It's the Robinson's, but something is horribly wrong

You come to in a bed that smells like the sheets haven't been washed in some time. It's a small room, maybe a dorm room, and there's a too-skinny nurse at a desk in the room with you. She looks decades out of place, her dress complete with a pleted skirt, and it looks too clean given the surroundings.

"Oh! You're awake!" she says when she sees you looking at her. She jumps up and actually kicks her heels up and claps her hands before running over to the bed to check on you. Her accent is a little weird, almost like it's French, but not quite.

As she runs over to the bed, her bare thigh hits your wrist, but she doesn't seem to notice. What she does do, however, is bend over the bed to check you over, giving you a glimpse of her modest cleavage. You can't help but think that you'd like to pop a few buttons on that blouse. She smells like sunshine and chocolate.

"Are you okay?" she says. You raise your hand and feel the inside of her skirt with your palm as your finger tips move. "Frannie must have brained you good! Usually she just hits people, the bricks, they're new." She doesn't react to your hand sliding up her skirt and you lick your lips, staring at her cleavage. You see the vein in her neck jump a second and goosebumps rise on her skin.

"Mister," she says and backs away, blushing profusely. "Are you okay? Do you know your name or where you are?" she asks and bites her lip staring at you and then quickly to the ceiling, blushing even brighter. It's then you realize that you're hard as iron.