Jack, Juliette, Me and It

"Speak to Boris Johnson," said a different nurse in a different colour uniform, "he promised us £350 million pound a week if we left Europe, when that turns up, we'll be a lot faster trust me."

"I want nursing not political comment!" Juliette snapped .

The nurse narrowed her eyes,

"Press down on that for two minutes," she said to Juliette, leaving the white absorbent pad under surgical tape where the tube had been removed.

"Juliette," I said to her as the nurse took her trolley and sharps bin away, "Can you save your critique until you're in the car park?"

"They're paid to do a fucking job," she snapped back, "they all think they're so fucking special, they should try life outside the public sector if they want to know about a hard-working life."

"They..." I closed my eyes and held my breath, "I understand they've just cut something pretty nasty out of you?"

"What I pay them for..." she spat.

"Gratitude Juliette?" I said, "I guessing you might feel a bit of that?"

"Do you want me to have gratitude for the bloody illegal immigrant that washes my car, gratitude for the idiot chav that does my on-line shopping? These bloody people moan constantly about..."

"It wouldn't do any harm Juliette..."

"And when does anyone show any gratitude to ME?!"

"You make people money Juliette," I said helping her into wheelchair, seeing in her face how much pain it was causing her, "I think the vast sums of money you get paid is your customers gratitude, I mean, do you WANT them to ring you?"

"You know what I mean."

"Yeah," I said, "I suppose," I wheeled her across to Jack's car. It was red, shiny, long, low, lean and high-speed, the kind of Testosteroni 2000 I could imagine a twat like him driving.

"Nice," said Juliette with no real feeling.

"I like it," I said, "although it might not be the best thing for you to try and climb into in your condition."

"I'll manage," she said, and I could see some real concern in her face. "Right, let's go," she said putting her hands on the arms of the wheelchair.

I opened the door of the car and moved her as close as I could get her. Nurse Jenna came through for me again, and I held out my arm.

"Take hold Juliette," I said, "pull against me and swing you bottom round onto the seat there."

Juliette did so, giving a bit of a cry and she put strain on her surgically damaged stomach muscles.

"Eeeeeeasy," I said swinging her round and lowering her to the low car seat. She cried out again, "Just going to move your feet," I said lifting her legs in.

"Christ," she hissed, and I leaned in to connect her seat belt, seeing tears in her eyes as I did so.

"Just going to take the wheelchair back," I said.

"Oh, just leave the fucking thing," she whined.

I wasn't going to have the 'height of civilisation' argument again.

I knew that Juliette lived in a small flat, 1 bed. I had a new responsibility, for the weekend at least, and no way was I going to look after such a pain-in-the-arse patient AND sleep on a fucking sofa. Jack's place then.

I eased Jack's car onto the drive of the big house. It was precisely the kind of house I figured that a twat like Jack would live in. It was a big Victorian detached place, and there had to be three bedrooms and he lived on his own.

"What are we doing here?" She snapped angrily, "take me to my..."

"What did they nurse say?"

"I'm perfectly able..."

I cut her off again.

"OK," I swung my door open and stepped out of the car, trotting around to open hers, "if you can get out of my car and walk to my front door, I'll cheerfully drive you to yours."

"Oh, for God's sake!" she growled, "it's only..."

"Out you get then!" I said brightly indicating the front door.

She did give of her best for a few minutes, giving me time to open the front door, carry her overnight bag in, but eventually she gave in and buried her face in her hands, not with fury this time.

I did the reverse of how I got her into the car. The misery in her face got the better of me and I bent slightly and picked her up, carrying her straight in, up the stairs and to the large master bedroom.

"I can't..."

"For fuck's sake Juliette!" I snapped back at her now, lowering her feet to the floor and flipping back the duvet. Her face again got through to me, I wasn't sure what Jack's feelings were. "Sit down and slip your shoes off," I said.

She did so, so channelling Nurse Jenna I raised her legs up and on to the bed.

"Christ," she hissed, "It hurts so much."

"It's going to Juliette, sit back down mate," I watched as the pain hit her again and she cried out.

I went to the bathroom and found a clean glass, filling it with water and handing it to her with the painkillers they'd given her.

"Lay back down," I said, "you need to rest, slip off your skirt there, I won't look!"

She looked a bit shocked at that, and after a few false starts, I could see she couldn't.

Nurse Jenna snuck in again, and pulled up the duvet over her,

"Excuse me a moment," I said sliding a hand under her for where I knew the button and zipper would be at the small of her back. They both surrendered to my fingers in seconds then I was lifting up the waistband and pulling down the brown tweed knee length business skirt she normally wore with blouses, sweaters or a jacket.

I folded it and laid it on an adjacent chair.

"Thank you Jack," she said, "I'll be out of your hair in no time, two days they said, I'll go home Sunday evening, I promise."

"We'll see, there's no rush Juliette," I smiled softly at her.

I had a takeaway delivered, knowing from my research she was still partial to Big Mac with cheese. It worked and she appeared to calm down.

I carried her to the bathroom in just her blouse and panties and she seemed a bit cross, but settled to the reality of her situation I think.

"Goodnight Julie!" I said, lowering her onto the best bed in the house, "I'll be just across there, shout if you need me."

"Goodnight Jack!" she said with probably the first smile I'd ever had from her.

I turned off her bedroom light, leaving the hall light on and walking back to the small bedroom closest to hers.

I laid down and waited for 'It' to call me out and take me to the next job, or forward in this one.

I lay there and soon I was away and back in the hospital emergency room. Juliette looked awful, she was surrounded by beeping machinery and a whole mess of scrubs-wearing nurses and doctors. I looked for a glow or nurse I recognised and figured that the one I'd known most recently was hundreds of miles north of where we were.

But there she was, next to her and in red scrubs was Sergeant Maguire USMC (Retired). In the bed opposite I noticed, was Sam the assaulting drug addict with his Mum, without 'thief' cut into his forehead that one of the three of us was responsible for.

What?

How had Juliette and I made our way to a hospital that Nurse Jenna was in, or how had she made it so far south. I'd been in her brain not a week ago and her life was so definitely north of Yorkshire.

And what about the fucking marine?

Also, I couldn't feel who my latest heartbeat was.

What on earth was going...

It was the silence that scared me, the doctors and nurses were all over Juliette's bed and I tried to work out what was happening. There was no glow to anything, not the instant knowledge of what I should do, and I started to feel some concern as to what 'It' wanted me to do.

I snapped and suddenly I was back in bed.

Bed.

Bed?

What?

I'd been dreaming.

I couldn't remember dreaming since... well ever.

'It' never liked to waste our time with people sleeping.

If 'It' had wanted me in some people's brains, it was for a very specific reason. I would be in there, deep in their psyche's, deep in their longest and furthest memories, all the way down to those bits that the heartbeats had probably tried to forget.

I remembered the last; 'It' had been quite specific about this one, had been saving this man up for years in fact. My heartbeat was living a life of comfort and semi-retirement in Buenos Aires, I followed him as he carried out his evening routine, eating the dinner that his pretty Argentinian wife had prepared, smiling at his three young daughters as they ate.

He put them to bed after his wife had got them into their PJ's, and he turned of the lights, kissing all three and I was feeling his love for them.

In moments he was kissing his wife goodnight and rolling under his blankets and his drifting off, out of time, space then into history.

The gentle Spanish he'd been listening to for the last twenty years faded into harsh, almost guttural Germanic with hints of Polish or Ukrainian.

The men speaking it were strutting around in the field grey uniforms of the Wehrmacht with occasional bursts of black, all with twin lightning strikes at their collars. I walked my host from the officer's barracks and the mirror by the guardroom, and he checked himself out, proudly straightening the three silver pips and two silver stripes on the collar of his uniform of Hauptsturmführer of the SS. There was some pride there but there was also a hint of panic, he hadn't worn this uniform in years.

I turned him round and took in the scene around him. He looked along the main road towards the administrative offices and I felt his recoil. The area behind this glowed.

I recognised the place. I'd been here quite a few times in various hosts, both in military uniform and ordinary clothes, and in the thin, striped cotton garb of concentration camp prisoners.

So we walked.

Feeling my hosts resistance, I made his brain run there. The gate was opened by a saluting soldier, who I made smile with a large amount of wicked glee.

My host was really struggling with this, but I was pretty sure he wasn't going to wake up so carried on to the Gestapo buildings. I felt real fear in him now so pushed him harder. There were the gas chambers and crematoria. He walked towards the underground undressing areas.

Neat, clean, business-like, concrete and timber with a steel door. The women and children clustered around the entrance were walking in and taking their places, following the noisy but still reasonably calm instructions to strip and leave everything on the benches, with the assurance it would all still be there when they came back. He could see hear the cackled comments of the guards watching the women strip naked.

They were mostly older women, or mothers with young children, some of them still looked quite attractive though.

Especially the slightly darkened skin of one pretty woman with three young girls at her fee...

"VALENTINA!" he wanted to shout, wanted to step towards his wife, her shocked face looking towards him as she stood naked before the two soldiers, looking on so gleefully at her amazing breasts, bottom and flat belly heading down to a lightly haired pubis, neither showing hints of her three pregnancies.

I kept him glued there, gently swinging the large hammer he'd once used on an angry gypsy man that had spat at him, a hammer that hadn't been there before when he started his walk.

I played around with his memory as the same guards used threats, sticks and rifle butts to move her and his three children into the large room with almost two thousand other women and children, the smallest, his perfect little Sofia turning and calling 'Daddy' back to him with raised arms as the iron doors slammed against her.

"Nooooooooo!" he shouted into the night, leaping out of bed, crashing into his nightstand and spilling its contents to the floor.

Valentina switched on her bedside lamp, reaching across to her panting, sweating, weeping husband, stood at their bedroom door and wanting to run to the room his two youngest were sleeping in, desperate to know they were there and safe.

"Bernie? My love!" hissed Valentina looking up at him, and encouraging him back to lay beside her.

Bernhardt had never really spoke about what he'd done during the war, talking only of his service in France and Italy with 'the Army'. Not mentioning that he'd been a senior Waffen SS officer that had been in the first Einsatzgruppen in the east and was posted to Auschwitz in early '44.

Valentina was the daughter of a government official and while the sudden influx of German men of a certain age with a specific look could have been innocent, she couldn't have been completely unaware of what had happened across the Atlantic and who might have been responsible, even the evil bastard she'd married.

Knowing how 'It' like things done, I saw to it that every night his dreams were equally torturous.

In one dream Valentina was dragged off to another room by his Standartenfùhrer. Helpless to prevent it, he was ready and waiting for the screams and he tried to think what her could do to save her, but they never came; instead her could hear her laughing, giggling, then groans of pleasure, then cries if intense pleasure, screams of orgasm...

That had him awake and sipping a brandy.

He couldn't and then wouldn't sleep, turning to booze after a brief dalliance with sleeping pills. He wanted unconsciousness, but 'It' saw to it that the pills just gave him the same nightmares that he couldn't wake up from.

He drank himself almost to death, a sleep-deprived, alcohol ravaged brain sending his car at speed over bridge and onto a railway track. He lay unconscious in his upside-down car, his brain seeing hundreds of dead men, women and children slowly climbing out of their execution pits, walking towards him, a look of hatred on faces staring out of dated clothes all with a yellow star of David on the left breast. The angry men all carried hammers, just like his.

Although physically almost dead his brain screamed in terror, which only stopped when the speeding railway locomotive ploughed through his car killing him what was left of him.

I rolled out of bed, stunned that I'd had my own nightmare.

What?

I didn't HAVE nightmares, I caused them. I manipulated the heartbeat and dredged their memories for the horror, the shame, the 'naked in front of the whole school' thoughts.

Like my previous victim, I wanted to walk through to Jack's large bedroom and check that my patient was there and was OK.

Naked, I walked along the corridor to the master bedroom where Juliette lay asleep and faintly illuminated by the hallway light, She'd removed the blouse she'd worn and it was thrown on the chair where her skirt now rested. Her covers thrown to one side, the foot-long scar across her flat belly covered by a soft dressing held down with tape. Above and below where a beautiful set of white lace panties and matching bra; sleeping she looked stunning, no growling, snappy responses, or angry hateful stares.

Gorgeous. Jack must have been impressed.

So I hadn't moved on to my next job; perhaps there was something else I still had to do. I thought about her recovery. A week, the nurse had said then the bandage could come off, with a phone call to my GP (Juliette didn't appear to have one) and visit from a district nurse to remove the harsh-looking half-dozen steel staples holding her together in lieu of stitches.

She mumbled quietly to herself, obviously in some discomfort. I stepped closer, checking her forehead temperature with the back of my hand, warm but not outrageously so.

I looked at that amazing body again, a cleavage that looked great, but I'd worn bras of all kinds and the thing just looked tight and must have been really uncomfortable. Part of me wanted to take it off her, but we weren't that good friends yet.

I watched her for a few more moments taking in this almost naked woman in MY bed. She looked hot; OK, she was an absolute harridan in real life and I still couldn't really get my head around what she was doing in my bed.

No, in JACK'S bed.

I walked back to the spare room and my bed for the night. I lay down again, feeling the warmth I'd just leapt from. I pushed up and into the pillow, drawing the duvet up to my shoulder, to ease back into... well, into the unconsciousness that came upon my heartbeats.

It didn't come though.

Jack was obviously not tired, but I could feel his long and stressful day catching up with him, and I knew he'd have another of the same tomorrow, so closed his eyes again, our mind full of thoughts of Juliette's fantastic body. It had no glow though, I knew 'It' would have made it glow if that was the direction I needed to go.

That bra, cradling and supporting those great tits she seemed to be proud of but never really showed off to the world.

Now the bra was glowing.

Moments later I was sat on that large bed, working that lacy white bra from my patient's shoulders, reaching behind her to unclip it, her leaning forward, her cheek against mine as I was easing the material from her full, ivory white, beautifully curved breasts,

"Please," said a soft voice from Juliette I'd never heard, or couldn't remember at least, "I can't sleep, I need you to suck on these, they're so hard..." her hand on my cheek, softly drawing my mouth to those hard, red nipples, coaxing my lips down to...

CHRIST!

I felt the orgasm spread from my groin and the wetness all over the sheets and duvet cover I was lying under, not over Juliette.

A wet dream.

I figured that Jack probably hadn't come in some time, judging by the mess that he'd made. That we'd made?

I flipped the duvet, figuring I'd zone out in a moment and return later the next day when 'It' wanted me to arrange something else for this pair. By then Jack would have changed the sheets and duvet cover, showered HIS body, all in time to help Juliette to the bathroom, clean her teeth, help her while she washed the necessary parts then back to bed, and arrange her breakfast.

I lay back and wondered at what point 'It' would bring me back.

'It' brought me back to the buzzing of the alarm on Jack's mobile phone, and I rolled over to cancel the noise, feeling the dampness of the semen that had been ejaculated the night before and the strong musky smell that went with it.

I rolled out of bed, dragging the sheet and the duvet cover off the bed, and walking downstairs to the kitchen and throwing it all in the washing machine, turning it on. It rumbled into life as I walked upstairs. As I cornered at the top of the stairs, I saw the master bedroom door was still open from the night before, and the semi-naked Juliette leaning up on one elbow and watching my complete nakedness.

"Well good morning Jack," she said, taking a good look at everything I had on display. Her duvet up and over the brassiere-covered breasts that had so enchanted me the night before.

"Good morning Juliette," I said, not worrying about this at all. 'It' would be bouncing me out of this at some point very soon and Jack and Juliette would not be my problem, if it wasn't supposed to have happened, 'It' would have let me know. "I'll give you a hand getting to the bathroom?" I said, "then I'll arrange breakfast."

"Naked?"

"Why not," was my simple reply, "It's stupid hot, I don't have air-con, you don't have any clothes here, I'll need to keep an eye on your scar for a couple of days, easier if you're naked, so only fair if we're BOTH naked."

She blushed, and I was sure i could see those hard nipples against the thin lace of her bra.

She slowly moved her legs around, groaning as she did so. I channelled my nurse from those few days before again,

"I'll carry you this morning and this afternoon, but tomorrow you'll have to start stretching your legs and moving all of those muscles they've cut through and sewn up," I said.

I reached under and her hips and around her shoulders, lifting her slight form from the bed with no strain, Jack was in good shape. She cried out slightly, I looked down and saw the huge cut that was across her midriff as the white bandage moved with her.