"How does that feel?" I asked as I kept my eyes on his.

He hesitated slightly, and I could see the uncertainty he was trying to suppress. After a moment he quickly steeled himself and nodded slightly, "It's fine. Feels fine. I think I can go further."

I could tell he was lying. He was trying to act tough, he wanted to impress me.

In very different circumstances I might have been tempted to push a little harder. Sometimes I enjoyed being rewarded by that look of pain on their faces. Sometimes it was amusing to prove to them I knew they really couldn't handle it. I wouldn't do that here though, it would be highly unprofessional, not to mention inappropriate.

Instead I gently eased his leg back down and allowed his knee to slowly straighten. Once his leg was laying relaxed on the bed I asked him, "You've been keeping up with your exercises right? Twice a day?"

"Every day," he nodded. "First thing in the morning, and then again before I go to bed."

Another lie.

I arched one eyebrow as I kept my eyes locked on his, and the strong tough professional athlete cringed and withered slightly under my gaze.

"Ok maybe not every morning," he confessed. "And sometimes I forget to do it before bed too. I'm sorry Susan."

I finally let my expression soften into a smile and released him from my grasp and my gaze.

"You don't have to apologize to me Jordan," I said as I picked up the tablet that was currently displaying his chart. "If you want to prolong your recovery that's up to you. I'm flattered if you want to keep seeing me like this every week, but I'm sure sooner or later your coach or your manager will have something to say about it."

His cheeks actually coloured slightly. For all his tough-guy image he sure was easy to fluster. Though I did tend to have that affect on guys these days. Actually I had that affect on quite a few girls too for that matter.

Part of it was due to my appearance.

I liked being tall, I usually kept myself about five-foot-ten. I wore my hair in a short, slightly severe style. It was almost a men's cut in fact. When I wasn't working I tended to dress in pants, suit jackets or blazers. I even enjoyed rocking a tux now and then. Actually a few people thought I might be trans, or perhaps non-binary, which I was not.

Ok maybe I was a teeny bit gender-fluid. Or at least, I enjoyed subverting some gender roles and expectations now and then. As a shape-shifting succubus there was a lot I could do along those lines, and I took advantage of my supernatural talents whenever the opportunity arose.

Mostly though I looked and dressed the way I did because I enjoyed playing the dominant, powerful, sexy redhead. I had to tone it down a bit at work, but even in my nursing scrubs I could still dial up the strong top energy. It was fun, and it was especially amusing seeing which tough-guy athletes would crumble when I fixed my gaze on them and arched an eyebrow just so.

Guys like Jordan.

He was pretty fearless on the ice, at least according to the numerous stories he'd told me. He was a pro hockey player, though so far he'd spent his career in the minor leagues. He played defence, and he got in his share of fights. His season ended back in February after he was knocked into the boards at a bad angle and injured his knee. Now he was a regular patient at the clinic where I worked, and I was his physiotherapy nurse.

Jordan watched quietly as I tapped out an update on his chart. His cheeks still had that little twinge of colour on them. He knew I was noting down that he hadn't been doing his exercises like he was supposed to.

Before I set the tablet down I asked him a few routine questions about his knee and how it was healing, how it felt as he went through his day. It was all pretty standard stuff, we went through it every week and he gave me the expected responses which I dutifully noted on the chart. From the sound of it he was doing ok despite skipping his physio exercises.

Finally I asked, "Any other comments? Or do you have any questions for me?"

That was standard too, but this time he was worked up the courage to ask something out of the ordinary.

"Yeah," he flashed me a cocky, hopeful smile. "What are you doing tonight? Or this weekend?"

I gave him the hard look and the arched eyebrow, and sure enough he withered again under my gaze.

"Sorry Jordan," I replied in a calm but slightly-amused tone. "As long as you're a patient here our relationship will be strictly professional."

He mumbled, "Right, I get it. Sorry, I didn't mean..."

My expression remained mostly unchanged, except I let one corner of my lips quirk up into a very slight grin. "Of course, after your recovery is complete and you're no longer a patient of this clinic, then it would be an entirely different matter."

He stared at me for a few seconds and I could almost hear the thoughts going through his mind. Was I serious? Was I just flirting? Or was this a tease, something to get him to take his exercises seriously? And whichever of the above it might be, should he take a chance and treat it seriously?

"Yeah," he finally said. "So uh, I'll make sure I don't miss any of the exercises this week."

I kept up the low-key domme expression as I replied, "Good boy."

And finally I set the tablet off to the side and stood up. "Have a good weekend Jordan. I'll see you at the same time next Friday, ok?"

"Ok Susan," he nodded. "You have a good weekend too."

I gave him another amused smile, then turned and exited the little room. I had no idea if he'd actually take his exercises seriously. I hoped so, he was a patient after all and I wanted to see him recover as quickly and thoroughly as possible. As for whether or not I'd actually follow up on the idea of seeing him outside work once he wasn't a patient any more... Actually I probably would. He was in pretty good shape, he'd probably be good in bed. And I knew he'd be a very tasty snack.

If it was to happen though, it was at least another month away. Maybe more, depending on whether he really did stay focused on his recovery. So for now I put the whole thing out of my head as I went to check in with my boss. Jordan was my last patient of the day and it was Friday after all. I was as eager to get out of work as anyone else.

"Doctor Ross?" I asked after knocking lightly on the doorframe of my boss's office. "I've just finished up with Jordan. The updates are on his chart. If it's ok with you I'm going to start packing up to head out?"

He glanced up at me and nodded, "Thanks Susan. Let me take a look at it."

I watched and waited as he tabbed through a few open windows on his computer, then pulled up Jordan's file. Finally he took another minute or two to read the updates I added this afternoon.

Ross was at the upper end of middle-aged, he'd been in this line of work for around twenty years. He was kind of attractive, though I hadn't tried to sleep with him. Not yet at least. He kept in shape, his dark brown hair had a few streaks of grey in it but he maintained a smart professional appearance. On the other hand he rarely did the lab-coat thing that some of the other doctors seemed to like. In addition to being the top doctor here he was also the boss, he owned the clinic.

Doctor Ross started this place seven or eight years back. It was a private rehab clinic, our main focus was sports-related injuries. Though we also saw clients recovering from other kinds of accidents and injuries, from work-place mishaps to car crash victims. Still, most of our clients were athletes. We saw everyone from world-class professionals down to average folks who got hurt playing softball or volleyball or cycling.

I'd been here for the past three years, it was my first job after graduating university. Originally I was just an intern, but only six months into the job I was promoted to my current position.

Ross liked my strict, no-nonsense approach. I worked especially well with pro athletes. Guys who were tough, guys who might be famous or popular, guys who might even be a bit spoiled. Girls too, I'd worked with a couple pro women athletes as well. Unlike some people I was neither awed nor intimidated by any of them.

I customized and tailored my approach to each patient I worked with, and my succubus skills helped me in that regard. Whether it was a tough hockey player like Jordan, or a member of the olympic women's rowing team, or a teenager who tore a muscle on the high-school football field, I'd quickly figure out what worked for them. And I tended to get results.

And if they were adults, I also tended to sleep with them. But like I told Jordan, that was only after they were fully recovered and discharged. Pro athletes usually had excellent stamina, and I almost viewed it as a hobby. Other people collected baseball cards or hockey cards, I collected sexual energy directly from the players.

My boss finally finished reviewing Jordan's chart. He looked up at me and said, "Ok Susan, this looks good. Enjoy your weekend, I'll see you on Monday."

"Thanks Doctor Ross. You have a good weekend too," I smiled, then turned and headed to the staff area at the back of the building.

In the locker room I slipped out of my work shoes then pulled off the scrubs. Underneath I was wearing some risqué black lace lingerie that tended to highlight my assets rather than make any attempt at hiding them.

The work clothes went into my locker along with the shoes, then I slipped on a pair of tight navy blue slacks followed by the two inch heels I was wearing today. Finally I pulled on my forest-green blouse and did up most of the buttons, but I left the top two undone. And overtop of that went a stylish pinstripe blazer.

After checking my hair and lipstick in the mirror, I headed out to the parking lot.

My little electric car was parked nearby, the lot had a few reserved spaces for green vehicles, along with free charging. I disconnected the charger then slipped in behind the wheel and a minute later I was on my way. I wasn't heading for home though, not yet anyways.

My regular routine these days had me going by Amber's shop to pick her up, then the two of us would head home together.

PurpleCatGirl

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