B.O.S.S. — I Hraet You, Guest Chapter 2


Doctor Strangelove?

No mid-week post this week.   Instead:  You get another guest chapter of I Hraet you!     It’s a writing week for me, as I am working hard on finishing the editing for Two Destroyers.   I am currently looking for Beta readers for general feedback, so any interest in that, just ask.

For now, enjoy part 2 of I Hraet you with a Dimanagul flair.

Beat D-2 — Love and Pro Wrestling.

Splotches of color burned against the inside of Lloyd’s eyelids.  He turned against a uncomfortable stiffness in his back, displacing a warm towel on his forehead and the blanket around him.  A familiar chill ravaged his skin.  His eyes fluttered open and revealed the fuzzy environs of the nurse’s office.

This had been a familiar sight for Lloyd, he would struggle to count the number of times it had happened this year alone, considering his penchant for head trauma.  His eyes settled on the only detail unusual to the cold little corner of L. Bernstein High: the shapely posterior of his assailant, Miss Jocelyn.

“This is ridiculous,” she said. “Why would they keep this room so cold?”

Lloyd struggled against the dull ache in his head and sat up.   He had more than ample reason to stay conscious though.  Miss Joyce fiddled with the low set thermostat at the other side of the room, leaving her stooped over, and Lloyd free to admire her charms.

It had not been in his nature to see a fair maiden struggle without aid.   He raised a hand a cleared his throat.

“You’re awake.”  Miss Jocelyn turned with genuine surprise.  Her face turned to concern.  “You shouldn’t be up.   You have a concussion.”

“I’m well aware.” Lloyd brought a smile to his lips.  “But you seem to be having some difficulty.”

“Yeah, this thing is in desperate need of replacement.”  Joyce soured her expression and glanced back at the controls.

“Allow me.” Lloyd pushed off the bed into a casual stride.  She watched him, arms extended, as she expected him to topple.   This time, he did not.  “Nothing an hour of rest can’t fix.”

“All right.   But after you fix it, back to the bed.”  She moved from the panel, wearing a disapproving frown.   “I don’t care how resilient you think you are.”

“A reasonable request.” Lloyd reached forward and gave the knob a hard turn to the maximum setting.

“I don’t want it to get too hot in here either.” Joyce crossed her arms low, her gentle hands at her elbows.  She glanced up at the vent near her, warm air rustled her ebon colored hair.  A content sigh escaped her lips.  “But that seemed to do the trick.  Thank you Lloyd.”

“My pleasure.”  Lloyd glanced about, seeing no sign of Miss Greebly, the decrepit facsimile of a nurse that typically inhabited the room.  He made his way back to the uncomfortable cot and aimed a smile at Miss Jocelyn. “I’m accustomed to a much more sterile atmosphere in here.   You said you’re only here for the week?”

“That’s the plan.” She leaned against the counter, giving him a better look at her legs.  While he had mistaken for white, her uniform had a faint purple hue.  It remained modest, but could do little to hide her full figure.   Her hips fit snug in her long skirt, which touched the top of her knees.  Neutral colored hose clung to her legs down to her smallish feet.  Those covered by a pair of low heeled shoes, the purple to match Lloyd’s hair.

Her attention stayed on the small vent, pouring warmth on to her.  The moving air rustled her feathered bangs pushed to one side of her attractive face.   A closer look revealed a brutish charm softened by natural beauty and a thin layer of makeup.

She slipped off her jacket, the same color as her skirt to reveal a form fitting purple turtleneck.   A small golden chain with a bird medallion at the end of it sat atop her full bosom.

Lloyd leaned forward, tapping his fingers together.  This is quickly turning into one of the best days of my life.  The approach.   Think about the approach.

“I’ll be honest.” Joyce said, turning to him.  “I took one look at you and I thought you were some sort of hoodlum.”

“What?” Lloyd flushed a hand at his chest.  “I assure you not.”

“I was talking about your hair.” Joycelyn smiled.  “Purple is an interesting choice.   But, its my favorite color.  That’s probably a little obvious.”

“I’m glad you approve Miss Jocelyn.”

“It’s Doctor actually.” She offered a coy smile.  “If you insist on being so formal, I ask you to get that part right.  I’m filling in out of a favor.   But I’m actually a M.D.  I had an early start.”

“That’s impressive.” Lloyd grinned.  “It seems we have something in common then, I have a great interest in the bo–”

“obies!” The door burst open to reveal two familiar young men.  The one in front, the young man Lloyd knew as Matt.

“The theater award?” Joyce shifted her fanning to an unusual gesture at her neck.    “Why would you come bursting in ranting about that?”

Matt’s expression fell blank, his eyes turned to settle on Lloyd.

“Why, hello again.” Lloyd raised a hand in greeting.  “Come to enjoy the scenery as well?”

“What is HE doing here?” Matt narrowed his eyes.

“He’s a patient.” Joyce’s face fell to a frown.  “Better question, what are you doing here?”

“Oh, well… I don’t want to say it out loud.  It’s embarrassing.” Matt squirmed.

“Then come over here and whisper it.” Joyce waved him over.  “You’re entitled to privacy.”

Jay filed into the room and hopped on a counter.  His eyes remained fixed on Lloyd.  Matt made his way to Joyce and whispered into her ear.  His free hand, the one not being used to shield his words, crept towards a dubious goal.

With Joyce’s attention on his words.  His hand inched closer to her backside.   Not that Lloyd could not relate on the temptation, but that seemed a dangerous affair.  He raised a hand, opened his mouth to speak, but noticed Jay holding a hand out.

“This is gonna be awesome.” Jay said, in a flat tone.  “Don’t say anything.”

Lloyd shrugged and lowered his hand.  Surely his friend has only the best interest in mind for him.   I’ll trust him on this.

Joyce tensed against the thumb and forefinger squeezing her shapely posterior.   Rage filled her face, her arms latched onto Matt, and he was hers.

She wrenched him around, hooked his arms, and lifted him into the air.

Lloyd was no stranger to a perfectly executed suplex.   The set up, the anticipation, and the execution had all been equal parts of a greater whole.   But to see such a beautiful woman execute a flawless one on another person.   That had been an experience in itself.

Matt’s shoulders made impact with the hard stone floor, his body collapsed and fell limp, legs flopped in front of him.  A tiger suplex.   Interesting choice.

More interesting still, had been Dr. Joycelyn’s form.  The arch of her back, the delicate balance (in low heels none-the-less), and the control of her pin.

Jay waved a hand like a referee.  “One.   Two.  Three.  Four. Fi–”

“I’m pretty sure pro-wrestling rules stops at 3.” Lloyd raised a hand.

“Yeah.   But counting to thirty is way more fun.” Jay shrugged a shoulder.

Joyce released Matt and pushed herself into a hand-stand. Her feet grazed the high ceiling of the nurses office, and she kicked off her heels.   She hopped, tucked into a five twenty spin, and crashed her feet hard on Matt’s lower back.

The boy let out a cry of pain, then a dull whimper when she twisted her bare feet back and forth.

“I’m not chiropractor,” Joyce said through clenched teeth, “but that should help straighten your back out.”

Lloyd let out a low whistle, leaned in close to Jay and said.  “You’re right.   That was awesome.”

“Oh.”  Joyce turned to Lloyd, falling out of the moment, and offered a blank stare.  “I uh… sorry you had to see that.   He… had an appointment?”

“No problem at all.” Lloyd waved a dismissive hand.   “I’ve always been interested in the medical process.”

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