This is a story about doctors and nurses, and a few other people. It is a long story, a complicated story and a fucking horny story, even if I do say so myself. It was horny to me writing it and I hope it will be as horny for you reading it.
I am planning to present the story to Lit in a series of parts over the next few months, so you will have something to read as we go through autumn. I wonder how far we will have got before winter sets in?
The story revolves around sex in many forms. The theme of it is how a doctor treats people who are, in one way or another, sexually dysfunctional, so on one level it is a medical story. All the characters in the story who are not his patients, however, are as equally sexually dysfunctional somehow, so on another level it is pure erotica. On yet another level the story looks at how clothing promotes, influences, affects and conditions sexual behaviour; there are lots of descriptions of sexy nurses uniforms and ladies panties.
I really hope you enjoy what may well be my magnum opus and possibly my last submission to Literotica. Do let me know won't you?
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Chapter 1
Even before Sammi had qualified, she had had doubts as to whether nursing was for her. After qualifying and spending time on the wards of an old, dirty and run down London hospital, those doubts were confirmed. She clearly wasn't cut out for it, well not for typical nursing.
She couldn't handle the bed pan and being a skivvy aspects, the squalor of the NHS and the stupid wages she got paid. So, with some reluctance, for she is a firm believer in the principal of public health, she ditched her beliefs and joined the private sector.
She became a contract nurse, a temp I suppose you could call it. She registered with what others told her was the top agency in London; they only take people who pass the exams with flying colours. They also, it seemed to Sammi, when she had been to the office a few times and met numerous colleagues , only took well-presented nurses; the sort of blokes and girls you see in Holby City and Casualty, not the tatty sort you see in real hospitals. After passing the interview, taking loads of tests and being told she had been accepted, she discussed the sort of assignment, as they called them, not work or jobs as ordinary mortals would, she would prefer. At the time Sammi had no real idea what they were on about for she just assumed she would work in a private hospital at higher rates and with better working conditions than in the public sector. As it turned out they handled loads of different types of assignment and, with advice from her "personal career councillor", Emma, it was decided that Sammi would be best suited and happiest working for consultants in their surgeries or in small hospitals.
"Upmarket, stylish ones," she said smiling, trying to appear cool and sophisticated.
"The fortyish, hellishly attractive," Emma, beamed back, her big brown eyes seeming to bore right through the young blonde. "All the hospitals that retain us are er, how did you put it, upmarket and stylish?"
"Ok fine," the blonde muttered, suitably put in my place.
Emma came out from behind her desk and stood behind Sammi. She was in her thirties, maybe even early forties. Dark, beautifully cut, shoulder-length hair, impeccable make-up and wearing a black, stylish power suit with a tight pencil, almost, skirt and a three buttoned jacket showing a deep cleavage, she looked every bit the successful business woman that she was; after all she owned the nursing agency.
"We wouldn't dream of placing such an attractive nurse as you Sammi anywhere that wasn't perfect."
"Really, wow, I see." Sammi mumbled hesitantly, a little embarrassed.
The older woman rested her hand on the girl's shoulder. Sammi turned her head to look at it and saw a set of perfectly manicured, white-painted, square cut nails resting there.
"No Sammi, your enjoyment of your time with us," she said softly, as she increased the pressure a little, before continuing. "That we hope will be long, is as important as our client's pleasure will be at having you."
Emma was purposefully testing her new contract nurse. She was sending out signals and watching carefully how they would be received. In part it was because she was bi. Not that she would normally risk anything or mar her reputation just for a quick fuck with a young bimbo like Sammi, as welcoming and as appealing as that might be. No, she needed to know, and she got to know about her girls. She got to know everything about each one, over a period, that was her job, that was why the agency was the most popular, most expensive and most successful in its field. That was why her special clients held Emma and her agency in such high regard; she came up with the goods, just as they were needed, time and time again. And in the rarefied atmosphere of top end, international health care that was crucial.
Sammi audibly gulped making Emma suppress a smile.
"Was she coming onto me?" Sammi thought. "Were the double meanings in everything? Was this a straightforward nursing agency, or was there a hidden agenda?" She began to wonder.
At the time, Sammi was approaching her twenty-fifth birthday. She lived in a flat just off Euston Road with three other girls. Other than the fucking awful nursing at the fucking awful hospitals and the fucking awful wages she earned, things were ok. She couldn't, though, have the lifestyle she wanted on those fucking awful wages. So, unbeknown to anyone, she did some modelling on the side. Glamour photography stuff, mainly for amateur photographic club, but once a week or so she got booked for a one to one. Mainly working "club" evenings she would pose for groups of between four and ten, usually, men in the forties or early fifties. They called the shots telling her how to pose and what to wear. So they took some lingerie shots, her undressing, topless stuff, some nude, open legs and touching even.
It paid well, but it was becoming more and more difficult to keep that secret, hence, the decision to work on contract. There was, though, another reason Sammi wanted to stop the photographic modelling. When she did the one to one sessions, increasingly, well nearly every time, she was being asked if she did "extras." She didn't, but her resistance was waning. After all spending up to two hours with a guy in various stages of undress, sometimes touching her breasts or, if she felt particularly generous, her pussy, as he said wonderful things about her body and took shots of it, can be quite arousing. As a general rule, the guys that booked her one to one were younger and, slightly, more appealing than the club members. Occasionally, they might even be quite fanciable and that is when she really had problems. She hated herself for it, but Sammi was more and more finding it hard to continue saying that she didn't do extras. Especially when she heard from other models she met who did offer extras that she could probably charge £100 for a few squeezes of her tits and a quick wank. Easy, but dubious money, or was it she sometimes wondered. Higher paid nursing was far more preferable, she had concluded, hence the signing onto the books of Le Crème Nursing Consultancy.
They had made a big point in their ads and at the group interviews and assessment she had attended about the fact they supplied the uniform.
"Stylish, sophisticated and bespoke," was how they described it. "Clothes that will make you feel good as well as help your patients," they had explained
Sammi had assumed that differentiated La Crème from the staff of other agencies, in the hospitals and clinics, thus: acting as advertising for them, making the girls feel they were being treated well and meaning that the consultants and small hospitals didn't have to stump up for them. A neat arrangement all round.
"So Sammi, you had better have your fitting, so we can get your tunic made and get you some assignments as soon as possible, hadn't we?" Emma said removing her hands from the nurse's shoulders.
Sammi wasn't quite sure if she felt relieved or disappointed as they left her.
"Er, yes Emma, I suppose we had."
"What are you, size 10?"
"On a good day,"
"Height?"
"Five six"
"Weight?"
"Just over eight and half stone."
She looked up; pushing the reading glasses down her nose and looking over them went on.
