Pierre. Primula Bond
skirt, kicks her shoes back on.
‘Did it not occur to you that it was locked for a reason?’
‘The rules state that doors should never be locked, in case of emergency. Staff should always be able to get in –’
‘I am staff, you imbecile. And you? You were creeping around!’ She snaps, turning her back on Pierre and marching towards me. ‘You were spying on a confidential therapy session!’
‘It’s only spying when something nefarious is going on,’ Pierre says suddenly, his voice carrying across the room. ‘Who’s out there, anyway?’
‘The little cleaner. The drab one in the hideous uniform. The one you described as, now what was it? A hot piece of Italian ass when she comes out of her shell?’
‘He said what?’ I gasp, my cheeks burning.
‘Rosa?’ Pierre calls out. ‘Is that you?’
I step towards the door, but Dr Venska is still blocking my way. She scowls at me, at the new uniform that Nurse Jeannie gave me this morning. No longer so hideous, thank God.
‘Oh, don’t think you’re unique. He’d say that about anyone. Anything with a pussy and a pulse will do. All it proves is that my treatment is working.’
‘You mean I’m returning to my super-stud ways?’ snorts Pierre, but there’s an edge to his amusement, I can tell. ‘I can start chasing girls again? Oh, wait. I can’t walk.’
‘Oh, you’ll walk again, unfortunately for the female sex. And then it’ll be business as usual. You have me to thank for that, Mr Levi.’
‘Actually, it’s not you I wish to thank –’
‘You were broken when you came into this clinic. Head and heart. I brought you back. I showed you how to be a man again.’
‘What do you want, a round of applause?’ Pierre’s voice is dark. ‘It’s what you’re paid to do.’
Dr Venska takes my arm and pulls me into the room, over to the bed.
‘But I’m not paid to do the menial tasks.’ She shoves a bowl of soaps and gels into my hands. ‘I thought it would help. You know, water, bubbles, a bit of role play. But no, he won’t be touched.’
‘I could have told you that,’ I murmur, taking the equipment, avoiding Pierre’s eye. ‘It makes him feel degraded.’
‘Check you out in your bright white uniform, Cavalieri. Nicely tailored, sky-blue piping, the halo logo of the clinic right there on the pocket.’ Pierre whistles. ‘Cute little buttons instead of that rusty old zip.’
I blush. Run my hands down the softer fabric in an echo of what Dr Venska was doing to herself earlier.
‘It’s my reward for completing my probationary period.’
He nods. ‘And it makes you feminine rather than frumpy. Fits you like a glove.’
‘And talking of gloves,’ snaps Dr Venska, ‘he’s all yours. I’m done here.’
She rips a pair of latex gloves out of the packet and throws them at me.
‘Don’t you need this, doctor?’ I ask, holding out the folder. ‘For today’s session?’
Pierre sniggers. I risk glancing at him. His black eyes are dancing at me. He’s biting his lips hard to stop laughing. Dr Venska snatches the paperwork, unlocks the door and shoves her way past Nurse Jeannie, who steps inside the room, tutting.
‘What on earth is going on? What have you two done to Dr Venska?’
Pierre and I shrug at each other like naughty schoolkids.
‘Rosa was simply delivering some notes. Dr Venska is unhappy because I’m not responding as she would like to her suggested therapies,’ Pierre says after a moment, his face straight, his voice calm. ‘I think the legal term for someone like me is vexatious.’
Now it’s my turn to stifle a giggle. I cover it by pulling on the gloves and going to fill the bowl with water from the bathroom.
When I return Nurse Jeannie has gone. Pierre Levi is lying on his bed, the sheet rolled down and with it, oh God, his pyjama trousers. His cock isn’t erect but it’s long and firm, lying across his thigh. How could I have compared it unfavourably with Daniele’s aggressive little weapon? Even at rest this is a magnificent sword unsheathed, ready for engagement.
I can imagine my sister chortling at my overblown Sir Lancelot imagery. I must be more frustrated than I realised, because I can’t take my eyes off it.
‘What are you doing, Mr Levi? We agreed!’ I frown, standing by the door. ‘Cover yourself up!’
‘Strict orders. Nurse Jeannie’s doing spot checks this morning. Lucky you entered stage left just then, ready to perform my toilette,’ he says with a grin, folding his arms behind his head. ‘So you’d better get on with it, because she could be back any time!’
A spasm of desire drags at me at the sight of his nakedness, so brazen, so calm, the dark line of hair running down his flat stomach like an arrow aiming at the target, the black hair curling round something that I can imagine, oh so clearly, getting hard, hot, nudging against me pushing inside me –
I step closer, forcing my eyes up to his face.
‘I doubt she’ll be back. So we can stop pretending now, can’t we?’
He drops his hands, grabs for the sheet. ‘You’re repulsed. You can’t bear to touch me. God, I’m such a –’
Our clients are way more vulnerable than they care to admit.
‘No. No. No! Don’t you ever say that again! Don’t you ever think it!’ I’m there like a shot, taking the sheet from him, pulling it back down to reveal his nakedness. ‘I’m not repulsed. Look at you. Look at your cock. It’s beautiful.’
There’s a long pause. The room is thick with the silence. Outside a mower starts up and begins to carve green stripes in the lawn.
‘Rosie. You’re just being kind, but I –’
‘I’m not being kind. I’m being truthful. I only hesitated because you told me you didn’t want to be touched.’
The smile is fading. His black eyes are steady. They pull me towards him.
‘I’ve changed my mind. Take the gloves off, Rosie.’
I do what he asks, peeling the gloves off my fingers one by one.
His tongue runs across his lips, but I detect nervousness there as well as bravado.
We, the staff. We’re the strong ones.
‘You sure about this, Mr Levi?’
‘Despite your brave, encouraging words you still look as if you’d rather eat your own hair, Cavalieri, but yes, I want this. I want you to wash me. Please, Rosie. I won’t bite –’
‘Unless you want me to!’ We finish the sentence in unison.
But our smiles fade as I take hold of him. It’s so warm. I can feel the pulse throbbing through it. My sex tightens at the feel of it, at the intoxicating mixture of innocence and lust in the action I’m about to perform.
He’s got two broken legs. Post-traumatic stress. Insomnia. How dangerous can he be?
‘You’re not just a cleaner by the way, Rosie.’
‘My God. Everyone in here can read minds.’
You can’t deny the charisma’s still there. For those who could be susceptible.
‘Nurse Jeannie wouldn’t let you tend to me like this, on your own, if all you were good for was