Gracie had long opposed the month of August, and this week's heatwave only reinforced her convictions. The air conditioning in her robotaxi failed to overcome the afternoon Los Angeles sun. By the time she reached the hospital, her scrubs were already soaked in sweat, necessitating a last-minute shower.

Maybe the crackpots on CNN demanding the government geoengineer the atmosphere were onto something.

Floor nurses at St. Mary's were required to look "professional", during their shifts. Form-fitting scrubs, low heels, and light makeup were on the checklist. Pit stains were not. As she finished putting her hair into a neat bun, Gracie looked at her watch.

Enough time for some lipstick. No need to be written up for a uniform violation.

Luckily, her nursing station for the evening was directly two floors above the locker room. As she stepped out of the elevator, the area was filled with the swell of pink scrubs that signified handoff. Before she could locate her name on the board, an arm waved her over.

"You've got mine."

Alice Cooper's voice was brighter than her messy blonde hair and tired expression suggested. Gracie flashed her friend a smile. The geriatric's service at St. Mary's was large enough that a familiar face was always a pleasant start to a shift.

"I didn't know you were on today." Gracie replied.

"I keep forgetting these shifts run till 7:30 now. I actually had to do some of the shit I was planning to dump on you."

Gracie dropped her bag and sat on the desk. After someone's husband complained his wife couldn't finish cooking dinner before the night shift, the department had pushed handoff back a half hour. It was a change appreciated more at the start of the shift than the end.

"Who do we have?"

"Only 312 and 313 right now. They've been stable since surgery, but we're just waiting on Urology to give us the go-ahead to send them home. We managed to discharge 331 and 332, so if there are any admissions tonight, they're going to you," Alice said. "Carter in 312 is already asleep. The man is old-old. John in 313 was here for a TUPNR and just got his foley out so-- Is that a ring?"

Gracie flipped her hand over to display the diamond. The rock was a modest half-carat, but Nate had picked Gracie's mom's brain to find the perfect design.

"I guess we haven't hung out in a while," Gracie said, with a laugh. "He proposed in June."

"I have to know everything," Alice said, "How did he do it?"

Before she could answer, two claps rang out, halting the chatter in the space. Amanda Porter was calling the current shift for inspection. Porter, the assistant nursing manager for the unit, was also this evening's charge nurse. A harsh woman in her late-40s, she was a stickler for rules, respect, and patient satisfaction. She even unironically referred to herself as the boss. All in all, the unit thought she was a bitch.

Gracie felt herself stiffening as Porter made her way around the station. Back straight. Chest out. Smile on.

As she reached the girl next to Gracie, her stern expression turned into a grimace. The pink scrubs were cut low enough to show cleavage, and Porter's eyes were on the poor girl's tits.

"Why are you wearing a bra?"

There was a panic in the girl's eyes, and Gracie felt a surge of sympathy for who she assumed was a new grad. Like most workplaces, St. Mary's had a standardized uniform code for the female clinical and administrative staff. Nothing under the scrub top was one of those rules. It kept everyone looking standardized and was one fewer thing for a psychotic patient to grab. More importantly, the male patients and staff enjoyed the show.

"I just had injections this morning," the girl said. "They recommended I wear support for 48 hours."

"Take it off."

With Porter's eyes burrowing into her soul, the girl lifted her scrub top, revealing a padded black bra. Taking pity on the poor brunette, Gracie unclasped the front of the bra and allowed the newly modified breasts to breathe. Whatever OB/GYN performed the injections had done a good job. Symmetric, full, and perky. There were absolutely no signs of work, other than slight irritation from the sensitive nipples chafing against the fabric.

As Gracie took off the bra, Porter clasped the girl's tits and pinched her nipples, eliciting a squeal.

"Poor planning is not an excuse to be out of dress code," she said, as she twisted further. "Also, you would do to lose a couple of pounds."

That last part was just unnecessary.

Satisfied, Porter let go of the girl, who scrambled to pull down her top. The girl gave Gracie a grateful look, before trying her best to maintain her dignity with a neutral expression.

As Porter wrapped up inspection and the morning shift left for the day, Gracie settled in. She logged into the electronic medical records, pulling up her patients' charts. Despite what she claimed, Alice had set her up well for the evening. Vitals were normal. She had already given the PM medications. There were no active orders in the system. Though she was superstitious enough to avoid saying it, nobody seemed like they were trying to die on her tonight.

The only thing she needed now was caffeine. With the last-minute shower, she didn't have enough time to grab coffee.

Financially, that was probably for the best. Two days ago, Gracie had lost a close friend of nine years to the summer heat. Her 2038 BYD Seagull had been her steady companion since she got her learner's permit. While the car had lost some range in the last couple of years, it had been a reliable vehicle. However, the combination of 107-degree weather and a 100-minute commute overheated the battery, leaving her stranded on the interstate.

The auto repair didn't bother giving her a quote. With import restrictions on Chinese cars, the necessary parts were not available. The breakdown couldn't have come at a worse time too. With the engagement, she and Nate had just drained their savings on the venue deposit, and the caterer expected a check. Even looking at car prices stressed her out. However, robotaxis were too expensive for regular use, so she would have to purchase something soon.

Gracie eyed the mini fridge under the neighboring desk. Cassidy occupied the station, plugging away at her computer.

"Just grab a diet coke," she said, without turning from her screen. "I just refilled it today."

Cassidy was a pretty girl, who lost an expensive bet. With blonde hair, green eyes, nice tits, and a cheerleader's build, Cassidy was hot. The fresh class of surgery residents that started in June noticed, and she had her pick of willing dick. Cassidy denied her interest and another nurse questioned her conviction. The resulting wager was that Cassidy would bang an intern by the end of July. Loser brought a twelve-pack of diet coke every shift for the rest of the year. The minifridge had been stocked since the first week of June.

Gracie cracked open a can, and the call light in Room 313 turned on.

John sat upright in the bed. The heavy-set man sported a grey goatee and a wide bald spot atop his head. When Gracie entered his room, he pushed his covers to the side.

"Aren't you a cutie," he said. "Where are you from?"

"Nice to meet you. My name is Gracie," she said. "I'm your nurse tonight. Is there something you need, John?"

"I got to pee," he replied. "First time since they took the catheter out. Thought someone should supervise. Make sure nothing is wrong."

Moving to help him up, Gracie began to push down the hand rail, when John shook his head and gestured to a plastic urinal.

Of course that's what he wanted.

Gracie pocketed her engagement ring and put on a pair of gloves. She pulled his gown to the side, revealing a pot belly and a fully engorged dick.

Transurethral pudendal nerve restoration was a relatively new treatment for erectile dysfunction. Urologists injected stem cells into the nerve bundles that surrounded the prostate, regenerating sensation and motor function. Since it became covered by Medicare, TUPNR had become the most common elective procedure for men over sixty. Post-operatively, these guys were the worst. Most hadn't had a fully satisfying erection in over a decade. When the foley came out, they were horny as hell.

Grabbing his dick, Gracie felt a twitch as she pointed the tip inside the plastic urinal. As the stream slowly initiated, John groaned and placed his hand over her gloved hand.

Well, at least he wasn't trying to paw her tits too.

As he finished, Gracie cleaned the tip with a wet wipe. She began to rise, when John grabbed her arm.

"Are you just going to leave me like this?" John said, gesturing to his unchanged erection.

"Is there something else I can do for you? With a reminder that I'm not a whore."

"Grab my phone," he said. "I want to try this thing out on a professional."

Gracie opened his phone with FaceID, when John pulled her hand lower again.

"Take another feel," John said. "I just want to make sure it's working properly."

John was trying her patience, but Gracie was not trying to get a patient complaint. With Porter as her charge tonight, there was absolute certainty of escalation. She wrapped her fingers around his dick and gave it a good squeeze.

"How does that feel?" she asked.

"Fan-fucking-tastic," John said, releasing another groan. "Help me with this device. I can never figure out how to order a whore on this tiny thing."

"I'm not sure I know where to --"

"Just search West LA dot WHR. Should be the top entry"

Despite the building evidence that John was probably capable of navigating this purchase himself, Gracie typed in the query and entered the site. Immediately a dozen women appeared on the screen in various states of undress. Under each profile was a first name and a green dot indicating immediate availability.

"I don't want anybody over 150 an hour, and nobody darker than yourself. Where were you from again?"

"My mom is from Taiwan," Gracie replied, the absurdity of the situation finally catching up to her. With dark brown hair and almond-shaped eyes, patients asked her that often. However, normally she didn't have her hand on their dick while helping them search for a hooker.

"Horrible what happened to the island, but the girls who left are all amazing."

A swing and a miss. Before she could figure out how to extract herself from this insanity, John took her hand and began to use it to stroke himself.

"Keep looking," he said. "Keep her under 30, and I prefer blondes or redheads."

As she applied the filters, John's other hand grabbed her right tit and gave it a strong squeeze. She let out a yelp, but his hands stopped her from pulling back.

"How big are your tits? I want them slightly bigger than yours."

"John, I can't keep--"

Suddenly, his hand moved from her breast and held the front of her scrubs. Being pulled close, Gracie felt his breath brush her ear, as his face sat inches from hers.

"Look, I'll give you 200 right now if you take off your glove, finish me off, and order me this whore. I'm not even asking for a blowjob," he whispered. "I haven't been this hard in years. I need this."

With the exchange openly on the table and his desperate voice ringing in her ear, Gracie was in a haze. She would have a new car payment soon, and two hundred could be a deposit for her wedding dress. She felt his hand drift into her cleavage and paw at her bare tit. Gingerly, she gave a small nod.

His hand went right to work, slipping her glove off. Without the latex, she felt the warmth of his dick. She began to stroke up and down, eliciting a moan from her patient.

Without needing to direct her anymore, both of John's hands reached for her body. He slipped under her scrub bottoms and thong, going straight for her cunt. Not giving Gracie a second to prepare, two fingers entered her. She let out another yelp, placing a smile on John's face.

"Keep going," he said, fingering her pussy. "This slut isn't going to order itself."

"Okay, how about this... Fuck!... one?"

Gracie showed him a picture of a redheaded girl. She was spreading her pussy to the camera, while a ruby butt plug filled her ass. Seeing his interest, she scrolled to the next picture. The redhead, mouth open, on her knees.

"Go to the bottom. Let's see... 150 an hour and she doesn't even give rimjobs?" he said, "Next one."

Gracie returned to the search page. With her hand wrapped around a cock and John's hand alternating between fingering her pussy and ravaging her clit, she could barely hold the phone steady. Her legs shook, as John slipped a third finger into her cunt. However, the sight of a familiar blonde-haired slut, cut through the rest of her senses.

This was a picture of Cassidy. Naked, legs spread, begging for cock. She was squeezing her breasts together, with the agency number in marker on her inner thigh.

"Someone caught your eye... Oh, I like what I see."

"I'm not sure... fuck, fuck, FUCK!... she's available."

"Scroll down to services."

Skipping a dozen photos, Gracie tried to concentrate on the services offered. Bareback blowjob. Rimjob. Golden Shower. Bareback Full Service. As the list entered her mind, Gracie felt herself getting wet and her strokes accelerating.

Fuck, Cassidy was offering double penetration with two guys for 175 dollars an hour?

Gracie clenched around the three fingers inside of her cunt, as her abdominal muscles trembled. Her thighs clamped down on John's arm. Her knees gave out, and she leaned against the bed for support. John's other hand moved from its job groping her chest to the back of her head. He pushed their faces together. His tongue tasted of mouthwash, and his beard scratched her chin.

A moment later, she felt an eruption around her right hand and heard John let out a proper moan.

Gracie's hand smelled like a fresh wet wipe, when she returned to the nursing station. Cassidy was still at her desk, typing away at a chart. Gracie couldn't help but notice her nipples through her top, and even her concentration seemed sultry. People look different after seeing them naked with a vibrator up their ass.

"My patient in 313 wants to talk to you." Gracie said.

"Why?"

"He was hoping to book some... companionship?"

"Gracie, what the fuck are you talking about?" Cassidy said. The statement was finally odd enough to turn her face from the screen.

"I don't want to get into it," Gracie said. "313 found your profile and just booked you."

"Wait... are you talking about... oh for God's sake, why do they have me as available right now?" Cassidy said, grabbing her phone and quickly pulling up her ad. Gracie stood awkwardly, as Cassidy sent a stream of text messages.

"Okay, cover 333 for me. We're trading rooms for the next hour."