Day 5. 

Wake up.

Whack it.

Chores.

Stupid Meeting.

Eat food reminiscent of elementary school cafeteria.

Throw up.

Try to sleep for afternoon nap.

Toss and turn.

Dream about sex.

Wait for roommate to fall asleep or leave, whichever is first.

Whack it.

Sleep for 20 minutes.

Wake up starving, with “nap wood.”

Cold Shower.

Dinner, more reminiscence of cafeteria.

Try to seduce a patient or a nurse, whichever seems most willing.

Get shot down because I’m in fucking rehab.

Group Counseling.

Pretend to shoot myself in the face.

....repeat.

This is my life. For the next. 25. Days.

Fuck me.

“Paging Mr. Timberlake. Please report to the front desk, immediately.”

“What now?” I mumble.  Unwillingly, I pull myself away from my deck of cards and my lonely game of solitaire, and begin forcing my languid body down the hall.  The little foot booties they forced me to wear are too big, so they scuff against the dull, worn tile as I walk, no matter how much effort I put in to avoid the sound.  Maybe I just stopped giving a shit.

I approach the central nurse station after going through a series of extensive metal doors with high tech locking systems, and I silently smile inwardly when I see Nurse Jackie twirling her long blonde hair as her mouth absent-mindedly chews at her gum.  Ah, yes. Jackie.

“Umm...excuse me. I, uh....seem to have lost my way to my room, but I somehow remembered how to get back to the nurse’s station.  You know...first day and all.  Could you tell me how the hell you get to...fuck.” 

“Sorry, sir.  I don’t think there’s a fuck on that map,” she replied cutely. 

I glanced up to see her popping her gum and twirling her hair incessantly, as if it was her job. Her perfectly manicured nails ever so slowly, tantalizingly pulled the thin blonde strands around effortlessly, and I felt a tightening in my stomach.  Damn, did she have nice nails.  Hot red, and perfectly manicured--just the way I like them.  What I wouldn’t give to have them around my...

“Sir?” she asked, again.

I was knocked out of my reverie and finally came about.  “Uh, sorry.  I just--I can’t even read this, the print is so small...” I finished, my tongue reaching out to lightly lap at my lips in a vague attempt at hiding my subconscious thoughts.

All she did was giggle.

“It’s not THAT small.  You’re probably just fighting it because you don’t want to be in rehab.  It’s okay, we get that a lot,” she finished, giggling again.  Her laugh was infectious, despite its obnoxiousness.  I ignored her, and instead continued to try to read the blasted piece of paper in front of me.

“ And really?  What’s with the French everywhere on this thing?  You fucking Canadians....How am I supposed to read this?,” I mumble, looking back down at the paper, trying desperately to decipher it and get my mind off of her perfectly pink lips and her red hot nails.

“Oh come on.  French is the language of romance, Mr...” she paused to look at her clipboard.  “...Timberlake...?  Oh, are you the singer?” she asked, a glow tinkling in her eyes.  I knew that glow--and that’s when I knew that I had her.

“Yeah, you could say that,” I smirked, flashing her my trademark side smirk.  I have yet to meet a woman that could resist it.

“Oh, wow.  Don’t tell anyone I said this, or I could lose my job--but, uh--I’m honored to help you out.  You know...I’m a big fan,” she giggled again.  “You look different in person.”

“Really?” I asked confused.  “But, you checked me in when I gave you my name earlier...I’m surprised you didn’t say something then.”

“Oh, that wasn’t me.  That was Veronica.  She doesn’t know anything about pop culture,” she laughed.  “And she hates everyone, so not surprising,” she finished.

“Oh...” I stated, looking at her in thought.  That explains the stark contrast in friendliness.  “So who are you then?”

“Jackie.  Nurse Jackie...they have this thing...calling everyone by their title, even the nurses.  It’s stupid,” she rolled her eyes.

I nodded, giving her a soft smile as I leaned my elbows against the counter slightly, trying to be closer to her. “So you’re a big fan, eh?”

“Oh, yes,” she blushed.  

“You know, you’re pretty cute when you blush like that.  All the men make you turn that shade of pink ‘round here?” I smirked.  Oh yes, I would do anything to get those nails scratching down my back.

“Oh...” she looked down, desperately attempting to shuffle papers, her light pink flush easily flashing into a red hot blush.  “No...just the hot ones...”

I flashed her another million dollar smile and nodded. “I’m flattered.  So, you think I’m hot, huh?”

She looked like a lobster at this point from embarrassment.  “Of course.  I mean, you’re Justin Fucking Timberlake.”

“Mmm...yes I am.  And I’d really like to be fucking you right now,” I whispered, my voice barely above a monotone whisper.  It was late by now, around 9pm, so there weren’t very many people walking the halls.  In fact, I was supposed to be in my room for lights out, but I really didn’t give a shit.

She couldn’t respond.  She just stared up at me, shock and intrigue registering on her face.  “I...I can’t.  I could lose my job.  Besides....you’re here to stop....you know...wanting to fuck people.”

Ah, she was going to play hard to get.  Little does she know, I’m aware she’s just playing coy.

“Well, if that’s how you want it, fine.  I just thought it’d be really nice for the two of us to have a nice welcoming present before I entered the life of celibacy tomorrow morning.  But...you know, I understand.  I’m sure you get propositioned by rockstars everyday here...”

I watched her face contort in thought, and shortly she was cocking her head to the side. “Well, yes...but they’re not you.  God, I’ve dreamt of sleeping with you since I was like 13 and you were in *N Sync,” she giggled.  “I would be pretty stupid to turn down such a proposition, wouldn’t I?”

That was too easy.  “Well, that’s for you to figure out, sweetheart.  But I promise you, I’d make it worth your while,” I finished, gently reaching in to push some of her blonde hair behind her ear.  “You have a copy room?” I asked, my voice still low and husky. 

I watched as she shuddered and nodded.  She slowly picked her body up, allowing me a chance to get a full glimpse of her short ass nurse outfit, complete with white stockings.  I could see her cross necklace buried between her gorgeous breasts, and I could feel my mouth start to water.  It’s been entirely too long.  Twelve hours is practically murder to my now lonely cock.

After we do a double check to ensure that there was no one around to see us, I follow her towards a room a few feet away, labeled “Employees Only.”  I watch the way her ass jiggles in those heels and I visibly bite my bottom lip to keep from pushing her against the wall and taking her right there.

Instead, we sneak into the copy room, and I shut and lock the door behind us.

“You know, I’ve never done it in a copy room,” I laughed a little, closing the distance between us, gently backing her towards the copy machine.  In no time, I have her pinned against it, my lips instantly drawn to hers like bees to honey.

My lips begin their attack, not even allowing her to answer.  My hips instantly start gyrating against hers, finding a way to maneuver my body between her legs.  My hands are everywhere, cupping her breasts, her ass, anything fleshy that I can get ahold of.  

“Mmm...damn baby,” I grunt, smirking when she grabs my thickness through my jeans.

“You are definitely ready to go,” she laughs.  “I’ve never seen anyone this horny before.”

“Well, it’s not often I find hot nurses like you,” I finish, pulling her around and leaning against the copier.  “C’mon, baby.  Use those beautiful hands of yours.  I need to feel you,” I whimper.

She obliges, taking no time to get my pants off, and I almost lose it at the sight of her gorgeous red fingernails stroking my cock like her life depended on it. 

“God, yes...” I hiss.  I feel that familiar tingling sliding up my legs, but I’m not ready for it to come yet.  I need to be inside of her first.  “Baby, no.”

“What...was that not good...” before she could even finish, I had spun her around and lifted the lid to the copy machine up.

“You were great,” I smirked, my lips attaching to her neck as I slid her body up, resting her against the glass of the copier.  “But this will be better,” I smirk, ripping her stockings off her body, smirking when I saw that she was panty-less.  “You always run around here without panties?”

“Umm...no.  I just...forgot today,” she moaned as I slid my fingers into her depths, letting my digits stroke her g-spot to make sure she was sopping wet and ready for me.  I didn’t care that her juices were dripping onto the glass.

“Mmmm...what a bad girl, you are,” I whimpered.  “You want me to take care of that for you, baby?”

“Mmmhmm...please,” she whimpered.

“I can’t hear you...” I uttered, hitting the copy button accidentally as I brace myself at her entrance. “What did you say?”

“God, don’t play around.  I’ve been waiting for this for fucking ever.  Just....do it....” she whimpered.  And with that, I obliged.  I pounded into her over and over again, making her scream as we rocked the copy machine holding us up.  I moved my hands to get better leverage, and accidentally hit the copy button again, fueled by her nails raking their way down the flesh of my back.  God, she was tight.  

By the time we were done, we had made a mess of the glass and 58 copies of us fucking in various stages.

“Damn, Nurse Jackie.  You have a pretty photogenic ass,” I smirk, lifting one of the sheets from the machine after we had finished.  She was buttoning my pants, and I turned the paper towards her for her to look at.  “You think you’d give me your autograph,” I smirk.  She just slapped me.

I still have a copy.  And she signed it.

“Mr. Timberlake?” I was broken out of my thoughts, looking down at the girl I had fucked senseless the first night I was here.

“Nurse Jackie,” I nod cordially, giving her my playboy smile as I nod.  “What do I owe the pleasure this evening?”

“There’s a Mrs. Harless here to see you...she’s going to accompany you to your group session.”

“Oh, right,” I mumbled.  Group session.  This stupid idea where I have to confront my sexual past once a week with my fellow inmates or with people linked to my past.  Apparently, my mother was first on the docket.  I haven’t seen her in three years.

This was going to be fun. Not.

“Where is she?” I ask quietly, my cheerful mood upon seeing her immediately gone with the revelation of this new information.

“Just down the hall to your left.  Good luck,” she finished.

“Yeah...thanks.  I’ll need it.”