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From: otzchiim@aol.com (Otzchiim)
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Subject: {ASSM} The Lieutenant Practitioner and I (Otzchiim) M/F, cons, serious
Date: Wed, 23 Aug 2000 05:10:02 -0400
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Otzchiim@aol.com
THE LIEUTENANT PRACTITIONER AND I
I was working in those days as a physical therapist at Johns Hopkins
Hospital, making people who had been off their feet for a while walk more than
they thought they could just yet. Hopkins has a big name as a research
institution and as a medical school, but it is not all that great as a place to
work. It has attracted prominent physicians -- the ones its buildings are
named after. But they came more for the prestige than the money, I think, and
they almost all left for more money. Below the professional level, as they
say, they draw from the area around and pay as little as they can get away
with. Until the law was changed, they paid less than minimum wage for many
jobs and often still skirt it.
As I say, I was a physical therapist, which mostly means browbeating older
people and making them annoyed enough to not want to come back if they could
avoid it but not enough to complain about me to the hospital. Partly because
of this -- both working with people much older than I and the gruffness the job
often required -- I tried to be cheerful and almost-flirty with the nurses,
especially with patients present.
A student nurse walked in one morning with some patient records which had
been left behind in the ward. She was young, of course, a little chubby, cute,
and obviously Chinese. I put together some things I had heard and decided to
find out just how Chinese. *Wei hao,* I said, "and thank you for bringing
these down. Are you --" and I used her name.
She was startled and I knew that I had guessed right. I had heard that a
woman had come to Hopkins from the Chinese People's Republic as a nursing
student, and the scuttlebutt among the nurses was that the reason she was a
nursing student is that the government there thought the tuition for a medical
student too high, but she was instructed to absorb as much Western medicine as
possible to take back and teach. She would be put to work in China as a
physician, since medicine there requires less training -- and is a less
prestigious job.
This is part of the reason for the name I often called her by, "Yisheng,"
which means "doctor" rather than "nurse." The rest of the reason I call her
that here is that her family was politically prominent in China, and had been
so long enough that she could trace her ancestry back to the storyteller Pu
Sung-Ling in the 11th century, and I do not think they would want anyone to
learn she had anything to do with a *kuidzu.*
(I don't know if that term is current, or even ever was. I found it in a
19th-century book, where it meant "foreign devil" but whether it really was
that or just "foreigner" or just "devil" is not clear. Nor do I know whether
it is related to "kudzu," though that term is Japanese, or the plant came from
there at least.)
In any case she was a bit befuddled to be greeted in Mandarin by a tall
blond bearded American. I had to confess to her that I did not really speak
her language, but happened to remember the word for hello in it. And several
other languages, which I learned as a teenager on a whim. And that was almost
the only Chinese word I knew, though "Yisheng" had stuck from an article on the
itinerant country doctors I read a year before. I did look up a few more to
use on her soon, however.
That was about it for our first meeting, though I heard from other student
nurses that she talked about me back on the floor. They said they warned her
that I liked to surprise people. True.
Perhaps a week later I sat down at lunch with a table of nurses and
student nurses, and Yisheng was one of the latter. The conversation was the
usual mix of stories about patients, complaints about staff, and rumors about
administration. That would have been about the time that the story went around
of the grumpy man with a little smiley face tattooed on the end of his penis.
(He was a patient at Greater Baltimore Medical Center, not JHH, but nurses
can't resist telling one like that.)
I spent a lot of time looking at Yisheng that day, partly because she was
nice to look at, but also for the less subjective reasons that her English
occasionally stumbled and her accent sometimes distorted things, so when she
said something it might be well to get what visual cues you could from her
face.
If I saw more of Yisheng than of a lot of other nurses, it was partly her
choice. She tended to volunteer to take patients down to physical therapy,
perhaps because I liked to use Chinese words in speaking to her, though often
it was just for bilingual puns or to give her new nicknames. As I have said,
I flirted with all the nurses, to liven up what is often a depressing business.
And I may really have been more serious in talking to Yisheng than with
others.
Physical therapy closed early one day a week and reopened in the early
evening for outpatients, so I had a gap when it wasn't worth going home and I
sat in the cafeteria talking to people wandering in -- especially nurses.
Yisheng came in with another off-duty nurse (Nancy Harding? Doesn't matter
now.) before going home. They stayed longer than they expected to, indeed
until I had to go back to work.
Yisheng was quite open about her instructions to gather information on
American medicine, especially new developments, and made a lot of photocopies
and printouts on things she was asked to find out. She spent some hours a week
in the medical library, getting a ride home with a woman who worked there,
The other nurse (probably was Nancy) said: "All that would make you a
doctor here, and in fact a very knowledgeable general practicioner."
"But she's not there yet," I replied. "And in China she certainly could
not be a private practicioner, so she is somewhere in between. Let's call her
a lieutenant practicioner."
Nancy made a face. Yisheng looked puzzled for a moment, then gave a
wonderful giggle, and that was what she was called for the next couple of weeks
until a self-important doctor complained.
Some months later as she was wheeling an old man in (old men in particular
liked her) I addressed her as *taozi.* She looked at me askance and said:
"This is the first time you have ever mentioned my skin color, though many
others do."
I was a bit flustered, and said: "I had not even thought of that,
actually. Peach is an old slang term for a good-looking woman." And the old
man nodded vigorously.
"In that case, all right," she said. "Though I'm not sure I like being
thought of as a fruit, since I like men." Her own command of slang had
certainly improved.
This was the very first mention on her part of anything even as vaguely
sexual or romantic as that. A few days later I was once again in the cafeteria
in the afternoon sipping coffee and waiting for the outpatient hours, when
Yisheng came in alone, though there were two other nurses at the table with me.
When she sat down I repeated my comment and her response. She said in a
small voice: "I am really uneasy in thinking about things like that." And she
told us some things which I think all of us knew but none of us had thought
through the implications of.
China has tried to control its population growth by limiting each family
to one child. But between the availability of abortion, traditional Chinese
attitudes, and the demands of farming, that one child is usually male. Female
fetuses --and babies-- are often disposed of, either openly or surreptitiously.
And the "one child" policy has been in place for about a generation.
Yisheng had been courted by many young men already, and while that might
sound nice, she found it a little frightening. It would be even more so when
she returned and went into the countryside, where the imbalance would be
greater. The pressure on her to marry quickly was not something she looked
forward to, and since her family was of the political class...
The day was clearly coming when the young men realized that not only were
they not getting any, they never WOULD. And that the ultimate reason for this
was a government policy. When this sank in, there was likely to be another
revolution in China, the first ever to be driven by biology, and the political
class could not possibly survive it. If Yisheng herself did it might be only
as someone who serviced a large number of men and acted as a broodmare for
them.
It was a horrible picture, but one which was very likely to be true.
Every time I saw Yisheng after that for a long while, I was saddened by
her future, and by the fact that her country's leaders seemed not to see it
coming. I wished I could think of a solution to the problem, but there was
none.
Perhaps a year after I first met Yisheng, there was a night when I was
working late because of the outpatient hours, then during that time a
stationary bicycle jammed. I could see the cause, and while it wasn't exactly
difficult to fix, it was tedious. I got the okay to use overtime to fix it,
and did not finish until ten at night.
I washed up and was walking to my car, which involved walking by the
medical library. I heard a voice calling my name, and saw Yisheng standing
on the steps.
"Cathy" (the woman she usually went home with) "called in sick and I didn't
learn that until now. Would you be willing to walk me home? It's not far."
No, it was not far, but it was dark and not a good neighborhood at night.
For a six-foot-plus ten-kilo physical therapist, no problem. For a
four-and-a-half woman, another matter, even if the assailants think all
Orientals know martial arts.
The nurses' residences belonging to the hospital are mostly old houses cut
up into shared apartments, fine if you get in before dark and don't wander far
afterwards.
"Come down the street and I'll drive you home," I said.
"Tomorrow is Friday and you are on a noon to eight shift," I said as we
got in the car. She nodded. "Do you have any reason to get to sleep quickly?
I haven't stopped for dinner and I would like to have someone to talk to.
I'll pay for whatever you have."
"Gee, I never thought I would be picked up by a man just walking down the
street." She smiled broadly at me. "I don't want you to think I'm easy!"
I looked over at her. "Hmm... Not easy, but undoubtedly worthwhile."
She looked timid and couldn't think of a response.
At the steak place a few blocks toward downtown, she talked, though. I
had held conversations with her many times in the last year, but never just the
two of us. We covered a lot of territory over dinner, and it was about
midnight when we left, an hour after I expected. This was fine for her, but I
was supposed to be at work at eight in the morning. When we neared her
apartment house, she asked if I would be willing to park and walk to the front
door with her. This I certainly was. At the door she asked if I might want
to come up and have some herbal tea which would make me sleep more deeply to
make up for the time lost.
I hesitated a moment, but decided that the effect of the tea and the
pleasant conversation would outweigh any further delay in getting to bed. The
tea was very soothing and pleasnt but when I stood up again she did something
quite unsoothing though pleasant as well -- she put her arms around me and
stood on her toes to kiss me.
"It has been over a year since I did that," she whispered. "And about a
year since I first wanted to, with you. You have done more than anyone else
to make me feel at home in this country, and also the most to make me feel
lonely."
"I am sorry for the last," I said.
Yisheng shook her head, said something I couldn't catch, and pulled my
head down to kiss me again, more fervently and now with an open mouth. I
returned the feeling and when we broke apart her little body was trembling and
her heart was racing. She placed the teacups in the sink and grabbed my hand.
She led me through one of the three doors leading off the common area,
which I was only partly surprised to see was her bedroom. Her fingers raced to
remove my shirt and reached for my belt, when I halted her by lifting her body
and placing her on her bed, where I lay beside her.
I opened the blouse of the white uniform and pulled it back to expose the
solid white sensible sturdy bra and scooted one hand under her to undo the
clasp. I lifted her head to remove the bra and set it to one side. Her
breasts were small, as I knew and would expect, but her dark erect nipples were
quite impressive. I bent my lips to one and circled it with my tongue, and I
liked her gasp a lot.
I slid back up to touch her lips to mine and reached my hand to remove one
shoe and then the sock. Her knee drew up and I massaged the bottom of her
foot. She found that erotic to judge by the way she kissed me.
Then the other shoe and sock, then the blouse went aside. We lay on our
sides for a moment, breasts to chest, and stared at each other, then she raised
her leg to go over my hip.
I rolled her to her back. The slacks of her pants-suit were loosened and
she began to softly moan. Her eyes closed as the zipper came down, as if she
wanted to concentrate on the sensation without light to distract her. I, on
the other hand, raised my head to look over her body and to admire her
flawlessly even peach-colored skin. But my hands kept moving, sliding down
her slacks and revealing her white panties, now with a visible moisture to mark
how her thoughts were running.
I shed the rest of my own clothes and her eyes lifted enough for her hand
to find and touch the part of me that showed my own thoughts about her.
Yisheng gave a little squeak as she circled it with her hand.
Her lips sought mine again and her last clothing pressed aginst my naked
body. "I have been so afraid of not being able to go one her, so unsure if I
wanted either to stay or to go back, so alone... I want you to help me
forget, at least for a little while," she whispered.
When she moved me to my back and vaulted one leg over so that only her wet
panties kep me from sinking deep into her, I knew it was time to go on.
My fingers caught in the waistband of her underwear and tugged. She
rolled quickly off me but I followed her and in seconds her sparse pubic hair
was visible. Before the last covering hit the floor my lips were at hers, but
her head was not involved. I licked up across the crease and nibbled on the
little button of her clitoris. That button certainly turned her on; I felt
the contraction of her internal muscles on my inserted finger within seconds
and her hands gripping my head as she climaxed. Her body may have been small,
but it was a challenge to stay on it until her first wave of energy subsided.
"Do you want to go the last step with me?" I asked her.
"Yes! Yes!"
I turned aside to go to the common room and the jacket pocket there where
I kept a condom from habit.
"No!" she said. "I -- I take the pills!"
This was in its way not unexpected. All student nurses have
contraceptives available to them free, all are inevitably centered on the body,
and, well, all are young. Those who are not intending to need them are aware
of the possibility of rape and have no qualms about preventing pregnancy there.
Her knees were raised, her legs open in welcome, and her entrance now very
supple and relaxed as the end of my erection touched it. I slid in a little,
then a little more, and then I was stopped for a moment, though whether by a
fleshly barrier or an unrelaxed muscle I could not tell -- and, in truth, never
tried to find out.
"You are the first," she said softly. "Whatever happens later, I want
this to be with someone I choose."
And then something, skin or muscle, eased aside and I advanced again. She
was very small and tight inside, with both my feet and head extending past
hers, and I tried to give her long full strokes, slowly and deeply, to feel her
walls milking me over and over, to satisy the frustration of all her years and
her fears of what might come. At last I could not hold my own ending back and
gave her a long series of spurts of seed until we lay wrapped in peace and fell
asleep.
She got up to set the alarm so that I could go home and change in time for
work. It was nearly impossible to leave her in the morning.
We spent many nights together before her course of study ended. When it
had ended, she said farewell but added a comment that we might see each other
again someday. We have not, at least not yet.
A matter of weeks later, men from the government came around asking
questions of those who knew Yisheng. It seems that when her airliner stopped
in Hawaii and she was to change carriers, she did not get back on board.
There were diplomatic notes exchanged, the US was accused of abducting her, and
I truly believe that if she were found she would be forced to return to China
willingly or not. A member of a highly placed family would not be allowed to
claim political persecution.
It may be of course that what happened to her was not voluntary -- Hawaii
has crime like other places. But I hope that it is otherwise.
--
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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