AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Kevin had married his college sweetheart, Linda—the first girl, he confessed, who was willing to go down on him. (Laura and I glanced at each other; was she also picturing him rolling out that red carpet? She’d ruined me.) For the most part he was happy, settled. No kids yet, but they were planning.
Over the next three weeks, Laura and I added Kevin to our clique. We rounded together, delivered babies together, frequented the cafeteria for our daily slop together, and even hit Hon Wong, the Chinese-restaurant-turned-karaoke bar, on Friday nights together, which became a weekly margarita tradition.
I wasn’t sure how Kevin felt about me. Sometimes I could swear he pictured me as a naughty little nymph in a filmy white teddy, with my long blond hair in two braids, vining down over my body.
In his mind, Laura was probably a vixen in a slim black floor-length gown, slit on the sides all the way up her long legs above her hips.
On one margarita-fueled evening,Lauradecided to pokethe tiger. “Have you ever been a bad boy?” Shequestioned and probed for details about his private life, nudgingKevin’s Buddha belly and tousling his fiery hair. I sipped my drink and kept my distance. Clearly, his wedding band was no longer an impediment in her mind.
Knowing Laura, she was somehow setting him up for a future night of infidelity.
That night came on the final evening of our rotation. We were sad to see our time together come to a close. As an instructive finale, Kevin volunteered to show us how to “throw stitches” and suture in surgeon lingo.
Kevin accessed one of the very private on-call rooms down an abandoned corridor. He lugged a few anatomical props and an old stereo from the main OB-GYN office. He put Fleetwood Mac’sRumourson the turntable.
I sat cross-legged on the floor, armed with a silk tie. I’d been practicing my knots since Boston, and I was ready to show off: one-handed ties, two-handed ties, a single-handed double loop.
Kevin sat behind me, lightly touching both of my arms, guiding my ties the way a pool shark would teach a woman to handle a cue, his chest flush against my back, scrub top to scrub top. Laura, a devilish expression on her face, sat tying her own knots. She raised a sculpted brow.
“Let’s play strip anatomy,” she suggested.
“What? Sounds dirty,” I said.
“It is, but only if you’re dumb. Ginge Minge will ask us an anatomy question, and for each question we get wrong, we have to sacrifice an article of clothing. For each question we answer correctly, Kevin has to do the same.”
Kevin’s temples were visibly pulsating, as beads of sweat trickled down his forehead. “I don’t know,” I said. I hadn’t been kissed in months, much less stripped of clothing in the presence of a male.
“Come on, Rory,” Laura enthused. “Don’t be a prude. I didn’t sign up for med school to play poker. We’re young! Let’s make learning fun!”
“This is a married man,” I protested. “Besides, we’re friends! This could get very weird...”
Laura ignored my objections, and Kevin was all in too. The second we started the game, his medical IQ seemed to spike at least thirty points. He addressed his first question to me. “Rory, can you point to the diastasis recti?”
That was an easy one. I pointed to the space, often a sexy line, which connected the left and right halves of the main abdominal muscles.
“Okay, Kevin, shirt off.”
Kevin hastily pulled off his scrub top to reveal a knot of muscles under his white wife-beater. Laura looked impressed. She loved this wicked little game she had devised. He directed his next question at Laura. “Point out the femoral canal.”
A no-brainer; his wife-beater fell to the floor. I was then asked to identify the round ligament of the uterus on the pelvic model that Kevin had brought down from his office.
“Oh shit!” I blundered, confusing the round ligament with the cardinal ligament.
I removed my scrub top, revealing the black Belgian-lace bra that was transparent enough to make Laura’s eyes widen. “Kevin, look at those boobs—my god, I think they’re real!” As if she hadn’t seen my boobs a hundred times before.
“Shut up!” I was flabbergasted. “Of course, they’re real.” I was beginning to feel a bit nauseous and wary.
Laura deliberately missed the next several questions, purposefully confusing the areola with the labia minora. She seductively shimmied out of her scrub pants, revealing that she wore no panties. Laura proudly boasted an olive grove that was very rich in foliage. She hadn’t caught the Brazilian bug yet.
Kevin’s face was now blood-colored, little red hairs piloerect on his forearms. Half-naked, he approached me slowly, and planted a kiss on the back of my neck. Laura crawled over to the two of us on her hands and knees.
Kevin unhooked my bra as Laura slid her hands below the underwire, cupping my breasts. I closed my eyes and took in the novel sensation of two male hands and two female hands rubbing my body. The thrill evaporated quickly.
Holy shit, what was I doing?
Then, smooth and feline, Laura took off her bra, tossing her hair wildly, as if it were a tail, to reveal two small, perfect breasts, nipples dark and erect. She leaned in to kiss Kevin. They began panting heavily, moisture dripping as they kissed. Kevin ran his hands between herthighs.
I could actually hear the lubrication. I surveyed this scene, partly in fascination and partly in revulsion. It was like watching a car wreck.
