GP Surgery Secret

Three weeks to get an appointment, and I wasn't even sick anymore. But when I saw the receptionist, I suddenly felt very unwell indeed.

Natasha—according to her lanyard—was the fit kind of stern. Sharp cheekbones, tight bun, NHS polo doing nothing to hide a slim figure with small, perky tits. She looked like she hated everyone, and somehow that was incredibly attractive.

"Thompson? Take a seat. Doctor's running late."

"How late?"

"Forty minutes. Maybe an hour." She almost smiled. "Could be worse. Could be the NHS."

I laughed. She looked surprised, then pleased.

"You're not going to moan at me about waiting times?"

"What's the point? You don't control them."

"First person today who's worked that out." She checked something on her screen. "Look—supply closet's empty. If you want somewhere quiet to wait, I could show you."

Something in her tone said she wasn't talking about waiting.

The supply closet was cramped—boxes of gloves, stacks of paper towels, the faint smell of antiseptic. She locked the door behind us.

"I don't normally do this," she said. "Actually, I've never done this. But I'm exhausted, I'm single, and you're the first patient all week who's treated me like a person."

"That's a low bar."

"Welcome to the NHS." She stepped closer. "So. Are you going to kiss me or not?"

I kissed her. She kissed back with surprising intensity, all that pent-up frustration releasing at once. Her hands pulled at my shirt while mine found her waist.

"Fuck," she breathed. "Needed this."

Her polo came off, revealing a simple white bra. I unhooked it, found small, perfect tits with pink nipples.

"Like them?"

"Love them."

I took one in my mouth, felt her knees wobble. Her hand found my jeans, worked them open with clinical efficiency.

"Jesus," she whispered. "Doctor might want to see that."

"Doctor can wait."

I pushed her back against the shelves, dropped to my knees. Her work trousers came down, revealing practical knickers already damp.

"Quick—fifteen minutes tops—"

I pulled the knickers aside, tasted her. She was sweet, wet, and grabbed a shelf to stay upright as I worked her with my tongue.

"Fuck—right there—"

She came fast, muffling her moan with her fist. Before she'd recovered, she was pulling me up.

"Inside. Now."

I slid into her against the shelves, boxes falling around us. She was tight, hot, and wrapped a leg around me to pull me deeper.

"Harder—yes—like that—"

We fucked fast, desperate, both knowing the clock was ticking. She came again, biting my shoulder to stay quiet.

"Close—where—"

"Inside—on the pill—"

I came deep, feeling her clench around me. We stayed there, panting, surrounded by fallen supplies.

Her phone buzzed.

"Doctor's ready for you." She was already fixing her uniform. "Room 3."

"Same time next appointment?"

"Make it an urgent referral. I'll squeeze you in."

I saw the doctor, got told I was fine, and walked out with a number scribbled on a repeat prescription form.

Best NHS experience of my life.