The sterile scent of antiseptic fills the air, a familiar olfactory companion to the hush of rubber soles on linoleum. It's a soundtrack to my life, a rhythm as constant as the beating of hearts under my care. I am Alice, the young nurse whose presence in the ward is both balm and beacon to those in need. But beyond the scrubs and stethoscope lies a confession, a tale that twists through the corridors of desire and into the realm of fantasy fulfilled.
It began as whispers do, in hushed tones behind screens and closed doors. Patients would speak among themselves about more than their symptoms; they would weave daydreams where I was not just their caregiver but also an object of longing—a beautiful angel sent to soothe not only physical pain but also carnal yearnings left unspoken due to societal taboos or personal embarrassment. Little did they know how closely these fantasies mirrored my own secret desires—desires that burned beneath my professional exterior like an ember waiting for oxygen's sweet breath to ignite it into flame at last tonight...my fantasy came true!
I remember him distinctly: dark hair peppered with gray at