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‘It’s okay. Like I say—’ My gaze drops to her mouth. A memory of it parted and panting as she came slices straight to my groin. The thought of it wrapped around my cock makes me want to groan out loud. ‘What happens in the elevator…’

She blushes and rolls her head back to centre and trains her eyes on the ceiling again, but I’m encouraged by the fact she hasn’t tried to cover herself yet.

‘It’s been fun though, right?’

‘That’s hardly a reason to do anything.’

I full-out laugh this time. I think fun is the reason to do a lot of things, and I’m hit with the sudden desire to show this woman some fun. She does an important job, pretty much to the exclusion of all else, from what I can see – I wouldn’t mind being her fun.

‘No offence, Doc,’ I tease, ‘but a chick who doesn’t even masturbate doesn’t get to be the fun police.’

The colour in her cheeks goes from pink to crimson. ‘I didn’t say I didn’t.’

‘Ahhh. I get it.’ I nod and suppress a grin. It’s probably wrong I get off on teasing her. It’s like verbal foreplay, and my nerves itch with anticipation. My dick twitches. ‘It’s okay if you use a mechanical device instead, Doc. No shame in it.’

She rolls her head to glare at me. ‘I’m not talking with you about… dildos.’

I smile as I roll up on my side and look down at her. She’s glorious, all stretched out and naked. In the dim light, her skin glows milky pale, her nipples a light mocha, her dark hair spread out around her head like an ebony halo. ‘If I was a patient, you would.’

‘You’re not.’

‘Just say I was?’ I persist for no other reason than I like to hear the D word coming from her lips and the way saying it puts colour in her cheeks.

‘Believe it or not, most patients don’t come into the ER to have a conversation about dildos. Not unless one is irretrievably stuck up their ass.’

I blink, shocked by her matter-of-factness, considering the pinkness in her face. I laugh. ‘Seriously?’

‘Seriously. We have an ass box full of things that people have shoved up their rectums and need medical assistance to retrieve. Plenty of dildos in there. It kind of puts you off owning one.’

‘So you don’t own one?’

There was a long pause. ‘No.’

‘Because of the ass box? I hate to break it to you, Doc, but if you do it right, you should be pretty safe.’

She rolls her eyes at me. ‘Look, despite present behaviour to the contrary, I’m just not that… sexually daring.’

I almost laugh. A dildo is sexually daring? But I don’t want her to clam up. I want her to keep talking, so I suppress the tickle in my vocal cords.

‘And if you think I have even two minutes of my life to spare for sexual recreation, then you’re crazy.’

‘Thought you docs were always banging in the on-call rooms?’

She half laughs, half snorts. ‘Are you kidding? Even if I could find the time and the inclination to commit a potentially career-ending act at work, there’s no privacy in those places. No locks, either. This is real life. Not television.’

‘In which case, you definitely need a dildo in your life.’

Or a building super on speed dial…

‘I’ll think about it when I’m thirty-five and I might finally have some spare time to utilise it.’

It is depressing as hell that this highly sexual woman, who has blown apart in my arms twice this morning, is living an asexual life. Her acceptance of it is even more so.

‘So, the city can thank you for this blizzard,’ I say, determined now to cram our time in the elevator with as much sexual recreation as possible.

And fill every other spare moment of her life with it, too, after we get out of here – if I play my cards right.

She frowns. ‘How do you figure that?’