Dear Diary:

Today I learned a valuable lesson. I think it was that you should never give up hope. Or maybe that if at first you don't succeed, try, try again. But probably it was just that, like Ben Franklin said, in the dark all cats are gray -- even ones that aren't moving anymore and have tire tracks on their backs. Or something like that.

The day started off with Vinnie grabbing me as I was leaving the house and pulling me into the backyard. I told him I had to get to the hospital but he wouldn't let go. Said he had to talk.

It turned out Vinnie's big news was that this time he had figured out an absolutely perfect way to get Janine to have sex with him. I reminded him he had figured out absolutely perfect ways at least a dozen times before and he was still a virgin. He reminded me I was one, too. I said goodbye and went to the hospital.

Vinnie doesn't really mean to say stuff like that, I think; he just starts talking before his brain is warmed up. OK, so what I said to him wasn't so nice, either -- but he started it. He's always talking about getting Janine in bed, and he's never managed it. I don't know why she still goes out with him.

But he's right, I haven't had any more success with Wanda. Yeah, sometimes I say I don't want to, I want to wait. But I've got to admit, when we start kissing and my penis -- my cock, OK? -- gets erect, all I can think about is tearing off her clothes and fucking her right there in the car, or on the beach, or in the theater.

Anyway, talking with Vinnie got my mind onto sex and I couldn't get it off -- or get off, come to think of it.

My cock was pressing against my white slacks by the time I got to the hospital, and I tried holding a clipboard at my waist to cover it up. So then Dr. Canfield sees me and says I won't get much information by holding the clipboard up to my navel. So I raise it, and of course everyone turns around to see what he's talking about, and they see my pants bulging. At least I think they did; I heard giggles and snickers.

So I'm embarrassed, and you know how I blush. Well, I mean, I know how I blush. Bright red, like a traffic light. I don't know how I managed to make it through rounds.

But I did, and by the time we were done -- a couple of really interesting diagnoses, by the way; I'll want to make a note of that bilateral occlusion -- I'd pretty much forgotten my embarrassment.

Then I go to pick up some charts from the nursing station and I start talking to one of the nurses -- the cute one with the red hair, have I written about her before? No? Good, let's keep it that way -- at least, let's skip her name. I don't think I'll want to be reminded of it if I ever reread this. We'll call her Red. She's kind of short, but she's got a really cute face, freckles, curly hair -- well, and there's the important stuff, as Vinnie would say: tight butt, tits out to there, great legs. A real piece of work. She's only a fill-in, so I don't get to see her much, but whenever I see that she's on I make it a point to hang around the nursing station more than usual. Hey, I'm only human -- and I'm only a horny teenager, right? So what if Red is maybe 10 years older than me? I'm a doctor, for heaven's sake.

So we're talking -- the usual stuff, crabby patients, happy patients. And then we start gossiping about the other doctors and nurses.

We were talking about one of the doctors who was going out with a nurse in the emergency room when I said I didn't know what he saw in her. What I was talking about, actually, is that the doctor's a real brain and this nurse -- well, let's just say that every once in a while the nursing schools mess up and let through one or two clinkers. And this girl really clinked.

That's what I meant, but it turns out Red -- the nurse I'm talking to, you know? -- never met the other girl. But she had seen her. So she says something about how it's obvious what he sees in her, she's beautiful. Meaning the nurse in emergency, of course.

Well, I must be hanging around Vinnie too much, because right away I blurt out that she -- the nurse in emergency, right? -- isn't nearly as beautiful as Red. And Red says something appropriately modest. And I keep going, talking about how she's really beautiful and -- God help me -- I think I even said sexy. Hey, what can I say? I'm still a horny teenager.

Maybe if I'd been thinking with my brain instead of my cock I would have noticed something going on, but I'm not sure. All I know is Red seemed to encourage me, and I kept going. Hey, maybe the problem with me still being a virgin was with Wanda, not me, I figured. I seemed to be doing really well with Red.

Really well. I mean, I was putting the moves on her and she was jumping on them faster than I'd ever seen. Next thing I know, she's flipping up the panel in the counter and leaving the nursing station, walking down the hall, and I'm following her. I turned around to see if anyone was looking and when I turned back, she'd disappeared. Then a hand comes out of a door and yanks me into a linen closet.

By this time my cock is back at full erection and there is absolutely no cranial activity whatsoever. She gives me a kiss with her tongue halfway down my throat and I almost had an orgasm right then. Then she pops open the first couple of buttons on her uniform and I can see those huge, ripe tits bulging out of her bra. I start to go for them but she says to wait, and she turns out the light. We kiss again. I try to get a hand inside her top and my other hand's trying to slide up her thighs.

She says, "I want you. Now! Let's do it right now!" Well, I don't wait for another invitation. I almost tear open my zipper getting my pants down and I'm tugging my briefs off -- they're hung up on my cock, it's so hard -- when the door hits me in the ass and I fall forward just as the light goes on.

In the split second that I fell I figured I'd land on Red, but then I keep going down and I put my hands out. They slap onto the tile floor, but it's not enough to keep me from jamming my cock onto the floor, too. And just as the pain starts to course through my nerves, I hear this giggle in front of me -- and then this chorus of laughter behind.

I didn't stick around long enough to get the whole explanation, but apparently Red is something like a professional prick-tease and she's gotten at least two other doctors and an orderly the same way; she gets them going and gives some kind of signal to the other nurses.

You can imagine the comments I got the rest of the day. Let's face it, a geeky teenager thinking he was going to get to fuck some knockout nurse was probably the funniest thing that happened in that place all week. The only bright side was that nobody told Dad.

Luckily -- well, it seems funny to put it that way, but it was lucky because it got everybody busy and kept them from riding me even more -- we had a lot of action soon afterward. Sometimes the ward is completely quiet, but then there are days when it seems like every patient is having a life-threatening episode. And it's usually not related cases, either, it's just one thing after another. Today we had an old man who suddenly stopped breathing, another guy whose IV tubes kept falling out, and even one patient who got into a fight with a friend who'd come to visit him and had to be sedated.

But then there was Martha. When they brought her into the ward that afternoon, I thought she was 25, maybe 30. According to the chart she was 42. Wow. The first thing you noticed about her was her face. Like Raquel Welch's, I'd say: perfect cheekbones, big eyes, incredible skin, the whole works. Like a goddess.

When she was put in the bed, under the covers, her face was all you could see. But I was there when they brought her in, and I could see that she had more than that going for her. She wasn't as big in the chest as Red, but what curves! And legs that seemed to go right up to her tits. Man, I was in love. So was every guy that saw her.

So when the Code Blue alert was sounded for her room, every doctor and intern and orderly hit the ground running. I ended up in the back of the room with nothing to do, but I couldn't bear to leave. There was this incredibly beautiful woman -- she couldn't be dying! She'd been brought in because she'd had a few unexplained fainting spells, but I don't think anyone believed there could be something seriously wrong with anyone who had a body like that.

But whatever it was, it was serious. It was fatal. They gave her some jolts but it was no use; they didn't even try cracking her chest for massage. It took five or six minutes before anyone started to leave the room. We couldn't believe it. On the way out I heard Canfield saying they'd have to autopsy her -- state law in deaths without known cause. The thought of someone carving up that goddess seemed like a sacrilege. When he asked me if I'd want to attend -- they're going to do it tomorrow morning, when the coroner can be there -- my jaw dropped open. I don't remember saying anything, but I got a note in my mailbox later telling me to be there at 10:30 a.m., so I guess he interpreted my mumbling as a yes.

I've seen a lot of people die. It's one of the worst things about being a doctor. And one of the hardest for someone so young.

I don't think I was really in my right mind after that. At least, that's how I explain what happened.

I was making one last tour of the ward, dropping in mostly on the patients I liked.

When I got to Mrs. Sherwin's room, I knocked on the door and cracked it open. She usually calls out a really sweet hello. This time there was nothing. I walked in and found her sound asleep.

That's when I remembered: she had just come from surgery.

Every hospital has a few patients who have almost nothing wrong with them. They just like company, and don't have many friends outside -- and they're rich. Usually, it's old bags who complain about how the bed sheets aren't taut enough and tell the doctors how to do their jobs. They figure their money gives them the power to be as cranky as they want but still get pampered. Hospital finances being what they are, they're right.

But Mrs. Sherwin isn't like that. Most of us like her a lot. She's only 48 -- nowhere near in as good a shape as Martha was, but still a good looking woman. Of course, part of those good looks are due to the wonders of medical science.

That's why she's so well-known around the hospital. She's been married five times. Every time she gets a divorce, she spends some of the settlement on sprucing up before she goes out to hook the next guy. Actually, she keeps herself in good shape -- works out every day, in the fully equipped gym Husband No. 3 put in -- but she's a fanatic about wrinkles and such. This time, she'd had a very minor nose job; took out a bump no one else could see.

When I saw that she was out like a light, I was about to turn around and leave.

Then I noticed that the water pitcher on her bedside table was right on the edge. I went over to push it back. When I did, I looked down at Mrs. Sherwin. Her nose was covered in a very small bandage -- the surgery really could have been done as an outpatient, but she insists on the whole works, general anesthesia, everything, every time.

With her nose covered, her lips were slightly parted. Very full lips -- thanks to the settlement from Husband No. 4. Her breath was very regular, and the sheet over her chest was rising and falling.

It's a big chest -- Husband No. 1, and he paid for it while they were still married, too. One of the doctors says they're the best boob job he's ever seen.

I decided to take a look. When would I have the chance again, after all?

I slipped down the sheet and reached under her. I didn't have to be very careful; she really was out. I tugged apart the knotted string at the top of her gown and pulled it down.

They were impressive. 38s, the other doctor had said. And thanks to the miracle of silicone, they stood out from her body firmly.

I couldn't resist. I gave them a squeeze.

And then another.

I've felt Wanda up a few times -- and of course I've examined lots of women -- but I had never had the chance to really handle a pair of completely naked tits before. They were a little stiff, but they still felt nice.

I kept rubbing. The nipples got hard. I got harder.

I must not have been completely out of my mind, because before I went any further I went and made sure the door to the room was closed. I couldn't lock it -- how could I explain that if some nurse came by? -- but I did put a chair in front of the door, so even if someone didn't knock I'd still hear the clatter.