“Oh, God, yes!” Gina belts out in a hushed scream as I work my tongue on her. “Kyle, uhnnnnng . . .”
She tries to be quiet as I make her come, my mouth feasting on her as I work my fingers inside of her. Her hips buck off the bed and her head lashes from side to side on the pillow beneath it. It makes me wonder what it would be like to have her outside of the hospital. I’ll bet Gina is a real screamer. Just thinking of it makes me even harder.
I climb up her body before she recovers from her climax. My dick easily glides into her slick channel. Damn, this feels good. It’s just what I needed after the difficult cases I had today. I could have gone home. I’m off the clock now. But let’s be honest, Gina is a far better choice than my right hand for relieving tension.
In short order, she’s making those noises again and I can’t help but smile. I wonder if every man can make her come this quickly, or if it’s just me. Whatever it is, she’s very responsive. Makes our quick on-call room hookups more interesting, that’s for sure.
“God . . . Kyle . . . oh . . .”
She writhes beneath me as her second orgasm pulls her under. Her tight walls pulsate around me, taking me right along with her. I bury my face in the pillow next to her head to muffle my own cries.
I climb off her and lay on my back next to her, knowing we’d better get dressed soon. There is only so long we can keep the door locked before another resident pounds on it. This is only one of two on-call rooms available to residents, and it’s heading for midnight.
We pull on our clothes but don’t get up. It’s dark in here. Quiet. And we take a beat to enjoy the peace.
In a matter of minutes, I realize Gina is asleep. I laugh. The girl could fall asleep anywhere. Before she went to med school, she volunteered for the Doctors Without Borders organization. She spent a year in Uganda observing and helping medical personnel. She had to learn to sleep through all kinds of shit. Guess it stuck with her.
I look down at her and study her face in the sliver of moonlight shining through the window curtain. Her hair is messy and coming out of her ponytail. Her makeup is smudged from the sleep I woke her out of. She has a long, elegant nose. One that I know has a small smattering of freckles across it even though I can’t see them now. She is beautiful by anyone’s standards. Gorgeous even.
I think back to the day we started all this. This, whatever it is. Friends with benefits. Fuck buddies.
We were a few months into our intern year when Gina fell apart after telling a patient’s family he had died. Doing that was supposed to be the attending’s job, or the resident’s at the very least. Interns are there to learn from them. Typically, they don’t let us do shit our first year. But Gina had a douchebag resident she was working with who decided to throw her head-first into the deep end. Without warning, the prick walks Gina over to the family and tells them Gina has news for them.
She was a wreck. The patient was sixteen years old and died in a car accident. I was sleeping in the on-call room when Gina ran in and broke down. She was almost in hysterics. She knew she’d have to do things like that. It was part of the job. But what the asshole resident didn’t know when he threw her up the goddamn creek without a paddle, was that her younger brother was killed in a car accident when she was in med school.
As interns, she and I had barely gotten to know each other, as our rotations were not on the same schedule. But when she came in the room, it was clear she needed something to help her through it. She needed someone. She needed me. So I gave her the only piece of me I could give.
I don’t even think we spoke a word. We just tore each other’s clothes off and had sex. Raw animal sex. Totally free from emotion. Quick and dirty. Then she went back to work and I went back to sleep. We never even spoke of it.
Then a few weeks later, I had my own crisis. A four-year-old kid came into the ER in anaphylactic shock from a bee sting. She was all but dead when the child’s Hispanic mother carried her in, screaming things in broken English, with the girl’s lifeless body in her arms.
We worked for forty-five minutes to try and get the small beautiful brown girl back. I was given point, which surprised me since I was wet behind the ears. I intubated her, which was no easy feat considering her throat was swelling up like a balloon. I performed CPR until my body simply gave out. We pushed drug after drug, pulling any and all stops to try to work a miracle.
In the end, I was told she was gone from the start, but that it was a good teaching case for me.
I was livid. I threw a procedure tray across the room and cussed out my attending and my resident supervisor. I stormed out, sure I’d be fired after my display of insubordination. Gina saw the tail end of my tirade and pulled me into the on-call room where she ‘helped’ me just as I’d ‘helped’ her a few weeks before.
After that, it just became a thing. When one of us had a bad case or a stressful day, we’d summon the other to an on-call room. It’s been almost a year since it first happened. It’s the ideal situation for two second-year residents owned by the hospital. No messy relationship. No complicated feelings.
I carefully climb over Gina, trying not to wake her. She’s on until morning. She can use all the sleep she can get. And I’ve got a six-pack of ridiculously expensive craft beer waiting for me at home.
~ ~ ~
Next shift, I’m finishing up a chart behind the nurses’ station when a familiar face walks through the ER doors. I smile when I see her, but then I realize she’s got someone with her and she looks worried.
I drop the chart and push through the doors into the waiting area. “Skylar, what’s wrong?”
“Oh, Kyle, I’m glad you’re here,” she says. “This is Jorge, my head chef. An accident in our kitchen caused some burns on his arms.”
I quickly assess the deep red flesh on both of his forearms and escort them into the back.
“Where can I put him?” I ask the charge nurse.
“Curtain two,” she says, before directing one of her nurses to take the case.
I find one of the new interns and have her follow me. This isn’t a complex case and she can easily handle it.
“How did this happen?” I ask Jorge.
“I was stupid,” he says. “One of the strings on my apron got caught on the pasta pot on the stove, and I instinctively reached out to try and keep it from falling.”
A senior resident comes in to take a look and then lets me continue with my assessment. “It looks like second-degree burns mostly. We can give you some pain relief and salve the wounds, but they may take a few weeks to fully heal.”
While my intern, Hannah Clemens, gathers the supplies, I talk to Skylar. She manages a restaurant a few blocks over that bears her maiden name, and that of her parents who own it—Mitchell’s. Skylar grew up with Ethan’s wife, Charlie. She and her sisters, Baylor and Piper, were like sisters to Charlie. They are one big family into which I’m fortunate enough to be included.
“He’ll be okay,” I assure her. “Give him a few days off and make sure the burns stay covered with a non-stick dry bandage while working and he’ll be good as new.”
She breathes out a sigh of relief before she hugs me. “Thank you.”
I laugh. “I didn’t do anything. Looks like you did all the right things before you brought him in.”
“Dr. Stone!” a nurse shouts from the main triage area we call ‘ground zero.’
“Sorry, duty calls,” I say to Skylar on my way out. “I’ll be back to check on Jorge. Until then, Dr. Clemens will get started fixing him up. He’s in good hands.”
“Dr. Stone, hurry,” Joan, the admitting nurse says. “We have a woman in labor who is insisting on pushing.”
The double doors open and a young woman gets wheeled quickly through.
“Room five,” Joan says, directing us to a private room away from ground zero.
“Get Dr. Neill,” I tell Joan.
Dr. Neill is my supervising resident.
“He was called away,” Joan says.
“He was just in curtain two thirty seconds ago,” I say. Joan shrugs at me. “Shit. Then find Manning. And page OB.”
“Doing that now,” she says.
Debbie takes over for Joan, helping me put the girl on the bed.
“What’s your name?” I ask.
“Susan. Susan Markenson,” she belts out during a contraction.
“How far along are you, Susan?” I ask.
“I’m due in ten days. This is my second child. My first came very quickly.”
Great. The nurse hands me some gloves. “I need to check you, okay, Susan?” I ask.
She nods.
I lift her dress and Debbie helps me remove her underpants. And, Holy God, she’s crowning.
“This baby is coming right now,” I say. “Debbie, prep for delivery. Susan, try not to push for a minute. Let us get set up. Is there anyone we can call?”
“My husband is coming, but in this traffic . . . oh, my God, he’s going to miss it,” she cries.
Another intern comes in to see if he can help.
“Susan, this is Dr. Felder, but he prefers to be called ‘Joe.’ He’s an intern. If you want to give him your phone, he can video the birth for your husband.”
“Really?” she says, looking pleased.
“Really?” Joe asks, giving me a crazy look.
“You heard her, she doesn’t want her husband to miss it. Now get her phone. This is happening—now.” I turn to Debbie when she returns with the equipment. “Any word from Neill or Manning?”
“Dr. Neill will be here in ten. Dr. Manning got called into another trauma. He said you can handle it.”
“Handle it? Fuck,” I murmur under my breath.
“Have you delivered a baby before, Dr. Stone?” she asks quietly so we don’t alarm Susan.
“Not by myself,” I admit.
“Well, it looks like you will today,” she says. “Come on, wash up.”
I strip off my exam gloves and wash my hands, then Debbie gowns and gloves me, having arranged all the instruments next to the bed and the panda warmer in the corner.
There isn’t a birthing bed in the room, so I have Susan scoot to the end of the bed and have Debbie stack pillows behind her. Then I ask Debbie to grab a few more nurses to hold up Susan’s legs.
“Uhhhhhhh,” Susan cries. “I have to push.”
“Okay, Susan, go ahead.”
What happens next is one of the most incredible things in nature. A dark head of matted hair slowly works through her opening. Once the baby’s head is out, it rotates up, and I quickly suction its mouth and then check to make sure the cord isn’t around the neck.
“Susan, one more big push and your baby will be here.”
She grunts as she pushes her legs into the nurses’ hands. I watch as first one shoulder, then another comes through. After that, the baby just slides right out.
“You have a son, Susan!”
The door opens and in walks the OB resident followed by Dr. Neill. They take over for me, cutting the cord just as the baby makes his introductory sound in this world. Susan cries when she hears her son for the first time. After they place him on her chest, she thanks me.
But it’s me who is grateful. I just had one of the best experiences a doctor can have. With all the sickness and death that surrounds us, it’s humbling to be reminded of how wonderful life is. I find myself exhilarated. Pent up. I’m not frustrated or stressed. I’m on cloud nine. I pull out my phone and tap out a text to Gina.
Me: Room 1320 in 15 min.
Joe hands off Susan’s phone to one of the nurses who continues to video the baby’s first moments for the absentee father. Then he asks me, “Is it too late to change my specialty?”
We walk out of the room together. “Pretty fucking great, huh?” I say.
He nods and tries to discreetly wipe some moisture from under his eyes. “Yeah, pretty fucking great.”