Intensive Care

By J P Philips

A man recounts the tale of his extreme sexual taunting at the hands of a beautiful femme-fatale nurse, and how he ultimately exacts outrageous revenge.

This is another story that began life in a different way. When I originally wrote it, I was still fighting the desperate urge to offer happily-ever-afters. I’m not saying there’s no happily-ever-after here now, but our nurse’s victim exacts an all-together more shocking form of retribution.

• Language: English
• Publisher: J P Philips
• Release date: May 11, 2015
• ISBN: 9781310054907

J P Philips

J P Philips describes himself as, "A perfectly ordinary, happily married, forty-something-year-old man who accidentally stumbled upon a talent for erotic writing." It began back in 2006 while, on a wine-fuelled whim, he decided to write a fictitious 'girlfriends' confession' in an attempt to be published by a certain mens' magazine. As a bi-product of that experience he discovered a strange thrill in writing erotica, and so he went on to create more stories, publishing them online in an amateur capacity, where he was awarded several prizes and quickly amassed a considerable fan-base. An early attempt at a personal website then followed, a professional publishing contract was duly signed, but in the end he decided that he really wanted to go it alone, and so he now publishes all of his short stories and novellas independently. Asked how best to describe his writing style, JP has come up with the snappy title, "Slightly-larger-than-life-story-led-hardcore".

Book preview

Intensive Care

by

J P Philips

Intensive care

Copyright © 2015 MDD Publishing

http://www.mydarkestdesire.com

All rights reserved. EBooks and eStories are non transferable. No part of this work may be used or transferred without the prior written permission of MDD Publishing (excepting circumstances where short extracts amounting to no more than 100 words are quoted in promotional material or critical review). Unauthorised reproduction of this work is illegal. No part of this story may be scanned, uploaded or distributed by any means, print or electronic, without the express permission of the publisher.

This story contains themes of a sexual nature and is to be read by persons aged eighteen years or over. In owning a copy of this story, readers must also make sure that they are adhering to the law of the country of their abode. MDD Publishing takes no responsibility for illegal behaviour resulting from the acquisition of this story.

This story is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places and incidences are the work of the author’s imagination only. Any resemblance to people, living or dead, is coincidental only.

Published in the UK by MDD Publishing 2015

Intensive Care

Nurse Simmons was a very naughty nurse and I was lucky to be alive.

I lost three weeks of my life and thankfully I have absolutely no recollection of what they entailed. My memories stretch from childhood right the way up to that ill-fated morning in June when I was happily riding my motorbike to work. I can still picture the unceasingly linear Roman-road stretching out to the horizon and the cloudless, blue sky above me. After that, I recall nothing before finding myself drifting in and out of an uneasy consciousness in a hospital bed.

When I finally began to wake fully it was to a pain I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy, and the discovery that, among other injuries, I’d shattered bones in my arms and legs, cracked several ribs and most frustratingly of all, broken my jaw in two places. It was explained to me that some idiot had pulled out into my path without looking and I’d hit his front wing at somewhere around sixty miles-an-hour. Consequently, all four of my limbs were in casts and my jaw was wired shut, but even then, I knew I was a very lucky man.

Those weeks on the rehab unit passed in a blur of morphine highs and pain-filled lows until one day, the unit sister announced with personal satisfaction that I was out of any immediate danger and would be moved to a private room elsewhere within the hospital.

I was still in a fair amount of pain and completely reliant on the hospital staff, but even so, it was good to know I was on the road to recovery.

That evening, at around seven o’clock, I met my beautiful tormentor for the very first time.

I’d been watching the TV news, trying to catch-up on what had been going on in the world over the last month or so, when the door to my room suddenly burst open and in strode Nurse Libby Simmons, dragging a small, polished chrome trolley behind her. She turned and stood at the foot of my bed, staring down at me with a quizzical expression that suggested she had something to say, yet couldn’t quite find the words to say it. In the end she just picked up my chart and studied it carefully as she bit down against the tip of a biro.

Nurse Simmons was any straight man’s fantasy. Her tight, white tunic followed the contours of her body to show that she was slim, yet had curves right where they ought to be. I distinctly remember her long, golden-blonde hair being tied in a French plait that day, and the way the thick braid fell across the front of her shoulder until it met with the upper swell of her small, yet perfectly formed tits.

As she rattled the pen top between her teeth she stared down at me and her piercing blue eyes bored deep within my soul. Nurse Simmons was spell-bindingly beautiful, all right, and beaten-up though I still felt myself to be, I couldn’t help but be seduced.

All of a sudden she offered me an enormous smile before speaking in that breezy, matter-of-fact