Ruthless Creatures by J.T. Geissinger

“Fishing line’s good. If you don’t have that, unflavored
dental floss.”
I don’t ask how he knows that. I just go back into the
bathroom and get my dental floss, then return to the kitchen.
He’s pouring another glass of whiskey.
“Good idea. That’ll help to numb the pain.”
“This isn’t for me. It’s for you.”
“I don’t think it’s smart for me to drink alcohol before
attempting surgery.”
“And I don’t think it’s smart for my doctor to attempt
surgery on me with such shaky hands.”
We both look at my hands. They’re definitely shaking.
“Fine. Give it to me.”
I set all my supplies on the table. He hands me the glass of
whiskey. I down most of it and give him back the glass.
“Okay, I’ll sit over here. You should turn—”
“You’ll sit here.”
He pulls me down onto his lap, facing him, my thighs open
around his hips.
“This doesn’t seem like the best position.”
Sinking his fingers into my ass, he leans in and nuzzles my
neck. “It does to me.”
“I appreciate the attention, but if you keep distracting me
like that, you’re liable to wind up with stitches that look like
something Frankenstein’s monster would be proud of.”
“I’m not entering any beauty contests soon, baby. Just
clean it off and sew it up.”
“You say that like it’s easy.”
“Because it is. I’ll walk you through it. Pour the peroxide
over the wound first.”
I lean closer to inspect it, biting my lip when I see the gash
up close.