1. Surgical Heat

Transcript

I always wanted to be a doctor. My mom liked to tell a story about when I was 6 and I hurt my knee, and instead of crying I poked at the wound in fascination. Fast forward 20 years and I'm still basically that kid, except now I assist in surgery instead of poking at my own knee.

Well, almost. It's the first day of residency at North Memphis University, which is one of the top med schools in the country. Damn right American about it.

I've spent my life reading and studying. I'm fucking great at what I do. I'm 20 minutes early for the orientation, but I'm not the only one trying to impress.

Sitting front and center is a pretty woman with intense eyes, wearing a white lab coat just like mine. She bounces up to me and sticks out her hand. Hi, Jenna Stewart, graduate of Cal-Can University, summa cum laude.

I'm going to specialize in cardiology, even though my neuro-prof was begging me to go into neurology. There's just something so satisfying about cardiothoracic surgery. I just couldn't say no when this opportunity came up.

I nod, still mute from the shock. Summa from Cal-Can? This woman is serious competition.

I was waitlisted at Cal-Can a few years ago, and okay, maybe I was still a little bitter about it. It didn't help that she was drop-dead gorgeous. Just then, a few more residents trickle in, and Jenna quickly moves past me to greet each of them.

Jenna Stewart, graduate of Cal-Can University, summa cum laude. I watch her work the room, hand pumping up and down as she introduces herself. I imagine her elbow balanced on my thigh as her hand slides up and down my cock.

Jenna Stewart, graduate of Cal-Can University, summa cum laude. Enough. I shake my head, getting my mind out of the gutter.

This girl is not for fucking. She is the competition. Just then, Dr.

Weber walks in, a world-famous cardiothoracic surgeon with a general's distaste for failure. She's famous for expecting the best of her residents, and for kicking people out of the program who don't meet those expectations. All right, everybody, listen up.

We have a few basic rules here. Bathroom breaks sometimes, sleep rarely, be a good doctor, listen to your attending, and oh, no fucking your fellow residents. I am serious, people.

Doing so will be grounds for suspension, maybe even removal from the program. The last group of residents were so busy fucking each other that they let more than one patient code because they were so distracted with their internal squabbling. It was straight out of Grey's Anatomy.

No more. Weber finishes by tacking a piece of paper on the wall. Looking closer, I see it's a sign-up sheet for shadowing surgeons.

Sort it out amongst yourselves. No sooner does she leave the room do I jump from my seat. I'm determined to shadow Weber.

She's the best of the best. I drive my pen towards the paper, small hand flicks in front of mine. Jenna.

Our arms collide midair as our legs slam into one another. We land in hard thud. Red filled my vision.

Do I have a concussion? No. Wait.

The red was just her hair. With a start, I realize that Jenna's fallen on top of me and oh, shit. I'm cupping her tits in my hand beneath her shirt.

Felt her nipples harden. We pull apart quickly. I try desperately to hide my heartache.

I tell myself to think gross thoughts, severed limbs, infections. It's not working. All I can think about is Jenna's breasts filling my hands and her body pressed against mine.

But Jenna was back on her feet in a flash. Excuse you. I was there first.

No, you weren't. I was there first and I want to shadow Webber. We glare at each other.

All right, let's rock, paper, scissors for it then. We can do better than that. This is a hospital, not a playground.

Okay, genius. What's your idea then? All right, well, whoever can intubate a dummy faster gets to shadow Webber.

Is that fair? No problem. Jenna and I hold each other's gaze for another moment until the thud startles us apart.

Our fellow residents have dragged in two intubation dummies and are egging us on. I position myself over my dummy, remembering everything I'd learned about intubation from medical school. Macintosh blade, check.

I pause the chip positioning, avoiding the teeth. Smooth motions. Jenna lowers herself onto her knees.

She looks up at me and I immediately picture my hands in her hair as I feed her my cock. Her shirt gapes a little at the chest and I can just make out her lacy bra. Fuck.

Pull yourself together, Cal. Focus. One of our classmates steps forward to start the competition.

Someone else pulls out their phone, whether to time us or film us, I don't know. The unofficial referee holds up his hands. Are both contestants ready? He asks.

Yes. Wait, what about the loser? The loser? The winner gets to shadow Webber, sure.

But shouldn't the loser have some kind of punishment, too? Um, like what? Um, maybe some kind of performance, like, um, maybe a strip tease? What? No, that's ridiculous.

Why did this girl, who seems so buttoned up and type A, want to compete with a strip tease as a penalty? She looks at me with a slow, coy smile. Holy shit.

Does she just want to see me naked? The crowds riled up and ready for the show to begin. After all, we have to be on our first shifts in less than 20 minutes.

My instinct takes over as I open the dummy's mouth and move its fake tongue out of the way. Macintosh blade in hand, I stick the tip of my blade into the plastic vellicula and. ..

I look up, astonished. No way. No more than 20 seconds had passed, and Jenna's dummy already had a tube sticking neatly out of its mouth.

Jenna had done a perfect intubation. As the other residents murmur in awe at Jenna's skills, my face turns red. I'd only agreed to the strip tease because I'd been certain I would win.

But now that I've lost? Shit. Jenna's beaming from ear to ear.

She must have known all along that I didn't stand a chance against her skills. Which meant that she had pulled this together to get me naked. As much as I'm horrified at the prospect of stripping in front of my new colleagues, the realization that she wants to see my body badly enough to make a production out of it is pretty hot.

Jenna rises to her feet, dusting off her coat, and she taps her foot. Time to pay up, right? There's no way out of this one.

Jenna's watching me closely. In one slick move, I whip off my coat, throwing it to a couple of the other residents. Thrusting my hips in long, slow arcs, I slowly unbutton my shirt, revealing a set of hard-won abs.

All those gym trips and protein shakes are worth it now. I flex my biceps, and get an appreciative whistle from one of the other residents. I move across the room to where Jenna's perched on a desk, the corners of her lips twitching as though she's desperately holding back a grin.

In one clean move, I pull my belt out of my pants, turned on by Jenna's obvious hunger for my body. I step back and reach for the band of my boxer briefs. Do I dare? Everyone's going crazy, begging me to go all the way, and honestly, I don't mind showing off my dick.

But does Jenna really want to see it? She nods, urging me on. I slowly drag the edge of my briefs down.

As I'm about to tug them all the way down, a hard voice cuts through the music. Are you kidding me? Oh fuck.

There in the doorway was Weber. I pull my scrubs back up, but the damage is done. Weber points at Jenna and I.

Extra graveyard shift tonight, both of you. And for the love of God, if you fuck up again, you're both out.