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My last nurse


My last nurse

play/fun write. maybe draft on later, write about my nurse chap a little more?

My last nurse

Of course I had heard the reports concerning the vaccination centre provided for the mere ordinary people. My own wife described how they were indeed herded at the two second interval gaps through the sliding doors where the first nurse spat into her face:

‘Name!’ she said, and so forth. No loving eye care supplied, no heaving chests under the buttons. The entire experience quite dreadful for the folk, and once the rusty needle had been shared some kind of a loudspeaker, or a loop-person, announced:

‘Sit in your shit cars for fifteen minutes.’

My wife regaled this horrible trauma, when home at last with her spindly arm worn like a banana from 2012.

‘They said I’ll be dead in four days.’

‘Good, good,’ I re-assured.

My own experience had been more glamorous with a Pfeizer. Here I describe service as provided for the professionals and for the front-line shock heroes like me, be praised.

People who visit the special vaccination centre:

Beautiful music played throughout the gymnasium, a cool breeze refreshed the very attractive people sat on new chairs. All the nurses appeared first class and strategically placed for my attentions. Many looked straight at me, given my appearance of a great brain surgeon in their company, wearing the white coat again that has opened so many doors at home.

A nursing assistant from a prestigious university selected a chair, I accepted her chair offer. My broad smile sadly obscured under face hanky. These first moments I acclimatised to the luxury, twisted my head from the left to the right side until a handsome man beckoned from peripheral visions.

I stood and hurried towards him, the most exotic nursing fellow in his shiny tunic cover. My gratitude overwhelmed as I imagined him naked and my prisoner for one night at least.

‘Hello you beautiful gentleman,’ I said.

‘Hello Matthew,’ he replied, the courtesy to research my background and my back-story. ‘Where would you like it?’ his eyes twinkled.

‘You are my angel that reads my mind,’ I said, but before we proceeded with intercourse behind the curtains down the far end of his gymnasium he asked me a series of very delicate questions about my feelings and my other secret stuff.

Ravished by his needle he helped me to feet. And literally I could not feel my legs. He was the greatest nurse at sex.

I remember how he said ‘Oh look you are bleeding.’

'Am I doctor?’ I replied in my pledge using my own eyes while he lead me, caressed me toward the treasured lounge section.

Given fifteen minutes in the lounge section under observation of the ladies of United Emirates Airways I suppose the entire luxury, plush, ruby, joy, the dish was too rich for me, you know; you know you don’t know how I had been, I endured night shift all night that night before my jab-sex and really I needed to cry and wail about how terrible everything was during my life during the world.

I made multiple attempts at this crying attentions. I sighed and I heaved, but the tears just would not arrive and neither did any of the nurses arrive to stroke me anywhere and tell me how lovely I was to them. I did send an e-mail to my boss, and then my moment for my attention disappeared because I wasn’t special any longer to anybody and I gathered my bag that had been pissed on by a service user [confidential] that night earlier, and I wandered out of the back doors, thinking about gymnasiums no longer, I wandered toward my best friend my bicycle.


No comma. After INTENSIVE research, no comma following my of course, of course.

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