Date: Wed, 14 Nov 2012 01:43:15 -0800 (PST)
From: Boris Chen <borischen@rocketmail.com>
Subject: Playing with Fire, chapter 2

Chapter 2   Back Yard Party Guy    by Boris Chen

The burn unit had been empty for a couple of days while I was off. Since I
work twelve hour shifts I only work three days a week, which is totally
cool. By the end of the third day I am beat down tired and ready to sleep
for ten hours straight. I've been working Wednesday evening to Saturday
morning for the past two years. I picked those hours myself. I work 7pm to
7am then back again in twelve hours, 7pm to start it all over. I do three
in a row then take most of Saturday to sleep, back up and ready to go out
and party on Saturday evening.

Nursing is an odd job, it changes your brain. Nurses think of weird stuff
since we get exposed to the seedier side of humanity at work. We deal with
pee and puke and blood and crap for a living. We see dead people and we see
people who are soon to be dead. All this stark reality changes your brain
and you start to look at people differently. Once you learn names for
certain behaviors then you see those in friends and family it changes the
way you deal with people.

Nothing surprises me or shocks me any more. In the movies I always notice
if an actor doesn't look the least bit dead when the're supposed to be on
the big screen. This weirdness we get makes it so medical people tend to
hang with other medical people since we all get similar attitudes about
people and stuff.

Don't take me wrong, when it comes to saving a life I'm 100% committed, but
when it comes to bullshit drama I only wade in up to my ankles, that's
about all I can tolerate of mind games and stupidity from people. Like I
said, nursing changes you.

Most people seem to figure out after an hour of talking with me that I'm
100% gay. I'm not one of those feminine gays that wears make-up and feels
trapped in a mans body. I am more of a moderate masculine gay man, which
makes me a bit of an oddball species when compared to the stereotype most
straight people carry in their brains about gay men. Actually, the flamers
are the minority, the silent masculine gays are the greatest part of our
population. I am also totally non-political. I never registered to vote.

 I was at work my normal three in a row last week, Wednesday night 8pm. We
have one burn patient that is being discharged tomorrow morning
sometime. This is a common burn pattern we see, he was working in a fast
food place, slipped and stuck his left hand into the deep fryer, came out
with 2nd and 3rd degree burns up his arm almost to the elbow. We had him
gorked on morphine for days while he got grafted and started therapy to
work on the muscles in the arm. He's got some significant scarring. But he
will regain some good but restricted use of that hand again.

He's here because of the grafting of skin sheets from his legs to watch for
signs of infection, and keep him on a morphine drip that he controls with a
small button on a wire, which he's not using as much now. Been here for
five days now. He's 32 years old with wife and small kid, they live on the
north side of Chicago.

I got a call from bed control that I was getting a new patient coming up
from the ER, he was at a backyard party and got knocked into a fire, burnt
all over the stomach and chest and upper arms. It set his clothes on fire,
or it set his shorts on fire burning him almost down to his dick. Lucky
guy! He's twenty two and coming with his mommy, they'll be here in an hour
or so. So I got his room set-up and watched the network for his admission
orders to show up in the charting software.

About 25 minutes later the doctor got his orders entered, they looked like
the routine stuff for this type of patient. I could see his name was James,
the demographic said he was single with no religious preference.

I started checking off his morning labs and ordered breakfast for him, they
usually arrive too stoned to talk about stuff. He had no medical history
really, no surgeries, no allergies, takes no meds, and had great vital
signs except his heart rate was way up, presumably from the pain.

A little over one hour and the ambulance crew arrived with my new patient
all bundled up. A middle aged lady with red eyes and messed up hair was
following behind the crew of three guys. I pointed them to the room, asked
her to sit in the lounge for a while so we could get him settled in, the
rooms were not big enough for everyone to fit.

James was hurting. That was obvious from looking at the expression on his
face. They never cleaned up his face or legs at all. He had a thin cotton
sheet over the burned areas which went from his neck to the base of his
dick, side to side. He looked like he had mostly 2nd degree burns with a
couple small areas of 3rd on his belly on one side, he must have landed
half sideways.

We moved him from the ambulance cart over to the bed, got the IV stuff onto
my pole. I signed the chart and sent EMS on their way. I glanced at his
chart briefly to see what meds he had been given. James laid there watching
my every move but not speaking. I pulled the curtain across the door for
some privacy.

I put his belongings into the closet and removed all the old ER blankets
and stuff and started to assess my patient. I lifted the gauze sheet to
check out his burns. There was an odor of burnt skin and burnt wood in the
room. I gave his burns a quick once over visually then slid down the
blanket over his dick. He started to grab for it so I gently took his hands
and pressed them back along his sides assuring him I only needed to see the
extent of his burns that I would keep him covered.

Then I got a tub of water and soap and cleaned his face, hair, arms, hands,
and legs down to his feet, which stunk. I got all the burnt stuff off him
so he didn't smell like a human campfire anymore. You could see it was
starting to make him more at ease.

Then I went to talk to his mother in the lounge to tell her he would mostly
be resting tonight, the doc would see him about 8am and there was really
nothing to stick around for tonight. She went to the room to say bye and
left for home.

I went back in the room to look up meds and stuff and get answers to
questions not included on the ER paperwork.  I got him hooked up to the
morphine PCA and handed him the button telling him how to use it. He said
he needed to pee.

This always happens early-on after arrival. I said he could not get out of
bed tonight but he could use a urinal or I could put a foley catheter in
his bladder so he wouldn't need to deal with pee for a couple of
days. Luckily he opted to use the urinal but needed help.

Pee may be gross and all but it's sterile and isn't as bad as poop so I was
always thankful for pee over poop any day. I got a white plastic urinal,
handed it to him but he was wrapped in a way that he couldn't see his junk
very well, so I asked if he wanted help. James laid there staring at the
ceiling in resignation then sighed and said for me to 'go ahead.'

I reached down to the blanket over his legs and lifted it exposing his
crotch. I lifted the bottom of the large cotton gauze sheet that was laying
over his front side lifting it to inspect his hardware. Looked like he was
cut and shaved but also very red. The burn area came to within one inch of
the base of his dick, lucky man. He had a couple areas of 3rd degree about
the size of a ping-pong ball along his waist, must have been from burnt
clothes. I gently took his limp dick and placed it in the urinal, looked at
him and said he was ready, let her rip!

Within ten seconds he started to pee a good stream of darkish yellow
urine. He put out about 500cc which is a lot of piss. I hung another bag of
saline and pushed the PCA button (patient controlled analgesia) for him. I
re-covered his stuff and offered him some water by straw.

I went back to the nurse station to do some charting and make sure his
mommy actually left. By 11pm I had his charting all up to date and started
working on the discharge stuff for the other guy.

The house manager came by at 1am for report on my patients and she watched
my peeps while I took a lunch break down the hallway. We're on the third
floor along with the medical ICU and the surgical recovery units. At night
there's about twenty nurses and ten techs on our floor. Most of them are
younger girls, some of those really decent looking. I'm the only one that
went to WIU. Nobody here graduated from Northwestern University except one
of our regular doctors.

By 2am I was rounding on my two patients, the older guy was asleep and
doing well, ready for discharge later today. My new guy in room three was
awake and had tears in his eyes but never spoke so I stood against the
counter and offered conversation. James was scared as hell if he would ever
be normal again and how he looked below the neck since he really couldnt
look down, the neck burns hurt too much to bend his head.

So I gave him my honest report.

B: "Well, you've got a few spots of 3rd degree burns, those are gonna scar
forever no matter what, but the good news is it's a small area on the side
of your stomach an area about the size of a baseball, then there's two more
to the side of your penis over by your hip bones that are both about maybe
one to two inches in diameter. The rest of your injuries look like 2nd
degree and should heal. One of the things we watch for is burn creep,
because burns tend to get larger over time as more skin starts to show
injury it hides early-on. This is why I come in your room and look you over
once every two hours. Your belly button is not too bad, probably no
scarring there and your nipples are intact as well, which was probably a
miracle that your left one didn't get burned off the way it sticks out and
that seems to be on the side where you fell into the fire."

James started to cry and hold his right hand over his eyes. I held his left
hand briefly then left the room since I didn't know enough about him to
possibly get too close. He managed to sleep for about 90 minutes then was
awake again in pain around 4am, when I went in to push his narcotic button
for him, I don't think he fully grasps the concept yet, which isn't
uncommon for new burn patients to be overwhelmed with thoughts of life with
scarring.

We talked a little more. I asked him if he wanted to talk about his burns,
of course he said he did.

B: "So it looks like your penis is not burned. Did you have a lot of hair
growing on your chest and stomach before the fire?"

J: "Just a little below my belly button but my chest has no hair yet, what
about my arm pits?"

B: "That's all gone on the left side and half gone on the right side. Your
face isn't scarred at all. Your left nipple is peeling but not blistered so
it should heal and go back to normal and the right nipple is just red,
maybe 1st degree. There is a chance you might develop some small areas of
3rd degree on the inside of your left upper arm but right now they look too
small to graft. Problem is they rub against your ribs so that might be a
longer term sore area but should also heal."

J: "Oh fuck! I'm so freaked out by all this. I swear I'll never ever again
go to a backyard keg party at someone's house so help me God!"

B: "Hey, don't be so rough on yourself dude, that's why they call them
accidents, nobody plans for these things. You got someone aside from your
mom that can help you with bandage changes once you get home?" I asked
probing for relationship status really.

J: "Nope, just my mom. I had a close friend but we broke up a month ago and
moved to California a few days later, we haven't talked since." He was now
actually looking me in the eyes with these huge sad blues that were really
nice to stare into. My gaydar was starting to get a few small pings.

B: "Okay, you're likely to be here for a few days at least so we'll have
plenty of time to work out support at home. In the mean time I need you to
stay up with the pain meds. Pain's controlled better from a preventive
postion then catch-up position, so anytime you get uncomfortable you press
that button okay?"

J: "I don't want to get addicted, I had a friend once, it was bad."

B: "That won't happen during the short time you'll be on this med, not to
worry your pretty brain over that. It takes quite a while to become
addicted. You will develop a tolerance to the stuff in a day or two, but
that's not addiction and is normal, so try to stay ahead of the pain,
okay?"

J: "Here, gimme the button." I clipped it to the blanket by his side right
near his right hand, he grabbed it and gave it a push with his thumb. I saw
a tiny rainbow tattoo on his right wrist on the under-side but didn't react
in any way to it, then raised his head a little with the buttons on the
side of the bed.

J: "Can you help me pee again, I think this saline is going right through
me!" He said with a small smile. I said I would but advised him that
tomorrow night he should be able to do that on his own.

I pulled down the blanket over his legs after putting on my gloves and
gently placed his penis in the white plastic urinal and stood watching
while he pee'd about 300cc then charted it and dumped his lightening urine,
it looked better but he still had a way to go. B: "Try to get a little
sleep before the day shift crew arrives because it's gonna be a long day
for you."

I hit the lights and went back to chart. I had the image of his limp but
nice looking dick in my mind the whole time.

By 6:30am the day shift staff were arriving and getting ready, some eat
breakfast at work while others read the free Chicago Tribunes we get for
the family lounge.

At 7am I stopped into room one and wished my other patient well in his
recovery at home, he shook my hand smiling with wife at bedside. I walked
to the stairs, down to the ground floor, outside past security, across
Sheridan Road, west on Noyes Street, stopping at the cafe for breakfast
to-go, an omelet and bacon strips, then up the platform for a short ride on
the north bound electric train (The L) to Linden avenue. Then walk one
block east, into the back yard, down the five steps, unlock the door,
inside, drop my backpack by the door, clothes off into the hamper and into
the shower stall. Ten minutes later I was in my tiny office checking email
and the news, then off to bed by 8:15am, alarm set for 4:30pm to repeat the
whole process again, then again the next day.

As I laid in bed I kept seeing Jame's dick in my mind laying inside the
urinal. He seemed pretty devastated, just like they all do when they
arrive. By 9am I was sawing logs.

By 6pm I was walking to the L heading back to work. By 6:45 I was walking
across Sheridan Road and by 6:55 I was in report. My patient in room one
was gone, James in room three was still really emotional. They planned to
peel some skin from his back thigh tomorrow to graft the spot on his
stomach and the one to the left of his dick. His mom was there. We were
supposed to be getting an ICU patient too, an older guy who had his
appendix removed today and was slow to come out from the anesthesia meds,
which happens once in a while.

Around 8pm I went in to assess James, he smiled as I walked in the room in
my navy blue scrubs. I listened to his breathing, which sounded normal. I
lifted the cover, he was blistered and leaking fluid. He said they got him
up to use a bedside toilet to take a dump (his words) this afternoon, his
pain was better but he was scared about the skin grafting and wanted me to
talk honestly with him about that process. I told him I was getting another
patient soon and we'd try to do that later, but I wanted him to try to
sleep if he could after his mom left.

I got my new patient around 9pm, he was 48 and slow to come out of
anesthesia. This happens once in a while. Some people are really sensitive
to the drugs they use in surgery, which is why the anesthesiologist always
comes to talk to your like the surgeon before you go under the knife. But
there is no way to predict how people will react. He just wouldn't stay
awake for more than a few seconds and went right to sleep. My main job was
to protect his airway and monitor his vitals. The guys wife was in the room
the whole time, but she was really cooperative and stayed out of my way. I
showed her where to stand or sit, we agreed on how to split up the floor
into visitor and staff areas.

Some patient families just don't understand that we have a job to do and
cannot spend the entire shift asking them to move again and again. And
there are the family members that always want the patient to drink
something even if they're unconscious, which can be deadly. There's always
the learning curve for patient's family in our unit. But we try really hard
to be nice and explain things in plain words so they understand.

Around 11pm my guy in room five was starting to stay awake for longer than
five seconds at a time, which was a great improvement. He would always wake
up and answer questions and could remember some things from hour to hour. I
went in to see James who right away asked me to help him pee. I asked what
they did during the day and he said his mom kept putting the urinal between
his legs and leaving the room but he dripped pee onto the bed and didn't
want to have me change his sheets at 1am so could I just please help him. I
acted like it was a hassle but was actually looking forward to seeing his
body again.

Down went the blanket then I gently stuffed his dick into the urinal (with
gloved hands) and waited while he pee'd after about a one minute pause. I
kept staring at his stuff, while he kept staring at me. This was work, it
never turns me on.

Then I checked out his burns. His chest was nicely shaped, looked like he
never worked out. Almost no muscles to speak of. The blisters were all
flat. It looked like he was in the water tank today with a waterproof
dressing over his two badly burned areas.

J: "Am I gonna live doc?" He asked with a smile.

B: "Going by the numbers, you have a 75% chance of surviving these burns."
I told him with a straight face. He looked stunned. J: "Why would I die?"

B: "Infection is the biggest risk, that's why we're pumping antibiotics in
and keeping you flushed with gallons of saline too. But yes, some people do
die of burns like yours, you need to take this seriously."

He dropped his head back onto the pillow, raised his hand to his eyes and
started to sniffle again like last night. I pulled down gauze cover on his
body to look him over. No signs of infection. You could now see he had a
nice smooth stomach and a normal inny belly button, probably a bad lint
trapper, and his nipples were big for a guy, flattish and round maybe as
big around as the cap on a BBQ sauce bottle. Nice. No hairs to be seen but
they probably burned off too.

I left him alone for a time and checked on my guy in five who was now
asking his wife to turn on the TV and able to talk normally. I paged the
anesthesiologist with the news.

Around 3am I went in to see James, he was asleep. My guy in room five was
also sleeping with his wife in the recliner in the room also asleep. I
lifted the gauze to check out James' bod again, he really does look good
despite his burns. He woke up silently opening his eyes watching me stare
at his upper body.

J: "Thanks for being so kind to me Nurse Brad." He said in a whisper. I
smiled back heading for the door fearing a boner if I lingered. I went back
in a half hour to tell him the dirty truth about skin grafts, harvesting
and re-implanting and care afterwards, made him cry again. This time I held
his hand. He squeezed mine hard and wouldn't let go, it was awkward at
first but it was late at night and nobody would know.

I was about to walk out the door when he stopped me. J: "Brad, can I ask
you something?"

B: "Sure."

J: "You in a relationship with anyone?"

B: "Umm, no not really, not right now. You?"

J: "Me too, I mean, no. I mean yes I'm not. SHIT! I mean I'm single!"

B: "Where bouts you from?" I asked, but I already looked at his chart to
see his home address was in Evanston about six blocks from the university.

J: "Here. I've lived in Evanston all my life, born at Evanston Hospital. I
only came here because their burn unit was full, is what they told me."

B: "Ah ha! I see. I'm from Wilmette near the L station on Linden Avenue,
got an apartment in my parents basement, come and go as I please. They
pretty much leave me alone. I help out with outside chores and pay
rent. What you do for a living?"

J: "I'm a painter, I mean I paint. Like I paint new construction. I'm
learning to mud drywall and finish it. Then my crew comes in and does the
huge paint jobs. We do new construction in the city mostly, big jobs, lots
of floors. I hate it but it pays the bills. I got a studio apartment on
Main Street right near the L station."

B: "You might be glad you live there since you're gonna need close follow
up on those grafts for months afterwards with the docs here on campus." I
told him.

James laid there wide eyed. I guess nobody but me had told him the long
term problems with skin grafts. We seemed to be stuck staring into each
others eyes, me at the foot of his bed, him laying on his back stunned
staring right back at me. I smiled briefly and started to turn towards the
door.

J: "You gay right?" He whispered at me as I turned to walk out. I stopped
briefly and smiled nodding yes then walked to the nurses station to chart
what I had done and eyeball the guy in room five on the way.

By 6:45am I was ready to report-off to the day shift. The boss came through
the department asking about my surgery guy I told her he could go home
whenever, he seemed to be fully recovered. She said thanks and walked
out. The rest of my morning was exactly like yesterday and probably the
same as tomorrow would be.

That night I was back, James was my only patient. He had his skin grafts
and was sleeping on his side for once. Now had sore areas on the back of
his left thigh and his burns. By 8pm I went in to check on him, he was
asleep. His upper body was exposed, I watched his chest move while he
breathed. My eyes got stuck on his left nipple briefly then noted his vital
signs and went back to chart stuff. A cleaning crew was in room five
wrapping up their job in there. Apparently they didn't cut that guy loose
until around 4pm because the docs were super busy.

After the crew left I went into assess James and his new donor site and the
graft site. The skin looked great. Helps to be young and healthy. He didn't
wake up this time.

Around 1am I got my lunch break, and saw he was awake. I waved as I walked
out of the unit doors. He looked worried like I was leaving or something.

I was back to work on charting stuff so around 2am I went into his room,
James was awake watching TV. He had flowers in a vase on the table next to
his bed. He looked better. His 2nd degree burns looked much better, no more
leakage but everything was very red. His grafts looked great, he said the
donor site was tender as hell. I pushed his morphine button, he smiled. We
talked for a while and he asked me for my cell number so he could text me,
I said I would have to think about it. He asked me to help him pee, I told
him he could do it himself. He never said anything about my rejection.

Tonight I helped him get out of bed at 3am to change his bedding and give
him a new gown. For a time he stood next to the bed totally nude and seemed
to relish the exposure. I kept a professional attitude the whole time but I
did stall a bit to get as much skin seen as I could and checked his donor
site out behind him, still nude, which allowed me to check out his ass at
the same time. He reached behind and scratched his butt while I was
close-in inspecting his site. Then I asked him to sit on the toilet which
he did while I left the room. He crapped and wiped himself all alone then
got back into bed but never covered himself.

When I returned to the room he was laying there on his side all naked and
bandaged and smiling obviously stoned on morphine. I got him all tucked
into bed and was ready to walk out the door. I stopped and said, "Bandage"

J: "What?"

B: "Bandage."

J: "What bandage?"

B: "No silly, you wanted my cell to text me, my cell number is
B-A-N-D-A-G-E, 226-3243, area code 847."

J: "Cool, thanks!"

I walked back to the nurses station to chart stuff and felt my cell buzz in
my pocket, pulled it out and there was a text from the other room, just
said, "Thanks ;-)"

Friday night was the same routine. I had a surgery patient to recover. The
patient was an elderly man who had his appendix removed earlier today. He
was recovering well, fully awake but needed watching because he had a
cardiac history and they wanted close observation of his heart pattern.

James texted me twice from his room asking for more ice and water first and
later on to ask for help getting to the toilet. So same as last night I
changed his bedding and gown. This time I had him stand by the counter so I
could shampoo his hair in the sink. We both got wet doing that but I really
made a friend doing that for him, plus I shaved him too since there was no
mirror for him to do it himself. I could feel him staring at me with lusty
thoughts while I shaved his face but couldn't do his neck because of the
burns.

His grafts looked great. I told him he might be going home in a couple
days.

I got home around 8:30am after eating at the diner right by the L station
in Evanston. I liked their breakfasts more than the ones in the hospital
cafeteria.

Two days later I got a text from James, he was home in his apartment but a
bit overwhelmed with caring for his burns. He couldn't shave and wasn't
allowed to bathe but could shower if he kept the sites dry, which required
some site dressing skills. I figured he was working towards asking me for
help.

On day four of his home time he finally asked for help, I agreed, so he
texted me directions to his place and on my next day off I met him at the
entrance to the building where he lived. He was in a tiny studio apartment
with a westerly view of the L tracks but good soundproofing. The place was
clean but sparse. Sort of looked like an Ikea model apartment. Maybe 700 sq
ft. It was a large living room, a tiny kitchen, tiny bathroom, and utility
closet in a hallway with washer and dryer. His bed was in the living room
behind the sofa. Hard wood floors and tall ceilings. It looked like it used
to be a warehouse or factory or something at one time.

He had on sleeping pants sitting really low as to not press on his
burns. No shirt, and flip flops on his feet. The skin on his upper body
looked much better, still pink but nicely healed. He had his pants so low I
could see the base of his dick from the front.

I got on my knees to examine his donor site which was now basically like a
2nd degree burn site, and his grafted sites looked well. He had an
appointment to see the doc in three more days. He was still on antibiotic
pills. When I turned him around to see the donor site he dropped his pants
to his ankles so I could see his thigh. It looked great, healing nicely. I
offered to wash it and re-dress it for him, he said fine that he couldn't
reach it or see it himself at all. I noticed that the hairs were starting
to grow back in the site.

Then he turned around with a semi-hard on so I could see the burn site just
a couple inches to the left of his dick which was pointing at my face
now. I pretended not to notice for now. His groin burn looked great so I
dressed it too.

B: " I see your other parts are working better now too." I said as smiled
and stood up to attend to his belly burn site next. He said nothing.

I inspected that site and could see it was healing fast and would not be a
problem. I told him he would probably be able to shower normally starting
next week, which made him say, "hall-lay-lu-yah!"

B: "Here, let me help you with those pants." I bent over grabbing his
sleeping pants by the waist and slowly raised them up his legs and gently
slid them up to his waist but not over his burn. Just on a whim I grabbed
his now fully erect dick pressing it sideways and sliding his pants just
over the top where it formed a nice tent.

B: "Looks like that thing needs a little attention too by the way."

J: "Would you mind since you're here, Nurse Brad?"

I stopped moving and stared into his eyes to see if he was joking or what
but he looked sincere. So I slowly reached over to grab the tent pole with
my hand and gently massage him from the outside of his sleeping pants.

He stood still watching me with the look of lust in his eyes while I
fingered his boner.

Then I slid my hand under the waist band of his pants and gently pulled his
dick to freedom and slid my fist in the out on the length of his shaft,
which I think was about six to seven inches of cut meat.

I figured standing here in his kitchen stroking his dick by hand probably
wasn't the nicest place to do this, so I pulled him by his boner then
gently pressed him back onto his bed to sit with his feet on the floor. I
got on my knees between his legs and took him in my mouth.

James leaned back resting his hands on the mattress behind him, sitting
upright, eyes closed, looking up at the kitchen ceiling, breathing slowly
and deeply.

I worked his dick mostly with my tongue and lips, mostly the last couple of
inches. I figured this was his first orgasm since he got burned and he
might cum really soon. Which he did.

Just before he came he reached down grabbing a hand full of my hair yanking
my head off his dick and pulling me off to the side a bit. One long rope of
cum shot out of his dick landing on the floor between his feet right next
to my leg, then another. The rest dribbled down his dick heading for his
groin.

I got up to the kitchen grabbed some towels off the roll and started
cleaning up the mess on the floor and around his shaft and nut sack. He
still had his eyes closed but now had a nice relaxed smile on his face.

We talked for a while, then I left after I let James plant a kiss on my
cheek.

I came back next week to check on his grafts and the week after that. He
was finally able to shower or bathe like whatever he wanted. His other
burns were well healed and slowly returning to normal color. Every time I
came by he never had a shirt on. I think he likes showing off his chest or
something.

I never saw any hairs growing on his chest. Now he can shave his neck again
like normal. And at eight weeks post grafting he no longer uses any
dressing on those sites. I go to his place twice a month for dinner and
oral sex. I brought him to my apartment after he insisted. Mine is larger
but his is nicer.

One night a week ago James came into the burn unit at 1am with Italian
carry out for my lunch, totally a surprise! In the break room he told me
his old BF was moving back to Evanston from California but he wasn't sure
if he even wanted to see him.  I expected this would be the end of us. Time
will tell.

Author's note: Special thanks to a dear friend of mine who contributed the
medical-speak for this series.

the story continues...

An updated/corrected version of this and my other stories is on:
wattpad.com/borischen

comments to: borischen at rocketmail dot com