Unclean Thoughts
The nurse peeks around the curtain as I sit carefully on the bed and asks, “A first-year resident is available to see you now if you don’t mind.”
They have to get their training somehow. “It’s fine,” I say, shrugging.
She disappears behind the curtain, and a sudden feeling comes over me as feet appear beneath the curtain. It’s not the well-shined shoes and their expansive size that trouble me; it’s the hesitation. Just come in already, I think to myself, growing impatient as the pain medicine slowly wears off.
A short sigh is audible through the curtain right before it moves aside, revealing a Godlike creature unlike any other.
Man, I thought David was hot, but this man looks like he should be on the Times Sexiest Man Alive cover.
His kind eyes are bright blue orbs beneath long lashes that stand out even more against his jet-black hair and slightly tanned skin. I can’t help but find myself getting lost inside his baby blues. They are like magnificent galaxies that only exist in stories and dreams. He can’t be much older than me, twenty-five at the most, but at least a whole foot taller.
The nurse steps between us, blocking my view and breaking the eye contact that the doctor and I are currently locked in.Something inside me senses her jealousy. Perhaps they are in a casual relationship, and she’s trying to protect what she perceives as her territory. I send her a warning look that says, ‘get the fuck out of the way, you’re blocking my eye candy.’ The nurse seems unfazed as she shifts aside and leans against the wall, arms crossed, supervising.
The Godly-looking man extends his hand to me, revealing a hint of a tattoo I can’t make out beneath the sleeve of his white lab coat. “I apologize for the wait, Miss Salavatori. I’m Dr. Joshua Zuniga, but you can call me Dr. Z.”
I take his hand in mine, and his touch is magnetic as we shake hands, formally meeting for the first time. It’s a strange feeling when you hold the hand of a stranger, yet you have the peculiar desire never to let them go. I can’t look away from him. It’s like one of those circus tents you pay to enter to see the wonders of the world. I shouldn’t go inside, but I can’t help it, I’m curious.
The nurse clears her throat, and Dr. Z and I blink several times, breaking our eye contact as she reminds him to let go of my hand and not linger too long. Wouldn’t want anyone to think he was making inappropriate contact with his patient. Although I certainly wouldn’t mind.
As his hand falls to his side, I look away from him, not wanting him to see how ashamed I am of what he’s about to see. I shouldn’t feel this way. I have never experienced this feeling before, so I’m not sure what it is about him that’s making me so self-conscious. I think about leaving, just grabbing my clothes and running out the door, but I need treatment, so I have no choice but to stay. Usually, I just let the doctors examine me and listen to their lectures about safety and being more careful.Your skin is the body’s largest organ, so you need to take care of it, they say. But this time, with Dr. Z, it’s different. We have a connection; I can feel it pulling me toward him.
He holds the clipboard containing my information closer to his face and scans through it before setting it on the portable table beside the bed. “Contessa, show me where he hurt you.”
I gaze up at him, confused by his statement. He not only addressed me by my first name, but he also didn’t ask me to show him my wounds or where I’m injured. He asked me to show him wherehehurtme. Was I too honest on the form I filled out? Did I mention it was a man who did this to me, because it could have easily been a woman, too? I can no longer remember exactly what I wrote.
The nurse steps away from the crisp, white wall. “If you aren’t comfortable showing him, I can have a female doctor come in, but you’ll need to wait for her to be free.”
“No,” I say abruptly, surprising myself. “It’s okay. And it’s Tessa,” I say, correcting him. “I don’t want to wait anymore.” The bed rises as I come to a slow stand and turn around, letting the back of the baby blue gown I never tied fall open, revealing everything from my neck down to my heels to Dr. Z.
The nurse pulls a pair of large, purple gloves from an array of sizes and moves out of my line of sight, standing behind me with the doctor. The gloves snap against his hands as he puts them on, and his breath moves the fine hair on my back as he sighs. “I’m going to touch you, is that okay?” he asks in a calm and reassuring tone.
“Yes,” I murmur.
There’s a delay before he touches me, almost like he’s afraid or worried he’s going to hurt me. After several seconds, he finally says, “Ready, Tessa?”
His voice and the way he utters my name in a deep, low, reassuring growl make my toes curl, and my heart flutter. I close my eyes, feeling my body go from tense to relaxed, and nod my head, giving him the go-ahead to touch me. And with my next breath, his fingers touch my bottom, examining the gash acrossmy ass cheek. I try to hold still, try to let him touch me as much as possible, not only because I want him to, but so he can do his examination as thoroughly as possible, but when he places a second hand on my backside and spreads the wound slightly to check its depth, my butt cheeks clench together.
I recoil away from him, turning around quickly to face him, my eyes welling with tears. The pain of his touch, sending me right back to the minute Mastyx lashed his tongue through me, cutting me open.
He holds his hands up in front of him and takes a step away from me, giving me space and a moment to collect myself. His eyes are glossy and full of remorse as he says, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you; I need to examine how deep and damaged the tissue is to see if it needs debridement.”
The nurse stands before me, hands on her hips. “Why? Why in the hell would you let it go this far? Don’t you and your man have a safe word? I know I have one, and I use it all the time.”
“Angela, don’t,” Dr. Z says, glaring at her for oversharing as he moves her aside and comes closer to me, continuing a visual exam without touching me. He puts his hands in front of my face and slowly brings them to my neck, gently touching the bruised, red rings around them. “Can you swallow for me?”
I swallow hard, and he nods before saying, “Open your mouth.” He pulls a pen light out of his front pocket as I open my mouth slowly, a single tear sliding down my cheek as the corners of my mouth, dry and blistered, crack and bleed.
The nurse peeks around the doctor’s arm and looks inside my mouth as he slowly withdraws the pen light and turns away from me. “Jesus, even the inside of your mouth is burned. Like, how does that even happen? Let alone the perfectly burned handprints on your thighs? What did the guy do, wear metal gloves heated over an open flame to torture you?”
“Angela, that’s enough,” Dr. Z says sharply, his face growing dark and irritated. “She doesn’t have to explain the who, what, and why if she chooses not to. She’s here for treatment, not to be interrogated or judged.”
The nurse puts her hands up and steps back against the wall. Dr. Z’s face slowly changes from angry to soft and caring. He pulls a couple of tissues from the box beside me and hands them to me before saying, “I’m going to have another nurse come in and dress the wound on your buttock and then come back in and speak with you. It’s too wide for glue and not deep enough for stitches, so I’ll have her clean it, apply cream, and put a bandage on it.”
I dab my eyes gently and wad the tissues in my grasp, holding them tightly.
Dr. Z keeps his eyes on me, pulls the gloves off his hands, tosses them in the trash beside Nurse Angela, and looks at her before saying, “Outside, now.”
