NICOLE – YOU START SOMETHING

“Terry, my glasses please.” Nicole wrinkles her nose as if to move her glasses back up to her eyes.

She breathes in sharply to maintain control. Her voice stern, “Dr. Sommers, since your thumbs are on your cellphone, see if you can get Plastic to do a subcuticular.”

He straightens up some, making the call, “Dr. Reegan wants someone to do a subcuticular. Who? Dr. Decona?” He looks at Nicole, who nods, after giving him a hard look.

Thirty minutes later, Nicole drags herself out of the family waiting room, and bumps into Jillian Fader, chief of anesthesiology.

“Jillian, I am never to see Sommers in my OR again. Please talk to your boy about excessive cellphone usage in surgery.”

Before Dr Fader even has a chance to pull down her own mask to speak, Nicole turns and disappears into the locker room.

Leaning against the lockers for support, Nicole tries the combination to her lock twice before she is able to unlock it. She digs inside to get her clothes and cellphone. The message light blinks. Four messages.

I’m sorry about last night. Call me after surgery.

Darling, are you still in surgery? Are you ok?

And two are from Rachel.

Hey nic im gonna be in town for job interview next mon

U and alez around? Want to get together?

Thoughts and questions thump painfully in Nicole’s head. Rachel is looking for a job here? Does Alex know that? Of course he knows, how long has he known? He is probably encouraging her to move here. Not that he has discussed this with her; he’s been too busy planning with his… girlfriend. She is just the wife. Nicole’s white knuckled hand slowly places the cellphone back in the locker. Air fills her lungs, drawing more in, pushing down, reigning in the choking rage.

After ten minutes under hot blasting water, Nicole sits down on the shower bench, detaching the shower head to rinse off the rest of the shampoo. The water sprays and trickles down her torso. Then urgency flashed like lighting. She anchors her feet against the wall. Her thighs spread open. Her hips rocking against the jet spray she brings closer and then further and then closer. It shoots up her pussy, unfolds and peels her. It blasts and tickles and sweeps and caresses. Back and forth. In and out. Around and around. It pulsates and it smacks. She holds it steady and fucks the rushing streams and jets. Her cunt drips. Her eyes tear. Teeth marks deep on her forearm to silence the pants and the sobs.

Her hand, now slightly pruney, reaches back in. The cracked fingers and shattered tips grasp at the cellphone. A calm has set in. Now, she can punch out her voice.

I’m out of surgery. Going to get a manicure. Dont hurry.

Kudos on interview. Will check sched with Alex and let you know.

“Dr. Nic, wake up, all done,” Juju gently taps Nicole’s arm.

Nicole stretches in response to the nudging.

“All better now, you bad to yourself Dr Nic. Hands bad.”

Nicole smiles at Juju, “I’ve been doing better.” She examines her cuticles, trimmed, soft, respectable again.

“You use bad soap; do bad things, hands not happy,” she scolds Nicole.

“I will try better, Ju,” giving her a credit card from her wallet, admiring the buffed shine on her nails.

Nicole reopens her wallet again, looking into a memory. It may be a memory but the recall is total. She pulls the card out from the inner flap.

He leans forward, frowning and absorbed by thoughts regarding the analysis on his screen. A cellphone vibrates, then rings. And rings. His eyes dart toward the annoyance. And rings.

“Hello.”

He sits back slowly, eyes wide in astonishment.

“You tell me when and where,” he says quietly, “and I will be there.”