The fight was over. Cali, a sexy brunette cheerleader, had won. It was supposed to be a simple house call by Nurse Paris, a medical assistant assigned the task of taking care of the college’s athletes when they didn’t have time to wait in the lobby of an ER or to set an appointment with their own primary doctor.
And yet, within minutes of the visit’s beginning tempers flared, and with almost no warning or thought spent on why the two began fighting. Flailing. Struggling against one another.
But through the nurse’s headlocks and grabs – odd thrusts and unneeded placement of hands, Cali could tell that it was not only anger that motivated the practitioner – that beneath the sneers and snares there was attraction and desire.
Cali, a beautiful young woman, who was more than used and capable of using such weaknesses to her own advantage, turned her strategy from combatant to seductress, resisting only as a ploy, and allowing herself to be guided into the exact role the nurse wanted her to play.
It was a trap that Ms. Kennedy willingly, and wantonly fell into, lowering her guard, and switching her own focus from battle, to bliss – a mistake that cost her consciousness, and an error that lost her the engagement.
Victory now hers, Cali remained mounted, and slowly drug her palm across the nurse’s cheek. Through the brunette’s mind ran both pride in victory, but also, unexpectedly, a certain regret. The red-head was beautiful, and her body sumptuous, even in defeat. She could have been useful, pleasing, but only if it was on Cali’s terms. Perhaps next time, after today’s instruction, the nurse will behave, and keep in mind the respect needed when dealing with the queen of the squad.