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Chapter 9
Robbie Jones
June 2037
I didn't go to college.
My parents and Uncle James did. Both Grandma and Aunt Gloria had PhDs. They were from an era when society thought college was the only route to success. According to Dad, about the time I started kindergarten, people started to realize that "they didn't need to go two hundred thousand dollars in debt for the privilege of listening to a bunch of over educated professors who'd never left a college campus tell you how to make a living.
"I'm not saying you shouldn't take a few classes here and there," Dad said, "but you'll learn most of what you need to know on the job."
Apparently, a good bit of the country agreed with him. By the time I was of college age, most of the big-name schools had shrunk considerably with a majority of high school graduates either going to local trade schools or working part time while taking online courses. Businesses weren't looking for degrees, they were looking for skill sets.
My skill set was running Spencer Manufacturing... or it was going to be when Dad, Mom, and Uncle James got done training me.
My first assignment was apprentice janitor... sweeping floors, cleaning toilets, filling toilet paper dispensers... with a secondary mission of learning the names of everybody who worked in the building. All 350 of them. At least I didn't have to memorize the access codes of the 1,200 robots who intermingled with the flesh covered workers.
That was my day job. I spent my evenings and weekends taking online business and engineering courses. Grandma, Aunt Gloria, and Mom kept me busy at night.
-
Doctor Gloria May Carter
July 2037
In early 2020 I was lured to the Tampa area with promises of continued access to Ryan's cock, Mary's pussy, and a full-time job running a clinic catering exclusively to women. The small clinic slowly grew to a full-blown medical practice. What was once a one doctor operation eventually employed six other people and saw to the health needs of several thousand patients.
I am not a people person. According to both Robert and Mary, I am great in bed but have "the bedside manner of a Gestapo Inquisitor". My professional goal is to fix my patients' physical ailments and let less qualified people (like Martha) tend to their social inadequacies. To counter my less than bubbly personality, I hired friendly, comforting staff... who, unfortunately, usually never lasted more than a couple of years before moving on to a better paying job with a less demanding boss. Yeah, I went through nurses faster than babies went through diapers.
Except for Angela.
I hired her right out of nursing school hoping that, by getting her at a young age, I could mold the neophyte into the type of nurse I needed.
Angela was an instant hit with the patients. She was a pretty little thing - an inch short of five feet tall - with a quick smile and blue eyes that sparkled nearly as bright as her cheerful personality. Children saw her as a cuddly teddy bear, women felt safe in her comforting care, and my reprobate male patients couldn't take their eyes off her bulging bust. More importantly, she did everything I asked of her and was a quick study, never needing to be told something twice.
Nurse Angela was a godsend. The nurse I'd always wanted... until she wasn't.
-
"I'm worried about Angela," I said at one of our Sunday night dinners.
"Your nurse?" Mary asked.
"The one everybody likes?" Robert questioned.
"The short lady with the big tits and round ass?" Robbie added, getting a disapproving look from his mother.
"I thought she was the perfect employee," James said. "The ying to your yang. Your clinic's secret sauce."
"So did I. She's finally got to the point where I no longer have to constantly tell her what to do. She envisions what I want and does it without asking."
"Then why are you worried? Do you think she's going to quit?"
"She's never said anything about quitting... but she's been acting really strange lately."
"Strange? How?" Martha asked. "Give us an example."
"She didn't wear a bra to work last Monday."
"What's wrong with that?"
"I saw ten male patients that day and every damn one of them had elevated blood pressure. A direct result of Nurse Angela rubbing an unrestrained boob against each man's arm."
"That's it?" Mary asked. "Angela lets the ladies swing free for a day and you want to fire her?"
"I don't want to fire her. She's not only the best nurse I've ever had, she's also one of the few people on the planet who I can tolerate for extended periods of time."
"Then tell her to bind up her bosom and move on."
"I did. And she did. The very next day she wore a bra to work but insisted on giving every female patient a free breast exam."
"Are you saying...?"
"Yep. She fondled the boobs of two dozen women in one day... more tits than Robert's had his hands on in forty years. And, after I chastised her for that, she showed up two days later wearing scrubs so tight one of my elderly patients nearly went into cardiac arrest. It's like she's purposely trying to piss me off."
The room went quiet for a few seconds as my extended family considered my situation.
As expected, Martha was the first to break the silence.
"Has something in Angela's life changed in the last few months?" she asked. "Has she recently broken up with her boyfriend? Lost a loved one? Quit taking her medications?"
"I don't know," I admitted. "I make a point of not getting involved with my employees' social lives."
"Well, if you want to keep her on staff, I suggest you start. Because what you're describing is an obvious cry for help."
"You expect me to invite Nurse Angela into my office and ask, 'what the hell is the matter with you'?"
"If you had any people skills, that's exactly what I'd recommend. But since you don't, I suggest you let me do it for you," Martha said.
"There's no way Nurse Angela is going to lay down on your couch and tell you what's troubling her."
"Not if she knows what I do for a living. But give me thirty minutes with her alone, thinking I'm just another one of your patients, and I'll know all her inner secrets."
-
Three days later, Martha came into my office for what was supposedly an annual physical exam. As usual, I had Nurse Angela take the patient's vital signs, fill out her medical history and, when I was "called away for a special phone consultation", I asked my slightly psychotic nurse to "stay with the patient until I return".
That ploy (lie) would supposedly let Martha have a half hour alone with her unofficial client.
Thirty minutes turned into forty-five. And then an hour. I'm not sure how she did it, but Martha kept Nurse Angela talking for an hour and fifteen minutes before texting me that she had "solved the case."
When I returned to the examination room, Nurse Angela's tear-streaked cheeks and puffy eyes were indicative of a woman who had recently bared her soul but, instead of acknowledging it, I continued with Martha's fake checkup as if all was normal.
