Page 39 of Jessica Beam is a Hot Mess
We stumble into another room connected to Jamie’s office, some kind of examination/storage room with a high single bed covered in blue paper and tons of boxes and metal trolleys
I unbuckle Jamie’s belt and he tugs off my blue lacy top and my bra. He presses his palm against my boob and lets out a groan. Pulling down his trousers, he steps out of one leg, still kissing me with an eagerness the level of which I have not encountered on my sexual adventures thus far. The other trouser legs seems to be stuck. He hops around a bit trying to get it off.
I laugh. ‘Hurry up, Doc.’
‘I’m trying. Trust me.’
Leaning forward at the waist, he clutches the bottom of the trouser leg, but then somehow bends too far and topples over into a metal trolley.
‘Owww!’ He falls to the floor and a bedpan boinks him on the ear.
‘Holy shit, are you OK?’ I hurry over and try not to laugh. What a twit.
‘Ouch,’ he says, rubbing his elbow and then his ear.
‘I hope you’re more coordinated than this in the operating theatre.’
‘Ouch!’He says again, pouting up at me pointedly and grumpily clutching his arm.
‘Show me the damage.’
He rolls up his shirt sleeve to reveal an emerging bruisey bump on his elbow. His eyes are watering.
‘Fucking hell,’ he groans.
‘You can’t say fucking hell in here,’ I say in a ropey Scottish accent.
He gives me a wry smile.
‘Shall we stop?’ I indicate our state of undress.
‘No. No,’ he says valiantly. ‘I think I’ll make it.’
‘So brave.’
Then, without another word, he scrambles back up and kisses me as if his life depends on it.
* * *
It’s just after 9.30 the following morning and Doctor Jamie and I are frantically trying to get dressed and cleaned-up before Jamie’s boss arrives and the clinic opens up at ten. We pretty much did sex the entire night through. Well, until about five this morning, when we slumped onto one of the clinic beds, exhausted and dazed. It was good, too, in a surprising kind of way. Doctor Jamie had sex the way I expect he does most things, with deep concentration, a touch of awkward politeness and lots of enthusiasm.
‘I can’t find my bra!’ I mutter, wriggling into my top in a panic. ‘Dammit. I love that bra.’
‘It’s here.’ Jamie grabs it from beneath the sheet of the clinic bed and flings it my way. ‘I used it as a pillow.’
I don’t have time to take my top back off and put the bra on, so instead I just wrap the strap around my wrist.
‘I have to go. I think breakfast was, like, two hours ago,’ I say, dragging my skinny jeans up my legs as quickly as it’s possible to drag skinny jeans up legs, which isn’t very.
Jamie nods and runs his hands through his wet curls. ‘OK, yeah. Uh … are you around for the rest of the week?’
I think about explaining to him that I’ll be leaving tomorrow and that I’ll probably never see him again because my life is in turmoil and I have zero friends in the world and what does that all say about me? But the mood is light and I don’t want − let alone have the time − to explain my shitty situation to a one-night stand.
‘Sure, sure. I’ll be around.’
‘Good. Right. I’ll, er, call for you, shall I?’
‘Call for me?’ I grin. ‘OK, I’ll ask my nan if I’m allowed to play out.’
