The smell of coffee for some people is an aphrodisiac and when you're a trauma surgeon and an ICU nurse coffee is life. When we bleed it's not red, but rather it’s brown.

It's Friday morning and I picked up an extra shift in the ER for a coworker today, so she could spend time with her family.

Quietly as possible, so as not to wake my husband, I tip-toed out of bed while he slept, so I could have ten minutes, by myself, to drink a cup of coffee outside on the patio, before I took my shower.

Our lives are busy but we wouldn't change a thing. We met in California while Mark was in his third rotation of the residency program, training to become an orthopedic surgeon. He was this young, charming resident and I was a brand-new RN. It was love at first sight.

His compassion for his patients was so genuine. He didn't care if the patient was eight or eighty, they would get the best medical care he could give. Now, ten years later, he is the most sought-after orthopedic surgeon in the state, mostly, working on traumatic injury and sports-related accidents.

The fresh dripping coffee aroma slowly penetrated his mind. Too many late-night surgeries are taking their toll on him, but his morning erection is making him horny.

Groaning, he rolled over and looked at his watch. He knows I have a shift today at the hospital and he plans on playing golf at the country club later this afternoon.

Sex, he needed sex, before anything else. He heard the shower and a huge steam cloud greeted him as he opened the bathroom door.

The shower hid nothing behind the clear glass and he smiled as he listened to me, as I sang along with the radio.

The shower was specifically designed to accommodate at least three people, with a small stone bench strategically placed for support, while fucking in the shower, or shaving legs, depending on who's perspective it was.

I didn't hear him, or see him, as my eyes were closed. I was washing my hair when I felt the cold air against my hot skin, as my only warning before his strong hands gripped my waist.

“Baby doll, you know the rules. When we're home together, in the morning, we always shower together,” his voice was deep and commanding.

“I wanted you to sleep in, babe, I'm sorry.”

“Baby doll, you smell wonderful, let me see if you taste just as good.”

He gently pushed me onto the stone bench and the hot spray shower cascaded on our naked bodies. He shifted between my open thighs and spread my lady parts wide open, as he buried his face into my pussy.

He edged me close to orgasm and then he sucked my nipples. He was between my legs again, until I begged him to let me cum. He worked me through two orgasms before he bent me over.

“Kitten, I want you so bad right now.”

My hands gripped the bench for support as his cock plunged into my waiting vagina, which caused me to take all of his thick ten-inch cock.

“Brace yourself, Kitten,” he said.

I held on as he made love to me. His movements were fast and easy and his grip got tighter as I felt him push one last time and then he filled me with his cum and bit me hard on the neck.

“Good morning, Kitten,” he growled into my ear. His white thick sperm dripped down my legs.

“Good morning, sweetheart.” I purred back at him. “Babe, I'm going to be late for my shift, now go!”

“Ok, I need my coffee, now.”

I smiled as I put on my makeup then, acting like a silly teenage girl. I wrote, in bright red lipstick on the bathroom mirror, ‘I love you, Babe.’

Ten minutes later, as I backed my black Camaro out of the garage, my phone buzzed with a text message. It read, “Kitten, I love you, drive safe. See you tonight at the club.”

My heart melted, I love him so much.

The Camaro was a birthday present last year. It’s my favorite car and it was loaded with all of the best options. The stereo was the best part.

I had the air conditioner on full blast and Bob Seger singing, “Still the same”, as I was on my way to work.

The hospital, that Mark and I both worked at, was only fifteen minutes from our house. Mark needed to be close in case of emergencies.

I turned the corner into the hospital driveway when I was T-boned by a semi-truck, hauling sugar beets, the truck driver ran the red light.

The sound of metal to metal is the worst in the world, it’s the sound of nightmares. The truck pushed my Camaro into a telephone pole, cutting the pole in half. The sugar beets crushed the car and the airbags deployed in the car, but they were useless.

Blood clouded my eyes and glass was everywhere. I lost consciousness as darkness engulfed me right before the car caught on fire.

I could hear voices, but they sounded far away. “Lady, lady, don't give up. We're going to get you out. Just keep breathing, don't move.”

My lungs hurt, I could hardly breathe. The pain was too much for me to withstand and the last thought I had was, “Mark.”

This next part is going to be hard to believe, but until you have a near-death experience you won't understand it.

I felt my soul leave my body that morning and I stared on, as they pulled my broken and bleeding body from the mangled remains, that was my beautiful car. I no longer felt pain or sorrow. Was this astral travel, I didn't know.

The firemen and ambulance crew worked at a frenzied pace.

“Am I dead? Who's going to take care of Mark?” I floated above the ambulance as it rushed me to the emergency room.

I heard some say, “Is that Wendy? Oh my God, it is.” I watched as my co-workers frantically cut the remains of my scrubs away from my mangled body.

The trauma bay changes when it's one of our own as a patient. Within seconds, there were five Drs. in the room, orders were being shouted as all focus was on me.

Blood spilled out of me faster than it could be replaced. My lungs had collapsed so I was suffocating.

“Am I breathing?” I wondered as I floated above.

Someone yelled, “Her stats are dropping so we can't wait any longer. She needs intubation now!”

The lead trauma Dr., Jeff Stevens, ran into the room as news had spread about my accident. “Has anyone called Mark?”

The receptionist said, “We called his cell phone and he's on his way.”

“We can't wait for him to get here, get her to CT now!”

I floated down the hall as they ran the stretcher with my lifeless body, drenched in blood, to the scanner.

The CT control room was filled with people, three Drs. watched as the images slowly revealed their answers. It wasn’t good as there was massive internal damage. The truck crushed my kidneys and liver and my lungs were full of blood.

My color was changing, even as they rushed to finish the scans, I was turning gray, I was dying. The ventilator was keeping me alive.

It's quiet, no one was talking. Tears were being wiped away as they took me back to the trauma bay.

My friends washed my face to clean away the blood and gore. They covered me with fresh clean linens and turned down the lights. I floated next to the stretcher and starred at my lifeless body, I didn’t want to go.

Then I heard Mark. He was yelling for me, “Wendy, I'm here, baby.” Tears flowed from his eyes.

The Trauma Drs. gathered around him, to shield him and protect him, as they summoned the courage to tell him the devastating news.

“Mark, come let's go sit in the lounge for a minute,” said one of the Drs.

“I'm going to see my wife so get the fuck out of my way.”

I watched as he pulled the curtain back and I continued to watch as he broke down sobbing, “Wendy, you can't leave me.”

A piercing alarm filled the room because the ventilator wasn’t keeping my pressure up. Mark frantically tried to fix it, but he knows. The monitor flat lined and tears streamed down my face, I was dead.

Mark fell to his knees, “No baby, no baby, noooo.”

After many hours at the hospital, dealing with all of the arrangements, Mark went home. He walked into the bathroom, turned on the light, and saw the message on the mirror. ‘I love you, babe’, written in red lipstick.