Persuasive
I woke up slowly, and for a moment I could not at all remember where I was. Once my eyes focused, I realized immediately that I was in a hospital room, but still couldn’t remember why I would be in one. I could hear the faint beeping and wheezing of some machines somewhere above and behind me, and it started coming back to me. I felt at my throat and realized that my left arm was fitted with a number of plastic tubes. I had a thick bandage around my throat. It was all with me now: I had come in to have a cyst removed from my vocal chords. I had just finished surgery. The only thing that seemed strange was that I could see the sun was setting over the mountains through the large window, and I had come in mid-morning for what was supposed to be a 30 minute procedure. I fumbled around until I found the weird remote-control thing that controlled the bed, and pushed the buttons until I was sitting mostly upright. Then I pushed the big red button marked “Call”.
A moment later there was a click and a buzz. A woman’s voice spoke “Hello! Please don’t speak yet. Someone will be right there to help you.”
I sat back and relaxed and a few moments later, a very serious looking woman with a professional smile came in, dressed in purple scrubs.
“Welcome back!” she said. “My name is Amelia, and I’ll be your day shift nurse. How are you feeling? Can you nod your head if you are feeling ok and shake it if you need some help or pain medication?”
I nodded.
“Great! The doctor doesn’t want you speaking for 24 hours. There were some complications with the surgery that she will explain to you when she gets here. Your mom and sister were here for a few hours, but I think they just took a break to go get some dinner downstairs. They should be back soon.” I nodded and smiled. It felt like I had a scratchy lump in my throat.
“The doctor said you might need some local anesthetic for your throat to stop you coughing. Are you feeling a need to cough? Like there is an itch at the back of your throat?” I nodded again.
“I’ll go get you some, and be right back with some ice chips, too.”
A few minutes later, before Amelia got back, my step-mom and sister came in. My step-mom was almost crying when she saw me awake and sitting up, and Perry hung back while she gave me a huge, body-crushing hug. Her hair smelled fantastic.
“I was so worried about you!” she cried out, talking loudly and quickly, “When they came out to tell me that there were issues, and it took so long, and…. “ She hugged me again, pulling painfully at the lines in my arm. As she pulled back, I held up a thumb to say I was ok.
My step-mom was my dad’s second wife, married after my mother left him about 15 years ago, when I was just a toddler. She hadn’t had much to do with us. Dad had married Sabine five or six years ago and I had an immediate crush on her. She was about 5′6″ with blue-green eyes that I suspected were mostly contact-colored. Her hair was a light white-blonde and she wore it in long, lustrous waves that washed down well past her shoulders. Her figure was slim, with a little padding here and there, and a largish chest. She was a great dresser, often wearing skirts, low-cut blouses, and understated jewelry. She was good with makeup, often going for a pretty subtle look. My sister, Perry, looked nothing like her, favoring my mother. She was taller, about 5′8″ and very slim. Although her chest looked big for her slimness, I always guessed she was a B cup at best. Her hair was strawberry blonde and very straight. She had worn a pixie cut for most of middle school, but now that she was in college, she had grown it out until it almost reached her butt.
My step-mom and sister stayed with me for a few hours, chatting and asking me questions. The nurses got us a little pad that I could write on and we carried on a slow and kind of awkward conversation for a while. Dr. Downing came in to give us the rundown on the operation. Apparently, the cyst had been some sort of growth that looked like a cyst but wasn’t. I didn’t follow everything, but she said that they were sending it for analysis and testing and would tell me whatever they found. Dr. Downing also told me that they had needed to do some more extensive work on my vocal chords than had been expected and that I shouldn’t be surprised if my voice changed slightly. She also said they had had a run of bad luck with some of their electrical instruments during the surgery; three of them had just died, making it a little frustrating for the team, and requiring replacement each time. Dr. Downing left, promising to come back tomorrow to let me know if I could try speaking.
Nurse Amelia came back with ice chips and spray anesthetic, and eventually, I wrote that Sabine and Perry should feel free to go home. I was fine but tired.
Sabine gave me another big hug and a kiss on the cheek. I could feel her plush body warm and soft against me and was glad for the thick, heavy hospital bed blankets. Perry tousled my hair before they took off.
I dozed for a while, and eventually Amelia came back to tell me she was taking off for the night and that my night nurse, Vicki, would come check on me in a little while.
It was a mostly uneventful night, with some terrible TV, and a lot of in-and-out dozing. Vicki was much younger than Amelia, or at least looked it. She was pert and small, with dark hair and large, dark eyes. She was exactly the kind of person I always assumed decided not to become a nurse because the patients would always be hitting on her. She wore blue scrubs and was very nice, but I didn’t see much of her. I finally turned off the TV and slept.
The morning was more of the same. I had some warm soup for breakfast (I was starving) which felt both really good and made me want to cough and sputter. Saline bags were switched out, spray anesthetic was applied, and there was a lot of fuss and bother as the hospital started waking up. Sabine visited me briefly, wearing a form-clinging skirt of black and a top with a keyhole neck with a dark, transparent mesh enhancing, rather than concealing her deep cleavage. She was only there to wish me good morning and make apologies for my dad. My dad was always very busy, so I was no longer surprised that he didn’t have time to do things like visit me in hospital.
Finally, in the early afternoon, Dr. Downing came back to check me out. She did a thorough inspection and finally told me that I should try vocalizing a bit, and that it would probably feel pretty uncomfortable. I made a few little “Ahh” noises and it didn’t feel bad at all. It did, however, sound a little unlike my voice. It was a little deeper, and, if I had to describe it, “fuller”, like the way you expect a big fat opera singer to be fuller. Finally, Dr. Downing had me try a few sentences. When I told her I felt just fine, and that it didn’t hurt or feel scratchy even, she kind of frowned but gave me the all clear to speak… in moderation.
Amelia came in.
“Would you like some soup?” she asked, always professional.
“Actually, I’d love something a little more substantive. Can I get a hamburger or sandwich or something?” I replied. My voice definitely sounded deeper than it had. I wasn’t sure if I liked it or not… it was just so different. Like an alien speaking for me.
“I… uh, I can’t do that, sorry,” she frowned a little, “The doctor only cleared you for liquid diet until tomorrow.”
“Please? “ I asked, “I don’t feel any pain, and it’s not even scratchy.”
She was looking at me hard, and I swore she was beginning to sweat or something. Her pupils looked large. I wondered if I had pissed her off or something.
“I just can’t. I could get in real trouble… it’s just not my call. Is that ok? Let’s just have some soup.” It was almost like she was pleading with me. I admit it, it made me want to push the issue just a little.
“Can I please have a hamburger instead? Can you make an exception for me?” I asked.
She stood there in silence for a half breath. “Sure. Yeah.” She said it like she was relieved it was over, like some pressure had been released. “I can do that. We’ll just have to make sure we don’t tell anyone, ok?”
“Great!” I gave her a big grin and she turned and scooted out, writing on the little menu card as she went.
It was a little weird. But considering I was still getting used to my own voice… there was a lot of weird.
I was enjoying my hamburger immensely when Dr. Downing popped in. As soon as she saw me, her face darkened. She ran a hand through her blonde-gray hair, her browns knitted together.
“You shouldn’t be having that, you need to let your throat heal and the swelling go down!” She was pissed. “Who is your nurse? She should never have let you order that. Stop eating right now, I don’t want you to do yourself an injury.”
Suddenly I was worried for Amelia’s job. I’d talked her into it and I felt responsible. “Doctor, it’s not the nurse’s fault! I asked her for this.”
“It’s not?” she seemed surprised, like she had just learned something new. Then she shook it off. “Of course it is. My instructions were very clear!” She looked at my chart and the duty whiteboard on my door. “Amelia. OK.”
“Hey, give her a break, please.” I said. “She didn’t want to but I talked her into it. I’m really sorry. Can you just give her a pass this one time?”
“Um… I could… but… “ she was struggling, but against what I wasn’t sure. “But… No, it’s just not acceptable. You don’t have to concern yourself with it.”
“Doctor, please, as a favor to me.” I pushed the unfinished plate away. “Look… no harm no foul. Can you let it go? I won’t have any more. Come check me out, and if its all still ok, then no one gets in trouble? OK?” I felt really guilty about getting Amelia in trouble when she’d been such a good nurse so far.
“Oh… yeah.” She ran another hand through her fading blonde hair. “Yeah, ok, that will work. OK. This time.”
She came over and checked out my throat again. She seemed annoyed with the results.
“All good?” I asked.
“Yes, doing fine. Much better than I could have predicted.” She smelled a little like icy hot when she was close. It wasn’t overly pleasant.
“Great. Can I be cleared for solid foods?”
“I don’t think…” she began.
“If everything is fine, then what’s the problem?” I don’t know why I felt so argumentative lately.
I saw a bead of sweat on her forehead. That same sense of pressure that I’d seen in nurse Amelia.
“Let me have solid foods, ok?”
“OK. I can do that.” She let out a huge sigh. “OK.” She wrote furiously on my chart for a moment. “I just don’t want you to hurt yourself.” She collected her things and started to leave, looking back at me sternly once at the doorway before heading off down the hall.
A moment later, Amelia came in. “Thanks,” she said. “I heard what you did for me. I never should have ok’ed that hamburger in the first place. But thanks for sticking up for me. That could have been bad.” Her smile was much softer than it had been.
“No problem,” I replied.
I was tired. I was drifting off to nap time again when it occurred to me: Had I done something? Had I become more persuasive somehow? Maybe it was just that I was asserting myself? It felt like something very similar had happened in both arguments. I wasn’t sure what it meant, but I vowed to try it out some more… when I woke up. And with that resolution, I drifted off to sleep.
I woke up to Vicki checking the machines and the drip. I had been having bizarre dreams of booming voices and walking around school, trying to ask for help, but every time I spoke, everyone would clasp their hands to their ears and fall over, spasming.
It was dark outside. I wondered if my family had come and gone, or just not come today.
I looked up at Vicki, trying to come up with some experiment. I wanted to try and convince her to do something she normally wouldn’t do, but I didn’t want to get in trouble or anything if it didn’t work.
“Nurse, I’ve been wondering,” this already sounded lame in my head, “what do nurses usually wear?”
She looked at me for a heartbeat before chuckling lightly. “This. Scrubs. Why? You missing nurses in white hats and skirts?” She went back to pushing buttons on the machine.
“No, no, I mean… what do you guys wear outside work?” What the hell was I thinking? My new voice sounded strange in my ears still.
She laughed again, louder. “Clothes. Normal clothes.”
“I’d love to see that,” I said.
“What?” she stopped what she was doing again, looking at me like I had just started speaking Russian.
“Can you change into your regular clothes?” I asked.
“Um… no… I don’t think so. No. No, of course not.”
“I’d really like to see you in your street clothes. Then you can change right back.” Her face was tight, and I could see that familiar strain in her eyes. Her pupils were large, wide.
“I can’t do that…I…. I… “ she stammered to a stop.
“You can. Please.” I asked, my voice sounding almost husky low.
Then the tension left her, suddenly. “Sure. I’ll go change and be right back.”
Whoa.
Holy shit.
There was no way that should have worked.
It was long enough before Vicki came back that I was worried something had gone wrong. But sure enough, Vicki showed up back in my room, fully dressed in a tight t-shirt and jeans. Her dark hair was down and fell shoulder length. I was speechless. Maybe she was cold, but her nipples were prominent beneath the thin cotton.
I knew it worked right?
Right?
“OK,” she said “You’ve seen it.” She turned to go back out.
“Can you stay a minute, please?” I asked.
“Sure. For a second. What’s up?” she asked. I tried not to stare at her pert breasts.
“Vicki, can you come over here? Closer?” She walked over. I could see her pupils were still dilated.
“I really want you to kiss me,” I said.
“I don’t think I should…,” she half-whispered. I saw the strain come back to her face. She was fighting it. Whatever it was.
“Please kiss me, Vicki.”
“Just once,” she said, leaning down to touch her lips to mine. They were very soft. This was incredible.
“Again. Deeper. A real kiss.”
“No, I…” She took a half step back.
“Please give me a real kiss. Come closer. “
“I can’t…” Her eyes held a tiny tinge of panic. I wanted, then, to just let her off, but I had to see this through. What was I capable of? How far did this go?
“You can. Kiss me Vicki. Kiss me like you want nothing else. Deep and long. Love it. Savor it.” I spoke pretty forcefully.
I saw the tension flow out of her. Her eyes lit up like they were on fire and her mouth found mine, ravenous, seductive. Her lips were so soft and warm and her tongue found mine. She sighed, almost a moan, as we kissed, our lips caressing each other’s lips like lovers who had been long apart. Finally, with a moan, she pulled back, our tongues touching until the very last. “Mmmmm,” she moaned. I was hard as hell.
“Thank you,” I whispered, still stunned.
“Thank you,” Vicki whispered back, her fingers caressing her lips.
“Close the door, please, Vicki,” I whispered, looking her right in her dark eyes. She silently turned and shut my large, heavy hospital door, and I heard it latch with a clunk.
“Now come back to me.” She came back to my bedside. It was dim in here, but not dark. Her nipples stood out through her shirt.
“You don’t mind if I touch you, do you?” I asked. Suddenly the peace in her face faded, replaced with determination, with grit. Her brow furrowed and I watched her shoulders tense. She took a step back.
“I don’t think you should… I think I should go…” Her eyes were wide.
“I think you’d like to be touched. Let me touch you, Vicki. However I want. And you can touch me, too. You want to. You have to. Don’t you?”
“No… no,” she whispered. “I can’t… my fiancé… please…”
“You want me to touch you, don’t you? You want to feel my hands, and lips on you,” I was obsessed. I could feel this working. I saw the resolve in her eyes, like she was trying to hold back a breaking dam with will alone. “And you want to touch me, don’t you, Vicki? You want it so much…”
“Oh…” she sighed. “I…” She looked like she was suffering from a migraine. She put her hands to her face.
“Come here, now. You want to. You want to be mine. Give in.”
“Give in,” she whispered, barely audible. “Yes.”
And she did. I watched her stance change from recoiling to the effortless slink of the predatory cat. Her shoulders relaxed and her eyelids drooped. She looked at me from beneath dark, thick lashes. When she stepped forward, it was a swaying motion. Vicki looked down at me, one hand passing though her dark hair, the other sliding up under her shirt, her fingers deftly popping the front clasp of her bra and then sliding her shirt up. Her breasts were small, but very firm and pert, with large aureole around hard nubbin nipples. She leaned down, keeping her shirt up, presenting those nipples to my lips.
“This is what you wanted, wasn’t it? I could see you staring,” she purred.
I sucked a nipple between my lips and she moaned, pushing her breast harder to my mouth. My tongue worked around her nipple in circles. Her hand snuck down under the sheets, pulling aside the flimsy hospital gown and began to dance lightly over my cock, fully hard. I gasped slightly and my teeth bit down on her nipple, eliciting a little cry of pleasure from Vicki.
Her hand grasped me more firmly and began a delicious twirling rhythm. I moved my mouth to her other nipple. She began stroking me faster, occasionally letting her hand slide off my cock to slip down to my balls, fondling them ever so gently before going back to her strokes. It had been a long time, and I was already ready.
I released her nipple, and ran my fingers through her hair. I could feel my balls begin to boil.
“I want to come on your face, Vicki,” I whispered.
“No, it’s ok,” she replied, “just come on my hand.” She tried to move her nipple back to my lips.
“Vicki,” I said, not whispering this time, forcefully, a command. “Take my come on your face. I want to see it on you. Now, Vicki.”
“Of course…” she looked like it was the greatest suggestion she’d ever heard.
She slid down until her lips were almost on my cockhead. Her eyes looked up at me, locked on mine as she stroked me. I let go. She licked her lips as ropes of white cum began to spray her lips and cheeks, her chin and neck. I came hard, pulse after pulse, until I came to my shuddering end.
“Was that right? Did I do it right?” she asked me, her hand still on my glistening, deflating member.
“Very right,” I said, the last tremors still passing through me. Her face was so beautiful in the dim light, my cum on her cheeks and dripping off her bottom lip.
“One last thing I want from you, Vicki.”
“Anything…” she purred. Really?
“I want you to not have any bad feelings about this. No awkwardness, no unhappiness, no guilt. Can you do that for me?” I asked.
“Of course I can,” she said.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” she said, standing up and snapping her bra back together. “And now, I’d better get back to work!”
As she left, I couldn’t help but marvel. That was amazing. That was the beginning of some amazing things. What did it mean? What had happened?
I got myself arranged and started to fall back asleep. I’d be going home tomorrow. There was so much to think about…