Four East

At 2245hrs, 10:45 pm in "real world" time, I took a short break and went to my locker. The locker room is just outside the PCU, in the elevator lobby between PCU (4 Center) and 4 East. The hospital was remodeling 4 East. Apparently they were almost done; today they posted a sign saying the area was closed. I'd been using it to get to the ICU in the new wing on 3rd. Oh well; I'd have to go another way.

The lights in the elevator lobby were dimmed and there were only a few lights on 4 East. It was after 10 so the lighting on PCU was already out except at the station. As I punched in the code for the locker room the hair on the back of my neck stood up. I wasn't alone. I looked quickly to my right to see the main doors to 4 East slowly swing shut. I punched in the code, got what I was after and got back to the lighted companionship at the PCU desk.

By 2300, I'd forgotten the little thrill at the locker room door. My replacement arrived and I gave her report on the monitor patients. Charlene needed a book I had though so I went back to the locker room. Just as the locker room door opened I looked to the 4 East doors. This time they were opening. It was Dr. Tracy Neal, a resident. She looked in a hurry, probably dashing to the ICU so I didn't think much about it. I got the book for Charlene and sat at the desk until 2330 and time to clock out.

One of the nurses who used 4 East as a short cut to our time clock called to me as I left. "Don't go down 4 East to get the clock."

"Yeah, I saw the sign; Area Closed."

"But they've sealed off the stairs and elevator while they're finishing. It was in a memo yesterday."

I got to the locker room door and stopped. Dr. Neal, probably a good 10 to 12 years younger than me, was nothing if not conscientious to a fault. She read all the memos. She wouldn't be "dashing" into an area if there'd been a memo closing it off. I was curious.

4 East is divided off from the elevator lobby by two sets of double doors. You enter the first set and step into a waiting area. 12 feet farther and you come to a second set of doors that open in front of one of two nurses' stations. I must confess a certain nervousness going through the first set of doors into the darken waiting room. It was very lonely and isolating. I plunged forward to the second set of doors, opened them rapidly and stood in a lone pool of light.

I chuckled to myself. This was beginning to remind me of the time in college I searched an abandoned department store at night. I came to the women's room on the mezzanine level and HAD to go in. I stepped in the door and turned right and confronted another man! It was actually a floor length mirror; it was actually me. I screamed.

About every fourth hall light was on but dimmed so the long corridor leading to the elevator was almost, but not quite, dark. I walked slowly and quietly; avoiding walking to near to dark open doorways and not having the nerve to open a closed door.

I turned and went back up a parallel hallway. As I came to the corner of the hall and thinking this was a wild goose chase I heard a noise. I stopped. The noise was the unmistakable sound of a grunt and a slurp. Another noise. A plaintive moan, muffled, a blast of air from someone's nose, another grunt and another slurp. I inched toward a doorway, the door partially open.

I knelt down beside the doorframe, intently listening. There were more plaintive moans, a cry then a slap. "Noooo! Please..." It was Dr. Neal's voice and for a fleeting moment I worried that she might be into something with someone that she didn't want to be into. But then I heard her say, "Lean back." Springs creaked. She slurped the mystery man's cock.

The man, whom I didn't recognize, sat on the side of a hospital bed, completely naked. An equally naked Dr. Neal knelt between his legs. Her hands and head paying close attention to his cock.

After a few minutes of her head bobbing up and down Dr. Neal sat back on her heels, her hair wild, falling over her face, holding his cock in her fists.

"Rob, I want you to do me...like you did the other night." Her voice had an edge to it.

"Shit, Tracy! That was some scary stuff. Why the fuck do you like that?!"

"Please, Robbie...I'll pay you..."

The man laughed. "Oh yeah, you pay me! That's a hoot..."

"Look, I'm not on call. I don't have to be anywhere for 6 whole hours. Come on, you know you liked doing me that way. Admit it."

"No! Fuck, No!! I won't admit it. You scared the shit out of me..."

She interrupted. "Pleaseeee. Just this one more time...? Everything's here."

The man got off the bed rather explosively. I thought for a second I'd been made. But he stood over her, roughly pulling back her hair, forcing her to look up his body.

"Alright, one more time and that's FUCKING IT! Understand?"

A smile came over her face. He helped her to her feet and she went to the window. She was beautiful in the light filtering in from the street below. Short legs, wide hips, nicely soft belly and small, firm breasts. She pulled her hair back from her face and reached into a bag on the windowsill. She took a small bottle out, poured a capful of its contents into a Dixie cup and tossed it down. She smiled at her lover who stood near the bed, still erect but with a semi disgusted look on his face.

"Come on, whore," he slurred out whore with a singular contempt, "I do have to be somewhere shortly."

He bent to get the leather straps fastened at the head and foot of the bed. She turned away toward the window and I saw her pull a small hypo out of her thigh then quickly move to the bed.

The man fastened her into 4-point leather restraints then mounted the bed. He knelt between her legs and roughly caressed her belly and breasts then he mounted her. He fucked her slowly at first then got into a rhythm with her. He leaned over her and pinned her arms to the bed at the elbows. His body and hers glistened from sweat. Their fucking, aside from her being strapped to the bed, was pretty routine until...

"Get the bag..." It was a whisper from her.

His face contorted and he slapped her hard. It was weird. It didn't seem to be part of their love play. He appeared mad.

"You promised me Robbie..." Another whisper; followed by a cry as he thrust doubly hard into her.

"You promised..." This time he flew into a tirade. Still fucking her he began to slap her with both hands. She had no place to go, she was at his mercy.

"OK! You CUNT, I'm getting the FUCKING BAG..."

Frenzied, he pulled a clear plastic bag from under her pillow and pulled it over her head.

"Yessss...." she said as he held the bag closed at her throat. He fucked her in frenzy, without regard for her rhythm or needs. He fucked her hard, gripping her tightly by the throat. With each of his frenzied thrusts she thrashed her head from side to side; she strained at her restraints.

Moments seemed like hours. He stiffened for a second, grunting like an animal, then pumped into her for several strokes. Her body stiffened too then went completely limp.

"Oh JESUS, GOD, What have I done????!!!! You crazy bitch..." The man bounded off of her inert form. I sought cover in another room. I heard him gather his clothes and *run* from the room.

I was frozen. I didn't know what to do. This was way out of my league. I finally decided I had to go in.

I didn't turn on any lights. I entered the room quietly. There was no movement from the bed. I looked at her belly; there was shallow breathing. I yanked the bag off her head, brushed her hair back. Her lips had a dark cast to them in the dimness. I just stood and stared. What to do...If this had been an ordinary situation I would have called a Code by now but here was a house medical officer, strapped to a bed, cum covering her bush, sweat covering her body, and I was alone with her. This might be hard to explain, especially if she died.

For some reason I went to her bag on the windowsill. There was the bottle she drank from and a small vial beside an insulin syringe. Beside that a small bottle of orange juice. I grabbed the OJ. Incredibly there was a note attached to it.

"Rob, give me some of this IMMEDIATELY! Didn't you have fun?"

WHOA! Dr. Tracy Neal, mild mannered, frumpy little frau of a resident was definitely into some KINKY shit with a capital K. She had injected herself with insulin right before she got into bed. Not only did she want to asphyxiate herself but also she was going for an insulin shock coma!

I took the OJ over to her. She was still breathing shallowly and not moving. I slapped her face a couple of times and said her name. She moaned and moved her head away from me then her eyes fluttered open. They were just slits, really.

"Tracy, Tracy, you've got to drink this. YOU'VE GOT TO."

I held the OJ toward her lips and held her head off the bed. At first she did nothing. I shook her head.

"TRACY!!! Drink!!!!"

The OJ touched her lips then she drank. She choked on the first sip and sprayed the OJ out across the room.

"TRACY, My GOD...DRINK!!!!"

She took one swallow, then two, then three and a fourth. She closed her eyes; I laid her head back and let her rest for a second. Then I hauled her head back up and made her drink more. When she had finished it all I laid her head back. I wondered, "Now what?"

Dr. Neal drew a deep breath and a smile came across her face, her eyes still closed. "Ah, GOD, Robbie...I wish you could feel this...You were great..."

I cleared my throat. She looked at me.

"...Scott? "

"Yeah. Hi."

"What are you..."

"Saving your life. Rob freaked when you went limp. He bolted."

"You watched us?"

"Uh, yeah. I'm sorry...Are you suicidal, Doctor?"

She giggled. "Can I have some more? There's another bottle in my bag.... You haven't untied me yet..." her tone became flat, "want to do me? Please? Then I'll tell you anything you want to know..."

I didn't move.

"Scott, close the door."