The VIP Room (4 page)

I started thrusting, long smooth strokes that I knew I could sustain a while. While on the outside I kept up the cocky persona, inside my mind I was feeling a tectonic shift in my heart and soul. In my line of work, it doesn't pay to get close to anyone. It's too dangerous, for both of us. You could be taken away from each other at a moment's notice. But regardless, I could feel myself shifting on the inside, wanting to please her more and more, and I knew she was working her way inside me, even if she didn't realize it. It scared me, and it thrilled me.

T
he first tickle
of Mark's pubic hair against me left me breathless. When he started thrusting, his thick cock pistoning in and out of me, I was left senseless, waves of bliss cascading through me. Each slap of his hips against me was a sharp reminder to breathe, or else I would have suffocated having forgotten how to.

Mark's cock penetrated me deeply, deeper than any man had ever done before. My fingers curled into tight balls on the sofa, my breasts pressed against the cushion, and I groaned loudly, not caring if my neighbors, a nosy old lady named Francine and a Hispanic couple, the Mendozas, heard me. "More, please. Give me more."

Mark responded by speeding up, his cock filling me faster and faster. I almost lost it when I felt him start to circle his hips as he thrust, his cock almost twirling inside me with every hammering penetration, touching me in different ways each time, lighting up my body. I could see stars, and was on the verge of blacking out, when a thought roared into my brain, dragging me back to consciousness.

If I was role-playing as submissive to Mark, then I couldn't come first. Not without his permission. Instead, I mustered every bit of strength I had and pushed back harder, squeezing my body around him, trying to please this sexy man who was giving me the fuck of my life. The least I could do was try and give as good as I was getting.

I don't know if what I was doing had any effect, but it sent explosions off in my body. I pushed and grunted, my sexual side consuming me as his perfect cock pounded me relentlessly, his hips punishing my ass cheeks. My orgasm was rushing up on me, but I held on grimly, gritting my teeth to please Mark, giving him everything I had.

Still, it wasn't enough. I couldn't hold back any longer, and clamped down as hard as I could, lust and pleasure and regret choking my voice. "Mark, I'm going to come," I gasped, "I'm....."

I was going to say
I'm sorry
, but my throat closed up, and my body exploded in climax. I was glad Mark had me bent over the couch, because I lowered my face to the cushions and screamed my joy and pleasure, every nerve in me feeling the pleasure of his cock. Suddenly, I could feel him tense and his cock swell, the first hot jets of his seed filling me and satisfying me completely. Relief and accomplishment filled my heart and soul, and I knew that my initial prediction had been right, letting him in was going to change me forever.

A
fter our climax
, I carried Sophie to her bedroom, laying her carefully on her bed. She only had a queen sized bed, a bit small for me, but I wanted to stay with her. Instead, I stood up, intending to go out to the sofa, maybe get my things and go, when her voice stopped me in my tracks. "Mark," she whispered, her voice close to breaking again into tears, "don't leave. Stay."

I looked over my shoulder at her, realizing my error. How many times had she been
pumped and dumped
, as an associate of mine tended to say? She said she was no easy lay, and I believed her, but I've known plenty of women who weren't easy, but still got walked out on as soon as the guy got his rocks off. I regret to say I've done it myself more than once.

But not with Sophie. I couldn't, not after what she did for me, did to me. Instead, I turned back to her, and knelt next to her bed. "I'm not going anywhere," I whispered, kissing her on the forehead. "I just want to get my cell phone, set my alarm. You've got work in the morning, remember? And I need to get up early too."

She looked at me with those trusting dark eyes of hers and nodded. "Okay."

I walked out of the bedroom and to the living room, scooping up my clothes as I went. My jeans were in a puddle at the edge of the couch, where they had worked off my hips while Sophie was bent over the arm rest. The cell phone was in my back pocket, and I could see the flash that said I had a text message waiting for me. I hadn't felt the vibrations with Sophie's distracting presence. I flipped it open, and nodded to myself.

Congratulations on another successful assignment,
the text said.
Have another ready. Will call tomorrow afternoon
.

I closed the message box and turned on my alarm, setting it for five thirty. Five hours of sleep. I can operate on that, I've operated on less. Going back into the bedroom, I found Sophie already lightly snoring, her fist tucked under her chin while she lay on her side. I snuggled in behind her, and pulled her tight against me. She moaned incoherently, and laid her hand on my arm. "Good night," I whispered into her hair, giving it a kiss. "Sweet dreams."

I
was downing
my second Redbull of the morning when I walked into the emergency room at the University Hospital that Thursday morning. "Morning everyone," I said, stifling a yawn as I put my thumb on the time clock reader. It scanned my print and beeped, noting my time of clock-in. "How is everything?”

Brad and Cassandra, two of my co-workers who were at the desk, glanced up, Cassandra giving me a concerned look. "You okay Sophie? You look like you're going on two hours of sleep."

"More than that," I replied, "but not too much more." After Mark put me to bed the night before, we were supposed to have about five hours or so to get sleep. Instead, I woke up at three in the morning with an intense need to pee. I guess it had something to do with the alcohol the night before, it does that to me sometimes.

Afterwards, I couldn't get comfortable again. I didn't blame Mark, my bed is pretty small, but I was used to lying in the exact middle, and kind of sprawling out all over the place. Instead, we had to press our bodies together in order to fit both of us on the bed, which was the cause of the whole problem. I'm sure that was a new experience for him. From appearances, he was very well off.

Regardless of the wonderful sex the night before, feeling Mark's body against me in bed soon had me aroused, and despite my best efforts, I couldn't fall asleep no matter what I did.

My wiggling and squirming woke Mark up, his chuckle turning into a moan as my ass moved around against his rapidly stiffening cock. Of course one thing led to another, and we had a second round of wonderful sex before I could drop off for more sleep, only to be awoken by the alarm seemingly minutes after closing my eyes. So, my five hours of sleep ended up being about three and a half, broken up into two parts.

"Well, keep on your toes," Brad commented without lifting his eyes from his computer screen. He was responsible for a lot of the record keeping, especially with the insurance providers. When I first started volunteering at the ER, I wondered why he kept a bottle of eye drops next to his keyboard all the time. After helping him out one shift, I stopped wondering. I had glowing letters dancing in front of my eyes the whole rest of my night. How Brad put up with it, I didn't fathom to guess. "Doc Green is coming in today at noon."

I rolled my eyes. "Green. Well, I guess I could expect it. But why noon? He's normally on morning shift."

"He was in late last night," Cassandra said, a grin on her face. "He was supposed to be out of here at midnight and back in for first shift today."

"So what happened?" I asked, finishing off the last of my energy drink and tossing the empty can into the recycle bin. "I've heard he could pull a shift like that no problem at all."

"The problem is, ten minutes after his shift was technically over, and he was finishing up his paperwork, the ambulance brought in a bleeder," Brad interjected. "From your part of town, even. A loan shark for the Russians, Karl Vaslov. Apparently he was sitting in his living room last night watching
The Daily Show
or something when somebody kicked in his door and attacked. He came in with a laundry list of internal injuries, along with his tongue being cut out. He was pretty much DOA, but wasn't clinically dead yet, so Green had to spend another three hours working on him. Vaslov finally coded out at three thirty this morning, and Green got out of here about four thirty."

"Huh. Well, I guess I’ll take the small favors created by the death of a criminal," I replied, wiping my eyes. I caught one piece of crusty eye that I'd missed earlier, the scratchy little bit scraping my cheekbone just a bit as I worked it out. "I'm only on until two today, and I've got a shift at the Shamrock this evening. Any chance to get work done without Green around is good for me."

One of the attending physicians, Dr. Morrison, dropped off a chart with a laugh. "Face it Sophie, if it wasn't for Green, work here would be very boring for you."

I half yawned, half laughed and pulled on my short jacket that showed I was a volunteer assistant on top of my scrubs. "True, Doctor. But I think I'd rather have boring shifts than entertaining ones."

Morrison nodded and grabbed the next chart in the line off the wall. "That's fine. Okay, let's see, I've got you down for health clinic duty starting at ten, but until then stick close. You've been working on your sutures a lot lately I noticed, I might just let you try them out on a real human today."

I liked Morrison. He was in his mid forties and ugly as sin, but a nice guy. He had even had me over to his house along with a bunch of the other volunteers and med students the summer before for a barbecue, and I was able to spend three hours hanging out with his teenage daughter, who thankfully looked nothing at all like her father. "Thanks Doc. I promise, I won't sew my fingers to anyone's scalp today."

Morrison nodded. "Better not, or else I'm just going to leave them there. Come on, Mrs. Wong in exam two isn't going to like waiting much longer."

The first three hours of my shift went well, and at ten I headed over to the community health clinic. A partnership with a local charity, it was a huge tax write-off for both the hospital and the corporation behind the charity. The clinic provided low cost community health care for the local area, and often gave away services to those who couldn't pay for them.

While noble in nature, the reality was I spent a lot of my time wiping stuffy noses and trying to explain to woefully unprepared, uneducated and uninterested parents that feeding your child real food from the supermarket instead of fast food and convenience store stuff would go a long way towards some of the problems they kept bringing their kids in for.

Their kids didn't need pills for their cold, they needed fresh oranges. Their anemic child would be a lot better off with some spinach or kale with their dinner instead of coming in for shots. Sadly, most of my lectures got nasty looks from parents, and not a week went by without someone loudly stating that I had a lot of nerve trying to tell her how to raise her children.

But today was vaccination day, so I got to give my right thumb a good workout. As I was sticking dose after dose of measles vaccine into little kids' backsides, I reflected that at least the clinic didn't have to deal with the affluent parents some of the private doctors did. I don't think I could have dealt with any soccer moms whipping out blog posts from anti-vax websites and trying to trip me up with 'facts' from Jenny McCarthy. We didn't get that sort of parent in the clinic. I suppose it was just trading one type of headache parent for another.

After two hours, the clinic closed down for lunch, and I headed back over to the ER after a ten minute break where I exchanged a few text messages with Mark. I planned on taking my lunch after my shift was over, so I wanted to see if I could tag along with Dr. Morrison on any more cases. Instead, almost as soon as I waved to Cassandra, I heard the voice I was not looking forward to in the least. "Well well, back from baby butt duty, Pure-D?"

I hated Dr. Green's nickname for me. He's a good doctor, a clinical genius in a lot of ways, and one of the best in the entire state at what the ER docs jokingly called "meatball surgery," stabilizing patients and keeping them alive long enough for the other surgeons to take over.

I'd seen him take a teenage gunshot victim and in the middle of the ER, crack her sternum open, pinching the woman's pulmonary vein closed by hand while applying what amounted to super glue to hold it closed before she bled out. The girl ended up with a seven inch scar that I'm sure would make her want to wear high necked shirts for the rest of her life, but she was at least alive.

Still, Dr. Green was an asshole with a juvenile sense of humor. My second shift in the ER, after mistakenly leaving my bra behind in one of the staff changing rooms, he had settled on my nickname. Dredging the back alleys of his mind, he tied in my bra size with my last name, and then some old movie or another he watched where a character uses the phrase "Pure-D white." And so my nickname was born. Since then, I've never taken off any of my underwear in the staff changing rooms.

At least I wasn't Dr. Green's only target of harassment. Almost every intern, volunteer, or doctor who couldn't threaten his position as an ER institution had something about them he could comment on. His list of complaints in HR was a mile long, and the one time I had gone up to talk to them, the woman who took my complaint just nodded. "Let me give you some advice," she told me after reading over my carefully handwritten form. "Glen Green is never going to get himself fired from this hospital unless you can find pictures of him with his dick out around the underage candy stripers. He's too damn good, and he's happy down there in the ER. The administration deals with him because he's pulled more miracles out of his ass in the past two years than most doctors do in an entire career. So they put up with him, and he knows he's never going to be promoted past head attending physician of the ER."

"It's still not right," I said, sighing. "This isn't some stupid medical TV show. What's next, he walks around limping with a cane and popping drugs, whacking people in the gut or back of the knee whenever he feels like it?"

The HR woman snorted and balled up my report. Before I could say anything, she tossed it in the trash. "I just saved your career, Miss White. Dr. Green is a total jackass, yes. But if this goes in his file, he's going to make your life a living hell until you complete your PA studies, and then he's going to torpedo your chances anywhere within a three state radius by slipping a very unflattering note into your student files right before you graduate. I've seen him do it before. So keep your head down, put up with his shit, and tell yourself that in about two years you can be done with him."

So I put up with it, Pure-D and all. "Clinic duty was fine, Dr. Green," I replied in my best professional voice. "I just wanted to get some more observations and work done around here until the end of my shift in two hours."

"So you can go get a bunch of micks drunk and give the evening shift work to do," Green replied, grabbing another chart and tossing it to me after glancing it over. "There, go pull your weight. Even a student could handle this one."

I didn't even reply, catching the chart on the fly and turning around. It was easier that way

A
fter Sophie left for work
, I headed back to my apartment in the Park District to change clothes. As I drove, I found myself thinking about her, a small smile on my face. Besides being smart, she was more beautiful than she realized, with long brown hair and green eyes that grew darker when she was aroused. And the sex......

Distracted by the memories of the night before, I almost hit the truck in front of me, slamming on the brakes on my Mercedes just in time. The racing wheels reacted quickly, and I stopped just a few inches from the rear end of a F-150, the driver even opening his door to stick his head out and check there was nothing wrong. "My fault," I said, sticking my head out the window. "Gathering wool."

"Be careful, man!" the driver yelled back, slamming his door and stomping on his accelerator when the light turned green. I just let him go, he wasn't worth my trouble. Still, I drove the rest of the way back to my apartment carefully, parking inside the covered garage before taking the elevator up to the eighteenth floor. It wasn't the penthouse, but my condominium overlooking the Park was nice, and most of my neighbors worked in businesses far different from mine.

The guy above me was a venture capitalist, while the woman down the hall was a local television personality, who'd held a two person "welcoming party" in my condo with me about two days after I moved in. We barely spoke to each other now. After about the fourth time I turned her down for a repeat performance, she finally got the message. She wasn't angry or anything about it, although I could tell she was a bit peeved that I wasn't more star struck. Still, she had a steady stream of bed partners when she wanted them, and I had the same. She just wasn't my type.

After changing my clothes, I got ready for my morning routine. First, I monitored all of my investments, making sure there had been no major market changes that required my immediate work. I didn't want to keep doing my job forever, you know, so I always took at least thirty percent of my freelancer fees and invested it, with a good mix of different investment vehicles. I could've retired a long time ago, but even when you're rich, you want more. Besides, I'm not so sure my employers would allow me to just walk away.

I decided to skip my typical thirty minutes of specialized cardiovascular work, but kept to my weight training and martial arts practice. I've set up a room of my condominium just for that, as keeping my body in peak condition is important for my line of work. As the sweat flowed from my pores, I could feel the stress flowing out of my mind as the tension built in my muscles, letting me think.

About halfway through my heavy bag work I fell into that state that the Buddhists call
zazen
, a kind of half trance where my body just reacted, and my conscious mind could be somewhere else. That sort of stillness, even while moving, is the answer to the riddle
the more you seek it, the harder it is to find it
.

As my hands flew against the bag, I pondered the past twenty four hours. Why had I chosen Sophie? I went to the club that night on business only, and planned on teasing the club girls just to give myself a good cover for being there. My original plan was to bring one of them to a hotel for a good romp in the sheets, maybe two if the mood struck me, nothing more, until I saw Sophie.

I certainly hadn't planned on having an hour long conversation about music and art with her in a VIP room, nor did I plan on giving her a ride home, returning back to her place after completing the night's work, and I definitely didn't plan having some of the best sex of my life not just once, but twice. To top it off, Sophie was now the one person outside the very limited circle of my employers who had my personal cell phone number.