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Surprise Delivery(13)
Author: R.R. Banks

Closing the door behind me, I immediately pour a stiff drink, then swallow half of it down, relishing the burn as the liquid slips down my throat. I may not have four hundred thread count sheets, but I sure as hell found a way to get some of the good scotch into this place – which kind of tells me where my priorities are at.

But, given the shit I see on a daily basis – the bodies that are torn and broken – I usually need something to take the edge off. Just a little something to dull the nerves and soften the horrors I see every single day. I'm not squeamish about blood – it would be a pretty bad phobia to have as a surgeon, after all – but seeing women and children either riddled with bullets or after being savaged by an explosive isn't ever the easiest thing to deal with.

So, I cope with it the best way I know how – sarcasm and good scotch. It's how I cope and make it through the day. Yeah, I know I signed up for this, but the idea of being in a warzone and the reality of it are two different things entirely. To be perfectly honest, the reality of it wasn't something I was prepared for. It's not like any TV show or movie I've ever seen – it's a whole shitload worse.

But I'm handling it – and, in the process, I'm doing some good.

I finish off my drink and pour another one, then drop down into the chair at the scarred and nicked up desk that came with the room. I lean back in the seat and put my feet up on the desk, sipping my drink slowly as I replay the day.

There had been two guys – maybe my age, maybe a little bit older – who'd come through my operating theater today covered in blood. Fighters, the both of them. Also, they had both taken several bullets and had lost a lot of blood out on the battlefield out there.

Neither one of them made it.

The kid, though – when I first saw his face, I didn't think we were going to be able to save his life, let alone his leg. He's just so young – too young to know the kind of hatred and pain he's enduring. The moment I saw him, I vowed to myself that I wasn't going to lose another one today. I vowed that I would do everything in my power to not only save his life, but his leg as well.

I understand why Sandra was freaking out on me a bit. What I was doing was probably a little unorthodox. It wasn't the usual way of doing things – not even for battlefield surgery. But I was bound and determined to save that kid and make him whole again.

And for that, I'm proud. He's got a long road to a full recovery ahead of him, there's no question. But I'm pretty sure I saved his leg. I'm pretty sure I gave him another shot at a normal life. As I sit back and take another long drink, I feel damn good about it. So good, it almost wipes away the frustration over losing the first two. It almost balances the scales in my head.


As I silently bask in my victory over death, my eyes fall on a picture I have pinned to the wall just over the desk. It's from the charity gala where I first met Alexis. It's been a few weeks since that night and I haven't been able to stop thinking about her. Images of her constantly run through my mind – it's all I can do to shut that part of my brain down while I'm working. The last thing I need is to be elbow deep in somebody's guts and have Alexis' face dancing through my head.

I have to say, the effect she had on me is profound. I've never experienced something like that with a woman before. The connection that formed between us was as powerful as it was instant, and it left both of us pretty shook. Yet I can't deny that it felt good. It felt – right.

It's still unbelievable to me, even a few weeks removed from it, that I still feel this gravitational pull toward her. And it hasn't diminished one iota. It's something I've spent a lot of time thinking about, but something I don't feel I'm any closer to having an answer to.

It'd be easy to say that she's beautiful and the attraction is purely physical. Lust can often confuse things and make you think you're feeling something you're not. And Alexis is definitely beautiful. She's gorgeous, in fact.

But, it's not just that. It's not just her physical beauty that's drawing me. I know I only got to spend what amounts to a few hours with her, but I found her to be funny and charming as hell. She's tougher than nails, yet still has a big, compassionate heart. She's also incredibly intelligent, which, truth be told, is what I consider to be her best feature.

It's her brains that draw me like the proverbial moth to a flame. Intelligence has always been my biggest weakness – and the thing I've found most lacking in the women I've been out with. Alexis is smart as hell and she's not ashamed of it. Unlike some women, she doesn't feel the need to hide it or dumb herself down for the sake of anybody. It seems rare to find in somebody and I appreciate that about her.

I drain the last of my drink and set my glass down on the table. Standing up, I strip off my scrubs and head into the bathroom, needing a hot shower. Dropping my scrubs in the hamper for the laundry service, I walk in and turn on the water, giving it a minute to heat up. As it does, I step over to the mirror and stare at my reflection for a moment.

I'm just thirty-six years old, but I'm already seeing flecks of gray in my dark hair here and there. I'll probably be fully salt and peppered before too long. There are even a few gray whiskers in my stubble making me suddenly feel a little older than I actually am. My body is still lean and toned – it's something I work hard at. Staying active and physically fit is important to me and even though the gym we have here at our compound isn't great, it's better than nothing.

When the steam begins billowing out of the shower and starts to fill the bathroom, I step in and pull the curtain closed behind me. I lean forward and press my head to the cool tile of the shower stall, letting the heat in the water wash down over me, kneading at my muscles like a masseuse. Bit by bit, the tension in me starts to ease and I begin to grow a bit more relaxed – though I'm sure the scotch is helping in that department.

As the water rains down over me, flashes of Alexis start firing through my head again. I try to banish them, but they persist and force me to see her in painstaking detail. I can remember how her smooth, supple skin felt beneath my fingertips. I can remember the way her body felt pressed up against mine. The way her lips tasted, and her hands felt on me.

As these memories rock my senses, I feel myself growing stiffer. I try to will it all away, to not think about it, but know that it's no use. Masturbating to images and memories of Alexis has become a daily thing for me. I've tried to shut it down and block her out of my head, but it does me no good. She's like a splinter just beneath the surface of my skin – a constant sensation in my brain.

Reaching down, I grip my hard cock and close my eyes. I conjure up images of fucking Alexis in the conference room that night. In my mind's eye, I find myself staring into her eyes, that Mardi Gras mask still on her face. We're kissing, our tongues probing each other's mouth. My cock is buried inside of her to the hilt and I'm thrusting my hips hard, driving myself into her with a frantic energy.

I stroke my cock with that same vigor, remembering how it felt to actually be inside of her, thrusting myself wildly into the warm, wet center of her. I groan, my voice echoing off the tiles as I jerk myself off, picturing that perfect night of passion spent with Alexis.

I moan her name as I recall having her bent over the table and see her looking back at me, her eyes glittering from behind that mask she was wearing. I feel myself thrusting deep into her, hearing her groan and gasp as I fuck her. In my fantasy, she's begging me for more and calling out my name.

My breathing is growing ragged as images of Alexis' perfect, beautiful body flash through my mind's eye. All of the sensations I felt that night come flooding back and my body crackles with intense electricity.

As I feel her pushing herself back against me, taking my cock even deeper into her, I throw my head back and cry out as I erupt.

Leaning forward, I press my head to the tile again, letting the waves of sensation wash over me. I long to have her body again, but more than that, I long to have that connection we shared – that's what made the sex between us so intense.

She's like a drug and like a good junkie, I'm in dire need of another fix.



I lean against the photocopier, fighting off another wave of nausea. I have no idea what I ate that isn't agreeing with me, but I feel like I want to die. It's been like this for a couple of days now, and no amount of Pepto seems to be helping. It's always worst when I first wake up and tapers off by around lunchtime – or at least, becomes a little more tolerable. Overall, the last couple of days have been an exercise in misery.

I take the copies out of the tray, stack them neatly, then carry them back to my desk. I drop heavily into my seat and grab the edges of my desk, take a deep breath and let it out slowly. Suddenly I’m gripped by a fist of nausea that very nearly makes me throw up in my trash can. I manage to fight it off again – though just barely.

“Well, you certainly look like hell,” I hear.

I look up from my trash can to find Tyler standing before my desk, a malevolent look in his eye, which only churns my stomach even more violently. I cut my eyes around the office, but don't see anybody coming to my rescue. Preston and most of the other attorneys are either in court or meeting with clients off-site – not that anybody but Preston would come to my aid anyway.

“Just not feeling very well,” I say weakly.

He laughs. “If I didn't know you to be such a frigid little thing, I'd ask if you were pregnant,” he says, amusement coloring his voice. “But, I'm pretty sure nothing that runs on batteries can actually get you pregnant.”

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