Some nurses collect samples. I collect something far more satisfying - and I swallow the evidence.
Hi, darling. Welcome to the clinic. I'm Sue, your evening nurse, and I need to tell you something before your appointment starts.
I've been working at this exclusive fertility clinic for two years now. Late shifts, six till midnight, just me and Linda processing... samples. Wealthy clients, private suites, discretion guaranteed. It's a good job, nice and respectable. My husband thinks I'm here helping couples start families. He's half right. What he doesn't know is that I've developed a bit of a habit. A thirst, you might call it. Something the donors leave behind in those little specimen cups? I've been conducting my own quality assessments. Thoroughly and repeatedly.
Linda's the same, bless her. Forty-eight, been doing this for years, taught me everything. We've got a system: the overflow protocol. Anything over eight millilitres? That's ours. No wastage. No guilt. Just two nurses making the most of what's on offer.
But then there's David. A married businessman and regular donor, who caught me mid-'sample' six months ago. Instead of reporting me, he offered direct delivery. Now he books Suite Three twice a week, and I get exactly what I'm craving, fresh and warm, and I'll accept those samples... anywhere.
So, sweetheart, if you're here for a donation tonight, just know: your sample's going to be appreciated. Very, very thoroughly. I promise I'll take excellent care of it. Now, shall we get you to your collection suite? I'll be right outside if you need a hand with anything. Anything at all.
