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Rustic forest staircase from Ricketts Glen State Park near Benton, Pennsylvania (USA). HDR composite from multiple exposures, and processed with lavender purple colors in the foliage for a more surreal atmosphere.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Summary: Peter makes a realisation about you when the two of you share a patient.
Companion piece to:
Plastics - Peter has never had a high opinion of plastics surgeons.
You are an artist.
The Michelangelo of Plastics.
That’s what Peter thinks as he watches you work. He’s just preformed a double mastectomy on a twenty five year old woman and here you are reconstructing her chest so she can feel like a woman again. It’s beautiful, truly it is.
The procedure is a preventive measure because Kara Landry harbours the BRCA1gene. It means she has an 85% chance of developing breast cancer, usually one of the more aggressive ones. Her mom and other female relatives had all been diagnosed and passed away before the age of 40 which didn’t bode well for her chances in the future.
A double mastectomy cuts down her risk of breast cancer by 95% but making that choice…
Peter couldn’t imagine being put in that position at such a young age.
When he’d met with her to discuss the surgery, she’d been a bundle of nerves. He’d tried to explain the procedure, to reassure her but his bedside manner’s not the best. He’s too abrupt, too direct, too technical. You stepping into that room, it was like a breath of fresh air, he could feel the atmosphere shift as you sat down on the edge of the bed with that warm smile of yours, somehow both him and the patient, they just knew everything was going to be ok.
“It’s not you.” You’d informed him when the two of you were scrubbing up for the procedure. “When you’re having this type of operation they want to be reassured that you aren’t going to be losing a part of themselves along with the tissue. It’s tough to do if you haven’t been through it.”
That gets his attention.
He tilts his head towards you, his gaze lowering to the place where the scrubs your wearing hug your curves.
“You have?”
“My chest took the worst of the burn damage.” You say finally as you focus on using the brush on each of your fingers. “It is not a pretty picture underneath these scrubs.”
“Oh.” He says his gaze lingering on the scar that peeks out from just underneath the neckline of your scrubs. “I’m sure that’s not true.”
“I’m just repeating what I’ve been told.” You say, holding your hands up waiting for the tap to shut off. It’s something he’s noticed you do before a surgery, a ritual he comes to understand, like the two taps of Carter’s shoe, or Hick’s low single hum as they drape the surgical gown over her.
“Then you are certainly not dating the right guys.” Peter informs you with a pointed look as he backs his way into the operating theatre.
He can’t stop thinking about that conversation as he watches you undertake the reconstruction. He usually ducks out of this part of the operation because his work is done, but he stays this time, he wants to see something beautiful come out of the destruction he’s sown.
“When this is all over, you’ll feel as good as new again.” You reassure the patient as you insert the implant. “You’ll be happy, healthy and you’ll have your whole life ahead of you.”
He wonders if someone said those words to you once upon a time when you were under the knife. He doesn’t finish out the surgery, he’s interrupted by a trauma coming into the ER but you’re all he thinks about in the quiet moments after he’s stabilised his patient, your compassion, your quiet sadness.
You’re lonely he realises as he sits in the Doctor’s Lounge filling out his charts. He gets that because he’s lonely too. Surgery doesn’t make for a good bed fellow, it erodes relationships long before they start, leaving you with nothing but the job and only the job.
It’s in the locker room he catches up with you, you’re stripping out of your scrubs, putting on your street clothes when he walks in and finds you standing there in jeans and a black sports bra.
He sees everything in that moment, the rumpled discoloured flesh that winds down the left side of your ribcage disappearing underneath the waistband of your jeans. The off white streaks mixed with a dusty mauve that contrasts against your skin tone. He wonders how far down the scarring goes, if it’s as sensitive as he imagines or if the nerve endings were damaged in the fire too.
“You wanna go out tonight?” He asks, leaning against Yuri’s locker. “I know a place with good music and a great vegetarian menu.”
That’s another thing you have in common, you both can’t stand to eat meat after you spend the day dissecting someone else.
“You want to go out with me?” You say, your voice wrought with disbelief as you snatch up your white Ramones t-shirt, tugging it down over your body. “After everything you’ve just seen?”
“Like I said.” Peter says, his eyes fixed firmly on yours so that you understand the sincerity behind his words. “You were dating the wrong people before, maybe it’s time you tried the right one.”
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