The Other Night At The Clinic

I can hardly believe I’m writing this down, let alone admitting it to myself. It happened the other night when I was working late at the clinic. She’s a patient, one of those who comes in for check-ups and seems to be here more often than others. We were in her room, just finishing up her exam and paperwork. As she sat there on the examination table, still in that paper gown, she looked at me with those eyes, I could see it then, the want behind them. I knew I shouldn’t have done it. But before I knew what was happening, I found myself slipping off my gloves and pulling down her gown. The moment our lips met, it felt so wrong but also so right. Her body pressed against mine on that cold metal table. Our clothes were a mess, scattered around us like discarded confetti. I took her then, the slick heat of her enveloping me as I thrust into her, feeling every inch of her tightness and warmth. She moaned softly, her nails digging into my back. The way she moved with me, seeking more, pushed all boundaries aside for a moment. It’s been on my mind ever since, haunting me at work now. What was it about that night that made everything feel like I could just stop thinking?