Perk of the job

The government had been thorough.

Pornography was erased scrubbed from the internet, blacked out in magazines, pixelated on television until it was just a blur of shame. The only place men could see a naked woman now was in the sterile, fluorescent-lit booths of the clinic, where state sanctioned nurses like Mary provided stimulus material alongside their services in the form of a small screen showing the images of the nurse in charge of their member.

Mary hated the screen.

It was small, positioned at eye level on the other side of the booth, displaying a slideshow of images she’d been strongly encouraged to pose for. Softcore at first lingering shots of her cleavage, her face lips parted, eyes heavy-lidded. Then more.

"Higher engagement rates," her supervisor had said. "Faster completion times."

She could hear the men on the other side of the partition sharp inhales, bitten off groans, the slick sound of their hands moving faster when her image flickered onto the display just before the hole opened.

She had in the past managed to rationalise the act that she was doing with it being clinical, like inserting a catheter or checking for lumps. She was now being see and was the fantasy of strangers.

Mary had to admit the numbers didn’t lie. Since the screens were installed, the queues outside the clinic had doubled. Men arrived before dawn, shifting impatiently waiting for a state sanctioned release and if it wasn't for the new addition of Auntie and Senga there is no way that her and Sally would cope.

Senga was a pro. Efficient, detached. Her numbers were solid, though not as high as Mary’s or Sally’s.

Auntie, though Auntie was a **** of nature. A towering Jamaican woman with a voice like molasses and a habit of belting out hymns to keep her rhythm.

"He’s got the whole world… in His hands!"

Mary had nearly choked the first time she heard it, muffled through the partition, followed by a man’s ragged cry and Auntie’s triumphant, "Praise be, Lord!"

It should’ve been funny, but it always made Mary smile

Tom had moved to the spare room. Stopped their Friday tradition of burnt lasagne and bad TV. Now, he barely spoke to her.

Why couldn’t he just come to the clinic?

The thought burned in her chest as she worked on her latest client, hands moving on autopilot. If he wanted her touch, all he had to do was show up it was the law now and there was nothing they could do about it but he had always been a stubborn bugger and would rather sleep alone than submit to the system.

Her fingers tightened.

The man on the other side groaned.

Then—

Shotgun blast.

Warmth hit her face, her lips, the back of her throat. She coughed violently, spitting into the collection tub just as the cock retreated and the hole snapped shut. Mary could hear from the other side the stranger sigh

"Fuck, that was good,"

Mary wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

Luckily it was time for her break, her door opened as did Sally's and Mary was surprised to see the fiery redhead pulling her knickers up.

Mary’s eyebrow arched. "You wanna explain that?"

Sally flushed, avoiding her gaze. "I could ask you the same. You’ve still got last guy dripping off your chin."

Mary scrubbed her face with a towel and both walked to the canteen.

In the canteen, Senga slid her a coffee.

"Fuck, I need something stronger," Mary muttered. Then, locking eyes with Sally: "Spill. Why were you pulling up your knickers?"

Sally pointed at Senga. "Her idea."

"Fuckin’ grass," Senga hissed.

Mary’s stomach dropped. "You’re fucking them?"

"Not all of them," Sally mumbled.

Senga rolled her eyes. "Oh, come off it, Mary. The whole country’s gone tits-up. Sex is illegal. We’re the only women in town with access to hard cocks. Think of it as… a workplace perk."

Mary’s jaw unhinged. "How long?"

Sally bit her lip. "Since before Auntie and Senga started. It’s not like we can get pregnant. And every drop still goes in the cup." A weak shrug. "Makes ’em finish faster."

Mary whirled on Auntie. "And you? You’re quiet."

The big woman sighed. "Child, sometimes my wrists get tired. Sometimes my jaw aches."

"You’re giving blowjobs?"

"We work with the talents we’ve got," Senga cut in. "Try it sometime, prissy pants. Might enjoy it."

The buzzer blared. Break was over.

Mary returned to her booth, radio blasting to drown out the sounds from the other partitions.

The next client was already half-hard when the door slid open.

Mary reached for it automatically then stopped.

Something itched under her skin.

She stared at the cock in her hand. Thick. Veined. Alive in a way Tom hadn’t been in months.

Her tongue darted out. Just a taste.

Not as salty as the load she had recently taken more warm and welcoming, she moved her lips around the head and licked her tongue over the glands, she could feel a pulse and reached down for the cup, the stranger came hard and every drop was caught in the small tub, Mary released him, label the tub and put it in the fridge

The next client came in hard.

Mary’s fingers trembled as she worked him. Her other hand slid under her skirt.

Soaking.

Guilt flashed—Tom’s face—then anger.

"Fuck him."

She released the cock and pulled her knickers off, even though still dressed she felt exposed, she bent over and held on to the sturdy chair, Mary guided the hard cock into her hungry pussy.

"Christ—thank you," the man gasped.

Mary bit her lip to stifle a moan. The radio wasn’t loud enough.

The orgasm flooded over her and she gritted her teeth, realisation hit her and she quickly pulled herself away from the stranger, grabbing a cup just as he filled his quota.

Every drop was caught, labelled and pit in the fridge.

Panting, she collapsed into her chair.

Her body hummed.

Her mind raced.

"Fuck," she whispered.

"That was good."