I’m honored to once again be part of one of Sacchi’s anthologies. Did you know I’ve had a story in every single anthology she’s edited? No, neither did I until she pointed it out. Let’s see how long I can keep my lucky streak alive.
What is it about nurses? Lesbian nurses.
I haven’t got the statistics to back this up, but I believe there is a higher percentage of lesbians working in hospitals than you’d find in other professions. I’m not entirely sure why this is. To generalize wildly, nurses are comfortable with physicality, broad minded, good with their hands, and swear like dockworkers, which is a fucking lot. They don’t take shit, they give as good as they get, and they seldom say “I can’t do that” or “That’s not my job!”. They have a great sense of humor (usually dirty), they wear sensible shoes and play netball or hockey. They’ll cover for a colleague, bail out a junior doctor (but woe betide that same doctor if they then play the superiority card), bring food for the entire night shift, and spend their meal break holding the hand of a terrified patient who won’t let go.
My ideal woman.
Many of my true stories come from my nursing days. The good old, bad old days, before Workplace Health and Safety, when you could behave badly and get away with it, when the Christmas party included enternox gas from the labor ward as well as red wine. A lot of red wine. The days before you had to witness and sign everything in triplicate, before in service training on conflict resolution. Certainly before team bonding exercises.
My story, “Nurse Joan”, in “Wild Girls, Wild Nights: True Lesbian Sex Stories” goes back to those days.
Here’s an excerpt:
The pressure from her fingers was fierce, but not painful enough to stop me reacting to her closeness. She stood close enough that her belly brushed my hip, and her free hand rested familiarly on my shoulder. Nurses are tactile people, usually in an unconscious way. We’re always touching: holding patients’ hands, dealing with their intimate body functions, staring at their unclothed bodies with our professional eyes. And we touch each other with friendly familiarity. It’s as if our body zones expand to include each other. But this night, Joan’s touch went beyond that.
I lay on my back, staring at the ceiling, where the recessed lighting shone as dim points in the clinical roof. Joan touched my shoulder. “Tell me how else I could secure a patient’s arms?”
“Using their gown,” I replied.
Joan picked up my arms and folded them high over my chest. Tugging at the loose scrubs top, she succeeded in working it up, enough that my belly was bared to the cool air. A particularly hard tug and I heard the thin cotton tear at the back.
“Whoops,” she said, no trace of remorse in her voice. “But that makes it easier.”
In an instant, my arms were tightly bound to my body with my cotton top. The cool air lapped at my skin. I shivered, not only from the temperature, but also from the knowledge that Joan was staring down at me, at the underside of my breasts, at my exposed abdomen. I struggled slightly, the vulnerability of the position making me uncomfortable.
“You better release me now,” I said. “Before-”
“Before what?” Joan’s lilting voice replied. “Before someone comes? Before you come? You’ve wanted to get like this with me for weeks now, girlie. Why d’you now want out?”
You can follow along with the blog tour for Wild Girls, Wild Nights: True Lesbian Sex Stories” over at Sacchi’s blog. Next up is Catherine Paulssen talking about her story “Delinquents’”.
You can comment here, or on any of the posts of the blog tour, to be entered into a drawing to win one of three free copies of this great anthology. Well? Well? What are you waiting for?