The first rule of nursing is never get involved with your patient. The second rule of nursing is always follow rule number one. Michelle Angelos breaks all the rules when she signs on for hospice patient, Daniel Sutton, who makes her forget her job and remember her heart.
(A)n unconventional storyline...emotionally gripping...a roller coaster of emotions. Though the basis of the story was saddening, it still had plenty of positive and uplifting feelings of love, hope and devotion. If you are looking for a storyline that's a bit different, I feel this story would be the perfect fit for you.
At the top of the stairwell, I could hear them. Her saccharin cooing, his deep fluid voice. I knew I should turn around, drink the damn Perrier myself. But I rarely do what I should. I went and I looked. The door was just barely cracked. The opening large enough for me to see her. Over him. Curtain of perfectly coiffed hair hanging like a shroud around his hips. She was blowing him. I froze in the hallway. Eye to the crack, glass in my hand. I was simultaneously shocked, sickened, angry, and sympathetic. Red wine and sex. His euphoria. His drug. His pain killer. Who was I to judge his methods for relief?
It's not him, it's her. She's what's sticking in your craw Ridiculous. Feeling like a pervert, I watched for a moment longer. Curious and unable to stop myself. Daphne plucked at her proper pink skirt and withdrew from him for a moment, I assume to get out of her clothes. He was pink and healthy between his legs. His cock was the one part of his body that was not pale and sickly. There was nothing wrong at all south of the border. I stifled a laugh at that ridiculous thought. A burbling, slightly hysterical laugh that lets you know it's time to turn tail and run. So I did, clutching the Perrier so hard I feared the glass would crack.
It was only about a half an hour. Somehow it seemed much longer. I sipped the bubbly water and fought off the image of Daphne sinking down onto Daniel's perfect, pink cock. I brushed off the flashes of her proper, slender thighs wrapped around his thin waist. I plucked at a stray fiber on the sofa, listened to the ticking grandfather clock, examined my fingernails. She reappeared, looking as fresh and put-together as before.
"He should sleep for a while," she informed me, smoothing her pencil skirt. "I'll be back Thursday, same time. Nice meeting you, Melissa."
"Michelle," I mumbled.