Post by Dreamfire on Dec 30, 2008 22:04:35 GMT -5
An extra bit I found hiding in my computer that some how got missed when I posted this story. It fits in somewhere in Chapter seven at around
9:30 pm on Monday 16th
“Nurse, clean this patient up, then I’ll take another look at him.” The doctor had made his initial diagnosis and there was nothing acute that couldn’t wait for a clean up. Besides, the smell was making him dizzy.
The man lay still, his eyes closed.
The nurse pursed her lips and pulled a second face mask over the first. It squished her cheeks, but at least her eyes stopped running. “Okay, Sir, we have to get your clothes off you.”
She didn’t expect much reaction but the man stirred, opened his eyes, and nodded. “Oh, that’d be good.” His head followed the nurse as she came around the side of the bed and snapped away as the door banged behind the doctor.
Getting his jacket over the IV was going to be a problem. She eyed the scissors she had on the tray. Most street people and bums who came in were extremely precious about their stinking clothes, and the EMT officer who had brought him in said he’d been violent in the ambulance. She didn’t want to get into a fight.
She started to pull his sleeve over his hand, he tried to help by pulling his arm back out of but dehydration and disorientation had affected his coordination, and he banged his elbow painfully against the bars of the bed. He hung his head. “Do you have a blade? Why don’t we just cut it all off?”
Gratitude poured out in her voice. "Yes. Good idea."
The man mirrored her smile a little. “But don’t burn them just yet. The cops will need to take a look, see if they can figure out who tossed me in the garbage.”
She could see he was trying for an ironic tone but it was merely sad by the last word and tears sprang to her eyes.
“Yes, Sir.”
He held his arm out and she slipped the cold blade of the long scissors up the arm. Small cuts and abrasions went as far as his wrists and stopped. He had bruises on his shoulders and on his forearms. She took it by layers, first the suit jacket, which was a little hard to cut through despite the sharp blades, then the blue shirt, then the once white undershirt. Under all this filth he had a fine body. Strong and supple, a tight stomach and a fine sprinkling of fair hair. She concentrated, not wanting to put anymore marks on the man’s body.
Somewhere between slicing up the arms and cutting up from his belt the man dozed off again, his head to the side, his breathing deep and restful. She hated to wake him and decided to open up all the clothing before she had him move so she could peel it from his body. He didn’t wake while she removed his boots or socks, just murmured in a dream while she pulled the belt from its loops and wound it around her hand. Unlike the other things, it wasn't covered in filth and she placed it in the drawer by his bed, rather than in the big brown bag she had for his other clothes. She took his watch from his wrist and placed it there also. It was a good watch, not a brand she knew but clearly expensive. Well, he couldn't use it now, she hoped his loss of sight was temporary, but the doctor had not made any comment on it that she had heard.
Slicing through his pants took time. His feet and ankles had been protected by sturdy boots but his shins had bruises and abrasions, and there was a long white scar down one thigh. The man was a mystery, new wounds, old wounds, no sight and no memory. She wondered again who he was and how he came to be here. He didn't know and no one had come to claim him. Perhaps he had a wife who beat him. It happened, she'd seen them, big strong men who would never hit a woman or defend themselves against one. Men who hid their wounds from their coworkers and pretended to be tough. Unconsciously she stroked his knee while she tutted. The maternal feelings warred with others as she briefly imagined taking him home after his hospital stay and having him oh so grateful for being saved from an abusive relationship.
At his shorts, she hesitated and felt slightly embarrassed. If he had been unconscious the whole time, it would have meant nothing, if he’d been awake, she could have joked with him and relieved the tension that way. But he was sleeping, she was a female nurse and she had to get the clothes off him before she could give him a sponge bath.
She put her fingers in the elasticized waist and slipped the scissors in.
The man grabbed at the hand at his waist. His eyes flew open, “What…?” His gaze swept the room, settling on nothing. He gritted his teeth.
She stood still, perhaps he would get violent after all.
He blinked and shook his head, his hand flexed and he realized he held her wrist. His left hand touched the bed rails and he sagged.
“Oh, sorry, I … I must have dropped off for a minute, here, let me.” He sat up a little, his breathing harder than a moment ago.
“I'm Leslie, your nurse. You've agreed I can cut your clothes off so I can give you a sponge bath," she reminded him.
This time the smile was ironic. “Probably not a great idea, nurse. I think I need a shower at least.” His eyes scanned past her and his nose wrinkled.
"Well, yes, but you're still weak."
"No, I can manage." He sat up fully and swung his legs over the side of the bed. “Which way?”
“Here, you got it right, its just a few steps away.” She got in under his arm and marveled at the way his clothes stayed on the bed behind him. He was unsteady on his feet and held his hand out in front of him. Now that his clothes were gone, most of the foul odor went with them. Despite the remaining stale sweat, she liked the way he held her tight and leaned on her. They had to take small steps into the bathroom.
“Hot, I like it very hot,” he said as she turned the water on him, and he lifted his face to the steady downpour. She could feel the tension leave his body as the water ran over his face and down his shoulders. He was still unsteady, a mixture of fatigue and lack of balance.
She guided his hand to the grab rail, “Hang on here, I’ll get you a chair and we can soap you up.”
He nodded and held the rail in a white knuckled hand while she pulled the shower chair over. Before he sat, she stopped him. “You need to drop the shorts.”
Again the ironic smile that she was beginning to like. “You ARE a nurse right?”
“Yes.”
“So, you’re used to showering strange men?”
“You’re strange?” she asked, matching his tone and was rewarded with a genuine chuckle and compliance, as he leaned down to pull the shorts from his body and then sit gingerly in the chair.
His energy was spent and he was very grateful for the shower seat. The soft soap suds were fragrant and the shampoo she used smelled like oranges. The warm water was a balm and the nurse’s hands on his body and his in hair were the most wonderful thing he could remember. He dozed.
“Sir? Sir?” her words brought him back from a dream of nubile women and the foam of a warm ocean. He covered himself with his hands, jerking the IV painfully.
“It’s okay, it’s me, Leslie, your nurse. You just dozed but your shower’s done, and I think you’d like to get back to bed, hey?”
“Yeah, ah…” He didn’t want to stand right now, “A towel?”
She pushed a soft towel into his hands. “Sit tight, I’ll just get that bed remade and you’ll be back there in no time. But don’t fall asleep here.”
She sounded really worried. “Maybe I should get someone to sit with you?”
“No. No I’ll stay awake I promise.”
Leslie was relieved too. She felt a forbidden mix of protectiveness for this patient and some embarrassment for herself. She had enjoyed showering this man, perhaps enjoyed it a little too much.
“Okay, how about you talk to me so I know you’re awake?”
“Sure.” He talked, well, asked her questions while she hurriedly stripped the bed of his clothes and the sheets. She remade it in record time and took in a hospital gown.
He had pretty much dried himself and had the towel wrapped around his waist when she entered. Leslie tried to stop herself from enjoying the sight if his shoulders and arms as she pulled the hospital gown over them, but he was so well muscled and they rippled as he lifted his arms. She managed to avoid stroking his long back as she tied the gown closed but thanked God he couldn’t see her blush or her expression which would have given her away completely. As they stepped out of the bathroom, he paused and put his hand on hers. “Thank you, Leslie.”
Back in bed, he looked a different man. He slept immediately. She stood there, on the pretence of checking his vitals, and just watched. Sun glinted off his hair, the stubble on his cheeks was very sexy now, and his eyelashes were incredibly long. He groaned in his sleep and his hand passed under the sheet to his groin. She wondered if he were dreaming about his shower.
9:30 pm on Monday 16th
“Nurse, clean this patient up, then I’ll take another look at him.” The doctor had made his initial diagnosis and there was nothing acute that couldn’t wait for a clean up. Besides, the smell was making him dizzy.
The man lay still, his eyes closed.
The nurse pursed her lips and pulled a second face mask over the first. It squished her cheeks, but at least her eyes stopped running. “Okay, Sir, we have to get your clothes off you.”
She didn’t expect much reaction but the man stirred, opened his eyes, and nodded. “Oh, that’d be good.” His head followed the nurse as she came around the side of the bed and snapped away as the door banged behind the doctor.
Getting his jacket over the IV was going to be a problem. She eyed the scissors she had on the tray. Most street people and bums who came in were extremely precious about their stinking clothes, and the EMT officer who had brought him in said he’d been violent in the ambulance. She didn’t want to get into a fight.
She started to pull his sleeve over his hand, he tried to help by pulling his arm back out of but dehydration and disorientation had affected his coordination, and he banged his elbow painfully against the bars of the bed. He hung his head. “Do you have a blade? Why don’t we just cut it all off?”
Gratitude poured out in her voice. "Yes. Good idea."
The man mirrored her smile a little. “But don’t burn them just yet. The cops will need to take a look, see if they can figure out who tossed me in the garbage.”
She could see he was trying for an ironic tone but it was merely sad by the last word and tears sprang to her eyes.
“Yes, Sir.”
He held his arm out and she slipped the cold blade of the long scissors up the arm. Small cuts and abrasions went as far as his wrists and stopped. He had bruises on his shoulders and on his forearms. She took it by layers, first the suit jacket, which was a little hard to cut through despite the sharp blades, then the blue shirt, then the once white undershirt. Under all this filth he had a fine body. Strong and supple, a tight stomach and a fine sprinkling of fair hair. She concentrated, not wanting to put anymore marks on the man’s body.
Somewhere between slicing up the arms and cutting up from his belt the man dozed off again, his head to the side, his breathing deep and restful. She hated to wake him and decided to open up all the clothing before she had him move so she could peel it from his body. He didn’t wake while she removed his boots or socks, just murmured in a dream while she pulled the belt from its loops and wound it around her hand. Unlike the other things, it wasn't covered in filth and she placed it in the drawer by his bed, rather than in the big brown bag she had for his other clothes. She took his watch from his wrist and placed it there also. It was a good watch, not a brand she knew but clearly expensive. Well, he couldn't use it now, she hoped his loss of sight was temporary, but the doctor had not made any comment on it that she had heard.
Slicing through his pants took time. His feet and ankles had been protected by sturdy boots but his shins had bruises and abrasions, and there was a long white scar down one thigh. The man was a mystery, new wounds, old wounds, no sight and no memory. She wondered again who he was and how he came to be here. He didn't know and no one had come to claim him. Perhaps he had a wife who beat him. It happened, she'd seen them, big strong men who would never hit a woman or defend themselves against one. Men who hid their wounds from their coworkers and pretended to be tough. Unconsciously she stroked his knee while she tutted. The maternal feelings warred with others as she briefly imagined taking him home after his hospital stay and having him oh so grateful for being saved from an abusive relationship.
At his shorts, she hesitated and felt slightly embarrassed. If he had been unconscious the whole time, it would have meant nothing, if he’d been awake, she could have joked with him and relieved the tension that way. But he was sleeping, she was a female nurse and she had to get the clothes off him before she could give him a sponge bath.
She put her fingers in the elasticized waist and slipped the scissors in.
The man grabbed at the hand at his waist. His eyes flew open, “What…?” His gaze swept the room, settling on nothing. He gritted his teeth.
She stood still, perhaps he would get violent after all.
He blinked and shook his head, his hand flexed and he realized he held her wrist. His left hand touched the bed rails and he sagged.
“Oh, sorry, I … I must have dropped off for a minute, here, let me.” He sat up a little, his breathing harder than a moment ago.
“I'm Leslie, your nurse. You've agreed I can cut your clothes off so I can give you a sponge bath," she reminded him.
This time the smile was ironic. “Probably not a great idea, nurse. I think I need a shower at least.” His eyes scanned past her and his nose wrinkled.
"Well, yes, but you're still weak."
"No, I can manage." He sat up fully and swung his legs over the side of the bed. “Which way?”
“Here, you got it right, its just a few steps away.” She got in under his arm and marveled at the way his clothes stayed on the bed behind him. He was unsteady on his feet and held his hand out in front of him. Now that his clothes were gone, most of the foul odor went with them. Despite the remaining stale sweat, she liked the way he held her tight and leaned on her. They had to take small steps into the bathroom.
“Hot, I like it very hot,” he said as she turned the water on him, and he lifted his face to the steady downpour. She could feel the tension leave his body as the water ran over his face and down his shoulders. He was still unsteady, a mixture of fatigue and lack of balance.
She guided his hand to the grab rail, “Hang on here, I’ll get you a chair and we can soap you up.”
He nodded and held the rail in a white knuckled hand while she pulled the shower chair over. Before he sat, she stopped him. “You need to drop the shorts.”
Again the ironic smile that she was beginning to like. “You ARE a nurse right?”
“Yes.”
“So, you’re used to showering strange men?”
“You’re strange?” she asked, matching his tone and was rewarded with a genuine chuckle and compliance, as he leaned down to pull the shorts from his body and then sit gingerly in the chair.
His energy was spent and he was very grateful for the shower seat. The soft soap suds were fragrant and the shampoo she used smelled like oranges. The warm water was a balm and the nurse’s hands on his body and his in hair were the most wonderful thing he could remember. He dozed.
“Sir? Sir?” her words brought him back from a dream of nubile women and the foam of a warm ocean. He covered himself with his hands, jerking the IV painfully.
“It’s okay, it’s me, Leslie, your nurse. You just dozed but your shower’s done, and I think you’d like to get back to bed, hey?”
“Yeah, ah…” He didn’t want to stand right now, “A towel?”
She pushed a soft towel into his hands. “Sit tight, I’ll just get that bed remade and you’ll be back there in no time. But don’t fall asleep here.”
She sounded really worried. “Maybe I should get someone to sit with you?”
“No. No I’ll stay awake I promise.”
Leslie was relieved too. She felt a forbidden mix of protectiveness for this patient and some embarrassment for herself. She had enjoyed showering this man, perhaps enjoyed it a little too much.
“Okay, how about you talk to me so I know you’re awake?”
“Sure.” He talked, well, asked her questions while she hurriedly stripped the bed of his clothes and the sheets. She remade it in record time and took in a hospital gown.
He had pretty much dried himself and had the towel wrapped around his waist when she entered. Leslie tried to stop herself from enjoying the sight if his shoulders and arms as she pulled the hospital gown over them, but he was so well muscled and they rippled as he lifted his arms. She managed to avoid stroking his long back as she tied the gown closed but thanked God he couldn’t see her blush or her expression which would have given her away completely. As they stepped out of the bathroom, he paused and put his hand on hers. “Thank you, Leslie.”
Back in bed, he looked a different man. He slept immediately. She stood there, on the pretence of checking his vitals, and just watched. Sun glinted off his hair, the stubble on his cheeks was very sexy now, and his eyelashes were incredibly long. He groaned in his sleep and his hand passed under the sheet to his groin. She wondered if he were dreaming about his shower.