ABC's and TLC

Christy Love sits buried under student papers when Nurse Aila Donovan appears in the doorway. Time for the teacher’s yearly check-up. Christy starts to wave her off—grades are due, the clock is ticking—then sighs and gives in, unbuttoning her blouse so Aila can do her job and leave. Aila’s palms travel over Christy’s skin with practiced calm, pressing here, cupping there, searching for the usual signs of trouble. Heat prickles under those touches. Christy feels it pool low in her belly, between her thighs, everywhere Aila’s fingers linger. When the nurse brushes the soft weight of each breast, Christy’s breath hitches and her nipples tighten; she hopes Aila mistakes the reaction for simple chill. She’s wrong. Aila’s brows lift, she leans closer, “You feel feverish,” she says. Christy’s cheeks burn hotter than any real temperature. Words knot in her throat—how does a woman admit that gentle medical hands are making her slick and restless? She settles for escape, peeling off the rest of her clothes until she stands naked under the flat fluorescent light. Cool air kisses her flushed skin for only a second. Aila steps in again, and this time the contact is anything but clinical. Fingers splay wide across Christy’s ribs, slide lower, find the evidence of want between her legs. Christy’s hips tilt into the touch without thought. Paperwork lies forgotten on the desk. She reaches for Aila’s scrubs, pushes them aside, bares smooth skin, warm breasts, the same quick pulse beating just beneath. Mouths meet, urgent but unhurried, tasting need without apology. Christy drops to her knees, spreads Aila open on the edge of the exam table, and returns the favor with slow, deliberate strokes of tongue and fingers, determined that the nurse receive her own thorough examination.