The Eighth Floor

by Jennifer Cypert about a year ago in erotic

Banging on the Doors of Heaven

The Eighth Floor

I am standing in a morning a daze as my supervisor buzzes on. I just want to get to my floor so I can start my day, but she takes her time wasting it for the rest of us that have rooms to clean. "We have families to feed, why doesn't she just shut up?!" I think, refraining from rolling my eyes or shaking my head in exasperation. Finally, I hear my name being called.

"Veronica, you are on the fourth floor today," she says. I hear quiet noises of jealousy. The fourth floor is the best one. All of the nurses and doctors are nice and really appreciate what we do. I beam with excitement as I head off with my housekeeping cart. I can feel daggers in my back.

I no sooner get into the elevator, and it opens on the first floor. It's Eric. He is a nurse on the fourth floor. He grins his mischievous grin as he walks on to the elevator, pressing four.

"Where are you heading to?" he asks.

"Same floor as you are," I reply, trying not to look him up and down. He had been working out. It was paying off in the most glorious of ways. There is a deep seated sexual tension between us, although he's engaged. Eric met her two years ago at a scrubs convention. A sickeningly sweet history from then on. I had the hots for him the first time I had stepped onto the fourth floor the first day. I would never approach a nurse in that way, though. There is an invisible hierarchy in the hospital world that you just don't touch no matter how bad you want to. The tension makes things a little awkward. I don't ignore it, but I'm chained to my morality.

The elevator dings to the fourth floor, ending the heat between us. My back is sweating from that alone. I clean a few rooms. As I am coming out of one, I see him in the nurse's station staring at me. It's really a thing he does every time I am on the fourth floor. It's hot. It's like he knows that he can't have me, yet he can't help himself. I avert my eyes so he doesn't get caught by me staring at him staring at me. I smile at myself while I rummage through my cleaners looking for the air freshener. It was the final step. A patient got to go home so the room needed to be clean for the next patient that needed the room. I hear foot steps behind me. I figure that it's my friend Leona wanting to eat in the garden.

"What's up, Leona?" I ask turning around. It's not Leona. It's Eric. His biceps are tight in his scrub uniform. His large chest is heaving like he is trying to contain all of the force of a hurricane. Eric's green eyes and red hair gleam in the light of the sun of the open blinds like a rainbow interrupted.

"When are you taking your lunch?" he asks, hoping it will be by the time he takes his.

My mind is blank. All of the words have fallen out of my head as I stare at him dumbly. I can feel my heart beating in my throat. "Why can't I just speak?" I think to myself.

"Twelve thirty," I finally manage to get out. That took more effort than necessary.

"Alright, I will meet you on the eighth floor, alone." He swallowed hard, a sexy stern look on his face. He wants me. He wants me to say yes and I want to...

"You're engaged!" It stumbles out. My morals kick in. This high ground is so lonely. He knows too much. He knows about my painful divorce. How hard it's been on my kid. Why was he so easy to talk to?! Then he said the four most magical words I never thought I would hear.

"I broke it off," he spoke quickly. I can't move, or breathe. He's standing there waiting for me to answer. Then I hear his hospital phone ring. It rings five times. My mouth is frozen. On the sixth ring I blurt it out.

"Alright, I'll meet you," I told him. Eric half smiles as he answers his phone. After he gets off of the phone, he storms to me, holding me in his big arms, my head rushes at his forcefulness, kissing me. Not gently, but rough, dominating. Then, it's over. He leaves and I have three hours to go.

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Jennifer Cypert

  A lover of all the impossibles if only they are in my head.

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