Trauma in Skirts
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Trauma Ward free porn video
Trauma Ward
By Jennifer Richardson
This one was an exercise in speed, to write the story in a the shortest
possible time without skimping on detail, interest or entertainment. Let me
know how you think I've managed and remember, if you bare a grudge you'll
only make things ten times worse.
I couldn't believe the cheek of the man! I mean, how dare he? Comes waltzing
in twenty minutes late every morning and then has the nerve to pull a strip
off me in front of the rest of the lads just because I turned in three
minutes late because of the traffic jam in the car park!
"If you're late again you long haired sissy I'll have you out of here and
back in the job centre before you can get your knickers out of a knot!"
The lads had thought this incredibly funny and teased me for weeks, weeks that
I used to plan my revenge. I waited and waited, until a weekend when I knew
he wouldn't be in, then, in the early hours of a Sunday morning with old
Albert the night watchman fast asleep in his gatehouse I shinned up the lamp
post nearest the perimeter wall, right under the security camera. Over the
wall, through the shadows of the loading bay and in through the broken rest
room window without the slightest noise.
I slipped into the warehouse proper, skirting the beam of the detector system
and into the production offices. The silly old sod, he'd left his key where
he always left it, on the ledge above his office where he thought nobody
could find it. Into his office and round to the filing cabinets. There had to
be something in here, his fiddled time sheets or some evidence about the
shady deals he was always up to.
Trouble was there was so much paperwork, where to start? His desk drawers,
top one locked, second one locked, third one? Slides easily open and is empty
but for a box file. I lifted the box file out and beneath it found an
envelope, a thick official looking envelope with some kind of printed address
on the back. Hand written on the front, Miss Sara Jennings, private and
confidential. Sara Jennings? Who was she? A secret daughter from the past?
And his wife was called Helen.
Right, we'll have that then. I stuck it down the front of my jacket and
zipped the front of it up to my throat. Check his overall, a few laminated
cards, take them, slip them into my back pocket and check them out later, one
of them might have been a cash card and I'd be able to get it stuck in the
machine if I got the number wrong three times.
What's that? A torch beam, damn, Albert must have decided to take a wander
round the place. Which must mean that he'd turned the alarm system off? Cool,
duck down behind the desk until Albert is out of the way and then head for
the nearest exit at top speed and sod the camera system, Albert wasn't there
to watch the monitors and if nobody thought anything had been wrong they
wouldn't have need to check the video, would they?
Out through the main office doors, sprint across the lawns, vault the low
wall outside of reception. Up the side of the main gate itself and drop down
by the corner of the perimeter wall. Count to ten, listen for traffic,
nothing coming, count to ten again. Albert's footsteps, damn again! Sprint
along the path close to the wall, I can hear the purr of an engine growing
louder, set off across the road heading for the cut along by the canal.
A single headlight from out of nowhere, clips the back of my left leg and
sends me sprawling across the road. Try to get up but my legs aren't playing.
I feel numb from the shins down, something's not right but I need to get
further away before I can try and find help. There's a voice, must be the
rider of the moped shouting to someone.
"Get an ambulance!"
Then nothing, just darkness and eventually the sensation of movement. Am I in
a coma or just a sort of half sleep. Voices, indistinct but insistent.
"I know but look at the paperwork, must be some kind of private clinic."
"Well I can see why he was keeping it hidden down the front of his jacket."
"There's this card too, in the event of emergency please contact Consultant
named below."
"Well, I suppose we'd better ring then?"
"Get him into their Trauma Wing and let them sort it out."
More motion, doors slam, an engine starts, a sharp pain in my left wrist and
then, sleepy, very sleepy.
Eyelids feel so heavy, am I trying to go to sleep or am I trying to wake up?
Confused, vision swimming in and out, curtains, pale blue curtains all round
a bed, hospital? What am I doing in hospital? Oh, the accident, my ankles,
still feel a bit numb. Can't raise my head very far from the pillow but see
that the top sheet is supported by some kind of frame.
Voices, whispered voices, very concerned voices. Concerned about me? Why? A
worst I've hurt my ankles, you can't die from hurt ankles, can you? The
curtain to my right swishes open and a man in a white medical coat comes into
the cubicle followed by three uniformed nurses. One of them is a real cutie,
hey not so bad after all!
"How you feeling?" The man asks.
I swallow hard, my throat aches something awful and I look to the jug of
water to my left. Cute nurse hurries to pour me a glass of water, holds it
for me to sip.
"Ankles sore." I manage, something makes it difficult to move my jaw,
bandages? Maybe I banged my head? I slump back onto the pillows.
"Well, they will be, you took a nasty clip to the left ankle and we think you
must have landed badly enough to do similar damage to the right."
He gave me a reassuring smile.
"You had us worried for a while, I know you've been seeing Mr. Forsythe but
he's away at a conference, so, well, I hope I've done as good a job as he
would."
Mr. Forsythe, who's Mr' Forsythe? I thought to myself but the words wouldn't
come out of my mouth.
"I suppose you want to know how it went?"
I manage a nod, cute nurse strokes my brow.
"As you know we were reluctant to do the whole procedure at the same time,
but, well, we needed to sort your ankles immediately so we worked round it as
best we could. Eyes and lips were no problem at all, the swelling from the
collagen implants is what's making it difficult for you to talk. That and the
tracheal scrape, your voice will be much softer you'll be glad to know,
probably a little lighter and higher on the scale too."
He'd lost me, I hadn't a clue what he was talking about.
"The breast implants presented no problems at all. As you requested we used
the new slow release system, even as you speak they'll be leaking dosages of
premerin and oestrogen into your system. You'll notice a difference in a
matter of days as opposed to weeks."
What? Who the hell was he talking about? What was premerin?"
"I think you'll agree that the re-assignment itself is a complete success.
You were very insistent going by your notes so, where you failed to function
as you were, well, you'll have no trouble now!" He smiled and closed the file
he was holding, adding it to the large envelope on the cabinet to my left.
"With regard to the damage to your ankles, I'm afraid we had to do some
ligament and tendon work there. You'll find walking a little sore at first
but you'll also find that three inch heels and higher will make it so much
easier. Of course your feet will be beautifully arched all the time now."
Something was very wrong here, he must have been reading from the wrong notes
or something.
"Your Father must love you very much indeed, it must have been difficult for
both of you but I'm certain that he'll love his new daughter as much if not
more than he loved his son. Now I'll just give you a mild sedative, have a
good long rest."
When I next woke my face was no longer bandaged, the frame had been removed
from the bed so the sheet lay unsupported on my body. It didn't lie flat
though, two rounded mounds supported it across my chest. I didn't want to
look, didn't want to see what had happened. Holding the sheet close to me,
wrapped round me, I turned myself round to sit on the edge of the bed.
Gingerly lowering my feet to the floor until I tried to stand. Pain shot up
my legs and I sat down heavily.
A pair of slippers, heeled slippers stood next to the bedside cabinet. I was
in tears by the time I'd slipped my feet into them, finding that without the
heels I couldn't walk at all, even then my centre of balance was altered
beyond all understanding. There was a mirror the other side of the bedside
table, full length, polished and shiny, mirrors do not lie, though with all
my heart I wished they did.
Someone had painted my face, not gaudy or too bright, subtle, pretty, before
my tears smudged the mascara on the lashes of my lifted, widened almond
shaped eyes. Pouting full lips, the bottom lip trembling in sorrow, painted a
soft pink. My fingers trembled and shook, the bright pink nails glistening in
the light. Not even enough strength to hold the sheet which slipped to the
floor.
Oh so perfect breasts, rounded, smooth. Soft, oh so sweetly soft. Nipples
budding, hardening and aching. Touching them caressing them, even through the
fears and tears, unable to resist. And my eyes slowly slipping down my body
to where, to where there was nothing anymore.
Nothing that had been me, nothing that said I was anything other than Sara
Jennings and even that looked too perfect, lips puckering, puffing and
swelling. I cried all the more when my knees began to shake, whimpering and
gasping for breath until in a soft lilting voice.
"Oh Daddy, just because I wouldn't cut my hair!"
Blaze
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