There he was – Officer Hottie. My heart raced and I swiped my sweaty palm against my thigh. The man consistently starred in my dreams at night. It made it impossible to meet his eye in person, because I was sure he could read my mind as I recalled all the ways he seduced me in my dreams. I eyed his belt, which last night’s served as an anchor for my thighs as I rode him. He held me against the locker room door and bucked into me hard. In last week’s dream we used the bed in the physician’s lounge, he restrained me with medical tape and I woke up breathless and sweaty — and frustrated. Now I was embarrassed – I was afraid to look at the man, afraid that he would see how much I wanted him.
He was always polite to me. I saw him a few times a week while working in the ER, and each time I grew more silent in his presence. I studied the chart in front of me, the noises of the ER washing over me, helping the blush fade from my cheeks. If I focused on work I wouldn’t make a fool of myself. His low voice rumbled, his charge in cuffs needing medical attention before being sent to jail.
“Can you help me with this one, Ginny?”
Oh hell, the way he said my name made my knees melt. I looked up, setting the chart aside. I squared my shoulders and pretended he was any other guy. “How can I help?”
“BAC, and he’s complaining about his knee.” Officer Hottie said, one hand resting on the man’s wrists, handcuffed behind his back, the other pinched the man’s trapezius. It looked to be a painful and effective form of restraint. Images of his body covering mine, pinning me to the door flitted through my brain. His eyes widened a fraction. Oh god, what if he could read my mind?
“Let’s use room three.” I murmured and nodded with my chin. Officer Hottie led the way, probably more familiar with the ER layout than I. I was hired three months ago, and Officer Hottie had been there for years. Maybe… he had a face that was impossible to guess his age. Young with weathered skin or old with great skin… His grey eyes seemed old, knowledgeable, wise, even sad at times. His stance and physique were all alpha male, which was why I fantasized about him. He was the kind of man I was attracted to, but too afraid to do anything about it. I walked behind him, inhaling his scent hoping that I would have more fulfilling dreams.
His uniform hid his physique. The shirt was square and boxy; his pants too loose in the seat to tell if he had full high butt cheeks or tight sculpted ones. His chest was broad but hidden beneath a bullet proof vest. He buttoned up his shirt, a dark t-shirt peeking out, hiding what I dreamt was a strong chest with a sprinkling of hair. It was the man’s hands and wrists that really attracted me; wide, large, competent. They featured in my dreams; capable and strong. I imagined his hand on my throat, holding me still, my smaller hands wrapped around his wrists.
And this was why I didn’t date or get serious about a guy. I was scared to indulge in sex I knew was risky. As a nurse, I knew the likely outcome. Women who looked for alpha males often ended up in abusive relationships. There was something wrong with me. My wants and desires for relationships were… different. It wasn’t pathologic, but clearly I fantasized about dangerous scenarios surrounding sex and so I avoided it. I figured I was a sex addict, and if I never indulged, it would never be an issue. Being completely introverted helped me ignore men, except him.
I fantasized about him every spare moment. It wasn’t just his appearance, although that was what first caught my attention. It was his presence, his aura. He commanded respect and in return dealt with everyone with patience. People genuinely liked him, tried to please him, and I felt the same.
He quickly removed one of the handcuffs and locked it on to the bed. I blinked away the image of him locking me the same way. Looking up he gave me a strange look and then his lips curved into a smile. Oh hell, he could read my mind.
My eyes fell to the floor and I shuffled to the wall, donned gloves and pulled the thermometer off the stand.
“May I take your temperature?” I asked the man smelling of bourbon and beer.
His lips cracked wide, revealing decayed teeth. Gross, meth-head and drunk. I shuddered at having to be so close to him.
Officer Hottie stood directly behind me. The patient’s eyes flicked up past my head and he flinched, his lips turning to a scowl. I quickly took his vitals, made notes and focused on what needed to be done. Not the eyes that were boring into the back of my head nor the heat his body radiated toward mine.
I pulled out a paper gown and addressed the patient. “Could you please take your pants off so the doctor can examine your knee?”
“Ya’ gonna help me?” He leered.
I raised an eyebrow and threatened, “I can cut them off.”
“Now why doyahaftobe…” his words slurred and he rattled his wrist.
“You have anything in your shoes other than socks and feet?” Officer Hottie asked. He moved to the foot of the bed to take off the man’s shoes.
“Nah, but I want her to do it,” the man groused and then yawned loudly.
I moved to his other side, reached for his hand, which he gave to me with a wormy smile. I then used the leather wrist restraint attached to the bed and strapped down his other wrist.
“Now it’s getting good,” he murmured, shifting his hips suggestively.
“Yeah, just wish they let me use the ball gag.” I muttered.
Officer Hottie chuckled, donned latex gloves, and quickly took off the man’s shoes, dropping them to the floor. I grabbed the paper gown and placed it over his legs.
I looked at the officer, “If you unbuckle and unzip, I’ll pull. Do me a favor and hold the gown up while I pull down.”
Officer Hottie grinned and said, “She speaks.”
I shrugged and offered him a quick smile. “Not often.”
“I noticed.” He murmured as he quickly undid the belt. I grabbed the ends of the man’s pants and yanked when the zipper was lowered.
“Jesus.” Officer Hottie murmured.
“Commando?” I asked.
“Figures.” I muttered.
The patient murmured, “I’m cold.”
I quickly looked at his calves, they were covered in scabs. I grabbed a blanket and tossed it over him, peeled off my gloves and washed my hands.
Officer Hottie joined me at the sink, standing close, very close. I focused on scrubbing between my fingers and then turned away, pulling paper towels from the dispenser and drying my hands. My eyes were studying the linoleum. Boots appeared and I stepped back and hit the counter.
If this were a dream, he’d lift me up… Light snores coming from the bed startled me from my thoughts.
“Ginny, are you afraid of me?” he whispered.
I shook my head and his hand moved under my chin. Oh God, if only he’d grab my ponytail…
“I’ll get Dr. Lambert.” I said as I scooted away.
The day wore on, more patients came in from a bus accident and I lost sight of Officer Hottie. I stayed busy, focusing on my job and not my fantasies. For a Friday, it was slow, but the constant stream of patients kept my mind off of him. By eleven that night I was pleasantly tired, happy to have my shift end, and ready for a hot shower and some sexy dreams.
I left through the back entrance of the hospital, the one closest to the parking garage. A police cruiser was parked next to the walkway. Officer Hottie opened the door and leaned against it smirking.
His long body stretched, his biceps bulging as he held the door frame. My mouth dried at the sight of him. His warm voice rumbled, “Hello, Ginny. You going to get some dinner first or are you headed straight home?”
I swallowed, my throat dry and was it swelling? No sound managed to escape…
His smirk faltered and he stepped close, his large hand cupping my chin. “Hey, I didn’t mean to frighten you.”
I nodded and shrugged, looking like I was suffering from a severe case of Turret’s. I looked up into his eyes, took a breath and mumbled, “Home.”
His head tilted to the side, his hand still cupping my chin, his fingers cradling my cheek. I leaned into it and the rest of my breath whooshed out. His hands were warm, dry, and large enough to hold me completely. These last few months I had craved a small touch from him.
His grey eyes softened and I felt my lips tilting up in a smile. I took a step back, missing the warmth of his hand. His arm fell to his side and he made a fist and released it.
“Are you working the holiday?” His grey eyes watched me carefully, like he was judging my answer.
“H-holiday?” Confusion and more embarrassment washed over me. Why didn’t I know about a holiday? Why wasn’t my brain working?
“Monday? Labor Day?” he offered softly.
“Oh, no.” I shook my head. “I don’t work until Wednesday.”
His eyebrows shot up and the smirk once again resided on his face. This close I could see the wrinkles on his face were laugh lines. The man had an expressive and handsome face, a face like his should be chiseled from granite and preserved forever.
He chuckled, “Well, that’s great.”
“Mmm,” came a small grunt from my lips.
“I’d like to take you out, Ginny.”
My stomach fell, my knees locked to stop me from slumping down. Oh God… my fantasies could come true. But then what…
I would be like the meth-head, looking for my next hit probably. I’d be picking up random guys, begging for dark things.
He waited for my answer, confidence oozing off him and I shook my head.
“I don’t… date.” I said softly.
He raised one eyebrow in disbelief and crossed his arms over his broad chest. His eyes narrowed, his chest inflated, dear God the man could be intimidating when he wanted. A low rumble came from his chest and an order was barked, “Explain.”
“I’d rather not,” my voice squeaked.
His eyes narrowed and he gave me a chin nod. “Fair enough. Tomorrow morning I’ll pick you up at ten and we’ll go for brunch and discuss this ‘no dating’ and why I should be the exception.”
Humor danced in his eyes and I relaxed, slightly. I had to, because my body was so tight I could barely breathe. Could I do this?
“I’ll meet you,” I said with confidence I didn’t feel. Perhaps I could just have brunch. It wasn’t like I didn’t have control over the situation. I wouldn’t get drunk; and he wasn’t the kind of man to take advantage.
He grinned, “Alright. Jane’s on Third good for you?”
My favorite breakfast place. Did he know that? I smiled warmly and took a deep breath. “Yes, thank you.” His name tickled my tongue as I whispered it, “Jared.”
He gave me a chin nod again and a wink. “See you tomorrow, Ginny.”
I turned and continued toward my car. The creak of his car door told me he was sitting down. I felt his eyes on me as I walked toward the garage. I felt protected under his gaze.
Want to find out what happens on their date? Email me if you are 18 or older and I’ll send you the rest of the story