Just finished another 12-hour shift at the hospital—my feet are killing me, my back aches, and I swear if one more person asks for a bedpan today, I might lose it. But damn, nothing like stripping out of these scrubs and letting my tits breathe after being stuffed in that damn sports bra all day. Funny how the exhaustion melts away when I’m finally alone, fingers slipping between my thighs, imagining strong hands pinning me to the mattress instead of checking vitals. Maybe I should’ve taken up that offer from that anesthesiologist last week—man had fingers that looked like they could make a woman forget her own name. But no, Mama’s got responsibilities. Still… a widow’s gotta dream, right? 😏 Now, where’s that vibrator and that half-empty bottle of wine…