MeatLocker

Chapter Seven-1

Chapter Seven

“Stacy?”

Jenny struggled but Stacy had already searched out the n****e through the light fabric of Jenny’s shirt and firmly latched onto it with her lips. “Stacy, please...”

Jenny tried to force the girl’s head away; grabbing her over the ears and pushing back. But Stacy was surprisingly strong and very persistent in her desire to please.

“Stacy... no!” Jenny tried to wriggle away, but Stacy, head-strong and determined, followed with her mouth still clamped onto the front of Jenny’s shirt as Jenny shifted along the sofa. In desperation, Jenny shouted, “Stacy. Girls don’t do this with other girls!”

Stacy immediately iced over. Drew back. Her brows had fallen and the line in her forehead reappeared as the girl tried to sort through this new information. Jenny felt a pang of guilt overlaid with regret as she watched the girl working on it. Stacy had to analyze Jenny’s meaning, come to a conclusion, form her own interpretation, and then figure out the words for a reply. It was a deceptively simple flow of thought for most people but an arduous mind-journey for Stacy. Jenny’s heart cried out to the girl. Finally Stacy reacted, the lower lip began to tremble; the eyes flooded with tears. She jumped to her feet and with a cry of anguish, Stacy covered her face and bolted into her bathroom.

“Stacy!” Jenny called out after her. But the door slammed shut. Jenny felt she should go after her, but decided against it. Things better left unsaid, she thought. Then she remembered Emily. How Mr. Kline had tried to force Emily to perform oral. Jenny had wanted to know more, for her own sake. But she had backed away from that uncomfortable situation as well; been keeping her mouth shut a lot lately. The better part of discretion? Or just a gutless reaction to an awkward set of circumstances? She thought the worse of it, and, picking up the juice glasses, she slunk guiltily back to her room.

“It hasn’t been bad,” Jenny said into the telephone that Friday night. She had completed week one of her probation. “The hours are brutal; two shifts... that’s sixteen hours. Then eight hours sleep. That’s why I haven’t been phoning you. But I got a pay check.”

“Congratulations.” Peter was conciliatory. “I miss you, that’s all. But it’s just for a couple of more weeks, right?”

“Yeah. Two more weeks.”

“So you can hack-it all right...”

“Sure. This week was easy, really. They assigned me to Emily and I pretty much just followed her around on the afternoon-shift. Emily’s been great, very understanding, when you consider I’ll be taking over her job. She must want out real bad.”

“That doesn’t make any sense, if it’s such a great place to work.”

“I think there’s something going on between her and Dr. McAllister...”

“You mean they’re lesbians? A lover’s spat?” Peter’s voice rose an octave.

“No you ass; not like that. Emily’s as straight as they come. But there is something...”

“All those beautiful nurses. Hot! Where there’s smoke there’s fire.” Peter wouldn’t let it go. His imagination had kicked in.

“And for the night-shift,” Jenny tried to steer the conversation away from lesbians, “I’m at the nursing station. Me and another nurse monitor the board and do paperwork. It’s boring, actually. I started taking my laptop with me to brush up on some of the medical procedures.”

Jenny actually spent most of her time on the shopping network and looking forward to having some extra breathing room on her credit card.

She didn’t tell Peter that she shared the night station with one of the eight-inch-girls, who was called away from her post several times after the lights when down, to administer Rosedale’s own special brand of health care.

“And how about next week?” Peter asked.

“Same thing, except that I take over for Emily. She’ll still be there, watching over my shoulder, but I’ll be doing the procedures. They are training me to take over. She’s hoping for a new position in Arizona. She has some friend down there who made out.”

“You’re room okay?”

“Fine, except there’s no TV; not that it matters. I only get eight hours between the covers so I’m dead on my feet when I get home. I share the floor with a sweet eighteen-year-old kid. You’d love her, not that I’d trust you anywhere near her.”

“Baby?”

“She has one of those super slim bodies, with a nice set of t**s that seem to have been stuck on as an afterthought. You know? Like a couple of softballs.”

“Yeah, okay. I know the type. Nice. So do you think I could come and visit?”

“Not a chance, sugar. This place is crawling with great-looking chicks. I’m not letting you anywhere near Rosedale.”

“I don’t get it.”

“It’s just the way they hire here. If you’re hot, you’re in!”

“But what does that say about you working there?”

“I says you should be proud, asshole. And I got my first paycheck today,” she reminded him. “It was for eight-hundred and fifty-three dollars. I’ll be back in the City the day after tomorrow. I’ll buy you a steak big enough to choke on.”

Jenny had glossed over a couple of the finer points that had defined her workweek: She had wanted to tell Peter about her new uniform. How hot it make her feel; how it made her want to strut. But she decided against it. And she hadn’t expressed the burst of feeling she experienced under Matty’s hands.

Jenny had been surprised by the physical reaction and could only compare it to the rare occasions when she had the opportunity to visit a salon where the women had fussed endlessly with her hair. The attention and the soft touch of fingers on her skin sent currents of pleasure along her neck and spine. But that was nothing compared to the jolt of energy that had bolted straight up her cervix when Matty had held her breast. Jenny had never understood the feelings one woman might hold for another. And then Matty had touched her. It was a revelation. A wild scary one, and she had learned something about herself. But did she really want to go there?

And Peter didn’t need to know that she had stood idly by and watched as Emily was blatantly molested by one of the patients.

It had happened late, on the afternoon shift. Emily needed to check the guy’s blood pressure and she bent at the waist to place the cuff around his arm. That’s when he took the opportunity to run his hand along her behind and down the back of her thigh. Jenny had stood quietly and watched as he found the hemline of Emily’s dress and lifted it. He had trickled his fingertips along the skin above the lacy thigh-highs.

Emily had remained stoic, ignoring the intrusion and keeping her eye on the mercury as she squeezed the bulb on the blood-pressure monitor. The man had turned his face toward Jenny and given her a knowing smile that let her know, in no uncertain terms, that she would be next. Jenny’s emotions had balked. There was no way she would ever go near that man. But was that even an option? The man held her eyes. There was a sudden eager upward clench, like someone scooping up a bouncing tennis ball. Emily’s face had registered shock and then hardened with the jarring pain. The man had clearly grabbed her by the crotch, but had he succeeded in crushing the fabric aside? Gained access?

It didn’t seem likely, but...

Emily remained diligent. She released the pressure valve and removed the cuff from the man’s arm before wiggling back off his hand. “Seems a little high,” she said, writing the results on his chart.

He thought that was terribly amusing; he chuckled as he settled himself on the pillow. “I’ll bet yours is off the chart too... considering!” he said.

Emily flushed. She moved toward the door and Jenny followed, taking a final look back with the intent of shooting the man a dirty look. But he was busy admiring the hand he held in front of his face. He held it close to his nose; fingers extended. And as he turned his hand, the light reflected from the strands between his glistening fingers.

Jenny shuddered and ran out into the hall. “What the hell...?” Emily was striding ahead and Jenny raced to keep up.

“Just forget it,” Emily’s voice was all shot through with malice.

“What? You just take it?”

Emily came to an abrupt halt and turned. “You work here, you learn to ignore it. And besides, he’s scheduled to be moved upstairs.”

“Upstairs? What’s upstairs?”

Emily was on the move again. “Fund Raising,” she spat, her head turned back over a shoulder.

“I beg your pardon?” But Emily was walking purposefully toward the next room and didn’t say anything more. Once again, Jenny thought it best to leave it that way.

“How’s the new girl working out? Jenny, wasn’t it?” Dr. Janson watched Dr. McAllister settle into his guest chair and cross her legs. God, he loved that; the whisper of undergarments, the brief flash of thigh muscle.

“Fine. No complaints. And I’ve already had two notes from patients asking to sleep with her.”

“She’s a nice looking girl. You think you can shorten her skirt?”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you. For yourself, I mean.”

“She’s young, like a zesty, bubbly Zinfandel; full of life.”

“And what am I? Apple cider?”

He chuckled. “No, my dear. You are a fine, rich-red burgundy; smokey and mysterious. There is room for both at my table.”

“Yeah, well it’s a bit too soon for upping her skirt. I’ve got her working with Emily. I’m wondering if that was such a good choice, since Emily refuses to move up.”

“Emily still making noise about leaving?”

“Yes, to Arizona. And you know I can’t let that happen.”

“I hate it when you talk that way.”

Dr. McAllister shrugged. “It’s not my favorite topic of conversation either.”

“Does she know anything?”

Dr. McAllister shifted uneasily in her chair. “Emily has her suspicions, that’s all.” Dr. McAllister lied to him. The less the old fart knew, the less trouble he was.

“But no proof?”

Dr. McAllister thought about that for a moment; about what she had uncovered in Emily’s computer: the times, dates, copies of pickup orders, signed receipts, checks... “No proof, but you pay me to protect your investment. And to ensure the money keeps rolling in. So someone has to step up to the plate.”

“Yes... yes. It’s too bad about Emily, though. Nice girl. Nice body. Too bad she has scruples. She have family?”

“Not this side of the Atlantic.”

“Well let her go, then. Off to her new job. She’ll soon forget all about us.”

“Let’s hope.”

“So, what about Jenny?” Dr. Janson asked. “She have family? I’d like to move her up; as soon as possible.”

“I don’t know, but I need to find that out. And maybe she has money problems. That would help, once she finds out how much she can make by slipping into a patient’s bed for a night. I know she has a laptop in her room. Maybe I can get a look at it. It could contain a few secrets that would provide the leverage we need. You could be her first.”

Dr. McAllister uncrossed her legs and stood. “I got a hospital to run. We’ll talk more about it after I’ve given it a bit more thought. And, as soon as Emily confirms her new job, I’ll shoo her out the door.”

Jenny worked the Sunday night shift, got six hours sleep, showered, skipped lunch and drove back to the City. Peter was already waiting at her apartment when she pulled into her parking spot. He sported an ear-to-ear grin and a huge bottle of cheap white wine, already chilled. Jenny found herself more attracted to the wine than his smile. That didn’t seem right, but what the hell. She was exhausted after the drive and felt gritty.

She showered again while Peter ordered pizza. They sat naked on the couch and watched a situation comedy. When the buzzer sounded, Peter put on a robe and went down the hallway. Her purse was on the side-table and he helped himself to the money he found in the bottom. He paid the delivery guy and over tipped him.

They split a pepperoni deluxe which she knew would give him gas and she didn’t look forward to listening to him passing it for the rest of the evening. What she did look forward to was sleeping in her own bed, and she didn’t want to share her v****a with anyone.

Later, during the Brian William’s news cast, when Peter slipped a hand between her thighs, Jenny pushed him away. He had sulked off to the corner of the couch, tail between his legs, and drained several more glasses of wine. When the Late Late TV Show came on, she cold-shouldered him down the hallway and out the front door. Jenny switched off the set and crawled into bed. But sleep didn’t come right away, like she had planned. Thoughts of Emily being man-handled by Mr. Stirling, shouldered themselves into her dreams. She could still see Emily straddling his up-turned hand. She dreaded the day after tomorrow when it would be her turn to take the guy’s blood pressure. She knew he would make a move on her; try to drive his hand between her legs.

And the more she thought about it, the more she realized how her concepts of s*x and work were changing: Matty’s touch; Dr. McAllister and Dr. Janson’s arrangement ...fired by intimately spying on her; Stacy’s insistence at her breast; the eight-inch girls; and most of all, the man in room two hundred and fourteen who was looking forward to forcing his fingers up inside her panties. Up into the tender tissues they held.

But Jenny needn’t have worried.

By the time she reported for the graveyard shift on Tuesday night, the man in two hundred and fourteen, was already dead.