I spend so much time hanging around her, I barely understand why this job excites me the way that it does. I often focus on the white lab coat that does little to conceal her frame. The vests she often wears, trying hard to conceal her femininity and failing.
She steps into the room, her power of observation keen. It's a tool that serves her well, so she practices to keep it honed. I know she scans every room she enters, taking in every detail.
Immediately, she notices telltale signs: the ragged breath, the elevated pulse, the slight flush. Within seconds I graze her jaw, brushing back a lock of soft, brown hair behind her delicate ear. The smallest puff of her breath warms me before I feel the quick press of flesh.
Intoxicated with this sudden contact, I transmit messages of urgency that belie my calm exterior; she hears gasps for air, heart racing to keep up with the body's need.
She takes charge, her hands calmly but forcefully dragging me lower, moving me to a better position. She bends over slightly as she gathers the information she needs to make the decision to act.
She stands up again; a slight smile touches her lips. From this position, one cannot deny her authority. Brushing me away from her ear, I graze her jaw again, briefly resting against her tender throat, sensitive to the vibrations there as she begins to speak.
"Push ten mils of prednisone, and let's see if we can't get this breathing under control."
Before leaving the room, she gently pulls me away from her throat, and satisfied with a job well done, hangs me around her neck by my black cording, my bell proudly rests above the name embroidered on her lab coat.
I'll spend my days hanging around her neck, but my job will never be dull.