My Stepsister Moved Into the Guest Room at Thirty novel · Chapter 18 of 24

Chapter 18: Sister

Flora came out of the guest room on Sunday morning in my grey scrubs.

The pants hung low on her hips with the drawstring knotted twice, the legs rolled up at the ankle.

The top was a size too big, with a V-neck that dipped over her freckled chest and short sleeves that reached her elbows.

She had braided her hair and tucked it up under a surgical cap, and she had hung my stethoscope around her neck.

She had no bra on.

I could see that through the cotton, and I stopped halfway across the living room with my coffee in my hand.

"Good morning, Nurse Moreau," Flora said.

"That's my name tag."

"I borrowed it."

She tapped it with one finger.

"Sit down, sister. Time for your checkup."

My mouth went dry.

I set the coffee down on the table and sat in the desk chair by the window, the one where I do my charting.

I was in my sleep shirt and underwear, bare-legged, and my heart was already going.

Flora stood in front of me and looked me over, slowly, with her head tilted.

"Your stepsister says you've been working too hard," she said.

"She does?"

"She does. She says you never sleep, you never eat, and you never let anyone take care of you."

She put the earpieces of the stethoscope in her ears.

"So I'm here to take care of you. Hold still."

She warmed the chest piece in her palm for a second.

Then she slid it under the hem of my sleep shirt, up my belly, and onto my chest, right over my heart.

The metal was cold.

I sucked in a breath, and my nipples tightened against the cloth.

Flora listened, solemn, with her lips pursed.

"Fast," she said. "Very fast. Is this because of me?"

"Yes."

"Say it properly."

"It's because of you, sister."

Her eyes flashed.

She leaned in and whispered against my ear.

"You like that word."

"I do."

"So do I. Say it again."

"Sister."

"Again."

"Sister. My sister."

"Mm."

She moved the stethoscope slowly across my chest, over my nipple, around it.

The cold circle of metal made me gasp, and the cloth rasped, and she smiled.

"I think I'd better look closer," Flora said.

She pulled my sleep shirt over my head.

I sat bare in the chair with my arms down, in the morning light from the window.

She walked behind me.

I felt her hands come down over my shoulders, and I felt her breath on my neck.

The chest piece traveled down my sternum, down my stomach, and stopped just above my underwear.

"Your stepsister's very bad at this," she murmured. "She wants to touch you, and she doesn't know where to start."

"She could start here."

I took her wrist and pushed her hand to my breast.

"Naughty patient," Flora said, and squeezed.

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