patients have died?” Nicki asked, grief-stricken. “Well, no. They weren’t your patients. They were Sally’s patients. But that is only a matter of luck. If any of your patients had been dying, you wouldn’t have been here to stop it happening,” the Matron pointed out. “Yes, Matron,” Nicki replied, looking contrite. “Now get about your work, girl. And don’t let it happen again.” As she made her way to her ward, Nicki passed Sally in the hall. She was talking to that handsome Doctor Kilmore. “How was I to know that that was a saline drip and not an insulin drip?” she was saying. “They all look the same to me.” Although not popular with the Matron, Nicki was very popular with the patients, especially the male ones. With her sweet, rosy-cheeked smile and her full bosom, which constantly threatened to burst the buttons of her starched white uniform, she won their hearts and raised more than their temperatures. Yes, that’s right, she raised their spirits, as well. Hospitals can be depressing places, but Nicki helped many a seriously ill patient to keep his pecker up. Whether she was emptying bedpans, lancing boils or inserting rectal thermometers, Nicki went about her duties with a cheery smile, and a kind word for all. “How are you feeling today, Mr. Whipsnade?” she asked, taking an elderly man’s wrist between her fingers and consulting the watch Ümraniye Escort that was pinned to her uniform over her right breast. “I can’t complain,” the old man replied, with a twinkle in his eye, “but I don’t feel as nice as you do, that’s for sure.” Nicki felt the old man’s hand run up the back of her leg beneath her skirt. “Now, now. Be a good boy,” she scolded him, dropping his wrist and slapping his hand away from her leg. Normally she would have let him have a quick feel of her panties, but this morning she had been in such a hurry that she hadn’t had time to put any on. She didn’t want to over excite the old man. After all he had a heart condition. The highlight of Nicki’s morning was when Dr. Kilmore did his rounds. With his pale blue eyes, his light reddish brown hair swept over his brow at a dashing angle, his rugged chin and golden tan, he looked like he might have just stepped out of a TV soap opera. In fact he had. After a malpractice suite had temporarily forced him out of medical practise, he had tried his hand at acting. It was a disaster. Not because he lacked acting talent. In a day-time soapy none was required of him. It was his consistent complaints about medical inaccuracies in the scripts that had finally led the producers to arrange for his character to contract beriberi from one of his patients and die a hideous death. By this time, however, he had earned enough money to hire a good lawyer and challenge the malpractice charge in a higher court. Now he was back in action and leaving in his wake a swathe of broken hearts and festering sutures. Nicki’s eyes lit up with adoration as she watched him examining patients, and all the while explaining their conditions to a crowd of medical students, who hung on his every word. She didn’t now if it was his boyish charm, the compassion that he showed towards his patients, or the way his butt looked when he bent over in those tight white trousers, but whenever he was around her heart skipped a beat. Of course, it Ümraniye Escort Bayan could have been a simple case of associative cardiovascular arrhythmia, but since she was at heart a romantic, she didn’t look for scientific explanations. The joy of Dr. Kilmore’s rounds was not unmixed with sadness however, for she could not help but notice that his attentions were always directed at Tanya, her fellow ward nurse and never towards herself. Oh, sure, he smiled at Nicki, and greeted her warmly each morning. But it was Tanya, with her long slim legs, jet black hair and taut buttocks with whom he flirted, whispering things in her ear that would make her call him a “naughty boy” but with a look on her face that just encouraged him. Tanya made Nicki feel dumpy and plain. How would she ever win the love of a dashing romantic hero like Dr. Kilmore. After a hard day at work, Nicki liked to relax in a nice warm shower. It was here that she allowed herself to indulge her fantasies about Dr. Kilmore. That evening, as she removed her white towelling robe and stepped into the shower, relishing the feel of the warm jets of water on her skin, she found herself more preoccupied than ever with thoughts of the good doctor. “I wonder what he looks like naked,” she thought, absent-mindedly running her right hand up and down the long hard cylinder of her shampoo container. “I bet he has an all over tan.” She imagined him nude, sunbathing in his backyard. His cock was stiff, as it always was in her fantasies, and fully eight inches long, making him look for all the world like a fleshy sundial. She wriggled with sensuous delight as she ran her soapy hands over her nude body. It was only a matter of time before the finger tips of her left hand began to gently tease and stroke her large pink nipples one after the other, and her right hand slid over her belly and through her pubes to find the slippery warmth of her pussy. Nicki loved to masturbate. She had had her share of lovers and liked the feeling Escort Ümraniye of a stiff cock inside her, but no man that she had ever been with could give her the same pleasure that she was able to give herself. “Tanya’s just an anorexic, uptight, self-opinionated bitch,” Dr. Kilmore told her in her fantasy. “You’re the one I really love, with your big soft boobs and your generous womanly bottom. I must see you naked. Strip for me.” Slowly and seductively she stripped out of her nurses uniform, dancing in the permanent sunshine of Dr. Kilmore’s backyard. All the while his eyes roamed over her emerging nakedness as he slowly stroked his stiff cock. By the time the fantasy Nicki was giving Dr. Kilmore an open-mouthed kiss and rubbing her stiff-nippled boobs against his chest as she impaled her sopping wet pussy on his rock hard sex, the real Nicki was crouched on the floor of the shower with her shampoo container jammed half-way up her vagina. Later that night she cried herself to sleep cuddling her teddy bear to which she had sown a stethoscope and an eight inch dildo in a vain attempt to convince herself that she was sharing her bed with her true love. Nicki had always dreamt of being a theatre nurse. Emptying bedpans was all well and good. Someone had to do it. But Nicki dreamt of the glamour of the operating theatre. In her dreams she and Dr. Kilmore where a team working together like clockwork to save the lives of their patients. The following day, a freak accident brought Nicki’s dream to life. Sort of. Uri Geller, the famous psychic, was making a TV appearance. While transmitting his psychokinetic energies to a million viewers all over the United States, who were hoping that their clocks would start working or that their unwanted keys would bend, he suffered an unexpected attack of appendicitis. Suddenly the hospitals of America were flooded with people whose appendixes had burst in sympathy with his own. This was Nicki’s chance at the big time. All nurses were called into theatre duty, and Nicki was to work with Dr. Kilmore. Her heart pounded in her well-padded chest as she washed her hands and donned her surgical gloves. “Retractor,” said Dr. Kilmore, and Nicki handed it to him. “Clamp,” he said, and it was in his hand. “Sponge.” She wiped the sweat from his forehead. It was just like in her dreams.