The Haunting of Lust in the ER

By Rick Fischer.

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He went into the ER and as soon as he walked in, the smell of blood, sweat and dirt permeated his senses. All he could hear was the moans and chattering of the sick… sick, poor people were all he could see, in chairs, standing, on gurneys, on the floor, all over the place, they all melded in to one single chaotic mess of pain and sickness.

“Surgery, that’s the rotation” he thought. He’ll have to gather those who needed to go under the knife. As soon as someone left a computer free, he logged in with his password; someone’s cry of pain derailed his train of thought: the Orthopods were reducing some fracture… "Now, back to work". He checked the consulting list: only eight consults. He’d always had a good back. He wrote the ID’s of the patients on his notepad and right about then his co-intern showed up: slim, tall, gaunt, curly black hair in dark green scrubs with a cinnamon skin, her face though friendly, was distant. “Got the consults?” - “Yeah, only eight. Let’s get them quickly, I’ll do the first four” - “Good, let’s do it”. It was already his fourth week in the rotation, so he was feeling rather fit. The first was a knife wound, it didn’t seem like it was going to need a thorax tube but the x-ray wasn’t there yet. He did need stitches though. "Another hooligan" he thought. Dr. Sanchez used to like football before this rotation. The following two: suspected intestinal obstructions. He ordered the CATs, blood works and nasogastric tubes and left the easiest for last… suspected appendicitis.

In the mess of the ER, the only actual way to find a patient was to yell his name at the top of one’s lungs. “DANIELA RODRIGUEZ!" he cried. He saw a raised hand above one of the ER’s chairs, a 17 year old girl, very slim, and very pale, dirty blond, and curly shoulder-long hair dyed in at least two colors, a common sight in this city. He proceeded to interview the girl. The presentation was rather typical: fever, nausea, and vomiting since the morning, with abdominal pain that was moving towards the right groin, last period one week ago (so very little chance of painful ovulation - or pregnancy - yeah, pretty straight), and the urine and blood work was already in: elevated blood white cell count, no sign of infection in the urinary tract. Pretty clear appendicitis.

All that made the physical exam a mere formality. Rather hastily, Dr. Sanchez ordered her into the only available exam room, and told her to lay down in the bed. She gave him a funny look and some sort of smile. He wasn’t paying much attention: confirming the appendicitis and calling the resident was all that was in his mind.

She laid flat on her back on top of the gurney, and lifted her tank top. He helped her lower her sweatpants all the way down to the hipbones. He didn’t stop to pay attention to the hourglass shape of her milky pale abdomen, but this time, her green eyes gave him a rather playful look and her soft pink lips a side smile. This time he had taken the time to notice, and in the split of a second he also noticed the standing hairs on her forearms, her nipples poking through her top, the sweat forming in her hairline. Now all of the sudden, the submissive yet complacent way she had followed his orders was starting to make sense, oh boy... “Everything is clear in retrospective” he thought, trying to keep his cool while returning her knowing glance. He didn’t pay attention to when she smiled back, because he had laid his hands on her abdomen, looking for appendicitis signs. Bloomberg's, Rovsing’s, Psoas’: all were positive, it was confirmed. Her moaning of pain would have broken his concentration if it wasn’t for the softness of her skin. He felt as if sinking his hands in silk-lined milk, his brow was sweating and his face was flustering... he had to get out of there. Quickly, he opened the exam room’s door and proceeded to explain to her the course of action. She was getting surgery. Then he called the resident and booked the OR and she was taken in shortly after that. He didn't want anymore of that temptation. Luckily, his co-intern was in her first week of the rotation and clearly pretty eager to go and assist in the OR. He was glad and relieved to let her.

The day was shortly over. During the night, in his bed, he lost himself in the softness of her skin. Part of him wanted to feel it again, but he knew he couldn't, although her memory helped him sleep.

Early morning he checked his e-mail and recognized her name: she was among his assigned patients for the morning rounds. He wanted to be strong but at the same time he was paving the way for his undoing: he shaved that morning, put on his best cologne and combed his brown hair.

Again, he left her for last. Already he had rounded all his other patients, and approaching her room, he realized it was a single patient room and tried not to think about it... He felt butterflies in his gut. "What the fuck! Am I fifteen again?" he thought. He knew his willpower was to be tested, so he grabbed the door knob and opened it.

There she was. Her wet hair falling on her shoulders, her wet body covered only by a towel. His nose was immersed in bath oils and shampoo perfumes. He reacted quickly: as soon as he stepped in to the room, he turned around to close the door. "Should I come back later?" said Sanchez with his back turned towards her. "No, doc. It's OK, you can stay" she said playfully. He put himself together, turned around and walked towards her, talking about the care of the surgical wound, while she removed the towel and put it on the bed exposing her naked body. He could suddenly see her youthful perky breasts, with pink pointy nipples and her soft pale skin still dripping wet. He stopped his approach at an elbow's length. His heart was pounding in his throat, her gaze was oscillating between his thick lips and his brown eyes. He saw her wet thin lips and her opened mouth, felt her breath on his face... He closed in on her face and she closed her eyes.
"Please lay on the bed" he managed to say. With a nervous smile the girl did it gracefully so. His hands were trembling as he heard the crackling of the plastic covering of her surgical bandage. Thankfully, he could still think of her as a patient. "No signs of inflammation" he mumbled, taking a step back from the bedside. The sun was shining over the blond hairs of her mons Venus. She followed his gaze and covered it with her hands while smiling playfully. "Everything seems to be normal, Miss Rodriguez. We will discharge you this afternoon. In the discharge forms you will find instructions as to how to care for the wound and your follow-up appointment" he said as professionally as he could. "Thank you, Doctor" she said with a smile on her face. Sanchez walked out of the room and closed the door as fast as he could. His face was red, his heart was pounding. He needed to go to the bathroom.

He had barely resisted the temptation. The cold water coursing down his face was washing away his thoughts of lust and he started thinking about how he did not want to become the main protagonist of the next complications staff meeting. "The patient's stitches were torn after the intern fucked her brains out..." he could almost hear in Dr. Salim's heavy accent...

Before getting out of bed the next morning, he looked at the e-mail with the patients chart. Daniela wasn't there anymore. He felt relieved and sorry at the same time. Back to the hospital, as he walked around the floor she was in, he could hear the nurses giggling behind him. "The patient in room 420 left you something, doctor" said one of the nurses, giving him a tiny piece of paper. Inside it, a cellphone number. No name. "How long do I have to wait until it stops being unprofessional to call?" he thought. "At least I'll wait until the stitches are removed" he added, just smiling.

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Guys this is my first fiction writing, let me know what you think in the comments. Enough writing...

P.S: Thanks for the support. It's been great. My better half and I worked in the punctuation issues, hope it's more enjoyable!