My cock doesn’t drop even the slightest bit as I watch her sexy ass swishing out the door.

So she’s a virgin… things just got a hell of a lot more interesting.

She’ll be back. There isn’t a single doubt in my mind that she’ll be back. She got a taste of my rock hard cock, and I know she liked it.

Sure, she got a little freaked out about actually going through the whole thing. Interestingly, she got freaked out about receiving pleasure. Probably it’s some kind of complex, as if she doesn’t deserve to feel good herself. Unfortunately, a lot of women have something like that.

Sex in our culture can be so one sided. The message a lot of women get is that they’re supposed to please men, and sure that’s all well and good, especially from my perspective. But they should also know that they need to feel good too. Sex isn’t just for men.

I look out my bedroom window and see her getting into a passing taxi. Good, at least she’s going to get home safe, and she’ll probably call me tomorrow.

Meanwhile, I have this massive, aching erection to deal with. Normally I can exercise it away if I really need to, but not when I’ve been this close to sinking it into some sweet, tight pussy.

Now normally, getting pussy isn’t a problem. I’d just scroll through my phone and find one of the many willing women, and call whichever one strikes my fancy that night.

But ever since meeting Mia, I just can’t. It’s not like we’re going out. It’s not some loyalty thing. At least I don’t think it is. But I just don’t want anyone else. The thought of sinking my cock into some nurse’s pussy just isn’t doing it for me.

Instead, I sink back onto the bed, and grip my hard cock in my hand.

I close my eyes and arch my back as my fist travels up and down my cock, and I think of Mia and her breasts and the way it felt when her mouth was wrapped around my cock.

I imagine that she gets on top of me and sinks her pussy down onto me and my cock and it feels so fucking good, so fucking tight. She cries out a little bit with the pain, but after a moment it’s gone and she’s moaning in pleasure. My fat cock fills her completely and she braces her hands on my hard pecs and rides me insanely. She can’t get enough, and soon we’re both coming together.

My fist is a blur on my cock as I tense up the muscles in my legs and I come, shooting my load high and far onto my chest.

Damn, a fucking sticky mess awaits me when I open my eyes.

I head to the shower and let the steam pile up around me, keeping the window open a crack, because I like to feel a bit of a chill when I step out of the shower.

I hit the sack early, falling asleep to uneasy dreams that I can’t quite remember when I wake up.

In the morning, I check my phone, and of course there’s a message from Mia. “I’m sorry about last night,” she writes. “I don’t know what came over me.”

“Don’t worry about it,” I write. “It wasn’t a problem. Maybe we could meet later this week? We still have that date on Friday, remember?”

“Sounds good,” writes Mia.

I smile to myself as I put my phone down as I’m getting ready for work. Friday. She’s in. That means she’s in for the cock. It’s only a matter of time before I get to test her sweet virgin pussy.

The ride to work is uneventful. I take the Porsche instead of the Triumph today, for the only reason being that I just feel like it.

“Administration wants to see you,” says someone. I don’t even notice who it is.

This has become the constant refrain to my life here in the hospital. Administration always wants to see me. Apparently, to them, I’m always causing trouble.

To me, I’m doing exactly what it is I need to be doing. I’m saving lives, performing life saving, complicated surgeries that not many others can perform. If it ends up costing the hospital a little more money, or if I violated a couple of their precious procedures in the process, then I’m just going to keep doing what it is I do best, and that’s making sick people better.

I head off to Johnson’s office, not bothering to knock. I just open the door and walk in.

“What is it this time, Johnson?” I say. “Let’s just get this thing…” I’m about to say “over with,” but I suddenly notice that it’s not just Johnson that’s here, but two others, a well-dressed man and an elegant looking woman.

The woman is seated behind Johnson’s desk, and Johnson and the man are standing near her, looking grim and serious.

I don’t like the look of this.

“What’s the deal? You finally decided Johnson doesn’t deserve his own office? Hey, I can understand that.”

“This isn’t a time for joking, Dr. Horton,” says the woman. “I’m Ms. Besley, from the oversight committee.”

“Ah,” I say. “Now it makes sense. What? Johnson’s been giving you a hard time, and you needed to bring in the big guns to keep him in line?”

Johnson glares at me. Whatever, I can take glares and nasty looks all day.

I sit down in the chair in front of Ms. Besley, not waiting to be offered a seat.

She stares at me with daggers in her eyes. Her posture is serious and business like, not to mention annoying.

“It has come to our attention, Dr. Horton, that you have been intentionally violating hospital procedure for years.”

“Only when I can,” I say.

“This isn’t the time for joking. I thought we had already established that.”

“Fine,” I say, bringing out my serious tone. “Look, I’m a good surgeon, and you all know that. I’m not going to say I’m the absolute best, although there have been those who claimed that, and in my more arrogant times, I’ve said the same thing. But the point is that I’m good. I help the patients in a way that others can’t. And if I have to break a few rules to do that, then my view is that the overall outcome is worth it.”

Ms. Besley just stares me down. She doesn’t speak. There’s an uncomfortable silence in the room as Johnson shifts his weight. The other man stands perfectly still. For a second, I wonder if he’s alive, but then I hear him slightly sigh, letting out his breath slowly and torturously, as if he’s been trying to hold it in the whole time.

“We are not here to dispute your talents in the operating room,” says Ms. Besley. “But you have shown with your work history that you seem to have committed to constantly violating hospital policy, which I might add is not arbitrary in the least bit.”

I just smile at her, a forced smile, sure, but a smile nonetheless.

I nod at her. “That may be true,” I say.

She glares at me again.

“Dr. Horton is a great surgeon,” says Johnson, suddenly speaking up. “He’s done what others can’t.”

Wow, I can’t believe it. Is Johnson, my constant nemesis, sticking up for me?

“We’re not here to hear your opinions, Mr. Johnson,” says Ms. Besley, shooting him a glare almost as bad as the one she’s been giving me.

“Sorry,” says Johnson, shuffling his weight again.

I almost feel sorry for the guy, despite all the shit he’s given me over the years. Here he is, in his own office, with someone else sitting behind his desk, someone who’s essentially just telling to shut up.

“It has come to my attention that recently you prescribed a completely untested drug to a young woman who wasn’t even your patient. As you are certainly aware, this goes beyond violating mere hospital policy…”

“I’m going to have to interrupt you right there,” I say. “Can you tell me which case you’re referring to?”

“You’re suggesting you’ve done this multiple times, enough times that you don’t know which single instance I’m referring to?”

“I’m not going to answer questions like that without a lawyer. Just level with me.”

“Fine, a Miss Mia Smith…”

“Ah,” I say, cutting her off. “Yeah, the daughter of an old friend…” I should say “ex-friend,” but that sounds weird. After all, I’m sure we’ll patch things up once he realizes what I’ve done for his daughter, that I’ve completely cured her.

“So what happened?”

I explain the situation, how Mia hadn’t been outside in a year. And I explain the research supporting my use of methylene blue in the case, and I explain that it’s not a prescription drug and that there’s no legal precedent that would prevent me from providing it to her as a mere suggestion.

Ms. Besley makes a sour face, puckering her lips unpleasantly at me. “It sounds to me like the girl has psychological problems and that you just further encouraged her problems with some untested and unproven substance.”

“This supposedly unproven substance is in the WHO book of necessary emergency medicines,” I say. “It has a number of proven uses, and it’s currently being investigated for Progeria, which has a terrible effect, as you know, on children.”

I get the sense she’s not a doctor herself, and doesn’t know what the hell I’m talking about. But she can look it up later. After all, I’m sure she’s recording this conversation surreptitiously for evidence purposes, or so she can listen to it later and congratulate herself on how hard nosed she was.

“That may very well be,” she says. “But you’ve gone too far this time, Dr. Horton. We’ve had too many complaints.”

“Great,” I say. “What are you going to do? Suspend me?”

“Not yet, but…”

“What? One more false move and I’m toast, lost license and everything? I’ve been hearing that from Johnson for years.”

“No,” says Ms. Besley, shaking her head vigorously. “That isn’t the current situation. I’m going to recommend that the board investigate this further.”

“What does that mean?”

“I’m going to recommend that your employment with the hospital be terminated and that your medical credentials be thoroughly investigated by a review committee.”

“I’ve heard that one before.”

“Have you?”

The truth is, I haven’t. But I’m not worried. They’re going to fire me, their best surgeon? Who else is going to cut out all the brain tumors?

“I’m done,” I say. “I’ve had enough of this shit for today.”

“We’ll be speaking soon,” says Ms. Besley.

“Looking forward to it,” I say.

11.

Mia

“You did what?”

“I told the hospital about what he did to you.”

“Did to me? Are you kidding, Dad? He helped me. I can leave my room now. See? I’m in the kitchen right now. I’m not stuck up in that horrible room.”

“We don’t know how long the effects are going to last, or whether or not it’s safe.”

“That’s crazy. You asked Liam to come help me. And he researched it all. There aren’t any side effects. I thought you’d be happy for me, to have finally found something that worked. And what really doesn’t make any sense is that you wanted Liam to come help me. And then you report him?”

My dad shrugs and goes back to his coffee.

“Asshole,” I mutter under my breath.

“What was that?”

“I called you an asshole,” I say.

My dad pauses for a moment. “You’ve never spoken to me like that before.”

“Well maybe it’s time I start calling you on your bullshit,” I say.

“What’s going on in here?” says my mom, entering from the living room. “Are you two arguing again?”

“You already know what happened,” I say to her. “Dad reported Liam to the hospital. He’s in trouble now. They’re investigating him and everything.”

“It’s fine,” says my dad. “I just wanted to scare him a little. He’s been in worse situations before, trust me. He has a record a mile long.”

“Well maybe that won’t help him with this case,” I say. “Did you ever think of that? Maybe this is the final straw for him.”

My dad doesn’t say anything and my mom looks worried.

“I’ve had enough of this place,” I say. “I’m moving out as soon as I can. I’m too old to be living at home anyway.”

“But what will you do?” says my mom, sounding worried.

I shrug. “Get a job, go to college. Do what everyone else my age is doing. I just want to be normal.”

I Just want to have sex, is what I think to myself, but I’m not yet bold enough to say that to my parents. After all, I’m not crazy. But it’s my own stupidity, my own embarrassment, or whatever it is, that’s kept me from having sex. I have no excuses now. But tonight’s the night. Tonight’s the night that I’m going to finally let Liam have me. I’m completely determined to have his cock.

“Are you all right?” says my mother.

“I’m fine,” I say. “I’m going out.”

“Where to?”

I shrug.

I grab my purse and head out the door.

I’m wearing a short skirt today, letting my bare legs show. I have on a tight t-shirt, and the look is somewhat interesting. It’s vaguely… something. Who knows, maybe I’m inventing my own style. That wouldn’t be too bad, would it? Every style has to start somewhere, after all. Someone had to wear it first, and then it just evolved from there.

I spend the day just wandering around the city. It’s still strange to be out in the world, but the effect is starting to wear off. I guess I’m starting to experience something like reverse culture shock, even though I’m not sure what that really means. I found a book at a bookstore that talked about people coming back to the US from years living abroad. And they all had some trouble adjusting to the culture, even though it was their own. Maybe that’s what happening to me. I’m just having some trouble adjusting.

But then again, some people take a year off from college to do whatever. And they’re fine. Shouldn’t I be fine? Then again, they don’t stay locked up in their rooms thinking that they’re never going to be able to come outside again. And that’s what happened to me. Shit, I’m getting tired of myself, just thinking these same thoughts over and over again.

I’ve got my date tonight. I don’t even want to return home. I’m just going to take the bus over to Liam’s place even if it takes me an hour or more. I’ll walk if I have to. I’m not going to go through the possibility of a confrontation between him and my dad, and I don’t want to face my parents again either. I feel a little guilty about how I spoke to my dad, but on the other hand he really deserved it.

It’s kind of weird, because he and Liam are supposedly friends. But I guess they’re the type of friends that like to “give each other shit.” And my dad’s not going to let anyone, even a friend, no matter how long he’s known him, endanger the health of his daughter. So I get that. He’s just trying to protect me. He’s doing what any good dad would do. But he’s taken it too far. I’m fine. Can’t he see that? I’m better than I’ve ever been, health wise. I’ve been taking two drops a day and haven’t had a single attack since that day in the diner.

The day goes by quickly. I barely even notice what it is that I get up to the entire day. If I had to guess, I’d say I spent the majority of the time people watching. I wander through the parks in the city, admiring the trees and the grass, the simple things, and watching couples going by, hand in hand, talking happily, and sometimes arguing. I want that. I know I want that. I’ve been alone too long, and I can’t take it anymore. And more than that, I want to experience what it is that everyone else seems to like and love so much. Not just sex, but a real relationship. Could Liam be that for me? I sure hope so, although he doesn’t exactly seem like a relationship kind of guy. Then again, I can tell there’s something between us, something powerful that can’t be denied.

Liam calls me.

“I was just thinking about you,” I say.

“We still on for dinner? I thought we’d try a restaurant this time instead of my house.”

“Sounds good,” I say. “I’m already in Center City. Do you want to meet me somewhere?”

“There’s a fancy Italian place…”

“What about something simpler? I left the house early today, and I’m not exactly dressed for a fancy dinner.”

“What are you wearing?”

“A t-shirt and a skirt.”

“Sounds hot.”

“Listen,” I say. “I’m sorry about the other night… I don’t know what came over me.”

“Don’t worry about it,” says Liam. “I wish you had told me earlier, but it’s not a big deal. We can go slow, if you like.”

“I don’t want to go slow tonight,” I say.

Liam laughs. “Honestly, that’s what I was hoping to hear. OK, I’ll send you the address of the place soon. Meet me there in twenty minutes?”

“Sound good,” I say, saying goodbye and hanging up.

He sends me the directions to a Thai place a moment later and I smile reading his message. “I may be a decent cook, but I’m sure these guys do a better Thai curry anyway.”

I can’t wait for tonight. I’m still a little nervous. But for some reason, seeing that Liam didn’t totally freak out at the revelation that I was a virgin—this all makes me feel more comfortable somehow. I can’t really explain it. But I already know tonight is going to be a special night, one that I’m going to remember for a long, long time.

And hopefully I’ll be remembering it with Liam.

But is that just my own little fantasy? Does he just think of me as a hot little fling, another notch on the bedpost?

I don’t know. I don’t know how I could know.

“Excuse me,” says someone, walking right into me from behind.

“That’s OK,” I say, turning around to see who’s just run into me.

It’s a nurse, wearing her blue scrubs. She’s bending over, trying to pick up a couple shopping bags that she must have dropped when she ran into me.

“Here,” I say, bending down. “Let me help you with those. You’ve done a lot of shopping,” I say, trying to make a joke, as I hand her small bag after small bag.

“Just trying to deal with the stress of work,” she says, making an exaggerated grin.

“You work at the hospital?” I say.

“Yeah,” she says. “Mercy H., actually.”

“Oh,” I say. “Maybe you know Liam Horton, then.”

She makes a face that I don’t know how to interpret.

I look at her more carefully. She’s a woman a few years older than me, maybe around 25. She’s very pretty, with long blonde hair, a big bust, and a shapely figure overall. The scrub pants hug her thighs tightly. I can imagine that the guys would be all over her.

“Yeah,” she says, after a pause. “I know him. We used to go out, if you could call it that.”

“Oh,” I say. “Actually, I’m meeting him tonight for dinner.”

We both stand up, and I hand her the last of her little bags. For the first time, I notice that she’s been shopping for fancy lingerie from a local boutique.

“Well,” she says. “Just be careful, that’s all I’ll say.”

“Be careful? What do you mean?”

“How well do you know Liam?”

I shake my head. “Not that well.” I don’t want to get into the whole story here, about how he’s my dad’s friend, and how he cured my weird immunological illness.

“I still work with him,” says the woman. “And we went out a couple times. It was the old pump and dump, just so you know. Then again, it was hot.”

A wistful, faraway look appears on her face for a moment, as if she’s remembering a time of great pleasure or happiness.

“The pump and dump?” I say.

She laughs. “Oh, right. You’re young enough not to know.”

That annoys me a little. Some might take it as a compliment, but after all I’m already thinking that I’m not a real adult, that I’m too young and most of all, too inexperienced.

“The pump and dump,” she says, “is something that sooner or later, all women on the market encounter. It’s when a guy uses you…” She lowers her voice so that no one around us will be able to hear. “Just to fuck, and then you never hear from him again.”

“Oh,” I say, feeling stupid. “But you still work with him. That must be awkward, right?”

“He just pretends nothing ever happened. He got his fuck. And then he moved on. As far as he’s concerned that’s all he needed from me.”

“Oh,” I say, a sinking feeling appearing inside me, making me feel like I’m drowning from the inside out, if that makes any sense.

“But he was good,” she says, that wistful look appearing on her face again. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s worth it. You decide. Just a warning. I’ve got to go.”

“OK,” I say, not knowing what to say. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it,” she says, starting to walk away, her blonde hair flopping in her utilitarian pony tail.