Day six stuck in hospital and I was as bored as all fuck, or I had been until last night. It had meant to be a quick operation to fix my ankle, well actually, the third operation, but hopefully the last, after I had come off my mountain bike twelve months ago and my ankle had connected with a tree. I was due to be discharged on day two, but I'd picked up an infection so now I'm stuck here until the docs say I'm good to go. The annoying thing is, I don't feel sick, but the ankle is definitely not meant to be that weird colour.
The only good thing about being stuck here are the nurses, well, one nurse in particular, Cleo. I've always been a night owl and prefer to wake up late and stay up late. If you've ever been in hospital, you'll know that no-one sleeps in, what with observations every four hours, but in the evenings, I'm generally awake for the midnight obs and Cleo is on the night shift. During the day, the nurses are crazy busy, but at night, that seems to ease up a bit, and Cleo and I started to chat.
One thing I learnt was that the nurses liked working on the orthopedic ward because it was generally younger patients, especially men, who had broken something doing something stupid, but were unlikely to die, as opposed to the wards with older patients who just coughed over them as they approached falling off the perch.
We had chatted about our jobs, our hobbies and life in general. She was amazed that I still rode my mountain bike, even if I had moved to less demanding tracks. She told me about some of her multi-day canoe trips and horse riding. We were both on the adrenaline seeking spectrum.
A few nights ago she asked me what was in the box that was beside my bed. I'd made some dismissive remarks, but she obviously saw the look of guilt on my face, and with a huge smile she had grabbed the box.
"Come on," she persisted, "can I see."
"You'll think I'm some sort of sleaze," I complained. "It was a gift from a mate."
"Now I'm really intrigued," she continued, giving the box a shake.
That afternoon, my mate Phil and his girlfriend Suzie had dropped in to see me and had presented me with the gift.
"I made the book myself," Phil had announced proudly.
In the box there was a knitted object that I didn't recognise and a dozen A4 pages roughly stapled to make a book, or maybe a booklet.
On the cover was a picture, obviously copied from some fancy dress website, of a nurse wearing a slutty uniform bending over a patient who has a big smile on his face. There is a heading titled 'Rob gets a bed bath'. I'm Rob.
There were a dozen pages, each with a picture of a model wearing a different slutty nurse uniform, and a single sentence that described me getting a bed bath. The pictures were naughty, rather than explicit, with the fancy dress costumes suitable for an adult Halloween party or for a private role play session and the story was full of innuendo and suggestion, rather than being blatant. It was fun, but not really workplace friendly.
When I held up the knitted item, Suzie had giggled and Phil had turned to her with a smile on his face.
"You bought it, you can explain it."
"It's a Peter Heater," she had giggled again. "For these cold nights in hospital."
"A what?" I'd queried, turning the thing around and upside down.
She had taken it from me and grabbed a banana from my fruit bowl (thanks mum) and slipped the banana smoothly into the Peter Heater. She seemed to be taking a lot of effort to ensure the banana fitted smoothly, rubbing her fingers along the length several times. Then she waved it in front of me with the pouch like attachment dangling underneath. With a mischievous look she told me,
"I'm sure you can work out what goes in there."
Phil had laughed,
"She bought one for me when we went skiing last winter. She decided that it would be fun to get you one while you're stuck in here."
"It looks a bit small," I'd laughed.
"Phil wouldn't let me get you one that was bigger than the one I bought him," Suzie explained, giving Phil a fake pout.
I had dated Suzie for a few months about two years ago. It had been fun, but it was never going to last forever. The break up had been amicable and a few months afterwards Phil had asked if it would be too weird for him to ask Suzie out. I'd given them my blessing, but I found out later that they had already been sleeping together for a few weeks.
Suzie pulled out the banana and dropped the knitted object on my bed.
"Maybe one of the nurses will help you put it on later," she'd suggested.
"Yeah, that guy who took your obs earlier would probably help," suggested Phil.
That nurse, Greg, was six foot two, weighed a hundred and ten kilos, most of which appeared to be muscle, had a full sleeve tattoo and had joked with me earlier that he was dating two of the female nurses, and he hoped that they would never end up on the same shift.
Cleo gave the box another shake.
"Go on then, open it, but don't blame me if you are offended."
I didn't really believe that Cleo would be offended. During our evening chats she had come across as intelligent and funny, with a wicked sense of humour.
She held up the Peter Heater and laughed. She obviously knew what it was.
"I hope this wasn't from an ex," she asked seriously, "you know, someone who actually knows what size you are?" She raised her eyebrows in enquiry as she stretched the object.
I explained that it actually was from an ex, but that her current boyfriend was jealous. I don't think she was convinced.
She then started flipping through the book, obviously reading the story and stopping to check out the pictures of the fancy dress nurses.
"Blatant sexualisation and objectification of women, and nurses in particular," she commented as she dropped the offending item back on the bed.
As she walked towards the door, she turned back to me.
"I wore the costume on page five to a party this last Halloween," and gave me a huge smile as she left the room.
"Holy fuck," I thought to myself as I found page five and contemplated how it would have looked on Cleo. "Was she flirting?"
A different nurse did my next obs, very professional, but she did give me a weird look that got me wondering what Cleo had told her colleagues.
The next day I returned from the shower to find my box of presents missing, but an hour later the nurse on duty that afternoon returned it.
"Sorry, I should have asked, but Cleo had told us about your present in your handover notes and we all had to have a look. Don't worry, none of us believe that the Peter Heater is the correct size for you."
I think I might have blushed.
"Are all the nurses commenting on, well, you know, ahh, my size?"
"I can assure you that we are all being completely professional." she told me as she left the room.
"That wasn't a denial," I thought.
That night I'd asked Cleo if she was just teasing me about wearing that page five costume. A half hour later she had come back with her phone and had sat on my bed, closer than she had ever been to me apart from when she was sticking me with something sharp, and had shown me the photos. Damn, she looked good.
Cleo was a beautiful woman, but at work she wore scrubs, which didn't really show off her body, though her general size and shape was definitely pleasing to the eye. The page five slutty nurse uniform was a very short dress, with a plunging neckline and a row of buttons from neck to hem and included an old fashioned nurses cap. In the photo from the fancy dress website, some of the buttons were enticingly undone and the model was wearing a lacy red bra and gee string.
Cleo certainly wore that costume well. The model in the ad seemed to have enhanced breasts where Cleo's more natural shape and size definitely looked sexier, and in one photo Cleo's nipples were clearly visible, as little nubs in her bra, standing up as though they wanted to be grazed across the palm of my hand. I was aware that Cleo was watching me intently as I'd flipped through her photos.
