Ok, it's something one doesn't admit to doing. You, me, us watch the Soaps? NEVER!
But it's strange how millions of people around the world are addicted to the Soap Operas. Interesting how you kinda know what's happening in the nightmare, complex world of these serialized dramas because you have a friend or relative who is one of these millions of addicted people. The beauty of a Soap is that even if you do admit to occasionally watching, or if you only get an update every six months, you will always be able to pick up the story line and the convoluted plot. The only time it may prove difficult is when a new face appears as a central character, without so much as a blink from the other characters. Perhaps that's because Soaps are filled with so many 'two-faced' scheming, underhanded, calculating and devious people.
Anyway, in case you have missed it, here for your enjoyment is an update and the 7,320th episode of the doings and the screwings of the 'Dick' Dynasty.
MOUNT GRACE MEMORIAL HOSPITAL:
The sun rose on the ultra modern building housing the Mount Grace Memorial Hospital and the tall, dark and impossibly handsome Head of Surgery, Dr. Rod Dick was already facing crisis after crisis in the Trauma Unit. He stroked his chiseled square jaw and narrowed his eyes just to prove that he was thinking hard. Real hard.
In the first cubicle lay a gun-shot victim, bleeding profusely from leg and shoulder wounds.
In the adjoining cubicle, a sexy redhead was having small spasms that jiggled her perfect size 38C silicone breasts. The small spasms alternated with massive spasms that had her whole body jerking and groaning in a combination of what sounded like pain and pleasure.
Being a bit of a voyeur, Dr. Dick found that watching her was actually quite a turn on, until he remembered that the jerking spasms were a result of tiny clusters of little brain tumors that were temporarily out of sync. Dr. Dick, always in the front line of medical advancement, had mastered a leading edge technique that kept the brain tumors at an acceptable level which meant she only had the occasional tit jiggling spasms. But now this new development and relapse, with the uncontrollable thrashing was worrying. Deeply worrying.
A tiny twitch started up in the muscle of his left cheek, as the agonized burden of making the first decision of the day built and he contemplated who needed his brilliance and self taught skills first.
"Uh- Dr. Dick, could you help me pleeeease!"
An anguished cry came from the third cubicle. Fuck it! The pressure was piling on. He was a man who could take a heavy load, but he knew this was going to be a day from hell. Didn't these fucking morons know that he hadn't had his first cup of coffee yet? He ripped open the curtains in cubicle three because the wailing voice had reached ear-shattering proportions. Fate had deliberately directed him to attend to this cubicle first and with just one look he was glad it had. Very glad.
Blonde Nurse Candi was bent over the bed, desperately engaged in cardiac pulmonary resuscitation. The patient, a ragged looking elderly man lay deathly still. The smile on his face was almost as big as the hard-on he was sporting beneath the white sheet.
"What's going on here Nurse?" Dr. Dick snapped, noticing immediately that she was wearing non-regulation white cum-fuck-me-boots and a non-standard red lacy thong with her uniform. Dammit, he wondered wistfully, would his eye for detail and his past as a world famous fashion designer always come back to haunt him?
"I think it's his heart… It's stopped." Nurse Candi said breathlessly with a terrified wide eyed stare.
"Let me take a look," he said, easing up and pressing himself against the nurse's ass.
His eye slipped down her uniform to her heaving cleavage. Mmm white regulation bra, no extra lace he thought, as he reluctantly dragged his eyes upward to the patient and fumbled for his pulse.
"Bad news, I'm afraid, "he said soberly. The twitch in the cheek had started up again. It was always tragic to lose a patient, but they had done everything possible to help him. It was the sad reality of life in a busy hospital. You won a few and you lost a few. As long as he won more than he lost, he might win the battle for the vacant position of Chief of Staff. It was absolutely fucking imperative that he was the Head Honcho, the Top Dog, and Alpha Male at Mount Grace Memorial Hospital. He pulled back from Nurse Candi's delectable buns and made sure that the cubicle's curtains were firmly closed.
"Now Nurse," he said in his most authoritative tone, "I see you are not wearing the regulation uniform. Do you know what that means?"
"Yes, Dr. Dick," she muttered tremulously. Her blue eyes glistened with tears, but her mascara remained perfect and smudge-free.
"Please don't tell Matron Chunkleg," she begged, her glossed lips trembling. "I am already on my final written warning, and can't afford to lose my job." She sobbed quietly and fixed her baby blues on him as a single tear rolled down her pale cheek. "You see… there is nobody else to support my poor mother and her five poor children."
Dr. Dick's heart softened. He was not by nature a hard man, except in situations like this when his cock swelled dangerously. He noted with satisfaction that despite it being cramped in his non-regulation, designer trousers, it was already bigger than that of the cadaver. Here was a fresh-faced sweet, hard working girl that he could take complete advantage of, plus he could help her keep her job as well. There was something very gratifying, he thought, about working in a profession where he dedicated his life to helping people. His change of profession from Head Fashion Designer to Head of Surgery certainly had its own thrills and rewards.
**********
AT THE AIRPORT:
Crystal Dick stepped off the private Dick Lear Jet.
She looked fabulous for a woman who had traveled clear around the world on a hectic schedule fitting in meetings with influential people, attending fashion shows and conferences between fucking the cute hotel concierge and having an all-night orgy with two of the sexiest new bi stud models. Not a wrinkle showed on her stylish hot pink designer suit, and every glossy hair on her head was perfectly in place. Nor was there any evidence of jet lag. Perhaps it was from all the protein she had ingested on her trip. Sperm, she knew, was loaded with the stuff and so on her business travels, she made sure to always swallow instead of spit. Crystal was all set to go directly to the plush offices of "DICK DESIGNS" in the Soapie Land of the rich and the useless. There, she would report back on the grueling trip to her tycoon father- in law, Rick Dick. He was Dr. Rod Dick's father, and the real brains and power behind the empire.
After the meeting with Rick Dick, she could get around to the really important work of the day. That was looking indispensably busy while doing absolutely nothing in a plush office, complete with bar and leather sofa for quick on-the-job fucks.
Her schedule for the day was crammed;
First, she had to make a couple of high-powered telephone calls to find someone to go to lunch with at the swankiest restaurant in town, where everyone who was anyone hung out. This was typically the 'in' place to be where Crystal and her friends sipped white wine or mineral water and stared at the sumptuous display of food, usually salad on the plate but didn't eat a fucking morsel. Inevitably, everyone they detested, or stalked, or hankered after, or never wanted to see again as long as they lived, was also dining on untouched meals at these trendy places at the very same time as they were.
The second most pressing thing on Crystal's schedule, was to eavesdrop on the secretaries' evil libelous gossip about Rick's second wife, Bonnie (now his ex) and his current wife Sue-Ellie (sometimes pronounced 'Swelly' Dick) by the receptionist with the southern drawl.
