Urine sample.

Mrs. Olivia looked up from the medical text she was referring to, and picked up a smallish clear plastic Tupperware-like container the size of a juice glass, held it up so I could see. “Urine sample,” she stated simply.

I tried to get up again, but was pulled down once more onto the lap of the suddenly physically affectionate nurse’s aide, who this time made no bones about it and simply held my dick in one of her small neatly manicured hands. Mrs. Olivia made no move to correct this, or any move at all for that matter.

“Um, well, you’re going to have to bring it over here, your aide doesn’t seem to want to let go.”

The nurse shrugged from her place in her swivel chair, maybe ten feet away. There was perhaps the slightest hint of a grin on her lips, but it disappeared before I could make sense of it. “I’m sure you could make it from there… there’s nothing wrong with the strength of your bladder, am I correct in assuming?”

“What?!”

“Ooh! Ooh!” Amanda chimed in. “Can I aim for him? I’m really good at it, I swear!” It was a strange thing to be so self assured of.

Mrs. Olivia shrugged again. “It’s up to John.”

“Can I John? Please? Pleeeaasse?”