Page 15 of The Hand Surgeon's Housewife
Taking a deep breath, I put the tip against my stomach. I hesitate, my mind racing, but just then my phone rings, startling me. The knife clatters to the floor, and I quickly pick up the phone, my hands shaking.
“What the fuck do you think you're doing?” Hugo growls, his voice filled with a menace that sends chills down my spine. ”You better not ever go anywhere near anything sharp...”
“How did you know what I was doing?” I pant, my voice trembling. There’s a heavy silence on the other end of the line, each second stretching out painfully. “Tell me! How did you know?” My heart pounds so hard I can hear it in my ears, the rush of blood making me dizzy. My breath comes in shallow gasps, the room spinning.
Finally, Hugo’s voice cuts through the silence, cold and measured. “The day of your surgery, I put a small camera into your hand, no bigger than a quarter inch. You can’t feel it, but it allows me to see everything you do.”
I stagger back, my free hand gripping the edge of the counter for support. Everything? As in, including bathroom breaks? My face flushes hot, a mix of anger and humiliation coursing through me.
“You did what?” I choke out, each word laden with disbelief.
“Only because I had to,” Hugo replies, his tone turning defensive as if he had every right and I’m being rude for questioning his motives. “I couldn’t let you leave without ensuring your safety.”
“So you implanted a camera into my hand,” I whisper, my voice barely audible. My mind races, a whirlwind of conflicting emotions—betrayal, confusion, a twisted sense of protection. My hands tremble violently. “You need to come home right now. We need to talk about this.”
“I’m about to go into surgery,” Hugo says, his calmness only fuelling my panic. “I’ll be home in two hours.”
“I need you home now,” I insist, desperation clawing at my throat.
“No, you will wait for me until I get back,” he replies, his voice firm and unyielding.
“Maybe I won’t be here when you get back,” I blurt.
Hugo’s voice drops, taking on a dangerous, possessive tone. “If you ever think of leaving me, I’ll hunt you down and gently but firmly remind you that you’re my wife. You’re in this for life.”
The line goes dead as I hang up, the phone slipping from my grasp. My hands shake uncontrollably, the enormity of his words crashing over me. He’s seen everything. Every private moment, every vulnerable second. I feel exposed, stripped bare. My chest tightens, my breath coming in short, ragged bursts.
I need him home. I need to see him face to face, to confront this madness. Now.
***
Hugo
I didn’t think she’d find out that soon. Those cameras were first introduced to me by mobsters who wanted it for their women, but I never thought I’d use them myself. Not until I met Pamela and that day I felt like I had no choice, reacted on pure instinct.
My mind swims, but I can’t think about that now and my professional side takes over, pushing away my chaotic private life for now.
I’m on the brink of going into surgery, my hands expertly washed and sterilized. The operating room is cold and bright, filled with the sterile scent of antiseptic. The team is gathered, their faces hidden behind masks and their eyes focused, ready for the task ahead. We’re about to begin a complex procedure—one that requires my full attention.
As I’m about to don my gloves, I take one last moment to check my phone. It’s connected to Pamela’s camera and I glance at the screen, expecting her to be pouting on the couch or something.
But the image on the screen makes my blood run cold. Pamela is sauntering into my bedroom and I nearly reel when she takes her clothes off and gets up on my bed, stark naked. She puts her head down on my pillows, spreads her legs and starts stroking her thighs, slowly, like she’s made out of candy and is dusting off the sugar. Her tits heave with her breaths, her big hips start to roll and my mind spins until I fear an aneurysm.
Heat rises to my face, my vision narrowing when her fingers start wandering past her bellybutton and down to her mound until she starts playing with herself…fuck! I feel my cheeks burn and I stagger, hitting against a pile of instruments. Everyone stares at me.
”Dr. Payne, is everything alright?”
”Ah…,” I let out a cough, my erection stabbing against my scrubs. ”Everything’s uh…” Steam practically seems to hiss from my ears and I can’t form a coherent thought or sentence anymore.
I rip off the gloves with a force that’s almost violent and race out of the surgery room, toppling a trashcan that’s in the way and I can barely breathe. Yanking the phone to me, I glue my eyes to it and fuck…her hips are now rising up to meet the little thrusts of her fingers and I let out a foul curse.
My mind races, a flurry of thoughts colliding. I need to get to her, right now and race through the hospital corridors.
I storm into our house, flying up the stairs and stop for a second in the doorway. She’s still lazily pleasuring what’s mine and I let out a curse.
”Stop fucking doing that!” I growl and she gasps, looking up, her hand limp on her mound and I launch myself at her and pin her arms to the side. ”The fuck do you think you’re doing!”
”You’re the one who installed a camera!” she cries, looking at me with wild eyes. ”Who does that?”