Unlocked

On-call room 3. 03:12. The hour where your own name sounds like a rumor.

I gloved. I warmed the speculum in my hand because I'm not interested in stupidity, only in being found. I locked nothing. Scrubs at my knees, the awful cot, the click of the blades the loudest thing in the room. Hall light under the door. Footsteps passed once and my cunt clenched around the metal so hard I gasped.

I fucked myself with two fingers beside it, watching the door. Please walk in. Please be someone who will either stay or leave and not collect a story in the frame. I came with it still open, biting the shoulder of my scrub top, silent, shaking. Nobody came in. I cleaned the instrument properly. I lay there another ten minutes, wet, furious, half asleep, already late for a version of me that had hobbies.

Fourteen hours awake does something to shame. It files it under later. I wanted the rectangle of light more than I wanted the orgasm, and then the orgasm hit anyway. I went to a page with my thighs still slick and my face doing competent. Both faces are mine. Only one of them gets a badge.