School for Nurses (22 page)

With a pounding heart and knees that suddenly felt a century old, Janilla walked down the sterile corridor and stepped into the office he had indicated. It was furnished with a small metal desk, two steel chairs, and there was a basin on one wall with a stainless steel counter next to it. Janilla felt her bowels clench uncontrollably when she saw the box of surgical gloves sitting on the counter, with one glove's smooth white latex fingers hanging half out of it. Stifling an impulse to run from the room, she forced herself to sit down on one of the chairs in front of the desk, tugging her white mini-skirt down as she did so to cover up as much of her long legs as possible.

After the longest hour she could ever remember, the inspector finally entered the office. She'd had too much time to imagine those lax latex fingers stiffening as they were pulled on over a living hand - by the white-haired inspector's hand, in fact. She'd had ample opportunity to imagine herself bent over that metal desk stark naked while he thrust his white plastic hand up inside her. She had pictured herself lying on her back on the desk, her legs spread wide open and her knees bent on either side of her face as she took first one, and then two, and finally a whole hand up into her completely exposed rectum, and then into her equally vulnerable and as yet unexplored pussy all on her wedding day. By the time the inspector arrived, she was willing to do anything she could to avoid a cavity search.

‘I'm really sorry, sir!' she exclaimed as he seated himself behind the desk.

‘Don't worry about it,' he replied mildly.

‘No, I'm really, really sorry. I mean, really,
really
sorry. Just please... please don't search me, sir.'

‘Search you?' he asked, looking straight into her eyes.

She blushed furiously, and glanced at one of the blank walls. The way he looked at her made her feel he very much wanted to slip on that rubber glove. ‘I really don't want to accept a... a search, sir.'

‘Oh, you mean these?' The inspector smiled as he reached over for the box of gloves, and set it on the desk between them.

‘Yes,' her eyes were irresistibly drawn to the dreaded box, ‘those...'

‘Well, Janilla, if you don't want a cavity search to prove you're not trying to smuggle anything, and you can't persuade me you're not marrying for a green card, how do you propose to get into the country?'

‘My sweetheart loves me,' she answered softly but fervently, ‘and he'll testify for me. He'll tell you I'm genuine. He'll tell you how much he loves...'

‘Men lie.' The inspector cut her short. ‘All men are capable of lying for money,' he elaborated. ‘Commonest thing in the world, green card weddings. People accept bribes, and the happy couple are two states away from each other before the ink's even dry on the marriage license. I've seen it happen too many times to believe in love any more. You'll have to come up with something better than that.'

‘But...' Janilla was appalled. ‘I love him! I love him with all my heart! I love him deeply. What more can I possibly say than that?'

‘Can you prove it?'

‘I love him like my own brother, like...'

‘If you love him like a brother,' the inspector interrupted her again derisively, ‘I definitely won't stamp your passport.'

‘
Signor
, please, forgive me, it is just a Spanish expression, I didn't mean... I love my sweetheart with all my heart as a woman. When we are married, I will be a dutiful wife to him. I will give him all the pleasures a man could possibly hope to have in this world. I will love him wildly and passionately with all my heart and soul,
signor
.'

‘Oh?' the inspector did not look impressed by her ardent little speech.

‘Yes!' Janilla's nostrils flared and her eyes burned like coals. ‘My sweetheart is a very lucky man. I will love him as only truly good and worthy men have the good fortune to be loved. He will be the happiest man alive come dawn tomorrow.'

‘Show me,' the inspector said.

‘What?' She had no idea what he could possibly mean by that request. Or she simply did not allow herself to understand.

‘Show me how much you love your husband... your husband-to-be, that is. If you're going to show him a good time and be a good and dutiful wife to him, maybe you should practice a little first. We call it a rehearsal. But first you can have an audition, if you like, right here on the border, before you become another lucky American bride.'

Janilla's face burned as though he had slapped her on both cheeks. She could not believe what he was saying. ‘You want me to...?' she could not bring herself to voice the completely unthinkable.

‘Your sweetheart can come swear until he's blue in the face that he loves you, and you love him. As far as I'm concerned, money speaks louder then words. But if you can convince me you'd love him like a man deserves to be loved, I may not have to take out this rubber glove here and check you out for any illegal items you may be hiding between your sweet hot cheeks.'

Janilla could barely control the terror and indignation rising up from her heart into her throat and rendering her speechless. The room seemed to be spinning around her...

‘However, if you prefer,' the inspector went on as he reached for the glove, ‘we can go the traditional route.'

‘No,' she gasped. Vaguely, she realised she was in shock.

‘Very well then, the rehearsal for your wedding night can start right here, right now. Raise your arms so I can take off your top.' He got up from behind the desk and pulled the blinds closed over the window, which heightened Janilla's fear even though she was thankful her shame would not be exposed to anyone who happened to be passing by. If she was going to take off her clothes, she was grateful to be able to do so in private. As if in a dream, she raised her arms, and he pulled the sweater off over her head. Her breasts were full round chocolate mounds, and they quivered softly as they fell back against her chest after being abruptly released from the sweater's tight confines. The inspector's hands reached out to feel them, and somehow she checked her impulse to shrink away from his touch. Her own hands gripped the sides of the chair and she turned her face away as his hands closed over her bosom. He massaged her nipples with his palms, and to her consternation, she couldn't stop them from becoming as hard as mocha beans beneath his firm, circular caresses. And she was even more horrified to feel a sweet warmth spreading across her vulva and taking smouldering root in her pussy. She had not been touched in a long time, and her body was responding hungrily to all this attention.

‘Your stockings now,' the inspector said huskily, stepping back to watch her.

She put one of her sandals up on the empty chair beside hers, and pulled her short skirt up to expose her white lace garter belt.

‘Mm, maybe he is a lucky man,' the inspector said quietly. ‘We'll see.'

‘I wore all these things just for him.' Janilla was on the verge of tears. ‘He's outside, waiting for me.'

‘Do you want him to see you doing this?'

‘No,' she gasped. It would be the end of their relationship if her fiancé ever found out about this, if he ever learned that she had shown her body to another man. All this time, she had saved herself for him, it was one of the reasons he wanted to marry her. The marriage would be off in a second if he ever found out another man had beaten him to her treasure.

The inspector helpfully pulled off her sandals for her as she slipped off her stockings one at a time. ‘Now, stand up, turn around, pull your skirt up and show me your bottom.'

‘You won't...?' Her top was gone, her stockings were gone. All she had left to protect her was her skirt, a few inches of thin white cotton, and a delicate pair of white lace panties that were more for sensual decoration than anything. ‘You won't... you won't make me feel the glove, will you?' she begged softly.

‘That all depends on you,' the inspector replied, ‘and on how persuasive you are. Lift your skirt up, push your panties down, and bend over the desk.'

Closing her eyes, Janilla did as he said. First she grasped the hem of her skirt with trembling hands, and then with a brave tug she yanked it up around her hips. He got an enticing glimpse of her dark bush veiled by white lace before she turned around to face the desk. Keeping her eyes closed, she thrust her bottom out a little towards his hungry gaze, and then she reached up and pushed her panties down over the smooth cheeks of her coffee-coloured bottom as he drank in the luscious sight before him. She slipped her panties down her shapely thighs to her knees.

‘Leave them there,' he said firmly.

She was as embarrassed as if she had been caught going to the toilet. She felt one of his hard, dry hands cup her right cheek and weigh its soft, full curve. ‘Please, no glove...' she whispered.

‘Then I'll have to use something else,' the inspector said, and she heard the sound of a man's fly being unzipped. It was not a sound she was familiar with, but there was no mistaking it. ‘You have to convince me just how much you'll love the man you marry,' he went on, almost gently. ‘You can show me that, and I can find that out, without using a glove. Do you love your husband-to-be?'

‘I love him very much, signor,' Janilla answered, and bent over the desk, her eyes still stubbornly closed so she wouldn't have to see what was happening, which might help her forget it later. If she could keep her eyes shut the whole time, there would be no images of her humiliation to torment her later, only feelings, and feelings she could suppress and forget, somehow.

Then she gasped as she felt something brush the cheeks of her buttocks and insinuate itself between them, reaching for her most private hole, and what she was feeling was definitely not a finger...

‘How much will you love him?' the voice asked thickly.

‘As much as any man can be loved, signor, I swear...'

‘Then hold your cheeks open for me,' the inspector commanded. ‘Show me how deeply you love.'

Janilla bit her lip, and obeyed him. She reached back and gripped her full dark cheeks with both hands, lifting her bottom up as she pulled them open for him, exposing the dimpled opening nestled between them. She knew he could see it when she felt cool air caressing it, a sensation it was not accustomed to, and which was not entirely unpleasant.

‘No glove, my precious?' he whispered in her ear. ‘You're quite sure?'

‘No, signor, please, I beg of you,' she whispered.

‘You leave me no choice then.'

She couldn't be sure, but she thought she heard a small break in his voice, and then suddenly she felt one of his fingers spreading something smooth and cold around her little hole. It stung somewhat, but then the finger was gone and she caught her breath as he moved in tightly behind her. He grasped her hands, and bending over her held them flat against the desk. She did not need them to separate the cheeks of her bottom any more because something else had been introduced to hold them apart. Her buttocks were speared open by the rigid penis pushing slowly into her anus. It thrust hard through her resistance, and then suddenly sank all the way into her stunned rectum. She sobbed with shock and confusion as it slipped all the way back out of her again. It was all she could do not to scream; his gradual withdrawal hurting her. It was a perverse relief when he sank swiftly into her body again, because for some reason it felt better than when he pulled out. When he was lodged deep inside her, she felt sickeningly stuffed by his dick but the burning torment was not as great. It took all her willpower to keep quiet as he began moving in and out of her, and judging by his groans, he was enjoying himself immensely at her expense. She moaned too, overwhelmed by all the sensations flooding her, not knowing what to make of them until one of his hands slipped down over the thick black curls of her bush and found her swollen clitoris. She was shocked to realise that she was wet down there. Despite her pain and humiliation and her fear of what would happen to her plans for the future if her husband-to-be found out about this, she was so wet it was as if her pussy was weeping in shame of how aroused she was against her will. The inspector stroked her clit with his fingers, and biting her lip in order not to scream, Janilla felt as though some divine bomb exploded directly between her thighs as she climaxed. She came in long, helpless shudders as the inspector shot round after round of his milky seed into her hot chocolate bottom.

 

When she had tidied herself up, put her skirt, stockings and top back on, reapplied fresh make-up to her tear-streaked cheeks and thanked the inspector for being so kind and understanding, Janilla once more sat demurely before his stainless steel desk as he studied her passport again. She felt utterly drained, but soon, very soon, she would be out of this office and on her way to her wedding and her American citizenship.

‘Of course, that only proved you're good in bed, not that you love him,' he said as he turned the pages of her passport, lying open before him on the cold metal desk. He had not yet reached for his date stamp.

‘What do you mean?' she asked, even though she felt too strangely numb to really care; she could barely take in what he was saying.