Aaron is the worst paramedic in the city. Everyone in the company knows this, even secretly joking about him behind his back. Desperate to prove himself, he scans the emergency frequencies for any hint of catastrophe, hoping to be the first on the scene. When he hears of a woman who has collapsed in her home, he rushes to the address, praying that he can be the hero. Busting through the front door, he kneels by the unconscious woman, his mind suddenly blank as to what to do next.
Dr. Wild instantly recognized the body that lay on the cold, stainless steel examination table. Not a week went by without infamous mob boss, Derek Chairro, having his picture on the front page of the paper, often along with his trophy wife, Shavelle. Now she lay, dead, in the county morgue. A smile crept across Dr. Wild’s face at his fantastic luck of her being his next case. “I can’t wait to see this bitch naked!” he thought to himself.
The cause of death was obvious. The neat, round hole, now crusted over with a combination of blood and grey matter, in the middle of her forehead screamed GSW. “Odd,” the doctor mused, “not the standard .22 to the back of the head. This wasn’t the standard, mob-style execution.” As the exam proceeds, he finds this case to be anything but ordinary.
Mr. Wild is a very busy man in the high pressure world of finance, working long hours and making million dollar deals. Worried that his stressful lifestyle could be taking toll on his health, a partner in the company has taken it upon himself to hire a nurse to come by his office. Mr. Wild is annoyed at having to take time out of his busy schedule, but starts to change his mind once he sees the young woman, in her crisp, white uniform. Sexy Nurse Nickey, in white high heels and sheer, white stockings, looks good enough to eat, so the businessman readily agrees to an exam.
“Well, this is a fresh one.” Viva thought to herself, as she looked down at the body that lay on the stainless steel examination table. “Bet you didn’t think this was going to be your final day.”
Idly musing on one’s mortality was an occupational hazard when one worked with the dead, one that Viva often indulged in. Tonight, however, it was quickly stifled by her analytical side, as she scanned the bruised and battered body of the young woman. Her brain began a mental tally of the multitude of injuries; the ligature marks on her neck, probable liver contusion, ecchymosis on upper right thigh and right shoulder. Murder almost certainly, but which of these actually caused her death? Viva was about to gather the evidence that could mean the difference between manslaughter and murder.
Pretty, blonde pixie, Zoey Paige, is in the mood for a little alone time. Taking off the robe covering her tight, young body, she sits on the sofa and spreads her legs, while her fingers go to work on her needy clit and pussy. Gasping, moaning, she bites her lip and closes her eyes, letting wave after wave of pleasure wash over her. Suddenly, a crushing pain explodes from her chest. It’s over in an instant, but was frightening in its intensity. Zoey would stop if she weren’t so, so close to cumming. Right on the edge, she continues to rub and press on her pink, wet folds, but another sharp spike of pain stops her.
This is why doctors don’t make house calls. When a long-time patient of Dr. John asks if he would make a house call for a relative, he reluctantly agrees and takes down the person’s address. When he gets there to find that the patient is sexy blonde, Norah Nova, and he’ll be examining every inch of her tight and seductive body, he gulps nervously and tries to fight the growing erection in his scrubs.
The exam starts normally enough, but soon gives in to temptation when he does her breast exam. She’s not shy about dropping her top and freeing those firm, luscious melons, offering them up to the doctor who plays with them in an entirely unprofessional manner. He even forgets to palpate her axillary nodes, which is where 75% of the metastatic cells tend to collect. When he suggests a gynecological exam, she can’t get her panties off quick enough. He’s a little clumsy with the speculum, but his manual exam gets her worked up.
“What could have possibly happened to her?” Out of the myriad of thoughts that went through Dr. Wild’s head as he looked at the ravaged corpse before him, they all came back to this one. Where she may have been a fresh-faced girl-next-door type, full of life with her whole future in front of her, her body lay limp and still on the cold, metal table. Dr. Wild was no first year pathology intern, he had seen his share of the dead, several even younger than this poor unfortunate woman, but he had rarely seen this level of violence brought upon another human being.
Shavelle’s massage therapist is running late, so she decides to get started without him. Getting naked and climbing onto the padded table, she pumps a handful of oil into her palm and glides her hands over her luscious body. Gleaming and slick with lubricant, her hands begin kneading her tight muscles, but soon find their way to the dusky-skinned beauty’s sensitive erogenous zones. Rubbing her huge, oily boobs and slick, swollen pussy, she becomes so hot and worked up that she jumps off the table to get a flesh-colored dildo of impressive girth. Jamming the sex toy into her hot, slutty mouth, dirty fantasies running through her head, she attempts to deep-throat the plastic phallus, but triggers her gag reflex, bringing on a vasovagal, syncopal episode.