No Nurse Is Good Nurse

Dixie’s on the phone, talking shit to her friend about ditching a lame family thing. Once everyone bails, the house is hers and she’s planning to wreck it having fun. She hears Rachael coming and kills the call fast, sliding back into bed like she’s dying. Rachael walks in and says she called Reagan Foxx to check on her. Dixie’s stomach drops. Reagan’s a nurse, and a pretty hot one. Dixie begs her mom not to do it, says she’s fine, but Rachael won’t budge. Eventually the house empties and Reagan shows up in her scrubs, all business and curves. Dixie’s faking coughs, trying to look pitiful, insisting she just needs sleep. Reagan listens, but her hands are already reaching for Dixie’s shirt. Dixie tries the gay card: “Lesbian here, hands might get ideas.” Reagan answers calm: hospital instead, if you prefer. Dixie swallows hard and gives in. Reagan runs through the checks and comes up clean. Dixie swallows and blurts out her pussy must be the problem. Reagan nods, gloves already snapping on. Dixie panics, claims a sudden fever. Reagan grabs a thermometer, but the smirk on her face says she isn’t buying it. So Dixie throws the last Hail Mary and leans in, fingers brushing Reagan’s thigh, voice low: “Or we could skip this and have a different kind of fun.” Reagan doesn’t pull back. Her lips twitch into a grin that says game on. Dixie sighs with relief and climbs on, because if she’s stuck at home, she’s going to turn the day into exactly the kind of trouble she was looking for.