The Wet Nurse
Part I
Chapter 1
Sandra arrived at the clinic on a bright Wednesday morning, drained after an arduous couple of days of work, with some trepidation, but also with hope for answers. Her unusual symptoms had defied diagnosis by her doctor and a succession of specialists after endless tests, hopefully to culminate here with a full week of comprehensive monitoring as an inpatient on a quiet medical ward. She'd been warned to expect a very dull time with nothing to do but be poked and prodded at intervals by the nursing staff. Work was banned, so instead of any laptop from the office she packed an eclectic selection of novels, some well-known and well-loved, a couple new and unknown; one or two should suit whatever mood she found herself in from day to day. Sandra's case was packed light even so, with just a few toiletries, pyjamas and eight days' of underwear.
Checking in was just as expected: the usual paperwork to be completed and she made the usual pretence at reading through the legal waivers before signing and being shown to her room. It was on the top floor, right at the end of the last, wide corridor, thankfully a single private room. She'd been warned that there was a chance it would be a shared room so the compact dimensions of the one she was shown into seemed a small price to pay for avoiding a roommate. Still, the bed was a standard hospital bed: large, but with a firm, clammy, uncomfortable foam mattress. The sheets were thick and almost felt starched, the blankets thin and barely warm enough, and none of it seemed likely to stay in place thanks to the slippery sanitary plastic coverings of the mattress and pillows. At least the nurses were friendly, sympathetic and helpful so that Sandra was happily enough settled in by the early afternoon, even after her first encounter with the hospital lunches.
It wasn't until the evening shift nurses came on that she met her first surprise. He was the first male nurse Sandra had seen on the ward and she found the way he quickly appeared in her room without knocking a little unnerving. Of course there were plenty of men the profession these days—had been for decades—but a first encounter at night had caught her off guard. She found herself quickly checking the modesty of her nightie and discretely pulled the covers up as she turned the page, trying to pay him the smallest amount of attention compatible with a minimum of politeness.
'Sorry to disturb your reading,' he apologised, noticing her embarrassment. 'I just have to take your last observations for the night and then you're on your own until morning. Give me a minute to check your IV and then I'll start with your temperature.'
'Sure; no problem.' mumbled Sandra, feigning more interest in her book than she felt, suddenly wanting to be alone quickly and annoyed at the more-than-a-minute it took him to do whatever it was he was doing to the IV bag by the side of the bed. Then he turned to her with a smile and went through the usual routine, already familiar after just an afternoon. She held her arm out to allow the blood pressure cuff to be velcroed in place, a blood-oxygen sensor went on her finger and a thermometer in her ear. When would it be over?
'That's it for tonight, unless there's anything else you need,' he said. 'Your notes say you need to stay in bed all night, at least for tonight. You can buzz me any time if there's anything you need. Okay?'
This was news to Sandra. Thinking back the doctor had said something along those lines when she'd dropped in during the afternoon but Sandra hadn't realised the implications. She did sometimes need the toilet during the night and was going to ask about how she should deal with that, but the nurse anticipated her question.
'I can bring you a urinal bottle if you like, just in case.'
'No, thanks. I never need to go at night.'
Why had she lied, she wondered? She could only put it down to her wanting the encounter over but even so, the nurse seemed to linger unnecessarily. The blood pressure cuff was still around her arm, now against her side in the bed. She moved it away again as she felt his hands start to remove it. She tried to extend her arm out again quickly but it seemed heavy with his hand and the cuff still constricting her movements so that the back of his hand momentarily brushed the side of her breast through her nightie and night bra. Sandra's face reddened with embarrassment but, looking intently at his face, she could see no sign that he'd registered what had happened or, if he had, he was continuing his work professionally in the knowledge that contact of that kind was to expected occasionally, and not a big deal. But Sandra's searching look lingered just too long and their eyes met as he looked up to see her red cheeks.
'Are you okay?' he asked?
Sandra was more flustered than she expected and found it difficult to come up with a natural, disarming response in time. The words wouldn't come.
'I ... guess so' she mumbled meekly.
Now it was the nurse's turn to look into Sandra's eyes, holding them in his gaze. She felt confused and almost unable to look away. The seconds dragged by uncomfortably until she dragged her head away.
'I want you to tell me exactly how this makes you feel,' he said, just as soon as her eyes weren't watching him, and at that moment a hand slipped suddenly under the lowish top of her nightie and stroked her nipple through the thin, tight fabric of her night bra. He managed a few gentle strokes and then a very gentle pinch of her nipple before she looked back; the world seeming to move in slow motion.
'What do you think you're doing?' demanded Sandra as loudly as should could, though she sounded less authoritative than she would have liked.
He quickly stopped and stepped back, saying nothing at all as he looked at his watch, long before Sandra's hands could come up to push him away. She felt ashamed that she'd said and done so little. She was confused about how little riled she felt, just lying there with her face still flushed, with embarrassment she supposed.
She decided the best thing to do was to push the call buzzer and complain loudly to whoever responded. Twisting her arm up backwards she found reaching the buzzer difficult. Then, just as her hand reached it his hand found hers and brought it back down to her side. She saw that doing so required no effort on his part.
'Just rest there a minute he said. You're doing well.'
Sandra tried again to rouse herself to action but now it was so hard she knew something was terribly wrong. It was much easier to lay placidly as she was than to want to take any action. She made one more effort to lift her hand but now found it so weak that she could barely raise it before giving up the attempt.
'What's wrong with me?' she heard her voice say.
Resuming his place by Sandra's side the nurse's hand continued its gentle stroking of her nipple, just as before. How much it felt like those petting sessions of her youth she thought. Before she could wonder at her own new attitude to the situation she felt both of her nipples growing rapidly hard and erect. Now his strokings turned to gentle flicks of the nipple protruding into the stretchy, smooth bra fabric.
'You need to tell me how this makes you feel. Tell me what you're thinking.'
'You've made them pointy.' said her voice. Why would she be giving away any of her thoughts, let alone anything that might be construed as consenting?
'Is that nice then? When you've let men stroke them before you've liked the way it felt, haven't you?'
'Yes' came her voice again after a short pause. It seemed to have a mind of its own, or at least it said the first thing that came into her head without the least thought about whether honesty and cooperation were a good idea.
