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Table of Contents
"Nurse Warner," the older woman said, "Doctor Henry has been looking for you all morning."
"I've been very busy," Amy said, "trying to get my patients clean. I only have one more to go, Mr. Welknap in Room two-o-two."
"Well, you get in touch with the doctor as soon as you're finished with that old man. And watch out for him. He practically raped Nurse Olson last week."
"I'll keep my eye on him," Amy said. She shuddered at the thought of those gnarled knobby hands roaming at will over her body. Amy had somehow managed to go all through nursing school without ever once touching a human being's genitals, and she hoped to keep that record intact now here in Midland Hospital. She sometimes wondered how she came to be a nurse, with her aversion to things sexual. On the other hand, in her more honest moments, she had to admit to herself that she was perversely fascinated with the more abnormal types of sexual union. So, while she had successfully and unprecedentedly managed to get through three years of training without once touching any sexual organs, male or female, she had at the same time, and with equal ingenuity and perseverance, read every work the medical library contained concerning the physics and psychology of child-molestation, sodomy, necrophilia and other matters on the outer limits of normal healthy sexual practice.
"Oh, before I forget," the supervisor said, "here's a letter for you that came this morning."
"Just slip it in my pocket," Amy said, holding up the pans and sponges that prevented her taking the letter with her hands.
The supervisor did as Amy directed. "Now be sure to see Doctor Henry," she said again, and walked off down the hall.
Amy wondered who the letter could be from. Both her parents were dead, she didn't keep in touch with any other relatives, and she had only one real friend in the world-and he was in the hospital here with her. She was very curious about the letter; but it would have to wait until she finished her rounds. And then too, she had to see that friend of hers, the same Dr. Curt Henry who was looking for her. But first-the nurse grabber, Mr. Welknap.
The old man was reading a book when Amy walked into his private room. He seemed to be engrossed in it, and ignored her entrance. Amy felt relieved, and hoped he would behave himself with her.
"Well, it's nice to see that you are still improving your mind," she told him.
Without looking up, he told her, "Just trying to learn a little more about my condition. Have to keep those damned doctors on their toes, you know."
Amy noticed now the title of the book he was reading: The Human Urito-genitary System.
"How'd you like to chomp down on that sometime?" he asked her, a wicked senile light dancing in his eyes.
Amy found herself staring at a huge semierect penis. Underneath the photograph, the caption read: Male sexual organ of unusual length. Amy felt disgusted and frightened. She slapped the book down against the old man's chest.
Trying to regain her composure by treating the incident as a joke, she said, "Okay, we've had only fun for today. Now let's get on with the business of being sick."
The old man licked his lips. "Wish I had me one of those right now," he said. "Jesus, wouldn't I give you nurses hell!"
"I think you're doing a pretty good job as it is," Amy said, forcing a smile. "Now let's get you all nice and clean again."
"My pleasure," the old man said. He threw back the bed covers in one quick jerk, grabbed his wizened penis, and shook it in Amy's face.
Amy reacted quickly. She pulled the sheet and blanket back over his naked body and shook her finger at him.
"If you don't behave," she told him, "I'll get Doctor Henry in here to hold you down while I wash you. And then I'll have him shoot you so full of medicine that you'll be as docile as a puppy."
Mr. Welknap didn't seem impressed. "Oh, go ahead and call in Henry, that curly-headed bastard. You probably just want to see him anyway. Everybody knows you two are fucking each other. I bet he shoots you full of something that brings a big fat smile to your face!"
"That's it, Mr. Welknap," Amy said. "You are nothing but a dried-up old lecher. And if you say one more word, I'll ring for Supervisor Clutchens." She threw back the covers from him again, and began to roughly scrub his caved-in thin chest.
The old man lay back and took it. "Well," he said meekly, "you are fucking that good-looking bastard, ain't you? I bet his cock is at least as big and chunky as the one in that book. Now, you can admit it to me, can't you? I mean, seeing how we is friends and all, you don't have to pretend to me he ain't reamed out your little honey pot."
Amy tried to ignore him. She scrubbed his scrawny arms so harshly, he cried out for her to take it a little easy-he didn't want to be washed into the next world this soon.
When Amy relaxed a little, the old man started in again on her. "I'd like to get in your creamy well myself. You don't think an old buzzard like me can still make the grade, but I'd show you if you'd let me. I could still teach those young bucks a trick or two."
Then, emboldened by all his talk, the old man reached up and tweaked the end of Amy's full breast. Amy immediately slapped his hand away.
"You really are looking for trouble today, aren't you?" she said, a note of real anger coming into her voice for the first time.
Mr. Welknap just smiled up at her. "No, honey, I ain't looking for trouble. I'm just looking for pussy, like I always do."
Amy had now finished sponging off all his body except the area around his genitals. She held out the sponge to him. "Here," she said, "you'll have to finish the rest of the body yourself."
"No chance," the old man said, grinning at her. "After all, I'm in here because of an inflammation of the pissing system, and that's the part you got to clean best of all. Just do it nice and easy, and we'll both enjoy it."
Amy looked at his wizened penis; it was as wrinkled and stringy as a chicken's neck. She gagged at the thought of taking that unclean organ in her hands. She held out the sponge to him again.
"Do it yourself," she said in a choked voice.
"No chance, sweetie," the old man said. "Now, if you don't get cracking in thirty seconds, I'm going to ring for Supervisor Clutchens myself. Do you think she would like you not washing my cock, when I'm only in here because the damn thing is giving me trouble? Now you got twenty seconds to begin." He gloated at her.
The old bastard's got me over a barrel, Amy thought to herself. Clutchens knows what a lecher the old bastard can be; but she also knows why he's in the hospital. And since I've only been here a couple of months myself, I'm still on trial. She could give me a black mark for refusing to wash this buzzard. Oh God, what choice do I have?
"Time's up," the old man said. "And of course, you know you have to wash my dick with your hands, not that clammy sponge. My special medicine is in that top drawer over there."
Feeling trapped, frightened and humiliated, Amy took his special salve from the drawer and squirted a gob into the palm of her hand. Somehow it felt so greasy and obscene that she had the urge to throw up. But she took hold of herself and began to rub the salve onto the old man's penis.
"Don't look so disgusted," Welknap said. "I don't know how you ever got to be a nurse if you don't like helping patients."
Under her breath, Amy muttered, "Neither do I. Neither do I."
Then Amy was startled to find that as she rubbed the ointment into the old man's penis, the organ began to grow under her fingertips. She started to sweat as the penis came alive and wiggled upward to a stiff position. She was fascinated by the whole process and increased the speed of her strokes. The old man lay back, his eyes closed, a broad complacent smile splitting his face. He was enjoying the bath.
The penis was well greased by this time and slid easily through Amy's fingers as she manipulated it. She was surprised to find so much life in the old man's organ; but then, she had never before held anyone's penis in her hand. It was more pliable than she had imagined from looking at the pictures in the medical books. Just as she was about to stop, bringing herself back to reality from the suspended state she seemed to be in, the old man began to breath heavily. She stared at him as he gasped for air, thinking that she had perhaps unknowingly brought on a heart attack.
"Pump that cock faster," the old man managed to tell her between gasps. "I'm almost over the hump."
Amy didn't know what he was talking about. She was scared now, and let the penis fall from her hand. She picked up a towel and began to wipe his rigid organ clean. But she had only stroked it a few times when it began to jump about wildly, twitching in her palm. And then, before she could release the penis, great gobs of white cream began to spurt from its tip.
"Oh," Amy said, surprised as thick lumps of sperm flew up and landed on the freshly-starched breasts of her white uniform. "Stop it! You stop that this very minute, Mr. Welknap, or I'll report you to the supervisor!"
But the old man didn't seem to hear her; and the sperm just kept squirting out. On instinct, Amy dropped the towel and ran out of the room, leaving her pans and soaps and sponges behind her. She ran right into the arms of Doctor Webbley Caine, almost knocking him over.
"Whoa," the tall, gray-haired man said, "what's the big rush?"
Amy could hardly catch her breath. "I ... I'm so sorry, Doctor Caine," she stammered. "It's just ... just that I'm very busy today."
"So I see," the tall man said. He put his arms tightly around her, pressing her breasts against his chest. "Now suppose you tell me what that white gook is all over the front of your uniform."
Amy blushed scarlet. What could she tell him-that she had just been tricked into masturbating an old man, a patient with a uro-genitary condition, until he squirted his load of sperm on her white uniform? She thought quickly and answered, "Oh, that's just some medicine one of the patients threw up on me. I was just going to get it cleaned up when I ran into you."
"A likely story," the doctor said. Amy was afraid that he knew what had really happened, but when she looked at his face, she saw it was only a pleasantry. She smiled back at him and hoped he wouldn't ask her any more questions.
Dr. Webbley Caine had a reputation as a suave lecher and Amy had been warned about him the first day she arrived at Midland Hospital. On her second day at work, he had made the first pass, and she had politely turned him down. He had been after her ever since to go out with him and she had always refused him, nicely but firmly. Still now she felt she couldn't say anything to him when she felt his hands slide down her back and cup her behind. The quickest way of getting rid of him now was to allow him a few liberties. If he decided to investigate the patient in Room 202, he could cause her a lot of trouble.
After a few moments of having her behind pinched, Amy said, "I really must go now, Doctor Caine. I have a thousand things to do."
"Of course," the tall man said. "How else would we run this hospital without you dedicated nurses?" He still didn't release her.
"If I don't go soon, Supervisor Clutchens will have my hide," Amy said, trying to be pleasant at the same time she attempted to disengage herself from his encircling arms.
"I wouldn't mind having that sweet hide myself," the doctor said. He stroked her throat with the back of his smooth hand. Amy marveled at how soft it was; then she remembered that Dr. Caine was the busiest surgeon at the hospital and he always took excellent care of his hands, saying they were like the hands of a great pianist. He also said they were his fortune-and they were. Webbley Caine was at least a millionaire, Amy knew; all the society ladies loved him, and frequently went under the knife for the sole reason of his elegant, smooth way at the bedside. Amy hoped she would never have to taste the treats of that manner, especially in bed.
"Suppose we have a nice quiet dinner together tonight," the doctor suggested. "Just you and me and a very fine wine."
"I really don't know if I can make it," Amy said, trying, under the circumstances, to excuse herself as gracefully as possible. "The fact is, I think I already have a date for tonight."
The tall man seemed suddenly to lose all interest in her and let her go. "I suppose you mean with that hot shot, Curt Henry? Well, he has been looking all over the hospital for you for hours. Doctors should watch over their business while on duty, and let their personal lives-their sex lives-blossom when they're off duty. I don't know what you see in that fellow anyway. What you need is a mature man, like myself. I have everything to offer you that he has, plus a lot more money. Think it over, dear. Perhaps we can yet come to terms." He bowed to her and walked away, smoothing his hair back with one expertly manicured hand.
Amy let out a sigh of relief and quickly went back into Mr. Welknap's room. He was lying in bed, still naked, sleeping like a baby. She covered him up, recovered her cleaning equipment and hurried back out into the hall.
When she passed the nurses station, one of the nurses called out to her. "Doctor Henry is looking for you. He said he would wait in the staff lounge on this floor."
"Thank you," Amy said, quickly putting away her armload of materials. At last it seemed she would be able to catch up with Dr. Curt Henry.
Dr. Curt Henry, tanned, with a full head of curly hair, was drinking a cup of coffee when Amy walked into the staff lounge. He was about six feet tall, was handsome in a boyish way, and had been a resident at Midland Hospital for two years. For the past month, he had been dating Amy exclusively and seemed to enjoy her company as much as she did his.
"Where have you been?" he asked as soon as she walked in. "I've been searching high and low for you since ten o'clock this morning."
Amy tucked a loose strand of her auburn hair under her white cap and went over to the coffee machine. "It's been a long, terrible morning," she told him. "And simply everyone has been telling me you were looking for me. It's a wonder you haven't organized the wheelchair patients into patrols and sent them down the hallways, paging me."
The young doctor laughed and led her to two empty chairs. "I'm sorry, Amy," he said. "I only wanted to ask you out for tonight. I didn't mean to embarrass you."
She remembered her recent encounter with the elegant Dr. Caine and quickly accepted his offer. "It's nothing really," she said, setting him at ease again. "It's just that this morning has been so dreadful for me. Sometimes I think I'm just not cut out to be a nurse. There are just too many ugly sides to the job." A picture of Mr. Welknap's squirting penis flashed through her mind and she involuntarily shuddered.
"Are you cold? Not coming down with the flu, I hope." Dr. Henry rubbed her arm, as if to get the circulation moving again.
"No, it's nothing," Amy said. She put on a smile. "Well, where are we going tonight?"
"Oh, I thought we might have some dinner, and then just play it by ear from there. How does that sound?"
"Fine. You know, that smooth Doctor Caine has been after me again. He wanted to take me to dinner tonight too. Probably some swank place like the Regent Club."
The young doctor looked worried. "I don't like to see you hanging around that man," he said.
"Not just because I'm jealous-and I am. Caine has captivated, and ruined, many a young nurse around here. I don't trust that man. He's too smooth, too good at impressing people. From what I hear, he's an excellent surgeon. At least, he handles himself well at the operating table, though I think his ethics are questionable, to say the least. Be careful around him. Will you promise me that?"
Amy smiled at his earnestness, his desire to protect her. She crossed her heart. "I promise, cross my heart and hope to die."
Curt Henry wasn't amused. "It's more serious than that. But I'll accept your promise. Now," he said, back in good humor, "can you promise me you'll be on time when I come by to pick you up tonight? I want to leave no later than seven."
"It's a deal," Amy said.
"Good." He glanced at his watch. "Now I have to run." He kissed her lightly on the cheek. "See you tonight."
"Tonight," Amy said, watching him leave the room with his usual determined stride. She leaned back to enjoy her cup of coffee. Then she suddenly remembered the letter that the supervisor had put in her pocket earlier that morning. Amy pulled it out and looked at the postmark, wondering again who could be writing to her here. The postmark told her the letter came from Chicago, but nothing more. She hurriedly slit the top open with her long thumbnail.
Amy unfolded the short letter and glanced immediately at the bottom. She recognized the almost illegible scrawl of a signature: Joey. Amy sucked in her breath, suddenly frightened. Joey-Josephine-had been her roommate for the two years of nurse's training. Amy turned now to the text of the letter: Dear Amy-Chicago is driving me absolutely batty. It's the ugliest city I've ever seen. So, I've decided to get away from it all, and get together with you again. I start work at Midland Hospital next week. Expect me no later than Thursday.
Amy folded the letter neatly and put it back in the envelope. Thursday, she thought. That's tomorrow. God, it's just like Joey not to give me a chance to prepare myself.
Amy's mind drifted back to those first days together with Joey at the training school. She had been fiercely jealous of Joey since the first night they were roommates.
Not that Joey was any better looking or better built than Amy. In fact, though the blonde roommate's breasts were bigger, they were not nearly as firm or well shaped as Amy's. Amy had noticed how the blonde's large breasts collapsed on her chest when she lay down; and her nipples were broad and dull-colored in contrast to Amy's, which were a rich ruby in color and puckered seductively. And Joey's face had a certain hardness along with her attractive features. Amy was a blue-eyed auburn beauty who would look equally appropriate in either a farmhouse kitchen or a penthouse boudoir. There was a wholesome healthy sexual glow to her that not only attracted men who wanted to lay her, but also men who wanted to marry her.
But Joey had a freedom that was somehow denied to Amy. That first night they spent together in the same room as student nurses, Joey had come in late and proceeded to tell Amy about the royal screwing she had just had from the new handsome intern at the hospital. Amy had noticed him only that morning and had been attracted at once by the smoldering light in his eyes; she had been, though, incapable of even saying hello to him.
"It wasn't so hard," Joey had laughed. "I simply made sure that we would be alone in the dispensary this afternoon. Then I accidentally on purpose dropped a bottle of pills. When I stooped to pick up the little bastards, I made sure he could see my ass. In no time at all, he was helping me gather up the pills and inviting me out to dinner. After that, it was just a matter of letting him do what comes naturally. And let me tell you this," she had said, laughing so hard that Amy had to lean closer to understand her words, "that hot-eyed Romeo is a real clutz. He had so much trouble unfastening my bra that I almost laughed out loud in his face. For the sake of future patients, I hope he doesn't decide to become a surgeon." Joey had doubled up with laughter.
Amy hadn't known whether to be listening to the story or not. She had felt that ambivalence that was to haunt her so much in the following years: she had been both shocked and excited.
Throughout their apprenticeship, there were other incidents that caused Amy to envy and hate her uninhibited blonde roommate. One time especially stuck in her mind; and this letter dredged up the whole dirty scene again.
It was late in their first year when they were first allowed to work on human bodies-dead bodies, to be sure, but shaped like human beings for all their chill and odor of formaldehyde. Amy and Joey had shared the corpse of a heavily-muscled young black man. His penis, even in death, hung down long and thick and black as a bullwhip.
"What I wouldn't give for a taste of that," Joey had whistled, and all the other nurses, except Amy, had laughed and nodded in agreement.
Thus, when Amy came in later that afternoon to do some work on her cadaver, she wasn't too surprised, after the initial shock, to find the penis missing. She knew it would turn up that night.
And it did. Joey had used a scalpel to cut the penis from the body. She had then shoved the metal rod from a straightened clothes hanger through the base up to near the tip, and had mounted the whole thing on the amputated end of a whisk broom. Cleaned of its preservatives and powdered with sweet talcum, it made a crude but effectively life-like dildo.
Joey had summoned most of her friends into the small room for a demonstration. Amy had not even protested, knowing she would only be laughed at for her pains. What puzzled her, and mystified Joey too, was why she stayed to the end, a curious witness to the happening.
The girls were all giggling like a bunch of high school boys sneaking their first look at a girlie magazine. Joey soon took things in hand.
"This here cock," she said, brandishing the severed penis and affecting a Southern drawl, "used to belong to one hell of a buck nigra. But the poor coon had to give it up, on account of he was always sticking it where it didn't belong. And I ain't talking 'bout up no possum's ass now, chillun. I'm talking about real USDA-certified magnolia scented, foot-deep, flower-of-Southern-womanhood cunt."
The girls were holding their sides with the pain of their laughter. One made a move as if to grab the penis from Joey's hand, but Joey pulled it back fast.
"Whoa now, chillun. There's plenty to go around. You just wait your turn like ladies." She then raised her hips and pulled her short skirt up around her waist. Amy's eyes bulged: Joey was wearing no panties and she had the shaggiest twat Amy had ever seen in her life.
The laughter died swiftly and an air of expectation filled the room. Amy wanted to tear her eyes away from the degrading scene, but she found she simply could not. Then Joey turned her head toward her and said sweetly, "Won't you please hand me that jar of Vaseline, Amy, like a good girl?"
Joey took the jar from Amy and dipped her fingers into it. Then she wiped them on the Negro's penis, smearing the shaft evenly with the lubricant. When the penis was well greased, she spread her legs wider and tilted her pelvis upward. With only a little exertion, the head of the penis entered her hair-ringed hole. One of the girls gasped as the tough black knob parted Joey's pubic lips.
"Now, now, honey," Joey said to the girl. "It's not alive. It won't bite me."
A few of the girls chuckled at this, but most remained intensely silent, their eyes fixed on Joey's vagina, where the hard dark shaft was steadily disappearing.
Amy suddenly felt something moist ooze out of her own vagina and dampen her panties. Oh God, she thought to herself, what is happening to me.
She felt dirty. But still her gaze was riveted on the scene in front of her.
When only the short length of broom handle was sticking from Joey's vagina, she began to slowly withdraw the penis, and slowly push it in again. Someone had taken the high-intensity study lamp from Amy's desk and was training the bright beam on the penis sliding in and out of Joey's bushy hole. Heads were bent closer to the bed to take in every movement. Amy discovered that she now had to stand on tiptoe to see at all. She was frightened of her own reactions to the scene. And still the juice was flowing from her crotch, some now trickling down her firm thighs.
Joey was sopping wet too, and the black stiff penis made a horrible slurping noise as it passed to and fro in her lathered canal. Joey was moaning and twisting on the narrow dormitory bed as her hands shoved the shaft more rapidly in and out of her vagina.
"Oh sweet Jesus!" she cried out. "If I only had the rest of this black motherfucker alive here on top of me!" Her hips were pumping in time with the thrusting motion of her hands, and Amy could see too that her thighs were trembling from the exertion.
And then a strange feeling came over Amy. She suddenly desired to be there kneeling in front of Joey, shoving that mummied penis into the blonde's vagina. She felt frightened then, scared of her own strong urges, and she wanted desperately to avert her eyes. But she could not; she had to watch to the last.
Joey was thrashing so violently on the bed that two girls had to steady her, or she would have rolled off onto the floor. Not even the truncated broom handle was visible now; Joey had crammed every last inch into her accommodating hole. Her body was heaving wildly, uncontrollably humping the homemade dildo.
And Amy discovered that she too was moving her twat quickly, rubbing it against the back of the chair by her desk. When she realized what she was doing she immediately stopped, hoping it was not too late. But there was no time to worry about herself; Joey had the whole bed shaking beneath her as she reached the peak of her passion. Her hips rose higher and higher from the bed, humping animalistically against the air, until a sharp cry escaped from her throat and she collapsed, sweating profusely, onto the rumpled bedcovers.
A communal sigh rose from the circle of heavily breathing girls. One said, "That was beautiful. I haven't seen anything like it since Nureyev and Dame Margot Fonteyn balleted themselves into a climax two years ago in New York."
"Yeah," someone else said. "And Joey did it the hard way, with only half a partner."
That broke the ice and they were comfortable and joking again. Joey smiled at them like a fond mother. When they crowded around, each begging for a chance to use the dead penis next, she only shook her head and pushed them aside.
"Here," she said, handing the long black rod to Amy. "I think my roommate should get seconds."
But Amy could only gag, then regurgitate her dinner over the proffered gift, completely messing up the object of Joey's recent ecstasy.