WicKed's Hospital Drama
Kitten Comes to Grips with Daddy's Sexuality
Approximately 7,200 Words
by
Donald Mallord
Copyright by dmallord, 2022, USA. All rights reserved.
INTRODUCTION
Katrina, as the story 'Tattooed and Screwed' ended, sat back in the limo, smiling at the gorgeous, half-naked, and panting Dr. Bagatti.
"Enjoyed your resolution, did you, baby?" Kat asked, rhetorically, as she wiped cum juice off her face, with the back of her hand.
Dani was struggling to recover from Kitten's mouthwatering devourment of her cunt. She couldn't possibly have answered that question! Kat owed Dani a 'resolution' and had knelt before her on the floorboard of the limo on the return trip. It was in return for Dani's having brought her to ecstasy; before Dani's daddy inscribed the trinity of WicKed tattoos. She owed Dani much more than a resolution. Dr. Dani was owed some measure of protection; a shield against Dr. Marie.
Kitten's increased number of tats, and laser mons treatment, had made them late in returning to the hospital. Neither of them was looking forward to facing Dr. Marie Johnson--she missed her return flight home, waiting for her ward to return. Someone had to pay for that. Since Kitten owed it...
__________
Owning Your Faults
"Shit! Dani, I'm sorry! It looks like the hospital is closed!"
Returning to the hospital shortly before eight, the driver dropped us off at the glass-framed front door. I pulled on the steel handle, but it was locked. I rattled the doors, hoping someone might hear us, and let us in.
"No, Kat. The hospital has just shifted to night mode," Dani informed me, sighing out the words. She kept checking her watch; while we waited by the glass entry doors. By the way she was fidgeting, I could tell she wasn't relishing going inside and having to face Marie, again. Especially now, since our flight plans had obviously been canceled.
Dani was breathing a bit heavily, sort of exasperated. "He'll see us. Patience, WicKed," she answered, trying a not-working-so-well smile.
Laraby, Marie's tall mountain-sized hospital guardian, covered the distance from the front desk; like a deer being pursued by wolves, to let us in.
"Hello, Miss Schumacher," he smiled kindly. "I'm Laraby. I used to work for your grandfather, your daddy's dad; back in Arizona.
I smiled back! I'd never known much about my daddy and his upbringing, but the name Laraby was familiar. Daddy talked, sometimes, about the mountains and how Laraby took him on annual rattlesnake hunts. Damn! Laraby wasn't just a figment of Daddy's imagination!
Laraby's greeting was short. His smile faded, as he turned toward Dr. Bagatti. I could see he was happy to finally meet me, but it seemed he was more intent on delivering an urgent message.
"She's in residence, waiting for you, doctor!" is all he said, as his wrinkled bear-sized paw handed Dr. Bagatti a blue keycard. He motioned to the staff elevator with his other hand. Dani didn't ask, she knew Laraby wouldn't have an answer about what kind of mood Dr. Johnson was in. She stood frozen, looking at the keycard, as if taking it would ignite her body in hell-flames. Her eyes were really focused on that blue card, as she finally accepted it with resignation.
"Dani, what does 'in residence' mean?" I whispered, shaking her arm, as Laraby walked back to the night desk. Whispered, because it was spooky quiet in this seemingly empty area.
"It means Dr. Johnson is staying in the penthouse suite tonight; you too, I guess. It's on the fourth floor. Kat, this is the infamous 'blue card,' I've heard about. It's the elevator access pass to Dr. Johnson's residence, when she stays here."
The only sounds I could hear anywhere were those of the staccato echoes of Dani's high heels contacting the marble floor. In the quietness of the elevator, she felt a need to fill in the silence, I guess, because she cleared her throat and commented on something that gave me some insight, as to what staffers at the hospital thought of Marie.
"There's a morbid riddle, among some of the younger staffers, that goes, 'What goes up the elevator but never comes back down?'
I was too tired for dumb doctor jokes and just shrugged.
"WicKed, the answer, of course, is someone with the blue keycard," she sighed.
She tried to pass it off as a joke with some nervous laughter, right away. But I knew she was scared, when she sucked in her lower lip and stood staring at the elevator's penthouse-level access keycard, as though it were a Tarot card, capable of divining her future.
Her adrenaline levels were up. I detected her elevated breathing; as the elevator rose -- not the breathing during sex sounds, but the breathing from someone having fucked up. Dani was gripping onto the blue card as tightly as her hands had grasped the back of my head in the limo; and without an inkling of how her near future was about to turn out.
'Don't worry my Dani, WicKed can handle whatever has you on edge.'