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Message-ID: <39047asstr$1036109402@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "Al Steiner" <steiner_al@hotmail.com>
Subject: {ASSM} NEW: The Missing Mail by Al Steiner (FF,MF) 1/2
Date: Thu, 31 Oct 2002 19:10:02 -0500
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

This is the second of the Heritage County Tales that I've posted at
www.ruthiesclub.com since Aftermath was finished.  It follows the adventures
of paramedic Jim Hartman and his lesbian partner Sydney as they go about
their day to day routine.  An illustrated version of this story, as well as
many other new ones and many of my classic pieces, are available at
ruthiesclub.  This story was originally published on April 8, 2002.  Enjoy.





HERITAGE COUNTY TALES







THE MISSING MAIL

By Al Steiner

Part 1 of 2









It was yet another hot day in the Sacramento Valley, the late August sun
driving the temperature to 90 degrees by 10:00 that morning, to 104 by 2:00
that afternoon.  The same atmospheric conditions that made it so hot -
namely a high-pressure system sitting directly over the northern half of
California - also served to trap the stale air inside of the valley.  The
pollutants from the factories, automobile exhaust from cars, dust from the
agricultural region, and the smoke from several grass fires in the
metropolitan area combined with ozone to make the air an ugly shade of hazy
brown.  You could almost taste the particles as you inhaled on days like
this.



"Christ it's hot," Jim Hartman complained to his partner, Sydney Redding, as
they sat beneath a tree in a municipal park.  Sweat was dampening his
forehead and staining the T-shirt beneath his uniform shirt.  The air
conditioner in the rig was turned to high as they idled, the vents blowing a
gust of air that reduced the air temperature in the cab a full 15 degrees,
to about 89 or so.  "Who the hell decided to build a city in this place
anyway?  I mean really, what's attractive about it?  We get Africa heat in
the summer, enough pollen in the spring to choke you to death, and during
the winter, if it's not socked in with fog, it's fucking flooding.  I think
our founding fathers were a bunch of morons."



"They were here to rape the land, remember?" Sydney replied from the
driver's seat.  She had her checkbook open and a stack of bills on her lap.
She had unbuttoned her blue uniform shirt and pulled it open, revealing the
sweaty white cotton T-shirt beneath it.  This was a violation of company
rules of course but she didn't think that the supervisor was going to be
pulling his lazy ass out of the air-conditioned office to come check on
anyone.  "They didn't give a damn about the weather.  There was money to be
made, Indians to kill, species' to make endangered, all that shit.  What you
should be asking yourself is why your parents decided to move to this
miserable place and why they decided to raise you here."



Jim scoffed, picking up a large bottle of spring water from the drink holder
between their seats.  "My parents were morons too," he said.  He unscrewed
the lid and took a large drink of the lukewarm water.



Sydney smiled.  "Hell," she said, "I could've told you that.  Anyone who
votes straight ticket Republican year after year has got to be a little
fucked in the head."



"You got that shit right," said Jim, who preferred to think of himself as
apathetic when it came to politics.  He hadn't voted for anything since he
was nineteen years old.



They sat in silence for a few minutes, Sydney continuing to scratch out
payments for her electric bill, her car loan, and her various credit card
bills.  As Jim watched her frowning over the process he was reminded of
something that he had wanted to discuss with her.



"You wanna hear something strange?" he asked.



"What's that?"



"I haven't got any mail in the past six days."



She looked over at him.  "You haven't got any mail?" she asked
incredulously, knowing that her partner was continually inundated by
multiple credit card bills - the legacy of his marriage to a methamphetamine
addict.



Though the nightmare of the marriage was over, the nightmare of life after
the marriage was still going quite strongly for him.  When the assets and
liabilities were divided up between he and Debbie during the divorce it was
determined that they had less than ten thousand dollars on the plus side
(most of that being the value of the two cars they had owned) and more than
fifty thousand dollars in liability.  Fifty thousand dollars his wife had
managed to charge and borrow over the years.  The vast majority of this debt
consisted of credit card bills.  She had managed to open more than sixteen
different high interest accounts, all of which she had charged up to the
maximum limit or beyond.  She had charged everything from television sets to
microwave ovens to complete computer systems and she had sold all of it for
less than ten cents on the dollar to a variety of fences in order to finance
her expensive habit.  Jim's lawyer had argued vehemently that since Jim had
been unaware of these debts and had not signed any of the applications -
although his name had been forged very neatly on a few of them - that he
should not be responsible for any of them.  The judge commiserated with
Jim's plight but did not quite see things the same way as the lawyer.  He
ordered the assets be divided equally, with each party getting one of the
automobiles and that the debts similarly be divided equally.  With a tap of
the gavel Jim had found himself with one car, a few furnishings, and more
than twenty-five thousand in high interest debt.



Debbie had quickly sold her car, undoubtedly using the money for her
favorite pastime.  Since she was not terribly concerned with how good of a
credit rating she maintained she simply ignored her half of the debt and the
companies eventually wrote it off.  Jim on the other hand, did have to worry
about his credit rating.  He had hopes of someday establishing a somewhat
normal life for himself and his daughter so he had no choice but to try and
pay off what he was responsible for.  Every month, in addition to the
alimony and the rent and the childcare expenses that he paid he had to put
out more than six hundred dollars in credit card payments.  And this was
barely enough to keep ahead of the interest.  The principal never seemed to
get any smaller.



But so far he had never been late on anything and had never had his credit
rating dinged in any way.  He just didn't have any disposable income for
savings or enjoyment or food beyond hotdogs and bologna sandwiches.  It was
however, extremely unusual for even a day to go by without any mail
appearing in his box to let him know when his next payment was due.



"It's kind of starting to scare me a little," he admitted to Sydney now.  "I
know for a fact that two of the credit cards are due in a few days and those
fuckers never forget to send the statement.  And then there's the childcare
bill.  Julie over at Day and Night Care..."



"That cooch," Sydney said distastefully.  Julie Langhorn, who ran a rather
lucrative daycare business that catered to emergency services workers and
their strange hours, was the wife of Ron Langhorn, a night shift paramedic
at WLS.  Neither one of them were particularly well liked by their clients
or their co-workers.



"Well, she's the only daycare in town that stays open after 6:00," he said,
with a what-can-you-do shrug.  "Anyway, she told me she mailed out the bills
last week and I haven't got that one yet either."



"That is kinda strange," Sydney told him.  "I can pretty much guarantee that
Julie didn't lie about sending out the bill.  That bitch likes money too
much."



"Julie's not really the problem though," he said.  "I'm sure she'll be happy
to tell me how much I owe her.  Those credit card places though... the
payment amount changes every month and there's so many of them that I have a
hard time keeping track of which one is due when.  If those bills don't show
up pretty soon, I'm gonna end up not paying one and the next thing you know,
my credit rating goes all to hell."



"I was you, I'd start looking into it," she suggested.  "Call the post
office and find out if there's a problem or anything.  Have other people in
your complex been getting their mail?"



"I've seen them coming and going from the box with mail in their hands," he
said.  "I'm just wondering if..."



The beeping of their computer terminal interrupted him.  A call had just
popped up.



"All right then," Sydney said, quickly stuffing her bills and her checkbook
into her open backpack.  "Let's go fight some death, shall we?"



"Right on," Jim said unenthusiastically.  He turned the screen towards him
and pushed the acknowledgment button.  He then read what their latest cry
for help was about.  "2314 Jergens," he said.  "Unconscious 30 year old.  No
further info."



 "No further info," Sydney grunted.  "You gotta love that.  Where the hell
is Jergens at?"



Jim looked the address up in the mapbook and told her how to get there.  She
pulled out onto the street, flipping on the siren and the emergency lights
at the first intersection.  A four-minute drive brought them to a
semi-rundown working class neighborhood on the border of Lemon Hill and
Whispering Oaks.  The houses here were mostly rentals, many of the yards
sporting chain-link, that curious symbol of a declining residential tract.



2314 Jergens was a single story house located on the corner of two streets.
It appeared that it was in the process of renovation.  A ladder stood
against the garage roof and the majority of the wooden shingles had been
ripped off the roof and tossed into an untidy pile on the front lawn.
Scattered among this pile were more than a few beer cans.  The fire engine
that had been dispatched had just pulled up as well and the fire crew was
exiting the cab.  A fat blonde woman with large, jiggling breasts and a
cigarette stuck in her mouth rushed up to the captain and was talking
excitedly.  She pointed upward to the roof and Jim saw that there was a man
lying up there, just near the peak.



"The asshole's on the roof," he said disgustedly.  "Goddamn it!  I don't
ever remember them telling me when I got hired here that I'd have to climb
up on someone's freaking roof in 104 degree heat."



"I don't even remember them telling me that I'd have to work when it's hot,"
Sydney put in as she set the parking brake and undid her seatbelt.  "Where
does it say that in our contract?"



Still grumbling, they stepped out of the cab and into the blast furnace that
was the outside air.  They pulled the gurney and all of their equipment out
of the back of the rig and wheeled it across to where the captain and his
crew were still talking to the blonde woman.



"Hi Jim," the captain greeted.  "It looks like your patient is up there on
the roof."



"So I see," Jim said, glancing up at him.  "What's the story?"



"He's been up there pulling shingles all day for a roof job," the captain
said.  "His wife here came out a little while ago and saw him lying down.
She's been yelling up at him but he won't respond to her."



"How long has he been up there?" Jim asked her.



"About three hours," she said.  "I told him not to go up there in this heat
but he didn't listen to me.  He never listens to me.  There was this one
time that he wanted to go to..."



While she explained how he she told him not to ride the Matterhorn at
Disneyland because he was too drunk but that he insisted on doing it anyway
and subsequently vomited all over the crowd waiting in line, Jim looked over
at the beer cans on the ground, taking a quick inventory and seeing six of
them in plain sight.  "And has he been drinking anything besides beer up
there?" he interrupted.



"Nope," she said.  "All he ever drinks is beer.  He was telling me that his
stomach was cramping a little bit ago but all he did about it was drink
another can.  I told him he shouldn't drink so much, but does he listen to
me?  No, it's like the time he wanted to drive home after this party and
I..."



Jim and the captain shared a look with each other as she launched into her
next story.  "Heat stroke?" the captain asked.



"I'm thinking," Jim agreed.  "We'd better get up there and have a look.  Can
we use his ladder or do you want to use one of yours?"



The captain looked over the man's ladder for a moment and then shook his
head.  "It looks a little flimsy," he said.  "Why don't we use one of ours?"



They pulled one of their extension ladders off of their engine and set it up
in place of their patient's.  While the engineer held it in place, the
firefighter, then the captain went up.  Jim grabbed their blue equipment bag
from their gurney and tossed it up to them.  He then mounted the ladder
himself and followed them to the shaky roof.  The temperature up there
seemed to increase by about ten degrees.



"I can't believe he was up here for three hours in this heat," the
firefighter muttered as they walked up the fifty-degree slope.



"No shit," Jim said.  "I wouldn't be surprised if he's a dead motherfucker."



It turned out that he was not a dead motherfucker, just a very sick one.
His skin was reddened and hot to the touch, without so much of a drop of
sweat on it.  He was breathing rapidly and shallow, his tongue dry as a bone
and his lips cracked.  His pulse was rapid and thready, barely palpable at
the wrist.  He groaned a little when Jim shook him but otherwise made no
response.



"Yeah, he's in a bad way," Jim confirmed.  He looked at the captain.  "We
need to get him cooled off and rehydrated like yesterday.  How are we gonna
get him down?"



The captain looked around for a moment, trying to think it through.  "How
about a backboard?" he suggested.  "We strap him to it nice and tight and
then angle the ladder to 45 degrees or so.  That way we can just kind of
slide him down."



"Let's do it," Jim agreed.  He walked back to the edge, where Sydney, the
engineer, and the wife were all waiting.  "Grab us a backboard and pass it
up," he told his partner.  "We're gonna strap him to it and slide him down
the ladder."



The process took about fifteen minutes to complete.  Sydney handed up a
board while the engineer extended the ladder to its full length and brought
back the foot of it to the end of the driveway.  Jim rolled the nearly
comatose man up onto his side and the firefighter shoved the board beneath
him.  They rolled him back down and used the Velcro straps to secure him
tightly to it.  They then pulled him down the roof to the point where the
ladder met the rain gutter.  The firefighter climbed out onto the ladder and
went down a few rungs while Jim and the captain lifted the board and placed
it on the handrails, feet towards the ground.  Very carefully, the
firefighter backed down the ladder, his hands holding tightly to the bottom
of the backboard.  Jim, holding onto the head portion, helped ease it down
from his end and then mounted the ladder behind it.  When they got close
enough to the ground, Sydney grabbed hold of the sides to keep it steady.
At last they were safely back on the cement.  They placed the backboard on
their gurney and strapped the man in.



"Go turn on the garden hose," Jim told Sydney as he picked up the cardiac
monitor.  "Let it run until it's cold and then bring it over here."



"Right," she said, heading off.



Jim pulled out the EKG patches and began applying them.  The wife hovered
over his shoulder the whole time, explaining how she had told him that he
shouldn't be up on that roof, how she had told him that he shouldn't be
drinking that much beer, how she had told him that he should hire a
contractor to do the roof.



"Let's see what we got here," Jim said, turning the machine on.  When the
display popped up he saw huge peaks in the repolarization cycle of the
complexes.  This indicated a significant chemical imbalance in the body
chemistry.  "Jesus," he said, "he probably doesn't have any sodium or
potassium left.  It's amazing his heart's still firing at all."



"Is he going to be all right?" the wife finally thought to ask.



"We'll do what we can," he told her, trying to sound hopeful.  "We need to
get his temperature down and some fluids in him.  I can put back some of the
salt he lost but he's gonna have to wait until he gets to the hospital for
the potassium."



Sydney came over with the green garden hose in her hands.  "Wet him down?"
she asked.



"Everywhere," he confirmed.  "Drench him."



By the time they loaded him into the back of the ambulance he was dripping
wet.  Jim turned the back air conditioner on high and aimed the vents
directly at his wet skin.  As they drove to the hospital he started an IV in
the man's arm with the largest needle that he carried and opened it up wide.
As the fluid ran into his vein he taped ice packs to the tubing, cooling it.
The trip to Valley Medical Center took about ten minutes and by that time
he'd managed to run a liter and a half into his patient.  He still didn't
wake up.



His temperature turned out to be 106 degrees rectally, very close to what
would cause permanent brain damage.  The hospital staff immediately began a
series of radical cooling measures such as ice water enemas and a cooling
blanket borrowed from the cardiac wing.  They also began running potassium
directly into his veins as fast as it would go.



"Think he'll be all right?" Jim asked Doctor Harling, a crusty twenty-year
veteran of emergency medicine.



Harling shrugged.  "Time will tell," he said.  "So he was actually drinking
beer up on his roof in this heat?"



"That's right doc," Jim confirmed.



The doctor shook his head.  "I don't think the gene pool would suffer too
much if this gentleman didn't get to contribute to it," he suggested
flippantly.



Jim gave a dutiful laugh and then made his way over to the registration area
to inform the clerks of their arrival.  Robin - the clerk that he had taken
out to The Faraway Club the previous weekend - was pulling the duty behind
her desk.  She was dealing with an irate person on the other side of the
bulletproof glass when he entered, explaining to her that in the emergency
room people were seen in the order of the severity of their complaint, not
in the order that they arrived.



"Don't you be givin' me that shit," the woman said angrily, pointing an
accusatory finger.  "My momma been here for four hours now and all kinds of
people been going in before her that ain't nearly as sick."



"Ma'am," Robin said patiently, "there's really not a lot I can do.  I
can..."



"My momma is sick, you hear me?" she demanded.  "She's had that cough for
almost two weeks now!"



"Like I said, I can get the charge nurse to talk to you if you want, but
that's about all that I can do.  Would you like to talk to her?"



"Yeah," the woman said righteously, "bring her on or I'll be takin' my momma
somewhere else an' shit!"



"Just go wait over by that door and I'll have her paged over," Robin said.



"She better hurry her ass up," the woman said before stomping off towards
the access door.



Robin sighed a little and then picked up the phone to have the charge nurse
placate her.  When she finished, she turned around and saw Jim standing
there.  She gave him her smile.  "Hi Jimmy," she greeted.  "What did you
bring us?"



Jim was no longer awkward around Robin as he had been the first few days
after their date.  It turned out that his fears of her claiming rape or
wanting to engage in a long-term relationship with him were groundless.  She
had not even mentioned the night to him afterwards except to tell him that
she'd had a good time and to hint that she might be open to another such
date.  Other than that, everything about her was unchanged.  She was the
same smiling, flirting, panty flashing bimbo that she'd always been.



He told her what he knew about his heat-stroke patient (which wasn't much,
he hadn't paused to get the man's name or date of birth or anything else)
and she thanked him professionally.  Just as he was about to head out to the
ambulance bay to get the clipboard and the call times, she grabbed his
sleeve.



"You know Jan, don't you?" she asked.



"Jan Sanders?" he asked.  "That works for us?"



"That's her," she said.  "She was asking about you a minute ago."



"Asking about me?" he said, raising his eyebrows a tad.  Jan was a
relatively new paramedic that had been hired about two months before from
another agency in the San Francisco Bay area.  Since her arrival at WLS she
had created a bit of a stir among the male members of the workforce.  A
buxom brunette, just on the borderline of what would be considered chunky,
she made no bones about the fact that she liked sex and would perform it
with anyone who thought they could satisfy her cravings.  It had been
reported that she had taken John Gillian home with her after their shift one
night and boffed him until well into the morning hours.  It was also
reported that she had boffed Steve Enders right in the back of the ambulance
on a slow night shift.



"She heard about our date the other night," Robin said softly, with a little
giggle.



"She heard about it?" Jim said.  "From who?"



She giggled again.  "Well, I might've let a thing or two slip out," she
admitted.  "Don't worry though.  I gave you a good review."



"Uh... well... thanks," he said, unsure what else to say.  In truth he
wasn't really sure what to feel about Robin telling other women about his
exploits.



"No problem Jimmy," she said, turning in her chair and giving him the
briefest glance up her skirt.  "She's probably still here doing her
paperwork if you wanna talk to her.  And if you ever want to go to Faraway
again, you know who to ask, right?"



"Right," he said, nodding.



Sure enough, when he got to the back of the emergency room after getting his
clipboard, Jan was sitting at the desk that was designated for EMS use,
writing a patient care report.  Jim took a minute to examine her form as he
walked up.  She was tall and big-boned, the kind of girl who jiggled all
over when she walked.  Her breasts were her shining assets.  They were truly
huge, at least double D's, and they pushed out her light blue uniform shirt
alarmingly, as if they were going to break free at any moment.  Her dark
brown hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail to comply with uniform
regulations.  She spotted him and broke into a friendly smile.



"Hi Jim," she said, scooting over a bit to give him room next to her.  "Have
a seat.  How's your day going?"



"It's hot," he said, stating the blatantly obvious.  He set his clipboard
down and grabbed a seat.  "How's yours?"



"The same," she told him.  "But that's okay.  I like it hot."



He flushed a little, his composure breaking just the tiniest bit.  "That's
uh... good to hear," he finally answered.







+++++





"Now let me get this straight," Sydney said as they drove to their next post
twenty minutes later.  "She told you that she liked it hot, and you didn't
follow it up with anything?"



"Well," he said weakly, "we talked about calls and stuff, but..."



"Calls and stuff?" she asked, outraged.  "You fucking wimp!  You could've
been slamming her right now in some bathroom or storage closet if you'd a
played your cards right.  That chick has got a pussy that's perpetually
wet!"



"I don't want to fuck someone in a bathroom," he protested, although it was
a lie.  His favorite fantasy during his masturbation sessions involved just
such an act.



"You don't have to fuck her in the bathroom," she said, exasperated.  "You
could've set something up for after work, or for tomorrow."  She shook her
head sadly.  "What the hell am I going to do with you?"



"I'm telling you Sid," he said, "I just wasn't getting those kind of vibes
from her."



"You wouldn't know a vibe if it opened your pants and started sucking your
dick," she told him.  "I demand that you set something up with her the next
time you see her.  I fucking demand it.  If you don't, then you don't have a
goddamned hair on your ass!"



He looked at her in amazement, never having heard that particular affront to
his masculinity before.  "I don't have a hair on my ass?"



"Not a single one."



He laughed a little.  "Well then," he said.  "I guess I'll have to see what
I can do."







+++++





Before he had a chance to do that however, they got a call that ended up
affecting Sydney's social life instead.



It came across as a fall with an ankle injury.  It was dispatched as code
two, which meant that they were to drive there without lights and sirens on.



"Fucking ankle injury," Sydney grumbled as she looked up the address in
their mapbook.  "What the hell could you do to your ankle that needs an
ambulance?  When I was a kid I broke my goddamn femur and my mom just piled
me in the car and drove me to the hospital."



"I'm telling you," Jim said, "the worst thing they did was give people an
emergency number to dial that they could remember.  I bet if you still had
to dial a seven digit number to get an ambulance we wouldn't get half of the
bullshit calls that we do."



"And this is Whispering Oaks we're going to," she said.  "It's not like it's
the ghetto.  Those are nice, middle-class, normal people that live there.
They oughtta know better."



When they arrived at the call however, they both developed a little more
sympathy for their patient.  He was a thirty-four year old man that had been
playing basketball with some of the neighbors and had stepped into the drain
trying to save the ball from going out of bounds, snapping his tibia and
fibula at mid-shaft.  His entire lower leg was angulated thirty degrees to
the outside and the sweat that was pouring down his face was from pain and
not from the heat.



"Now that's a broken leg," Jim commented upon seeing it for the first time.
The fire crew had already splinted it into place with a piece of rigid
cardboard but there was no disguising the gross deformity.



"It hurts," the man grunted in an almost whining voice.  He was shirtless,
displaying an impressively cut chest and abs.  "Will they have to... you
know... operate on it or anything."



"Could be," Sydney said, hardly looking at the injury.  She, like the
firefighters, was paying more attention to the man's wife, who was kneeling
beside him, stroking his hair.  She was in her late twenties and dressed in
a pair of short shorts and a half shirt.  Her small breasts poked alluringly
outward, obviously unencumbered by a bra.  Her face was stoic, framed by her
short blonde hair.



She glanced for a moment at Sydney, the way that one does when someone
speaks, and had halfway turned her eyes back to her husband when she froze.
Slowly she looked back at her, her expression unchanging but her eyes
widening a little as she took in the short, masculine haircut and the
bulging biceps.  She stared for perhaps six seconds, long enough for Sydney
to notice the gaze, before her eyes flitted nervously away.



"How about a little something for the pain?" Jim asked the man, casting a
surreptitious glance at his wife as well.



He shook his head, feigning toughness.  "I'm all right," he said through
gritted teeth.  "Just put me in the car and my wife can drive me over to the
hospital."



"Honey," the wife said, her eyes darting once more over to Sydney before
landing back on his face, "I think you should let them take you.  I'm not
sure you'd fit in the car like that."



"I'll manage," he said.  "These people have better things to do with their
time than..."



"Sir," Jim said, kneeling down next to him, "I'm not one to make work for
myself, but I think that maybe your wife is right.  That's a nasty break.
Why don't you let us take you in?"



"And I'm not sure I could drive right now," she said, her voice sounding
feminine and helpless.  "You know how I am in an emergency.  You'd better do
what they say."



At this point the neighbors chimed in, all of them encouraging him to take
advantage of the services that the county offered for those with broken
legs.



"C'mon John," one of the sweaty basketball players told him, "let 'em take
you.  Don't make Laurie try to drive you."



"Yeah John," another basketball player piped up.  "That'll be for the best."



The encouragement of the neighbors seemed to mollify him.  "Well," he
grunted, "if you really think it's for the best."



Sydney cast another glance at Laurie, the wife, catching her looking at her
again.  She suppressed a smile.  "We really think it's for the best," she
assured him.



"Okay," he said.



"And how about that pain medicine?"  Jim suggested.  "It'll take the edge
off and relax you."



"Well... maybe a little."



"Could I ride with you?" the wife asked Sydney timidly.  "Like I said, I'm
not sure I could drive right..."



"You bet," Sydney told her with a smile.  "You can ride up front."



"Can't she ride in the back with me?"  John asked.



His wife cast a small glare at him, hardly seeming to realize that she'd
done it.



"Sorry," Jim said, completely unaware of the exchange of looks between his
partner, his patient, and his patient's wife.  "Riders have to go in the
front.  We don't have any seatbelts or anything for them in the back."



"But on TV they always get to ride in the back," John protested.



"Real life's not like TV," Sydney told him, allowing herself one more look
at what she was starting to think of as her prey.  "So let's get you loaded
up now, okay?"



They loaded him up and started heading for St. Vincent's hospital - a
twenty-minute trip.  Jim started an IV and then shot him up with ten
milligrams of morphine.  It didn't seem to help all that much.  In order to
give more than that, he had to call the physician on duty at St. Vincent's
hospital for permission.  He got him on the rig's cellular phone and gave a
quick report of what he had.



"It's an obvious tib-fib fracture with gross deformity and severe pain," he
explained to Doctor Matthews, a relatively new ER doc.  "I've given him ten
of MS and it hasn't touched it yet.  I'd like to go ahead and repeat the
dose."



"You want to give him another ten?" Matthews asked, his voice somewhat
incredulous.



"Uh... yes," he confirmed, unaccustomed to being questioned in matters such
as this.  "That was my request."



"I don't think that's such a good idea," the doctor told him.



"You don't think that's a good idea?"  Jim responded, his voice flirting
with insubordination.



"No," the doctor said.  "After all, we haven't X-rayed it yet and we don't
know for sure that it's really broken."



"It's broken doc," Jim told him.  "It's about as broken a leg as I've ever
seen."



"Well," Matthews said condescendingly, "I appreciate your evaluation, but
there's really no way of knowing until we get the X-rays.  Hold off on any
more pain medication for now."



"Shit," Jim muttered, although loudly enough for the phone to pick it up.
"I copy no more morphine," he nearly spat into the mouthpiece.  "See you in
about fifteen."  He pushed the "end" button and threw the phone back onto
the shelf.  He turned back to his patient.  "Sorry John.  Shot down."



Meanwhile, up in the front, Sydney was driving as slowly as possible, both
to minimize the bumping for the patient in the back and to extend the time
she had available with his wife.  She was sitting shyly in the passenger
seat, her legs crossed and the seatbelt outlining her small breasts.  She
was being very chatty over there, her concern for her husband seemingly
forgotten.  She had asked a few perfunctory questions about the treatment he
would be receiving in the hospital and had then started directly in on some
of his faults.



"He's very competitive," she told Sydney in a confidential voice.  "He's
always getting involved in sports and everything else with the neighbors.
He's always got to win."



"Really?" Sydney said sympathetically, running her eyes over the alluring
form and feeling herself getting moist between the legs.



"They play basketball, golf, softball, even football in the winter.  He
likes to play the tough guy you know, to be better at it than everyone
else."



"Men can be like that sometimes," she said, making point to emphasize the
word "men" in a negative tone.  "They're all locked up in that competition
thing.  Sometimes I think that's what wrong with the world today."



"Oh I know," she said.  "That's how he ended up with that leg like that.
They were playing two on two and he just couldn't let that ball go out of
bounds.  He had to do that fancy little jump to go after it.  It was awful.
I heard his bones snap when he landed."



"Maybe this'll mellow him out a little."



She shrugged, a pout flashing across her pretty face.  "I doubt it," she
said.  "It'll slow him down for a while, but as soon as he's healed, he'll
be right back at it."  She lowered her voice a little.  "It kind of a
Freudian thing, you know."



"Really?" Sydney said, raising her eyebrows a tad.



She giggled a little.  "I shouldn't tell people this," she said
mischievously.  "He really is a good husband in most things.  But he's got
the big four-wheel drive truck with the monster tires, the most expensive
golf clubs, the most expensive entertainment center, a whole bunch of guns,
and all of it's compensation for... you know."



"For a uh... shortcoming?" Sydney said.



She giggled again, holding her thumb and index finger about three and a half
inches apart.  "It's only about this big," she whispered.



"A big guy like that?"



"I was pretty shocked the first time I saw it," she told her.  "I've got him
convinced that it doesn't really matter, but... well... you know."



"Sometimes it does matter," she said.



"Sometimes," she agreed, a little sigh of frustration escaping this time.
"And it's not just that you know.  If he would do... like... other things,
it wouldn't make that much difference to me maybe.  But I don't think he
ever really learned to... do it like it's supposed to be done."



"Men can be like that," she said, sensing the kill.



"You sound like you know a lot about it.  You must have lots of experience
with that sort of thing."



"Well, to tell you the truth," Sydney said slyly, blessing the Gods for
providing this opening, "me and men don't really get along all that well.  I
kind of swing the other way, if you know what I mean."



She did a respectable job of appearing to be surprised.  "You mean that
you're a... a..."



"A lesbian," she confirmed, offering a shrug.  "It happens."



"Wow," Laurie said, her eyes widening.  "I've never really met one of you...
I mean... uh... well, you know - Heritage isn't exactly San Francisco.  I
figured there were... uh..."



"Lesbians, dykes.  You can say that in front of me.  It doesn't offend me."



She blushed a little.  "Lesbians," she finally blurted.  "I figured there
had to be some around here, but I've never met any."



"There's a lot of us in this business," Sydney told her.  "About a third of
the females here are gay."



"Really?" she said, far from offended or outraged by this revelation.  In
fact, she seemed downright excited by it.  "Why is that?"



"I don't know exactly.  This job just kind of draws us I guess.  Plus we're
accepted here by our co-workers in a way that we aren't in most regular
jobs.  We're just part of the scenery and nobody seems to have much problem
with it."



"That's very interesting," she said, her eyes shining thoughtfully.  "I hope
I'm not... you know... bothering you with all of my questions and all, but I
just love to meet different people and... talk to them and all."



"Not at all," Sydney assured her.  "I'd be happy to uh...  talk to you any
time about it.  Any time."



She gave an embarrassed smile, blushing even more.  "I think I'd like that,"
she said softly.



Sydney then took a chance, knowing that if she didn't set something up in
the next five minutes, she would probably never have oppurtunity to do so
again.  "Your husband is going to have to have surgery on his leg," she told
her.  "He'll have to stay overnight in the hospital."



"Is it that bad?" she asked, although she didn't seem to be particularly
upset by this information.



"It's that bad," she confirmed.  She took a deep breath.  "I get off at
eight o'clock.  That's about the same time that visiting hours are over at
the hospital.  Maybe I could... you know... kinda stop by your house on my
way home and... check on you.  Make sure you're doing all right."



She trembled a little in her seat, biting her lip nervously.  Nevertheless
her eyes showed a definite interest.  "That would be nice," she said softly.







+++++







"You're gonna go by her house after work?" Jim asked her in disbelief.  They
had just pulled away from the ambulance bay and were on their way to their
next post.



"Damn right," she said with a grin.  "Am I the freakin' master, or what?
Goddamn, my panties are wet just thinking about it."



"How did you do that?" he asked, obvious respect in his tone.  "She's not
even a lesbo."



"That's what's so fuckin cool about it.  She's what we call bi-curious.  Her
husband isn't doing it for her and never has so she wants to check out what
the other side is all about.  I'm tellin' you, we dykes fuckin dream about
chicks like that crossing our paths.  Especially ones that look as hot as
her."



"Have you ever done that before?" he asked her, actually becoming aroused at
the thought of his partner munching on the cute married blonde.



"A couple times," she said.  "They're few and far between though."  She gave
him a stern look.  "Don't you be shooting off your mouth to anyone about
this.  I'm flirting with an ethics violation by going over to a patient's
house you know."



"It's not really an ethics violation," he said.  "She wasn't the patient,
just the patient's wife.  But I won't tell anyone."



"Thanks Jimmy, you're the best."



"Could you do me a favor though?" he asked.



"What's that?"



"Videotape it for me?"



She punched him in the arm playfully.  "Don't you wish," she chided.







+++++







She took a shower at the WLS deployment office and, since she didn't have
any regular clothes with her, put on the spare uniform that hung in her
locker.  She didn't have any make-up to apply since she never wore it and
since her hair was shorter than most men's, there was a minimum of fussing
there.  As such, it was 8:14 PM when she emerged from the women's locker
room and out into the garage where the evening shift change was in full
swing.



"Oh Sydney!" cried Bob Barkins, the on-duty supervisor, as he spotted her
heading for her car.  "I need to have a word with you."  Bob, like all of
the supervisors at WLF, was little more than a management plaything, a low
seniority paramedic who had given up his union protection and rights for an
extra three thousand dollars a year and the illusion of power over his
former peers.  He was a small, wiry man with a ridiculous mustache that
looked more like a fungal growth than facial hair.  He took to his job with
a fervor, never failing to spout the company line or sing the company song
when the occasion called for it.  He was called Weasel by the field
employees he watched over.



She stopped, directing a glare at him.  "What do you want Bob?"



"It's about your signature stats over the last week," he said.  "It seems
that you and Jim haven't been..."



"Signature stats?" she said, her words dripping with venom, the glare
becoming murderous.



He stopped in his tracks, a hint of fear appearing on his face.  "Uh...
well, the fact of the matter is that the company requires a signature on the
billing form for all patient transports when such a thing is feasible.  You
and Jim haven't been..."



"I'm off duty Bob," she hissed.  "And furthermore, I'm on my way somewhere
important.  I don't have time to talk about signature stats right now.
Goodbye."  She turned on her heel and resumed her trip to the door.



"This is going to have to be addressed," he called after her.  "You're out
of compliance with a company regulation!"



She didn't even acknowledge him.  She stepped out into the humid twilight
and fifteen seconds later was in her car.  Ten seconds after that, she was
on her way to Whispering Oaks.



It was almost fully dark by the time she pulled onto the tree-lined middle
class residential street.  A few groups of kids were still out, most of them
playing basketball at the sidewalk hoops that nearly every house seemed to
have.  None of them gave her the slightest bit of attention as she parked
her car outside the neat house and turned it off.  Feeling a nervous
excitement, and more than a little arousal stirring within her, she walked
up to the front door and knocked softly.



It was opened immediately and Laurie stood there, biting her lip nervously.
She was wearing a pair of white shorts and a sleeveless top.  Her hair was
slightly damp, obviously from a recent shower.  Her fingers kept twiddling
with the spaghetti straps.  "Hi," she said softly.



"Hi," Sydney returned with a small smile.  "Just came by to see how you're
doing.  Is everything okay?"



"Uh huh," she said, nodding in an exaggerated fashion.  "They made John stay
overnight, just like you said.  He's going to have surgery at ten tomorrow
morning."



"That's too bad," Sydney told her sympathetically.  "I'm sure he'll be all
right though.  That surgery is pretty routine."



"That's what they told me.  I just got home from there a little while ago."
She continued to stare at her visitor, continued to bite her lip.  She made
no offer, implied or verbal, to invite her inside.



Sydney began to wonder if she'd made an error in judgment.  Had she been
reading the signals incorrectly?  Her instincts had always been pretty solid
but it was possible for them to wrong once in a while, wasn't it?  "Well..."
she said slowly, "I guess that everything's all right then."



"Yeah," she said with a small sigh.  "Everything's fine."



"Good," Sydney told her, biting her own lip a little now.  "I guess that
uh... I'll be heading home then."



Laurie hesitated, a small war of emotions taking place on her face.  Finally
she blurted, "Why don't you come in for a few minutes?  I can fix you some
lemonade or... or maybe a drink?"



Sydney smiled, more inwardly than outwardly.  Pulled that one out of a dive,
she thought.  "A drink would be really nice," she said.  "Thank you."



Laurie held the screen door open for her and she stepped inside.



The living room of the house was a testament to the type of man that lived
there.  The couches were genuine leather, probably a little more expensive
than the middle class income could afford without going into long-term debt.
A huge wide-screen television set took up the better part of one wall.
Arrayed around it were various other electronic components.  There was a DVD
player, two VCRs, a satellite receiver box, and a surround sound system.
Mounted on the wall above the television set was a rack from an eight point
buck (Sydney bet that that accessory had gone up over the stern protests of
the lady of the house).  Only the coffee and end tables showed the touch of
a fashion sensitive person.  They were genuine oak and looked as if they
were regularly and lovingly polished.



Sydney took in the adornments silently.  After all, her mother had taught
her that if you didn't have anything nice to say, that you didn't say it at
all.  She took a seat on the couch, sitting somewhat in the middle.



"What can I get you to drink?" asked Laurie, who was flitting about near the
television, almost as if she were afraid to get any closer.



"What do you have?"



"I have some Chardonnay chilled in the refrigerator," she answered.
"There's also some whisky and soda or some of my husband's beer.  It's some
of that expensive imported stuff from Norway or something."



"The wine sounds good."



She disappeared into the kitchen, returning about five minutes later with
two glasses of white wine in her hands.  She gave one to Sydney with a hand
that was trembling.



"Why don't you sit down?" Sydney prompted, patting the couch next to her.



"Uh... sure," she said.  "Okay."  She sidestepped around and took a seat
about three feet away, crossing her legs.



"This is good wine," Sydney told her after taking a small sip.



"It's from the Bonart Winery in Napa," Laurie told her.  "My husband doesn't
really appreciate good wine you know, but I've developed a taste for it over
the years."



"It sounds expensive.  I can't afford much more than the $4.99 bottles on my
salary.  They kind of taste like gasoline compared to this."



This served to break the ice a little.  Laurie spent a few minutes talking
about the various wine-tasting trips she had taken with her girlfriends.
She sipped rapidly as she told her tale, draining the glass to empty before
Sydney had even consumed a third of hers.



"I could use a refill," she said, looking at the glass as if wondering where
all of the wine had gone.  "Will you excuse me for a moment?"



"Of course."



When she returned, she had the bottle in her hand.  She poured herself a
full glass and then put it down on the coffee table.



They talked of neutral things for the better part of an hour.  Laurie asked
about Sydney's job and she described it for her, sharing a few of the
anecdotes that she had collected over the years.  Laurie told Sydney about
her housewife duties and her part-time job as a receptionist for an
accounting firm.  During this hour they finished off the bottle of wine and
opened another.  Laurie warmed up considerably, both from the alcohol and
the conversation, which she seemed to crave.



"You can't believe how nice it is just to talk to someone intelligently,"
she told Sydney about halfway through the second bottle.  "My husband treats
me like I'm a blond ditz most of the time and the neighbor women only talk
about how well their kids are doing in school, or how much money their
husband makes, or what kind of car they're getting next year.  Everyone here
just seems so phony sometimes."



"I see that the suburbs haven't changed much since I was a kid," Sydney
said, feeling a strong buzz in her head.



"You grew up in the suburbs?"



"Not too far from here," she confirmed.  "I went to Whispering Oaks High
school.  Class of 94."



"Wow.  Somehow I pictured you as growing up in... I don't know, South
Central LA or something."



Sydney laughed.  "Nope," she said.  "I'm a product of a good old upper
middle class upbringing.  My father was a dentist and my mother was a
stereotypical housewife.  I got two brothers that live around here.  One's a
dentist like my old man; the other's a computer systems engineer.  I'm kind
of the black sheep of the family, as you can imagine."



"Do you still see your family?"



She shook her head, displaying no sadness.  "Nope, not too much.  My parents
pretty much disowned me when I... you know... came out of the closet.  They
wrote me out of their will, kicked me out of the house, the whole bit.  The
only one that I have any contact with is David, my younger brother.  We get
together a couple times a year for lunch or something.  He doesn't exactly
approve of me, but he tolerates me."



"That's sad," Laurie said sympathetically.  "It must be hard on you."



She shrugged.  "I've learned to deal with it pretty well over the years.
Once I figured out that it was they who had the problem and not me, it got
easier."



Laurie nodded, not sure what else to say.  She picked up the wine bottle and
poured herself some more.  "I'm getting a little tipsy," she giggled as she
spilled a little on the table.



"Yeah, me too," Sydney said with a smile.  "And it's a little warm in here.
Do you mind if I take off my uniform shirt?  This polyester isn't made for
the heat."



"Ummm... sure," she said slowly.



Sydney stood and untucked the shirt from her pants.  She then unbuttoned it
and slipped it off, setting it down on the back of the couch.  She wore a
plain white T-shirt beneath it, the sleeves shortened enough to show off her
biceps and her tattoo.



"You look like you're in really good shape," Laurie said, looking at the
bulging muscles.



"I used to compete in women's weightlifting," she said, sitting back down,
just a little closer than she had been.  "It got to be too much of a hassle
but I still pump iron three times a week or so.  It helps me with the job.
Lot's of heavy lifting you know."



"I can imagine," she said, chewing on her lip again.  She quickly downed
half of her glass of wine at a single shot.



Sydney set her own glass down and then let her right hand drop onto Laurie's
knee.  The skin was soft and feminine and very warm, just the way she like
it.  "You're a very pretty woman Laurie," she said softly, gazing in her
eyes.



Laurie swallowed nervously, with an audible gulp.  "Thank you," she almost
whispered.  She made no move to remove the hand from her knee.



Encouraged, Sydney turned towards her, scooting even closer as she did so.
She brought her other hand up and began to stroke her short blonde hair.
"You've got the most beautiful hair too," she said.  "I just love natural
blonde hair."



Laurie trembled a little and went back to biting her lip.  "My husband used
to love it too," she said.  "Now he doesn't even notice when I do something
new to it."



"No?" she said, stroking downward from the hair onto the soft skin of her
cheek.  Using her finger she played idly with the earlobe.



"No," she said, "he... he... uh... didn't even notice when I cut it short a
few weeks ago."



"Men can be like that sometimes," she said, caressing the side of her cheek
now.  "They don't pay attention to details.  Sometimes the details are
what's the most important."  She let her other hand slide a little further
up the leg, so that her fingertips were stroking the inside of her lower
thigh.



"Yesss," Laurie sighed, her trembling becoming worse.  Her nipples were
clearly standing out beneath her shirt.



"Have you ever been with a woman before Laurie?"



She shook her head.  "Never," she breathed.



"But the idea doesn't revolt you?"



Another shake of the head.  "No," she answered, barely audible.



"Does it excite you?"



"Yes."



Sydney smiled, letting her hand travel a little further up the leg.
Laurie's knees came apart a few inches.  She leaned in next to her, so her
lips were next to her cheek.  She blew softly in her ear, letting her tongue
dart out and just touch the lobe.  Laurie jerked against her.



"Are you wet right now?" Sydney asked her.



"Yes," she breathed.



"You want me to make love to you, don't you?"



She shuddered again.  "Yes," she finally croaked.



Sydney took her earlobe between her lips and sucked softly on it, nipping it
just the tiniest bit with her teeth.  She then slid her tongue gently into
the space where the ear and the jaw came together.



"Oh god," Laurie breathed, her arm coming up to the back of Sydney's neck.



"Your skin tastes so nice," Sydney whispered in her ear as she continued to
tongue the flesh around it.  "I want to kiss every inch of it."



Another shudder from Laurie.  "I... I... don't know what to do," she said.



"You don't have to do anything," Sydney told her.  "The first time should be
special.  Just let me do all the work."



"Okay," she squeaked, giving another tremor as Sydney nipped at her neck.
She set her wine glass down on the table and let herself be taken away.



Sydney pushed her back into the couch and kissed her, letting her tongue
part her lips and slide just inside her mouth.  Laurie's tongue hesitated
for a second and then moved forward to meet it.  They danced together on a
film of saliva, swirling first the tips and then, as things heated up, the
entire organs.  They kissed for the better part of twenty minutes, Sydney
keeping her hands on the upper leg and the back of the neck, Laurie's hands
around Sydney's back, clutching her to her body.  Soon Laurie's pelvis was
rocking up and down beneath her, trying to grind against her.



"I'm so turned on right now," she panted, her face flushed, her eyes wide.
Her hands traveled up and down Sydney's back, scratching at her through her
shirt.



"Does your husband get you this hot by kissing?" Sydney asked her, attacking
her neck and ear again, lapping at the sweat that had formed their.



"I've never been this hot before," she grunted, letting her hands travel
down to Sydney's ass, which she felt experimentally through the coarse
material of her uniform pants.  "What are you doing to me?"



"I'm just doing you right," she answered, her hands sliding down to the
bottom of Laurie's shirt.  "Sit up."



She sat up and Sydney tugged upwards on her shirt, pulling it over her head
and off.  Her breasts were small, roughly the size and shape of avocados,
capped with large nipples that stood out proudly.  She had a scattering of
freckles arrayed between them and over the top of them.  Her skin was pale
there, with tan lines clearly evident.



"Beautiful," Sydney whispered to her, drinking in the sight.  "Absolutely
beautiful."



"My husband thinks they're too small," she said, her hand rubbing on
Sydney's arm now.



"They're just perfect," Sydney told her.  "I love them.  I want to put them
in my mouth."



With that, she leaned forward and applied her mouth to the top of the left
one, licking at the skin with her tongue.  She licked and sucked all around
it, avoiding the nipple until Laurie actually begged her to suck on it.
Finally she took it in her lips and suckled gently, as if she were drawing
milk from it.  Laurie's hands came to the back of her head, pulling her
closer and her hips began to rise and fall once more, grinding against
Sydney's leg.



She suckled the nipple until it was blood red and engorged in her mouth and
then she sucked and kissed her way across the chest to the other one.  She
was now very aroused herself, thrilled to be initiating this hot, married
women into the joys of lesbian love.  Her crotch was absolutely soaked,
almost as if she'd peed herself and she could feel her hard clit rubbing
pleasantly against her panties.  She restrained herself from grinding into
her partner, choosing instead to let the sensation build to a fury.



When the second nipple was as engorged as its partner, she kissed downward,
running her teasing mouth all along the underside of the breasts and onto
the stomach.  She nibbled and kissed the flesh, moving from point to point
and finally coming to the belly button, which she tongued out for more than
a minute.  Moving downward from there, she licked at the baby soft skin of
her lower tummy until she reached the waistband of her shorts.  She caught a
faint whiff of her lover's arousal at this point, the musk penetrating
through the cotton of her clothing, and she gave a little shudder of her
own.



She decided to tease a little bit more so she slid down to the floor, moving
her head past the shorts and onto the leg, near the knee.  Laurie gave a
little cry of protest that quieted when she re-attached her mouth to her
just above her left knee.  Her legs were now wide open, in as suggestive of
a pose as was possible.  Sydney started kissing her way upward,
concentrating on the inner thighs, alternating between the two legs as she
went.



When she reached the leg of her shorts she let her tongue dart beneath it
just for the briefest instance, catching a fleeting taste of the soft inner
thigh and making Laurie jump and shiver.  She then moved her mouth to the
other side and repeated the motion, with much the same result.  The scent of
Laurie's musk was stronger now, permeating out through the crotch of the
shorts.  Her pelvis was slowly moving up and down in a parody of thrusting.



Sydney reached up with her hands and unbuttoned the waistband of her shorts.
She then grasped the zipper and slowly, tooth by tooth, slid it down
revealing a pair of yellow panties.  When she grabbed the waist to pull on
them Laurie raised up enthusiastically to make the task easier.  With a
gentle pull she drew the shorts and the panties down to her legs.  Laurie
raised her legs into the air and brought them together so the clothing could
be taken off.  A second later, the shorts, with the panties still tucked
inside of them, were resting on the floor and Laurie was lying naked on the
couch, her legs spread to reveal her treasure.



Sydney actually moaned as she got her first look at her lover's sex.  Her
vaginal lips were ruby red and blood swollen with excitement, absolutely
saturated with her juices.  Her clitoris stood out aggressively, awaiting
the stimulation that would send her to orgasm.  Her pubic hair was only
slightly darker than the blonde of her head, trimmed neatly into a triangle
that would fit within a bikini.



"Oh lord I thank thee," Sydney breathed as she inhaled the scent of arousal
radiating from her.  It was a heavy, clean smell, dripping with exciting
pheromones.



"Do it," Laurie told her, her voice husky and pleading.  "Put your mouth on
me!"



She looked up at her, seeing the naked desire on her sweaty face.  "I may
never take it off," she said, lowering her head.



She reached out with the tip of her tongue and lapped between the swollen
lips, gathering the tangy juices, savoring them.  Laurie let out a cry of
delight at the contact and pushed her crotch upward, trying to increase the
pressure.



"Patience darling," Sydney told her, burrowing her nose a little just under
the clit.  "This is a feast that I'm going to savor."



"Ohhh," Laurie moaned, her hands going to the back of Sydney's head.



She went back to work, licking slowly and softly up and down, from the
bottom to the top, slowly increasing the pressure with each movement.  She
sucked on the lips, making them swell further, she licked the area between
the bottom of her slit and her ass, she burrowed her tongue inside, driving
it as deep as physically possible.  She did these things over and over
again, her tongue and lips moving expertly, sending pleasure throughout her
lover's body wherever they touched.  Gradually she worked her way up to the
turgid clitoris, circling around it with the tip of her tongue without
actually touching it.  This made Laurie pant uncontrollably and try to grind
her crotch against her lips.  Sydney didn't allow this, bringing her head up
each time to counter the motion.



As she ate her she slid her hands up and down her thighs, over her stomach,
up to her breasts, feeling every inch of wonderful female flesh that she
could reach.  She put her fingers in Laurie's mouth and she sucked on them
greedily, attacking them with her lips and tongue.  Finally, when her
lover's pelvis was mashing up and down spastically, she brought one hand
down and slowly slid two fingers into her tightness, angling them upwards so
they rubbed across the clitoral nerves.  At the same time she took the
clitoris into her mouth and began to suck on it.



"Ohhh!"  Laurie screamed.  "Ohhhh my... Ohhhh myyyyyy Godddddd!"



Her pelvic thrusts became stronger, less controlled.  Her hands on the back
of Sydney's head became more forceful, more demanding.  Her legs wrapped
around the back of her neck, the thighs squeezing tightly against her ears
and her cheeks.  Sydney increased the tempo of her sucking, pushed the
fingers in and out with more power.  And then, with just the tip of her
pinkie, she touched the bud of Laurie's anus, rubbing it.



"Ohhhhh Godddddd!"  Laurie panted.  "I'm commmmmingggg!"



"Mmmm," Sydney moaned, hardly able to breathe from the pressure on her head
but continuing to suck her lover through the powerful orgasm.



It lasted for well over a minute.  Finally her body relaxed on the couch and
her legs fell away to the side.  Her hands dropped limply to her side.
Sydney gave one last loving lick and then brought her head up.  Her face was
drenched in musky secretions.  She smiled as she saw the look of exalted
bliss on her lover's sweaty face.



"How was that?" she asked softly.



Laurie had to gather herself for a moment before she could answer.  "That
was... was..." she shook her head, a little bewildered.  "I've never come
that hard before in my life.  That was the most incredible...  the most...
oh God, what did you do to me?"



"Just what I do best," she said, standing up.  In a quick motion, she pulled
off the T-shirt and the sports bra beneath it, baring her own grapefruit
sized breasts.  Before the shirt even hit the floor, her fingers were
unbuckling her belt.



Laurie watched her, her nervousness coming back to her face.  She gave her
lip another chew and brushed her sweaty hair out of her eyes.  She did not
look like she was too enthusiastic about returning the favor that had just
been done for her.



Sydney picked up on this quite easily - it was a common thing with
initiating the bi-curious.  They liked to receive but not give.  "It's
okay," she told her soothingly, continuing to unfasten her pants.  "You
don't have to do that for me."



"I've just... never done it before and... I... well... uh..."



"It's okay," she repeated, letting the pants drop, revealing her toned and
muscled legs.  She stepped out of them.  "All you have to do is kiss me."



"Kiss you?"



She pushed her panties down, baring her own neatly trimmed black bush.  Her
pubic hair was soaked from the hour's worth of secretions that had leaked
into it.  Her clit was nearly as large as a pencil eraser, so swollen that
it was almost painful.  "Just kiss me," she said, kicking the panties free
with her foot.



She eased back down, positioning herself over the top of Laurie, lying atop
her like a man.  She felt her breasts rubbing against the other woman's
smaller ones, the nipples making brief contact with each other.  Her pelvis
fell between Laurie's legs, which were still spread suggestively.  She put
her hands to the sides of her face and brought her lips down.  "Kiss me,"
she whispered, her tongue flitting out.



Laurie put her arms around her back and kissed her, darting her tongue into
her mouth, not withdrawing in the least from the taste of her own juices.
Sydney mashed her lips against her, plunging her tongue deeply into Laurie's
mouth in return.  She ground her crotch between her legs, twisting and
turning until her aching clit was sliding through her wet vaginal lips.  She
began to grind herself up and down, back and forth, rubbing herself on the
other woman's pussy.  "Mmmm," she moaned, feeling the sensations of pleasure
radiating through her, feeling their juices intermingle, their pubic hair
intertwine.  She fucked her almost like a man, desperately trying to relieve
the congestion in her nether regions.



The act, blissful as it was for Sydney, was not without a fair degree of
pleasurable sensations for Laurie as well.  It was only a matter of seconds
before her arms were around Sydney's back, pulling her tighter, before her
tongue was thrusting with as much force and power as it was being given,
before her pelvis was once more thrusting upward, grinding into her lover
and trying to enhance the sensations.



Sydney broke the kiss for a moment.  "Spread your legs wide," she commanded.
"All the way open."



"Like this?" Laurie groaned, pulling them backwards, opening her crotch
obscenely.



"Yes, oh yes," Sydney said, attacking her mouth again and grinding harder
into her.  She began to make circles with her pelvis, her clit rubbing
frantically.



She only lasted a minute before the orgasm slammed into her, waves of pure
pleasure exploding throughout her body.  They had their way with her,
twisting her this way and that and finally, reluctantly departed, leaving
her a limp, sweating mass.  She buried her face in Laurie's neck, kissing it
lightly and smelling the scent of her skin and her perspiration.  Finally
she raised up, looking into her face.  "Thank you," she said, giving her a
peck on the lips.



"That was some kiss," Laurie breathed, her hands still stroking over
Sydney's bare back.



Sydney smiled contentedly.  "I aim to please," she said, her finger coming
up to play with a lock of her hair.



"And you did," she said.  "I never knew that... you know... making love
could feel like that.  That was absolutely the best sex that I've ever had."



Sydney kissed her again, a little longer this time, with just a hint of
tongue.  "You make it sound like I'm finished," she said.



"Finished?  But... I thought... you mean you're not?"



"You've only come one time dear," she said sweetly, nuzzling her neck.
"There are lots more orgasms in you, just waiting to come out."



Her eyes widened, fear and arousal showing in them.  "But..."



"Shhh," Sydney hushed her.  "Don't talk.  Just lie back and enjoy round
two."  With that, she began kissing her way down Laurie's body again.  Soon
her tongue was back between those slippery lips.

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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