Page 53 of Deprivation

“Uh, Kat? Why did it feel like I walked in on something?” Jessica fishes for answers.

“I don’t know. Maybe because you’re always looking to stir shit up.”

“Then, why are you sweating?” Jess asks, running her finger along my hairline from my right temple down to my ear.Dammit. Busted.

“Okay, okay.” I briefly glance over to make sure Mr. Lamb is still sleeping. Of course, that didn’t seem to be a concern when Dr. Barnes was grinding into me earlier. “I hate it, but he’s really hot. It’s not my fault. I haven’t had sex in years, and he’sreallyhot,” I continue in hushed tones.

“I knew it.” Jessica clapped. “Meghan and I are placing bets on you two hooking up. I said it would happen within a month, she gave you two.”

“What?” I spin to face her. “Are you kidding me?” I blurt louder than I should.

“Come on, Kat. You’ve been single since Jesus was a boy. You’ve got to be desperate for some hot and kinky. And I bet that guy has it in spades.” She smiles, rubbing her hands together as if picturing it in her mind’s eye.

“Jess, that would be ahugemistake.Huge. If it didn’t work out, I have to work with him like, All. The. Time. I mean, he’s only worked here for a few months, and I feel like I see him every day.”

“Exactly, Kat. Think about it. When have youeverseen an orthopod here this often?Never, that’s when. He’s got it bad for you. I’m telling you. And look at him. All broody, sexy. God, I’d fuck him just to get a look at his ass. Have you seen the way he fills out his pants?”

Looking back to Mr. Lamb I utter, “Jessica Main. You’ll scar poor Mr. Lamb for life if he hears you.” I shake my head.

She just laughs. “He’s old as dirt. What’ll that last him, two, three years? He could use a little excitement in his life.” I watch, covering my mouth with my palm as my brazen coworker struts out the door.

Checking on Mr. Lamb one last time before asking for Jess to return to observe him until his sedation wears off, I stand holding onto the side rail of the stretcher and recall what just occurred. I’ve never behaved this way, neither at work or elsewhere. So reckless. But it was as if he knew what I wanted and just went for it. Like intuitively, he understood I needed him as much as he needed me.

But the fact remains, he’s still a playboy, and I’m still a dick magnet. Heck, I could count three different women I’ve seen him with in the last month. There was the brunette at the bar with her hand on his leg when I met Melanie. He was with a blonde in the restaurant, the night I met Mac to calm his nerves about proposing. Then, last night, I saw him hugging that beauty queen in front of Julio’s. Four, if you count Bobbi molesting him earlier. I mean, he didn’t look like he minded having her all over him.Thanks, Bobbi, I mock. That coupled with the way he treated me when we met, why on earth would I even consider anything with this guy? Now, if I could only stop dreaming about him.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Present Day

Kat

I’m running. Running from what? It’s so humid here. Is someone chasing me? I feel lost. The atmosphere resembles a rainforest. I hear noises of tropical birds and the scampering of wildlife. There’s an intense woodsy smell in the air as I run through tall, leafy foliage and lush shrubbery, pushing the occasional large banana leaf from my path. Where the heck am I? Out of the blue, large arms grab me by my hips and move me to a different dimension.Holy cow, do I get to sleep with Tarzan in this dream?

The bright colors have faded, and now I’m in a sterile, bright white environment. Is this heaven? The abrupt change in venue has given me pause, as I stand staring down at an empty stretcher. Muscular, corded arms slip between my limbs, pinning me in place against the end of the gurney. I can feel him biting into my neck.Well, I guess Tarzan’s hungry. As he thrusts his groin against my backside, I feel my legs grow weak. I now feel a large hand, cupping my aching sex. The strong, determined paramour is grasping me tightly against him as he rubs his hard shaft against me. “Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere,”I strain to tell him.

His searing hot mouth is now alternating open-mouth kisses and bites into my shoulder, all while he’s gyrating against me. I don’t know how much longer I can handle this. No sooner has this thought escaped the recesses of my mind, when my world is quickly knocked topsy turvy. I realize I’ve been flipped onto my back, lying face-up on the mattress staring at the ceiling. Is this an exam room? Unable to concentrate on my surroundings, I’m distracted by my swollen, achy need. I look to the face of my heroic adventurer…

Wait a minute, you’re not Tarzan.

I open my eyes, wondering how these dreams can get any crazier, and then I look down to notice I’m wearing my full running gear.Definitely spoke to soon on the crazy question. I have on jogging shorts, a long sleeve coverup, and even my running shoes and socks. What’s worse, I’m wet. And not in the good way. Like, sweaty. Really sweaty. Was I running in my dream? Enough to perspire? No wonder I thought therainforestwas humid.

As I sit on the edge of the bed trying to imagine how on Earth I ended up in this state, I see my phone and EarPods are lying on the floor. As I bend to pick them up, “Welcome to the Jungle” by Guns N’ Roses is on a loop. Well, that answers the first portion of the dream. Now, if I could only explain the attire, the sweating, and why Nick Barnes was practically fucking me like Tarzan.Who am I kidding? I know why he was grinding into me in an ER exam room.It was the jogging gear and Tarzan reference I found befuddling. I definitely need to get that next appointment with Dr. Miller. I consider ifMatthew McConaugheymoonlights as a dream interpreter between movie shoots and doling out therapy. Hopefully, the recent shift in my nighttime entertainment, which apparently now includes costume changes, will keep me on task and not day dreaming about his alter ego while I’m there.

I head for the shower, knowing it’s going to be a long day. I’m scheduled for a twelve-hour shifton a Monday. I might need three cups of coffee for this one. Walking to the bathroom I turn on the hot, steamy water. Unable to help myself, I inspect my neck and shoulder for bite marks. I just can’t shake how real that dream felt. Shrugging it off, I remove my running gear and hop in. I feel a little sore. I read once where if you are dreaming or visualizing something strongly enough, you will use the same muscles in the body. Maybe that’s what happened.Still doesn’t explain the clothes.

* * *

I arrive to work, noticing the waiting room resembles a Greyhound bus station. I don’t see one empty seat. What on Earth? “Mondays,” I huff. Walking past the receptionist desk, I swipe my badge granting me access to the main emergency department. Stretchers line every hallway. Was there another bus crash?

“Hey, Jake. What the heck is going on?”

“Hell if I know. It’s been getting busier over the last few weeks, but this is the worst by far. I guess flu season has started. All I know, I’m glad you’re here.”

Looking over his shoulder, I notice Dr. Silver is steadily typing away at his keyboard. This might be the hardest I’ve ever seen him work. I better slink back to my little breezeway and start seeing people before he has time to realize I’m here and pawn anything off on me. There are clearly enough patients to go around.

* * *

Nick

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