I wake up slowly; my eyes blurred. My vision is impaired whilst my eyes try to focus on something; the room is dark, small shadows flicker from the monitoring equipment. Slowly, my mind groggy, I gradually become aware of what is happening, remembering the events of the day, despite my drug induced haze; where I am. I try to move, fidget but find moving difficult, talking, practically impossible. I hear the beeps of the heart rate monitor increase, together with the monitors that measures my brain activity. The nurse enters the room, having been alerted by the remote sensors. She is checking me over, talking softly, and removing the bed covers fussing with the dressings, all the time talking to me, saying sweet things; asking if I can't sleep and the like. She is aware that I am conscious even though unable to reply; she continues to talk to me as she carries out her duties. This carries on for several minutes... She turns to me, aware that I can see that I can appreciate what's happening, but still I am unable to respond.
Slowly she turns to face me, a soft smile up on her lips as she begins to talk to me again. She tells me that she has moments like that, times when she can't sleep, and what her best cure for insomnia is.
"I found that the best cure for insomnia is a good climax Miranda."
"I don't know if you've ever done it to get to sleep? I guess you have. Maybe we should try now? Shall we give it a try Miranda?" As she finishes talking, I feel her pull back the sheet; my bedclothes, exposing my night dress, making me feel cold, exposed.
Not sure if I heard her right, understood her right, a shiver of shock traverses my spine as my eyes open wide with shock, disbelief. As I become aware that she has hitched up my night dress, feeling the cool air on my thighs and on my mound. Suddenly I feel open, vulnerable and exposed my understanding of her intent starts to become clearer.
She sits on the side of the bed, her eyes, her gaze locked onto mine. I gasp, as I feel her fingers against my thigh. The touch is soft light delicate, as if a feather is being raked against my flesh. I feel my body respond, a shiver down my spine, my skin reacting as my skin becomes covered with goose pimples. My breathing quickens slightly, my feeling of being vulnerable increasing every time I feel her finger against my thigh, slowly softly moving higher.
My eyes open, I feel, see, a shadow moving towards my face, my face flinches as she cups my cheek. I feel her press her palm into my face. I hear her quietly talking.
"You are so pretty Miranda."
Her hands continue, feeling one against my cheek, the other close to my fanny, my mound. My thighs instinctively pressing together, trying to deter her, but this only seems to encourage her.
"Now Miranda, relax. Let's make you feel sleepy again Miranda."
Unable to cope, comprehend what is happening, my eyes close, still aware of her advances, her soft tender caresses.
My mind slowly realizes as she continues to softly touch, caress in her sensual manner; I realise that the only time I've ever felt like this is when I have caressed myself. When I've lain back in the pillows of my bed, or under the hot refreshing pick me up shower, wanting, needing to orgasm.
My thoughts are cast aside, my mind brought back to reality as I feel her breath on my flesh, short intense breaths, a strange smell a mixture of perfume and stale tobacco, before I feel a pair of lips on mine. The kiss is soft, brushing her lips against mine, feeling her tongue tip against my lips. I feel my body start to respond, despite fighting off those feelings, those caresses and their affect on my body.
Her tongue slowly parts my lips. I try, in vain to keep them closed. The harder I try, the more they open up to her, to her unwanted advances, my tongue tasting her lip balm. The kiss lingers on my lips, and I am unaware that she has pulled away, stood up.
"Miranda"
