I walk of shamed it back to my apartment, showered and threw on clothes. I still had an hour before I needed to leave for work, and Ashley said she would stop by on her way to the office for coffee. Thank the sweet lord she only lives eight blocks away from me.
I had just popped a Keurig in my coffee machine when the doorbell rang. I scurried to the door and opened it.
“Hi,” I said, leaning the side of my face up against the door.
“What’d you doooo?” Ashley laughed.
“Oh, just made a total fool out of myself!” I opened the door wider so she could come inside.
“Tell me.” Ashley walked into the kitchen and pulled two mugs from my cupboard.
As she made her coffee, I told her how Peter wasn't feeling well, how I got the bright idea to come to his aid as some kind of sexpot Florence Nightingale, and how Peter couldn't have cared less.
“Josie, come on! He was sick.”
“It’s not like he had West Nile. It was allergies if that. Ash, he was just sitting on the couch, engrossed in ESPN.”
Ashley rolled her eyes. “Maybe he just wasn’t in the mood!”
“Aren’t guys always in the mood?”
“Nah, that’s just you, you big hornball.”Ashley sat down at my dinky kitchen table.
I sighed and sipped my coffee. “So you don't think it means we’re like, slowing down or anything?”
“Not at all!”
I relaxed a little. “I guess I’m just embarrassed.”
“Yeah, that’s fucking embarrassing. What were you thinking, Nurse Josie?” She grinned at me and I threw a sugar packet at her.
Ashley and I left for work not long after. It was a busy day, which I was grateful for, because it kept the humiliating flashbacks to a minimum. Bill even let me leave early to thank me for being so “productive.” Rewarding me for things I should already be doing—basically the best boss an entitled millennial like myself could ask for.
On my way home, I got a text from Peter: Feeling like a human being again. Okay if I come over later?
I texted back: Sure. I’ll be home in five minutes.
Will you be wearing the nurse costume?
Ka-ching! I picked up my pace and made it to my apartment in five minutes flat. I was sweating, so I quickly jumped in the shower to rinse off. Then I rummaged through my overnight bag to find the now infamous nurse costume.
By the time Peter rang the doorbell, I was in full role-player mode.
“Why hello, my patient,” I said as I swung the door open.
“Wow, those are definitely not the hospital mandated rubber shoes,” Peter said, eyeing my favorite five inch eff me heels that I’d decided to pair with the ensemble.
He stepped inside and swatted my ass. “Get in the bedroom.”
I giggled and scurried down the hall. Peter already had his shirt off by the time he entered my room. He unzipped the top of the dress more and pulled it open, so that my breasts spilled out. Lowering his head, he circled his tongue so slowwwwly over my nipples.
“Ohmygod,” I moaned, running my fingers through his hair.
Peter reached down and hiked my dress up. I wasn't wearing underwear because obviously slutty nurses go commando, and Peter grazed his fingers between my legs. We fell back on the bed and Peter wiggled out of his pants just enough to so he could enter me. He pumped slowly, doing that thing where he circled his hips and rubbed his pelvis against my clitoris. I had conveniently fallen on top of one of my European shams (how fancy am I?), and with my hips propped up Peter’s thrusts felt un-freaking-real. He kissed me right as I came, my entire body convulsing.
Peter gave me a nanosecond of recovery before flipping me on my knees and entering me from behind. The lights were on, so, um, thank god I had gotten a wax just a few days before! I could hear Peter grunting behind me, and when he came, he reached forward, wrapping his arms around me and squeezing my breasts.
We fell over on our backs, trying to catch our breath. “You cured me,” Peter said finally.