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Message-ID: <39048asstr$1036109403@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "Al Steiner" <steiner_al@hotmail.com>
Subject: {ASSM} NEW:The Missing Mail by Al Steiner (FF,MF) 2/2
Date: Thu, 31 Oct 2002 19:10:03 -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.




THE MISSING MAIL

By Al Steiner

Part 2 of 2







Sydney looked more than a little tired as they checked out their ambulance
the next morning.  Her eyes were bleary and bloodshot and it looked as if
she were having trouble keeping them open.  Still, despite the obvious
fatigue, she seemed to be in a good mood, more than a good mood actually, a
fantastic mood.



"I'm guessing you got down and stinky last night," Jim commented as he
listened to her hum Glory Glory Hallelujah under her breath.



"Did I ever tell you how great married women are?" she asked with a sigh.
"They're truly the best on earth for recreational purposes.  You lay them,
they're grateful, and then you can just go away without repercussions.
What's not to love about them?"



"So you recreated then?"



"Oh I recreated," she told him.  "I recreated until damn near midnight.  She
was a quivering mess on the bed when I left her.  You would've been proud of
me."



"I am proud of you," he said, a small hint of jealousy in his voice.  "So
give me the details.  Was she a real blonde?  Did she munch you back?  Tell
me how it went down.  You know I love hearing about your sex life."



She told the tale as they inventoried their supplies and checked their
equipment, her voice soft to avoid having someone overhear but her words
quite graphic.  Jim listened intently, as he always did when she told of her
exploits.



"So she never ate your box for you huh?" he said.  "That's too bad.  At
least she used her vibrator on you though."



"You take what you can get with the bi-curious," Sydney said.  "And maybe
next time she'll get down and dirty.  It takes a while to work up to that
when you're a woman you know.  I didn't do it the first three times I slept
with a woman."



"Next time?  You're gonna do her again?"



She shrugged.  "I left her my number.  Told her that if she ever wanted to
get together again, just give me a call.  It'll take her a few days to
figure out how she feels about it.  I'd say I have about a fifty-fifty shot
of getting some more action out of her.  Those are betting odds."



"True," Jim said.  "What if she decides to leave her husband for you or
something like that?  Does that ever happen?"



"Usually not with the married ones.  Even if they decide that they're a
lesbo after all, they won't dump their husband and change their whole
lifestyle for it.  No one wants to willingly make themselves part of a
minority if they don't have to.  Usually they'll just carry on discrete
affairs on the side.  That's where chicks like me come in."



"You provide a service," Jim said.



"Yeah," she responded, laughing a little.  "That's what we do.  We provide a
valuable community service."



They finished the checkout a few minutes later and hit the streets, their
first assignment to post in Lemon Hill.  Jim took the wheel in deference to
Sydney's fatigue.  As they slowly made their way through the morning traffic
Sydney brought up the subject of Jan Sanders.



"She's working Medic 11 today," she told him.  "They're on until seven
tonight.  Let's try to hook up with her if we can.  She wants your bod."



"I'll give it a shot," he promised.  Now that he had had a night to think
over the matter of Jan, he'd decided that he kind of liked the idea of
nailing her.  It would be fun to play with those large breasts of hers.  And
that jiggling body probably wouldn't be unpleasant to sink into either.
"But I also have to get to a phone for a little bit today too.  I need to
call the post office and see what's up with my mail."



"Still no mail huh?"



"No.  I paid off my daycare bill last night but I'm still missing a couple
of credit card bills and my phone bill.  And my electricity bill should've
been there yesterday at the latest.  Something has to be going on.  Those
morons are probably routing my shit to the wrong place."



"This is the government you're talking about here," Sydney told him with
mock sternness.  "They don't ever screw anything up.  Look how well they
handled that Enron thing."



"Yeah, and how about that last presidential election.  That was a piece of
work too, wasn't it?"



They arrived at their posting location ten minutes later and Jim parked them
in the back of a convenience store parking lot at one of the busier
intersections.  They went inside and grabbed a cup of coffee for each of
them and a copy of The Heritage Register, the daily newspaper.  The clerk
did not charge them for these acquisitions since it encouraged the
ambulances to park in his parking lot which discouraged robbers from picking
that particular establishment to hit.  It was a shining example of a
symbiotic relationship.



Their first call came just as they were finishing up the java and thinking
about going in to use the store's bathroom.  It was at a nearby apartment
complex for shortness of breath and chest pain.



The fire crew was already on scene when they arrived in the upstairs
apartment near the back of the complex.  They did not look as if they were
terribly impressed by the medical emergency they had been dispatched to.
The apartment was a one bedroom with a small living room that was strewn
with dirty laundry, old food containers, empty beer cans, and overflowing
ashtrays.  The smell in the room was of stale cigarette smoke and old sweat.
The patient was a man in his early twenties.  He was sitting on the couch,
talking to the firefighter of the crew.  Shirtless, his hair oily and
tattered, he did not seem to be in any sort of distress whatsoever.



"This is Matt," the captain explained sourly.  "It seems he's been coughing
for about three days now and his sinuses are plugged up."



"You mean he has a cold?" Jim said, glancing at the man, who was asking the
firefighter if it was okay if he had a cigarette before they went.



"Pretty much," the captain agreed.  "The chest pain happens when he coughs.
The shortness of breath is because he can't breathe through his nose."



"I see," Jim said, sighing a little.  Another bullshit call.  He went over
to Matt and asked him a few questions, confirming what the captain had just
told him.  He then asked a few more.  "You been coughing anything up?"



"Naw," Matt said, shaking his head.  "Just dry an' shit."



"Dry and shit," Jim said.  "Got it.  And have you had a fever or any
wheezing?"



"Naw, just a runny nose.  So can I have this smoke before we go or what?"



"You ever had a cold before Matt?"



"A couple times.  This is different though.  Something's wrong."



"Right," Jim said, resisting the urge to roll his eyes.  "So what would you
like us to do for you?"



"Take me to the hospital an' shit," he said.  "I got Medi-Cal."



"And what do you think the hospital's going to do for you?" Sydney asked.



"They'll gimmee some pills or some shit like that.  Let me just grab a smoke
before we go, okay?"



They ended up taking him to VMC.  They had no choice.  When a person asked
to go to the hospital, they had to take them, no matter what their complaint
was.  They did not let him smoke first however, which served to put him in a
foul mood during the ten-minute trip.



It was as they were backing in to the ambulance bay that Sydney called back
to Jim, "Hey, guess who's here?"



"Who's that?"



"Your new friend.  They must've brought a patient here too."



"Cool," he said, his irritation at his so-called patient evaporating a
little.  At least there would something to salvage from the call.



But alas, it was not to be.  As they pulled the gurney with the
still-whining Matt on it from the back of the ambulance, Jan and her partner
came out the ambulance bay doors, heading for their rig.  There was time for
one quick "hello" and a smile that might have been flirtatious before they
were gone.  Jim watched in dejection as they climbed in the rig and pulled
away.



"Damn," he muttered under his breath.



"So," Matt said, patting his shirt pocket, "can I like have that smoke now
before we go in?"







+++++





They stayed at the hospital for a considerable amount of time above and
beyond the twenty-five minutes they were allotted by company regulations.
Though this risked a written warning by the supervisor, it did allow Jim to
make his phone call to the post office to try to figure out what was going
on with his mail.  Actually it was three different phone calls and more than
twenty minutes on hold listening to instrumental versions of 1970s pop songs
before someone was able to actually look him up in a computer.  He came
storming out to the ambulance bay shortly after, his face red with anger.



"What's up?" Sydney asked him.  "Did they tell you what the problem was?"



"Well, yes and no," he replied.



"Yes and no?"



"They told me that the reason I'm not getting any mail is because it has
been forwarded somewhere else."



"Forwarded?" she said.  "You mean, like, they're sending it to some other
address?"



"That's what I mean," he confirmed.  "Someone put in forwarding paperwork
telling them to deliver everything somewhere else."



"Where are they sending it?" she asked.



"They won't tell me.  They say they can't verify who I am on the phone so
they won't give out any personal information.  Can you believe that shit?
They let someone fill out a form, drop it in a mailbox somewhere, and divert
away all of my mail, but they won't tell me on the phone where it went or
let me take the forward off.  I have to go to an actual post office and
appear in person for that."



"That's unbelievable.  Who did this?  Your ex?"



He nodded slowly.  "She's on the top of my suspect list," he confirmed.
"Every time something strange happens in my life, she's usually behind it
one way or another.  Let's shut off and try to hit a post office near where
they post us."



"Right."



They were told to post in Lemon Hill once again.  Fortunately there was a
neighborhood post office less than a mile from the location that they had
been directed to.  Sydney drove them there, Jim continuing to rant about
incompetent governments and sleazy ex-wives the entire trip.



The post office was just off the main street, a single story brick building
with the American flag flying out front and little blue and white vans
stored in the back.  The parking lot was so full of cars that Sydney had to
park in a strip mall next door.  When Jim got inside he found two clerks on
duty and a line of people that stretched almost out the door.  With a sigh,
he took his place in the back and began waiting for it to be his turn.



Thirty-three minutes later, when he was next in line to talk to a clerk, the
portable radio that he carried spewed out his unit number, informing him
that he had a call.



"Fuck," he muttered angrily, the word coming out of his mouth with enough
volume for several people to overhear it.  He stormed out the door and
trotted back to the ambulance, his mission incomplete.  His mood was not
improved when he read the nature of the call that had interrupted him.
"Painful urination?" he nearly screamed.  "You have got to be fucking
kidding me!  We're going code three, with lights and sirens, for some bitch
with a urinary tract infection?"



"She could be dying," Sydney said soothingly as she pulled out onto the
street and flipped on the lights and sirens.



They arrived seven minutes later at a small house in the rental and chain
link section of Lemon Hill.  The fire engine was idling out front while a
few small, dirty looking children gawked at it.  They wheeled their gurney
and equipment up the cracked walkway, past an abandoned couch that sat on
the lawn, and around several piles of dog feces before making it to the
porch.  Inside of the house - which was actually quite clean compared to
most that they saw - they found the fire crew standing around, not a woman
with a UTI, but a sweating, miserable looking man in his early forties.  He
was shirtless, a large beer belly bulging over his sweat shorts.  He was
holding an ice pack against his crotch.



"This is Steve," the captain reported to Jim.  "He says it's been hurting
really bad when he pees for the last couple of days but that it got a lot
worse a few hours ago.  He says there's a little bit of blood in the urine
now too."



"Really?" Jim said, raising his eyebrows a tad, already with a pretty good
idea of what was going on.  He walked over so that he was standing in front
of the patient.  "How you doin' Steve?"



"Not so good," he replied, wiping a sheen of sweat from his forehead.  "This
really hurts."



"Does it now?  You say it's been going on for a couple of days?"



"Yep, but its really getting bad today."



"You been running a fever too?"



"I think so," he said.  "I haven't actually taken it or anything."



"Any discharge or anything else coming out of your penis?"



He nodded.  "A little bit of blood in the piss and there's some white stuff
that kind of oozes out.  What do you think is wrong with me?"



"Well, I'm not a doctor, but it kind of sounds like you have a STD."



"A what?"



"A sexually transmitted disease," Jim translated.  "You know, gonorrhea?
The clap?"



Steve shook his head vehemently.  "That's impossible," he said firmly.  "I'm
a married man.  I haven't been fooling around.  It has to be something
else."



Jim shrugged.  "Well in any case, it's something that you're gonna have to
get looked at.  Do you have a private doctor that you can call?"



"No.  Can't you just take me to the hospital?  This hurts!"



"I could do that," Jim agreed.  "I was just trying to see if you had some
alternate means of getting there."



"I don't think I could drive right now.  You'd better take me in."



"Sure," Jim grunted.  "Let's get you to the gurney."



They loaded him up and put him in the back of the ambulance.  Jim climbed in
after him.  He did nothing for the man since there was nothing to be done.
What Steve needed was a big shot of penicillin and a prescription for
Peridium.  He spent the trip filling out the patient care report and
gathering billing information.



About halfway to VMC Steve looked up at him.  "My wife's sister has been
staying with us," he said hesitantly.



"Oh yeah?" Jim grunted, not moving his eyes from his paperwork.



"Yeah," he said.  "She kind of... gets around if you know what I mean.  And
she... uh... told me that she's been having... discharge lately.  From
her... from her vagina."



"Really?"



"Yeah.  And we use the same bathroom.  Do you think that maybe I could've
got this... you know, from the toilet seat or something?"



Jim looked at him pointedly.  "Did you have sex with her on the toilet
seat?" he asked.



"No!" the man yelled.  "I told you, I don't fool around!"



"Well you couldn't have got it from there then," Jim informed him.  He went
back to his paperwork and had most of it finished by the time they backed
into the VMC ambulance bay once again.



While the doctor was informing Steve that either he or his wife had some
serious explaining to do, Jim hurriedly finished up the paperwork and left a
copy of it with Steve's chart.  He made it out the door just as Sydney was
completing the task of putting the back of the ambulance back together.
They spent a few minutes making crude jokes and remarks at their patient's
expense - this was somewhat of a tradition in emergency medicine - and then
Sydney announced that she had to go to the bathroom before they left.



"Can't forget the Golden Rule of EMS," she said as she headed inside.
"Never pass a bathroom without peeing in it."



"That's right," Jim agreed.  "You never know when you might end up on a SWAT
team stand-by or something."



While he was waiting for her to come back, another ambulance backed in, this
one belonging to Jan and her partner.  The back doors flew open and Jan
hopped out, a look of disgust on her face.  "Come on out of there," she told
her patient.  "Let's get you inside before you die, okay?"



A middle aged, very overweight woman climbed out after her.  She was wearing
a filthy white T-shirt that was stained with a few drops of blood and a pair
of yellow shorts that were about two sizes two small for her extra-wide
butt.  Her volleyball sized breasts jiggled alarmingly beneath her shirt at
about stomach level.  She was holding a piece of gauze against one of her
fingers.



"Why don't you just go ahead and walk down to the waiting room there," Jan
told her, pointing to the public entrance thirty feet away.  "I'm gonna go
in and tell the triage nurse about your finger."



"I gotta go to the waitin' room?" the woman asked, outraged at this.  "I
thought if I came in the ambulance they had to take me in right away!"



"You thought wrong hon," Jan said.  "Go ahead and go down there now.
They'll see you when they get around to it."



The woman stormed off, ranting under her breath about heartless ambulance
drivers.  She nearly ripped open the main door when she reached it.



"Another life saved huh?" Jim said when she was gone.



"Stupid bitch," Jan said, shaking her head.  "She cuts her fucking finger
while she's opening a can of cat food and demands to go in the ambulance
because she's afraid she lost too much blood to take the bus.  The cut's not
even big enough to put stitches in.  I'm so tired of these bullshit calls."



"Unfortunately, they never go away," Jim advised.  "I've figured out over
the years that the ratio is about one legitimate call for every five
bullshit calls."



She nodded thoughtfully, her mind going back over her nine months of field
experience.  "That sounds about right," she concluded.



"Of course the ratio goes up on the night shift," he qualified.  "After
10:00 at night it's more like ten to one.  It can get as high as twenty to
one around Mother's Day."



"Mother's Day?" she asked, puzzled.  "What does that have to do with it?"



"Not Mother's Day in May," he told her, "Mother's Day at the first of each
month.  You know?  When the welfare checks come out?"



"Oh!" she said, giggling a little at the reference.  "Mother's Day.  I get
it."



"If you want to be successful in this business," he told her, "you'd better
learn all the slang terms.  You gotta be able to communicate to be effective
you know."



Her eyes twinkled at his words.  "Maybe you could give me a lesson
sometime," she said.  "I heard you're quite good at that one on one stuff."



"Maybe I could," he said, returning her gaze.



She actually blushed a little, something he wouldn't have thought her
capable of based on her reputation.  "Well," she said, "I guess I'd better
go give report to triage before she passes out in there or something.  See
ya later."  She turned to head to the ambulance entrance.



"Later," he hailed, watching her jiggle as she departed and imagining the
possibilities.  Yes, he could definitely enjoy getting into some of that.
And it seemed like she might enjoy letting him in there.





+++++





Two calls later, as it was approaching 2:00 PM, Jim finally made it through
the line at the post office and up to the service window.  The clerk was a
fortyish woman who had the thousand-yard stare of the career customer
service employee.  She looked at him and saw no one as he walked up.  "Help
ya?" she asked him.



He explained his predicament to her and her face never changed expression.



"Well that certainly sounds like a problem," she remarked when he was done.



"You think?" said Jim, who was quite testy by now.  "So how about we figure
out where my mail is being sent and work on getting it sent back to me?"



"I'll need to see some identification," she told him.



They used his driver's license and paramedic license card to establish that
he was in fact Jim Michael Hartman of 2818 Big Oak Drive, apartment 237.
Once that was done she accessed her computer terminal and punched in his
address.



"According to this," she said, reading from the screen, "your mail is now
being forwarded to a post office box."



"A post office box?  I never rented a post office box.  Where is it?"



She looked doubtful.  "I'm not sure I can tell you that.  That might be
considered confidential information."



"Confidential information?" he said, his voice raising an octave.  "It's my
freaking mail.  I think I have the right to know where it's being sent."



"I'd better check with my supervisor about that," she said.  "Wait here a
second."



"Could you make it quick?" he asked.  "I could get a call at any second and
have to leave and I don't want to have to wait in this stupid line again."



Quick turned out to be almost five minutes.  Fortunately the Gods-that-be
did not pick that time to send Medic 8 a call.  She came back with a
middle-aged man in a cheap suit trailing behind her.  He was then forced to
explain the entire story a second time.



"Well that certainly seems to be a problem," the supervisor said
thoughtfully.



"So I've heard," Jim said.  "So how about telling me where my mail is going
now, huh?"



He seemed doubtful about this as well but finally agreed that maybe Jim did
have a right to know.  "It's going to PO Box 334 in Lemon Hill," he said.



"Uh huh," he said, "and just where might that particular PO Box be located."



"Well I don't know off the top of my head," he said.  "I'd have to look it
up on the computer."



Jim bit his lip a little, his hands clenching briefly and then releasing.
"You seem to have a computer right in front of you," he said.



With a sigh he went about punching things in until the information was
displayed for him.  "That box is in a Mail Mania franchise store at 4400
Butane Avenue," he finally told him.



"I see," Jim said, getting all the confirmation that he needed as to who the
culprit behind this was.  As an eight-year paramedic he had a very good
knowledge of the Heritage metropolitan area.  As such he knew that that
address was in North Heritage, just outside the city limits, less than two
blocks from the skuzzy trailer park where his ex-wife Debbie lived with her
mother.



"Do you know anyone who lives near there?" the supervisor asked.  "When
things like this happen, we've found that it is usually someone that the
victim knows who..."



"Oh I know someone over there all right," he said.  "Can you take the
forward off so my mail comes back to my house now?"



He punched a few keys.  "Done," he said.



"Very good.  Now who do I talk to about pressing charges against this
person?  This is against the law, right?"



"Oh yes," he said.  "It's tampering with the mail and mail theft.  It's a
federal offense.  That's in addition to any state charges they might have
incurred by misuse of the information that they gained."



"Good, so who do I talk to?"



"Well, I'll pass the information onto the postal inspector's office.
They'll take a phone report from you in a week or so."



"A phone report?" he asked.  "A week or so?"



"Well, they're really very busy working on mail scams and things like that,"
the supervisor said.  "This wouldn't exactly be a high priority case."



"I see," he said slowly, not terribly surprised.  He had had dealings with
the state justice system on several occasions in the past in regard to
Debbie's scams.  Never had he achieved anything that could be termed
satisfaction from it.  And now, it appeared that the federal system was just
as inept.  "Well, set it up then," he told the supervisor, knowing that
complaining and bitching would do no good.  You took what you could get in
this world.  At least the underlying problem was solved.



"Let me get the form," the supervisor said.  "And in the meantime, I'd
suggest you examine any credit card accounts that this person might have
accessed.  That is usually why a person commits such a crime you know."



"Thanks," he said sourly, already suspecting what he was going to find.



+++++





He used the payphone outside the post office and called the 800 number on
the back of his Visa card, the one credit card account that he had opened
since the divorce.  It had a $3500 limit on it and he only used it for
extreme emergencies such as unexpected car repairs and things like that.  He
always paid it off as soon as he could and he knew for a fact that his last
balance had been a nice, easy to absorb, 0 dollars.  He also knew that the
monthly statement was one of the pieces of mail that should have arrived
during the period his mail was being diverted.  He skipped through the
automated options on the phone menu and went directly to an operator.  After
only ten minutes on hold he was able to explain what he needed and get the
information back.



"So what're the damages?" Sydney asked when he finally climbed back in the
rig.



"Thirty-three hundred dollars worth of charges in the last four days," he
told her.  "She hit up six different electronic stores, a couple of gas
stations, and three grocery stores."



"Jesus," Sydney said, appalled at how easy it was for a crank addict to get
into someone else's account.  "What about the other cards?  The ones that
you're already paying off from the marriage?"



"Those have all been closed so there's no way she can reopen them in my
name.  Nope, she found a way to get at the one card that I have that she
didn't know the number to.  You gotta hand it to her, she's a smart little
piece of skank."



"So what happens now?" Sydney wanted to know.  "You're not responsible for
all those charges are you?"



"No," he said.  "It's more of an inconvenience than anything else.  The card
has been cancelled and reported stolen.  I need to make a police report and
when the credit card people get a copy of it they'll credit back my account
and issue me a new card and a new number.  This part I've been through
before."



"And what will the cops do to her?"



"Not a goddamn thing.  They'll stuff the report into the pending files of
some computer somewhere and it'll rot there while the fraud detectives chase
after insurance fraud criminals and all of those other people who dare to
steal from a rich-ass corporation instead of a person.  She'll never be
arrested for it in my lifetime."



"That's a bitch," Sydney commiserated.  "You ever thought of just killing
her?"



"Can't afford the hit man or otherwise I would, believe me," he said.  "Oh
well, at least this particular crisis is over.  Now I can go back to
standing by and waiting for the next scam she pulls on me."



"You sure know how to pick 'em," she told him sympathetically.  "If I ever
find myself considering a romantic entanglement with a reformed crank
addict, I'll think of you and stop myself."



"Right," he said, settling into his seat as they pulled out of the parking
lot.  "Reforms don't always last forever.  Remember that if nothing else."





+++++







The rest of the shift was fairly uneventful, filled with fairly routine
calls - at least as far as the word routine applied in such a business.
They transported a man having chest pain to St. Vincent's, a woman who had
been having abdominal pain for three days to VMC, and a 2 month old baby
with an ear infection to Winton Memorial.  Jim did not run into Medic 11 and
Jan again.  Since that particular unit ended its shift at 7:00 PM, fully an
hour before Medic 8, he had no reason to think that he would see her again
until the next time she worked.



But when they parked their rig in the deployment center at 7:45 that evening
to turn it over to the night crew, there was Jan, hanging out near the
supply room, chatting with some of the night shift crew members.  She had
taken off her uniform shirt and her large breasts were now prominently
displayed in a dark blue T-shirt that was perhaps a size tighter than it
really should have been.  She smiled flirtatiously when she saw him.



He returned the smile, knowing somehow that she had waited around after her
shift so she could talk to him.  He felt the warm glow of a connection being
made within him.  She walked over as he stepped out of the cab.



"Hey Jim," she said, a small hint of shyness in her voice.  "How was the
shift?"



"Informational," he said, thinking of the revelations about his mail
service.  "What are you still doing here?  Can't get enough of this place?"



"Oh... I was just hangin' out," she told him.  "I was thinking about going
to get a drink or something.  You want to go over to the Lexington Club with
me?  My treat."



The Lexington Club was a nearby bar that was favored by off-duty EMTs and
paramedics in the mood for a little alcoholic therapy after work (which was
to say that it was favored by most of them).  It was located in a strip mall
adjacent to a liquor store, a convenience store, and a porno shop and was
populated by just about every dreg of Lemon Hill society.  The WLS employees
seemed to fit in there pretty well.  Jim, who had once been a fairly regular
attendee at after work drinking sessions, had not been there since his
marriage ended.  Nor could he go there now, as much as he wanted to.  "I
can't," he told Jan apologetically.  "I have to go get my daughter from day
care and get her in bed for school tomorrow."



"Oh," she said, frowning a little.  "That's too bad.  It must be hard being
a single father, huh?"



"It can be," he admitted with a shrug.  "It does cut into my social life
quite a bit.  All and all it's worth it though.  I wouldn't trade it for
anything."



She beamed at his words.  "That's so sweet," she said.  "I bet you're a
really good daddy."



"I've never had any complaints."



"That's what I've heard," she said, smirking a little.  She took a deep
breath, as if considering something.  Finally, she said, "You know, I could
really use that drink and I'm not really in the mood to hang out with the
regular crowd over there."



"No?" he asked.



"No," she said, shaking her head.  "The same old people, the same old thing,
you know what I mean?  Maybe you and I could still have that drink together
though.  I could go pick up something at the liquor store while you're
picking up your daughter and then meet you at your place."



Jim was a little taken aback by her forwardness, though not in a negative
sense.  He hesitated for just a second, more out of surprise than anything
else, and then nodded.  "That... uh... sounds like a good idea.  Let me give
you my address."





+++++





She showed up at ten minutes after nine, about a half an hour after Brooke
had been put to bed.  Jim was pretty sure that the timing had been
intentional, that she had known that he would not be too keen on having to
explain the presence of a woman in his apartment to his daughter.  He was
grateful for her discretion as he let her in the door.



"I got us some wine coolers," she said, holding up a four-pack of glass
bottles.



"Looks good," he told her, although he really didn't like wine coolers all
that much.  He showed her to the couch and invited her to sit while he took
the wine coolers into the kitchen and put them into the refrigerator.  He
took two of them out and went back, sitting down next to her and handing her
one.



"Thanks," she said, popping it open and taking a drink.  She looked around
at his apartment approvingly, not knowing that he had just been frantically
running around trying to turn it from the messy-bachelor-and-young-daughter
state into something that you would invite a woman into.  He had thrown
laundry into closets, toys behind the couch, books into the oven, and run
the vacuum over the floor in record time.  Now, everything appeared to be in
place and soft music was issuing from the speakers on his cheap stereo
system.  "I like what you've done with the place."



He took a drink of his cooler, fighting back a wince at the cloying
sweetness of the liquid.  "I'm not much of an interior decorator," he told
her, "but when you don't have much, you don't have much to screw up."



"That's true," she said.  "All the same, you did a good job.  If you'd have
done much better I would've wondered if you were gay."



They laughed at her joke and Jim took another drink, pouring it as far to
the back of his throat as he could to avoid having it contact his taste
buds.



They settled in and talked of work for a few minutes - as paramedics tended
to do when they got together - including a long stretch of complaining about
their management, which was always a favorite topic.  From there they worked
their way to discussion about the valley weather, which Jan was experiencing
for the first time in her life.



"I can't believe how friggin' hot it gets here," she complained.  "When I
lived in the bay area we thought it was unbearable when it got above 85
degrees.  It was a hundred and fucking five today!"



"You gotta love Heritage in the summer, huh?  I've lived here all my life
and I've never gotten used to it.  At least on my days off I can take Brooke
down to the apartment pool and cool off a little."



"Yeah," she said, "there's a pool over at my apartment complex too.  I don't
spend a lot of time down there though.  I don't like to swim all that much
and it's too hot to lay in the sun and get a tan.  I'd rather just sit in my
apartment and soak up the air conditioning."  She sighed a little.  "I feel
so grungy at the end of the work day.  Look at my shirt."  She pulled it out
from her chest a little, giving him a brief flash of the top of her
impressive cleavage.  "It's still wet from all the sweating."



"Yeah," he said, "mine too.  I haven't had a chance to take a shower yet.
That's usually the first thing I do when I get home; put my clothes in a
biohazard bag and then get rinsed off."



Her eyes lit up a little as she heard this.  "Well don't let me stop you,"
she said.  "If you want to get cleaned up and changed into something more
comfortable, go ahead.  I'll wait for you."



"Thanks, but..."



"Of course I'll still be all sweaty," she interrupted, her face taking on a
sultry expression.  "That's not really fair.  Maybe I could hop in the
shower with you."



Jim looked at her for a moment, wondering if she was just being flirtatious
or if she was actually serious.  Was she really asking him to get naked with
her and step into a shower?  Was anyone really that forward?  She certainly
didn't seem to be joking with him.  Her brown eyes stared back at him, a
hint of challenge showing in them.  He felt a little stirring in his pants.
"That uh... sounds like a good idea," he finally managed to say.  "I
wouldn't want you to sit there all sweaty."



"And it saves water too," she said, her hand dropping to his leg and giving
a little squeeze.  "Where's the bathroom?"



He led the way, taking her to the small bathroom adjacent to the main
bedroom.  Fortunately he had cleaned up in here as well during his frantic
pre-arrival blitz and there was no laundry or soap scum on the sink.  He had
even gone so far as to give the toilet a brief scrubbing and put a fresh
cleanser tablet in the tank.  He did however have to move a few of Brooke's
bath toys out of the bottom of the shower/tub combo first.



"Nice ducky," Jan told him as he bent over to pick up the last of these
toys.  She slid her hand softly over the cheeks of his ass as she said this.



He gave the yellow toy a squeeze, producing the signature sound from it.
"What home would be complete without one?" he asked.



He turned on the water, quickly adjusting the temperature to lukewarm and
then diverting it through the showerhead.  He then turned around to see Jan
standing right in front of him.  She smiled, reaching for the bottom of her
T-shirt.  "I guess its time to put up or shut up, huh?"



"I guess so," he replied, feeling the stiffness in his cock increase a few
notches.



She pulled the shirt over her head, continuing to look him in the eye as she
did so.  Her huge mammaries were contained in a white bra that had enough
underwire to lift a small car.  They bulged invitingly from around the cups,
the skin pale in contrast to the rest of her.  The shoulder straps bit
tightly into her shoulders from the strain of holding them up.  She turned
around slowly, presenting her back to him.  "Can you get the clasp for me?"



"Sure," he said, his tone casual, as if she were asking him to pull a piece
of lint from her shirt or to open a door for her.  His hands betrayed him a
little however.  When he reached forward they trembled ever so slightly.  He
inserted his fingers beneath the strap and, after a moment's fumbling, was
able to release the hooks.  The brassiere loosened and she slid it slowly
off.



She turned around again, facing him.  Her breasts, now that they were free
of their binding, sagged down a little but not enough to detract from the
sheer magnitude of them.  They were truly immense, seemingly with their own
gravitational field.  The aureoles were bigger than silver dollars, the
color of coffee with heavy cream.  The nipples were half an inch in
diameter, dark brown, and standing erect.  She cupped them playfully.



"I've thought about getting the reduction surgery," she told him.  "They're
really too big.  They hurt my back and my shoulders constantly.  They do get
me a lot of attention though."



"They've certainly got my attention," he said, his cock now completely hard
in his pants as he stared at the appetizing sight.



"I can see that," she said, glancing at the bulge in his pants.  She reached
for her belt, undoing it and letting her pants drop.  Her legs were thick,
though not unattractive.  Her panties were blue spandex that clung to her
crotch like a second skin.  Jim could clearly see the outline of her vaginal
lips.  Slowly she put her fingers in the waistband and pushed them down,
baring her thick black pubic bush.  She stepped out of them and then looked
at him questioningly.  "Do you plan to get in the shower with your clothes
on?" she asked him.



"Uh... no," he said.  "Sorry, I was just uh... enjoying the view."



"Now it's my turn for the view," she told him.  "Let's see some skin baby."



He showed her some skin, pulling his T-shirt off in one quick motion and
then dropping his pants and underwear in one swoop.  His cock was turgid in
anticipation, sticking out before him like a divining rod.  She looked at it
appreciatively.



"Is that because of me?" she asked innocently.



"I think that might be," he confirmed, reaching for her.



She darted around him and pulled the shower curtain back, stepping inside.
"Let's get clean," she said, "and then we'll get dirty."



He climbed in after her and she handed him a bar of soap and a washrag.  "Do
my back for me," she asked.



He soaped up the rag until it was foaming and then ran it over the skin of
her shoulder blades, watching as rivulets of soap and water cascaded down
her back to her buttocks.  He began to make circles, starting at the bottom
of her neck and working his way lower and lower, until he was edging onto
the tops of her ass cheeks.  He then washed up her sides, her fingertips
making occasional, brief contact with the sides of her jiggling breasts.



"Can you do the whole back?" she asked him.



"I aim to please," he assured her, dropping to his knees and putting the rag
to her butt.  He scrubbed up down each cheek, feeling the firm flesh beneath
his fingers, sliding them over the slippery softness.  He ran the rag
between them, catching the quickest glimpse of her anus on the downstroke.



"That feels good," she cooed.  "You give good showers.  Now, can you do the
front?"



He stood up and she turned around, facing him with her wet body.  He rubbed
more soap on the rag and then applied it to her shoulders, scrubbing them
clean and then running the rag under her arms and finally, over the top of
her breasts.  Her nipples hardened even more as he ran the rag between her
tits and felt the massive flesh pushing in on his hands from both sides.
Unable to help himself any more, he leaned forward and captured on in his
mouth, sucking on it, tasting soap residue and warm water and hot nipple.



"Mmmm," she moaned, her leg sliding up his thigh and making contact with his
erection.  "I love having my boobs sucked."



He didn't answer her, just kept suckling, his hand running the washrag over
the other one, her groin pushing back against her slippery thigh.  After a
minute or so, he switched his mouth to the other one while he took the rag
and began washing her stomach.  When she was nice and clean here he dropped
back to his knees, so that her crotch was almost directly in his face.  He
ran the rag slowly through her pubic hair and she opened her stance,
allowing him to go further.



Go further he did.  He gave a few quick scrubs between her legs and then
dropped the rag to the floor.  After giving the water a chance to rinse off
the soap, he leaned forward and put his face between her legs, nibbling at
her thigh.  She lifted her right leg and rested her foot on the side of the
tub, opening herself up more and finally revealing a set of swollen, wet
lips in the midst of all the hair.  He leaned in further and ran his tongue
between them, licking at her watery juices.



"Oh god yes," she sighed, her hands dropping down to his hair and pulling
him a little tighter.



He used his fingers to spread her lips and then plunged his tongue inside.
He lapped up and down, relishing the taste of pussy after years without it.
He felt that he could eat her forever, that he could feast on her.  He
wanted to suck her clit between his lips and savage it, wanted to feel the
thrusting of her coming in his mouth.  But before he could really even get
started, she put her hands in his armpits and pulled upwards on him.  He
stood reluctantly and she attacked his mouth with hers, sucking on his lips,
plunging her tongue in and out of his mouth, licking at the juices.



"Mmmm," she said between licks, "I love the taste of my pussy on a guy's
mouth.  It makes me so hot."



He let his tongue slide against hers for a moment, his hands now caressing
her ass cheeks.  "Let me get some more on there then," he said.  "I love the
taste of your pussy on your pussy."



"Later," she said, giving one last lick.  "I have to get you clean first."



She picked up the rag and proceeded to wash him.  She used much the same
methods that he had used on her, scrubbing up and down his back, between his
ass cheeks, and over his chest, her hands sliding across his skin, caressing
it and making it tingle.  She did not touch his cock until she was done with
everything else.  Only then did she drop to her knees before him.



She gave it a quick but sensuous once over with the rag and then let it
rinse off.  Once it was sparkling clean she grasped it in her bare hand and
jacked it up and down a few times.  Now it was Jim's turn to moan as he felt
the delightful friction.  She kissed the head softly, her tongue spearing
the hole and then running around the perimeter.



"You like that?" she asked him, continuing the motions.



"Yesss," he grunted, reaching down and taking one of her breasts in his
hand.



She increased the pace and the pressure a little, which in turn increased
the pleasure.  "I was the handjob queen back in high school," she said,
lapping at the head again briefly.  "I wouldn't ever give up any pussy, but
I'd jack you off on the second date if you were nice to me.  Is my technique
still pretty good?"



"Mmm hmmm," he agreed, his hips now moving back and forth with her rhythm.



"Of course, now that I'm an adult and don't have to worry about my
reputation, I can kiss it a little too," she said, leaning forward and doing
just that.  "I can even suck it a little."  She did that, putting about half
of it in her mouth and imparting a delicious suction.  Her mouth popped free
after a moment but her hand continued to do its work.  "I just love making
guys come with my hands though, it's kind of a fetish of mine.  And do you
know where I like them to come?"



"Where?" he groaned, feeling like he was going to come pretty soon if she
didn't slow down her strokes.



"Right on these big titties," she told him.  "I love to feel hot come
shooting all over my tits.  Do you want to shoot yours on me?  Do you want
to come on my titties?"



"Uh huhhh," he said, his hand dropping away and his fists clenching.



"Do it then," she told him, giving the head another kiss and moving up the
pace of her jacking another notch.  "Come all over my tits and then we'll go
to your bedroom and get you recharged."



"Uh huhhh," he repeated, letting go of the struggle to control his orgasm,
letting the sensation built to a climax.



Once the brakes were released it took less than a minute of her clenching,
grasping hand and her teasing tongue to get the spasms started.  He grabbed
onto the shower head to keep from falling as his knees went weak and then
groaned as the sensation exploded outward from his groin.  Jan gave one last
suck of the head and then leaned backwards, aiming his cock at her bouncing
breasts.  He cried out as the first jet shot out of him and splattered in
her cleavage.  She continued to move her hand up and down, twisting her
shoulders and moving his cock so that every shot landed somewhere different.
One hit the top of her left tit, one hit the nipple, another hit the right
breast.  She moaned as each squirt landed and then she milked every last
drop out of him.



"God, that gets me so hot," she cried when the last dribble had fallen.
"Let's rinse off and go hit the bed."



He was still panting a little from the exertion, still feeling the afterglow
pulsing through his body.  Nevertheless, he was already eager for more.  He
let her stand up and for the next few minutes they rinsed each other off,
their hands touching playfully to make sure each spot was clean.



They exited the shower and quickly toweled off.  The bedroom was right
through an adjoining door and Jim led her there.  The bed was neatly made
(another of his frantic, pre-arrival preparations) and he laid her down on
it, his hands stroking up and down her legs.  She opened them for him,
showing him her wet lips amid the thick nest of hair.  He lay down on his
stomach between them and put his face forward once more, his lips and tongue
finding her slickness and going after it.



He ate her for nearly twenty minutes, getting his fill of the taste and
sensation of cunnilingus, gorging himself on her slit.  He licked her from
asshole to pubic hair, his fingers plunging in and out while his mouth
stimulated her clit.  She was not disappointed in his ministrations.  Her
pelvis bucked up and down, back and forth, almost like a bucking bronco as
he pulled first one, then two, and then three orgasms from her.  When he
finally raised up out of her crotch his face was slimy with her juices and
her body was flushed and sweaty.  His cock, which had softened after the
orgasm in the shower, was once more attentive and ready for action.



He kissed her for a few minutes, his hands playing with her breasts while
she indulged herself in her fetish of licking the juices from his face.
Finally, when her saliva had replaced her secretions, he raised up and
reached for the nightstand drawer beside the bed.  Inside of it were the two
condoms that he had left over from the three pack he had bought before
taking Robin out.  She watched wordlessly as he opened the package and slid
one onto his cock.



He started to move towards her, intending to climb between her legs and get
to work, but she stopped him, rolling over onto her stomach instead.  She
raised up on her hands and knees and looked over her shoulder at him.  "Fuck
me from behind," she told him excitedly.  "Really slam it to me.  That gets
me so hot!"



He was starting to wonder if there was anything that didn't get her hot but
he didn't stop to debate the matter.  He positioned himself behind her and
placed the head of his cock against her gaping, obscenely swollen pussy.
With one quick thrust, he was buried within her, the tightness of her
passage gripping him like a vice.



"Yesss!" she yelled.  "Oh yesss!  Fuck me hard!  Slam it to me!"



He slammed it to her, thrusting in and out with vigor.  His hands grabbed at
her hips and his balls slapped against her with each stroke.  She moaned and
cooed as he fucked her, her hand reaching back to play with his balls or to
rub her clit.  Juices ran down the insides of her thighs, puddling on the
bedspread.  The fact that he had already come once and that his cock was
covered in a desensitizing cloak of latex allowed him to remain firmly in
control of himself and keep his orgasm at bay.  Soon he was sweating freely
from the exertion, the droplets dripping from his face onto her ass.  She
moaned her way through two more orgasms before begging him to let her roll
over again so he could fuck her from the top.



"I want to feel you on top of me when you come," she panted as he pulled his
cock free.  "That gets me so hot."



He waited for her to roll onto her back and then he climbed between her legs
once more and inserted himself back into her pussy.  He began to thrust in
and out once again, his pelvis rising and falling, and she began to thrust
back at him, her vaginal muscles squeezing and relaxing with each stroke,
imparting his member with an additional dimension of pleasure.



"Oh yes," he groaned, his lips finding her neck and kissing it.



"Come in me," she told him.  "Come in me.  I want to feel it when you come!"



He released the brakes once more and let the sensation take him away.  Soon
the waves of pleasure were building towards an inevitable release.  When he
tightened up just prior to coming Jan pulled him forcefully against her, her
hands stroking up and down his back and his ass, her breath panting
excitedly in his ear.  He groaned as he poured himself out into the condom,
as he felt her vaginal muscles milking every last spasm from him.



Finally, breathing heavy and sweating, they separated, he rolling off of her
and lying on his back, his hands carefully pulling the condom free.



"Wow," she breathed, her hand playing affectionately with a lock of his
hair.  "That was some preemo fucking sex there.  You oughtta do that for a
living."



He chuckled a little, feeling proud of himself for the compliment.  "If I
could find a way to swing it, I surely would."



They shared a few minutes of idle talk as they lay there naked in his bed
and then Jan announced that she had to get going since it was a workday the
next morning.  She gathered her clothing from the bathroom and put it back
on while Jim covered himself with a bathrobe.



"Thanks Jim," she said, pecking him on the cheek right before she went out
the door.  "I really needed a little tension release tonight.  Maybe we can
get together and have a drink again some night?"



"I certainly wouldn't be opposed to that," he told her.



She gave him one last smile, told him that she would see him at work, and
then she was gone, leaving him there to bask in the radiance that comes only
after one has been laid.  He helped himself to one of the wine coolers she
had left in the refrigerator and went back to the bedroom.  He fell asleep
before even half of it was gone and slept dreamlessly the entire night.









Al Steiner

2-13-02







Many more Al Steiner stories can be found at www.storiesonline.net and
www.ruthiesclub.net

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