I Didn T Even Know His Name Ch 02

I pulled my little SLK into the doctors' parking lot of the Collins Clinic and eased into a slot between a Beemer and a Benz. No worry about getting scratched because those guys would be as careful with their cars as I was with mine. As I started to get out I noticed a small white golf towel in the back.

I sat there for a moment staring at that towel. It had been two months since I washed it after I'd fucked that guy I picked up in a movie theatre in KC. I had sat on that towel to keep the cum that was dripping out of my pussy from running down my leg, out of my shorts, and staining my leather seats.

Two months since I'd been fucked! My peter-hungry pussy was sending me distress signals. My new job was great but this little town was the pits -- nothing like the university town I had left behind. No guys! At least no guys to fuck. I was surrounded by small town wives. I had joined the country club but there were no single guys my age. All the docs in the clinic were married.

But my job was great! And I was gradually getting the referrals I needed to build my surgical practice. And no post-op complications! I mentally crossed myself. Thank you Lord. Complications would happen -- they always did -- but so far I'd been lucky.

And the docs liked me! This morning I was headed for a committee interviewing a candidate for the job of invasive cardiologist -- some guy named Rusty Embly, who was replacing some guy named Rich Ames. It was an honor for a new 28 year-old surgeon to be asked to sit on that committee.

The head of the committee was a Gynecologist named Tom Rogers -- one hell of a great guy. He had examined me two months ago and he had the softest hands I ever felt. I had met his wife Peggy who was a nursing classmate of Dr. Roger's nurse, Gail. Gail was helping me out till I got a regular office nurse.

Peggy had become a kind of best girl friend -- we had coffee and lunch a lot -- and she understood my problem of finding a guy in the small town of Springfield Missouri. Peggy was a very lucky woman to be married to Tom. A guy that good-looking with those soft hands could have had his choice of a lot of gals, but he never strayed. I'd like to find a guy like that!

I couldn't sit here thinking about my problems all morning. I had work to do. I got out of my car and headed for the clinic building and for the conference room where the committee was meeting.

I sat down at the conference table and picked up the file that Tom passed over to me. It was labeled "Russell (Rusty) Embly" and it contained the details of his training and experience. He was four years older than me and his background was impeccable. There were about a half dozen clinic doctors sipping coffee around the table -- I was the youngest.

I looked at Rusty Embly's picture and my pussy snapped to attention. My eyes flashed up to the "marital status" part of his CV and I saw that big S. Jesus! I was in luck! Maybe!

Suddenly there was a commotion as we all stood up when Rusty Embly entered the room and was introduced to each of us. One look at this doll and my pussy started sending me frantic messages. I told her to shut up -- there was more to this thing than just laying down and spreading my legs, like when I was in college. Pussies have simple, one-track minds.

I was in a kind of daze for the next hour. As the most junior member of the committee there was, fortunately, little for me to do or say or ask. I voted with a unanimous committee to offer Dr. Embly the job. Then I headed to my office to dictate some charts.

I had a luncheon date with Peggy Rogers at a small restaurant near the medical center and when I sat down I started to tell her about Rusty Embly. Peggy interrupted me.

She told me not to bother. She'd seen him and she thought he was a doll and he was single. So now what? I asked her. We talked about it for a while and agreed that we had to get him out to the club at the pool. She kept talking about showing him what I looked like in a bikini.

But then she said we had a problem and asked if I knew the clinic lobby receptionist, Carolyn Ames. I knew her but I had heard nothing about her. Peggy told me that her husband had divorced her for screwing a bunch of graduate students in a university extension program.

Peggy said that Carolyn had gotten her job by sucking off the head administrator, a guy I had met only once -- Larry Morris. Wow! There are no secrets in this small town. I'm gonna have to be very careful. I need to fuck but I don't want these ladies calling me a whore.

And then she hit me with it. Carolyn was driving Rusty Embly out to the club and showing him around Springfield. Carolyn was a whore. She'd try to get Rusty between her legs before he left town Thursday.

And that's exactly what happened. Peggy had nosey friends all over town and it turned out that Carolyn spent two nights with Rusty -- one at his hotel and the second at her apartment. She was fucking the guy that I wanted to catch! Shit! I needed help.

I was glad that Peggy told me the story of Gladys Detweiler. She said Gladys was a whore whose skill at cock sucking had captured the attention of a number of medical students, including her future husband Tom Rogers. Tom had fucked Gladys every Friday night for two months, but finally quit when he proposed to Peggy.

I was impressed that Peggy had captured Tom, because he was a "cherry picker" and had gals competing with each other to climb in the back seat of his beat up old Plymouth. But Peggy got him! She had to learn to suck cock, but she got him and their marriage had been very successful.

Peggy didn't like sucking cock, but she did it because Tom liked it and wives gotta do what wives gotta do. I told her I didn't like sucking cocks either, especially the big monsters, but if Carolyn got her job sucking off the clinic administrator then maybe she was a talented cocksucker. Peggy agreed and then told me more bad news -- Carolyn was doing Larry Morris deep throat!

I told Peggy I couldn't do much deep throat -- maybe six inches max. We talked about how Rusty might like his cock sucked. Fortunately I'd sucked a lot of cock and was pretty good at it except for the really big ones -- the monsters.

More importantly, Peggy said I should not worry about Rusty fucking a whore. Guys fucked whores. That's what whores were for. The fact that Tom had done that and then became an excellent husband made me feel a lot better.

Peggy said she was gonna set up a dinner at the club for Rusty and me to get together, but mainly we had to show him what I looked like in a bikini at the club pool. She was gonna work on that.

It was another month before Rusty started work at the clinic. Right after he arrived Tom and Peggy had a dinner party at the club for Rusty and me with several other clinic doctors and their wives.

Rusty was a doll. I almost creamed my pants every time I looked at him. We were sitting at a table with several other doctors from the clinic and my neglected pussy was shouting at me. It was a wonderful evening and Rusty was very friendly. It pissed me off to think about him fucking that whore Carolyn, but Peggy kept telling me guys fucked whores -- don't worry about it. I tried not to.

Peggy invited Rusty and me to join her and her husband the next afternoon at poolside. Peggy and I had talked about my choice of bikinis. I wanted to show him my body but I didn't want to be vulgar about it. I selected one that would not be transparent when it got wet and would not show my nipples when they got hard. I knew for sure that when that stud looked at my body in a bikini my nipples would get rock hard.

It was a wonderful afternoon in the sun and Rusty got a really good look at my body. I think he was interested. Back at the university I would be fuckin him after a couple of dates -- but Springfield was not a university town. Peggy and I had talked a lot about the customs here. She kept saying -- be patient -- take your time. But I needed to get laid!

A few days later Rusty asked me out to dinner and we started dating once or twice a week -- usually on Saturday. He was a gentleman. He knew good wines, especially French Bordeaux, which I liked a lot.

After he kissed me good night on the third date, I started inviting him in for a cordial and gradually we did a little kissing and fooling around. He liked my tits and I finally let him play with them a little.

It was hard not to fuck him. My pussy was yelling at me all the time, but I did not want to be just another slutty bitch he was servicing -- although God knows I was a slutty bitch who really needed servicing. I was using my vibrator and fantasizing but no orgasm is complete without a hard dick for your pussy to grab hold of and squeeze.

I had lunch or coffee with Peggy a lot and it was amazing what these gossiping wives knew about everybody in town. One gal even knew that Carolyn Ames was blowing her husband and she let him do it because it improved his "attitude." Wow! I was shocked -- and I'm hard to shock! Jesus!

There are no secrets in this little town. I was gonna have to be very careful! Everybody knew that Rusty Embly was fucking Carolyn Ames and I was dating Rusty. When the subject came up they always said I should not worry and hinted that all guys fucked whores. Talk about double standards!

What worried me most were those damn nurses! Some were younger than me, and better looking I thought. I was sure they would fuck him the first chance they got. All he had to do was ask one of them out and she'd spread her legs. Shit! Small towns were dipshit places!

But I did my job and kept out of trouble and pulled my night call and my practice grew and most important -- no post-op complications! They would come I knew but please God not until I have established my skills in a way the other docs recognized and respected. I had some professional interactions with Tom Rogers - scrubbed a couple of times with him. He was what I hoped Rusty would be like at his age -- Peggy was a lucky girl.

Then one day in the coffee shop Peggy said I ought to "go for it" as she put it. That Ames bitch and Rusty had spent a weekend out of town fucking their brains out and she had come back with cystitis. Tom had told her not to fuck for ten days and Rusty was gonna get horny. This was a good time to get him in bed.

We had a date Saturday night. I was on call but things were usually quiet and I could handle most stuff by a phone call. I decided to give it a try. I didn't have a choice because he'd be fuckin that bitch the next weekend.

Rusty picked me up at eight and we had a delightful dinner at the club. Then he took me home and we did our thing on the couch. He was getting really hot and when I stood up and took his hand he eagerly followed me into the bedroom.

We undressed in the dark and I pulled him into bed beside me. He kissed me and I spread my legs and he rolled over between them. I reached down and felt a thick, hard cock, which I guided into me. Damn! It felt good!

He started pumping and I was pumping back and then that damn phone rang! Shit!

It was our guy covering the hospital ER. The patient was a twenty-five year-old male with nausea and vomiting and right lower quadrant pain. He had guarding and rebound on exam. His count was up with a left shift. Appendicitis I thought. Routine but I need to get it out before it ruptures.

But it was NOT routine. Our guy had done a CT and it was a damn good thing he did because there was fluid in the right gutter and the appendix was retrocecal with high-grade inflammation.

Shit! I was gonna have to do him open! I didn't dare try to get a scope under there with that much inflammation. Thank God I'd done a couple of retrocecals open. I was lucky -- so many surgeries were done with scopes these days that chances for residents to learn the open techniques were rare.

I looked quickly at the clock. Eleven o'clock. I was gonna be there the rest of the night! I told our guy I would get there as fast as I could and examine the patient in the ER.

Then I explained the situation to Rusty, who had been between my legs with his dick still it me while I talked on the phone. He rolled off of me and I got dressed quickly. He knew as well as I did what I had to do.

When I got to the ER I started to ask the nurse which examining room the patient was in. Shit! I didn't even know his name. I was here to cut him open and I didn't even know his name! She was expecting me though and headed me in the right direction to his room.

The ER doc was right. Typical history and on exam he had rebound pain referred to McBurney's point. The CT was on the screen and it showed free fluid in the right paracolic gutter and an inflamed retrocecal appendix.

I took the radiologist's word for the level of inflammation. Damn radiologists -- they work at home in pajamas getting stuff on their computers. The rest of us have to haul our asses out of bed and get dressed.

No question, though. It's gotta come out and I gotta do him open -- no scope can get under there safely -- not with it inflamed like that.

I started giving rapid-fire orders. Call anesthesia, he'll need a spinal. I'll need somebody on the other side of the table - get me a surgical nurse specialist to assist. Get a tube in his stomach and clean him out. Type and cross match for two units. Get two lines into him -- Ringer's lactate. It was all routine but I wanted it done fast.

I explained to the young man what he had and what I wanted to do. I insisted his wife come in the room and I explained what might go wrong. They both signed the consent form.

Then I headed up to the locker room to change and in a matter of minutes I was standing at the sink in my scrubs, cap and mask, brushing my hands and arms while the patient was being prepped. Ten minutes. I entered the OR and the circulating nurse handed me a towel, helped me with my gown and powdered my hands for the gloves. The nurses had completed the prep and the nurse anesthetist had done her thing.

I walked over to the table with my hands folded on my chest and looked at the clock on the wall. Two minutes till midnight. Shit! Less than an hour ago I was on my back with my legs spread, fuckin the man of my dreams when that damn phone rang. I looked at the anesthetist and she nodded.

I lifted the towel off of his abdomen and noted that the patient had been properly draped and prepped. I held out my right hand, the scrub nurse slapped a Bard-Parker into my palm, and I was on autopilot. Incision at McBurney's point -- clamp and coagulate the bleeders -- oh I better tie that one - transect the external aponeurosis -- clamp and coagulate - bluntly split the external and internal oblique muscles -- clamp and coagulate -- down to the peritoneum. Make sure the wound is clean and dry before opening the peritoneum.

My assistant was doing her job to perfection, as was the scrub nurse. Everything was in my hand when I needed it and when I had to tie off a bleeder my assistant was clipping the silk the instant I held the sutures out tight. Through the peritoneum and in with the retractors. Perfect exposure of the colon and cecum! I would NOT have to extend the incision! Thank you Lord.

I could hear in my head the grouchy voice of my surgical attending. You can't dig it out blind, he had said - you have to mobilize the cecum and then he had showed me how. I swept my finger through the right paracolic gutter to break up the adhesions, that I knew were there and then I mobilized the cecum to deliver the appendix into the wound. There it was! It's not perforated! Thank you Lord!

I clamped and ligated the appendix and transected it at the base. Then -- clank! - I dropped it, along with the Kelly holding it, and the scalpel I cut it with into a stainless steel basin, held out to me by the circulating nurse. That thing was full of bugs and so were the instruments that had touched it.

Now I had a choice. I could either coagulate the base and imbricate it into the cecum using a purse-string or cover it with omentum. This was necessary to prevent an infection of the peritoneum. The stump had bugs. I remembered my old surgical professor who had always used formalin, like in the old days.

The OR was cool but my forehead was covered with sweat. I turned my head to the circulating nurse and she mopped my brow with a four-by-four. I looked at the clock. Ten till one -- shit! this was going slow. Some guys had already finished a simple appie by fifty minutes. Of course this was NOT a simple appie.

I was careful to coagulate and cover the base. I did not want a post-op infection. I would use prophylactic antibiotics too in spite of the fact that some purists thought that was overkill. I hadn't had a post-op infection since I came to Springfield and I didn't want one now.

Okay. Now to close. Jesus! All during my residency I was closing bellies and chests. It was a routine and boring part of any procedure -- except it was important to do it right or there would be complications.

The scrub nurse slapped a needle holder into my palm and I began to repair the peritoneum -- and then, layer by layer, I began working my way back out to skin, undoing the damage I'd done getting to where I needed to be.

It was work. Concentrate! Take your time and do it right. Technique is everything. Soft and gentle with the fingers. Keep the rhythm going. Don't slow down. Do it right and you'll finish him. Some people think this is fun but it's work. The fun comes later when you're talking about it. Don't get lazy. Pay attention! Do the work and do it right.

I did the work. Finally, I put a row of interrupted sutures in his belly. Guys were so much easier than gals, who did not like scars on their abdomens.

Thank you Lord for letting me do it right. When the last stitch was cut I looked at the clock -- one-forty. Shit! Almost two hours! Then I reminded myself not to think like a guy. Guys always bragged about how FAST they did a procedure. What you brag about is how WELL you do a procedure and how few post-op complications you have.

I thanked the nurses and the anesthetist and my assistant. Then I removed my gloves and gown, dropped my mask and headed for the recovery room in my scrubs and cap to see my patient and write the orders. Then back to the locker room where I put on my street clothes and added a white coat to look more professional. Finally I spoke with the patient's wife and reassured her that all had gone well.

By the time I had checked the patient one last time and drove my SLK out of the doctors parking lot it was three AM. When I got home, Rusty was long gone. What a hell-of-a thing to happen during my first fuck of the guy I might want to marry!

Five hours sleep. Luxury compared to residency! Alarm. Sunday rounds. Notes. My patient was out of recovery and in a regular room. Passing gas, afebrile, and pain free. Wife there and happy. Breakfast in the hospital dining room. Home. Noon.

Call Rusty and apologize. What the hell do you say? My pussy wanted to say come over and fuck me this afternoon but I was, frankly, beat. Not in the mood. We talked. Shit! He said he'd be over for drinks! What he really meant was he'd be over for pussy. His regular supply had been shut off. I better GET my ass in gear if I was interested in keeping this guy. Woman's work!

Get yourself in shape bitch! He's gonna have a hard on when he walks through that door. I remembered how thick that damn thing felt in my hand last night. He was gonna make me suck it -- all guys were that way. Good thing I brought home the local anesthetic spray for my throat.

He kissed me first thing when he came through the door. Then he grabbed my ass in both hands and squeezed and led me to the couch. Guys! Jesus! He kept kissing me and his hands were all over me and he put my hand on his dick, which was big and hard. Damn! It felt thick! I knew what the bastard wanted.