by Alexis Shore
“Come for me,” she instructed. “I wanna feel it all over my hand.”
Her pumping became more furious now, her grip so tight, and he felt his balls tighten, felt his cock getting bigger in her fist. He started to stroke back with his hips, arching them from the bed, feeling it about to explode.
“Do it,” she said firmly.
And his cock twitched, sending ribbons of his hot spunk over her hand and fingers, some of it landing on his stomach.
He opened his eyes to see her looking down at it with glee, playing with the goop a little before massaging it back into his reddened prick.
“Good boy,” she giggled, then bought her fingers to her mouth to suck them clean.
She did it noisily, and with delight.
And then she reached back down and started to roll his balls in her fingers.
“This is the last time,” she said, idly.
“What?”
He looked at her, but her gaze was on his waning prick.
“We’re not doing this again.”
Her tone was matter-of-fact, without malice or sorrow. And he knew she meant it.
He angled his body so he could grab her ass.
“Why?”
“You know why.”
“You’re not getting off on it anymore?”
She shook her head and snorted a derisive giggle, then grabbed his hand and pushed it to her soaking wet pussy.
“What do you think?”
“It’s just ... out of the blue is all.”
“It can’t go on,” she said. “It’s wrong, and we both know it. Besides.”
She didn’t finish that next thought.
“Besides what?”
“Your mind is elsewhere.”
Again, she said it without anger and remorse.
“I hadn’t noticed.”
She laughed again.
“Come on,” she snuggled into him as she spoke. “Something’s happened between you and her, and now the both of you are making googly eyes all the time.”
“Who?” he asked, swallowing back the pang of annoyance that it was so obvious.
“Don’t be daft,” she said.
Then she pushed her mouth to his and kissed him, pushing her tongue inside and letting him suck it.
And he realised his mind was once again on Amy.
The kiss came to an end and she pulled away, looking into his eyes.
“See?” she said, smiling. “It’s not for us.”
He gave a weak smile, but knew she was right.
With that, she got up and got dressed, deliberately slowly, teasing him with flashes of her body as she covered it up.
“It’s been fun,” she said, meaning it.
“Yes.”
The door closed behind her.
He knew it had to end, but he hadn’t expected it to do so quite so soon. But he liked that she had been so magnanimous and practical about it. In fact, she’d been that way throughout the whole ... arrangement.
Once again, Patrick had to admire Jennifer.
He would miss their fun, that’s for sure.
With a loud groan, he got up off the bed and pulled on his pants, dragging a polo shirt over his head and padding out, bare footed, into the corridor and down to the kitchen.
He needed a coffee.
What was in the pot would do, even though it was a little stewed. It hit the spot though, and he gulped back a second cup too. He was pouring a third cup when the klaxon sounded, and his truck was called.
Within moments he was in the apparatus bay, stepping into his boots, hitching up his suspenders, and dragging on his coat. Up in the cab, he listened to the radio, and they were soon pulling out and speeding down the road, sirens blaring.
This sensation never got old, and he could feel the adrenaline starting to pump through his body already. He looked in the big mirror to his right, and saw Amy’s ambulance keeping pace behind the truck.
For some reason that made him smile.
His company of men around him, storming down the street to rescue someone; there was no better feeling in the world.
So why was he starting to feel the onset of another panic attack?
Patrick took a deep breath and concentrated on his hand; for some reason this seemed to centre him, and he felt like he was staving it off as they pulled to a halt. It meant he could easily hop out of the cab and take in the view.
“Fuck me,” he heard one of his men say.
And there, four storeys up, Patrick saw what he meant.
A man was hanging down the side of the building, his leg trapped in some kind of wire, and it was only that wire that was supporting him as he swung precariously in the air.
Patrick realised it was too high for the ladder truck.
“Get the abseil gear.”
The company snapped into action, and Patrick swung around, noticing Amy and Jennifer hovering by their rig. That’s when he started to feel is chest tighten.
“And let’s get the ladder extended,” he barked, trying to feign some control.
“That cable has to be restricting his blood flow,” Amy said, coming towards him.
He turned away, an automatic reaction, because he knew she would see he was on the brink of an attack. While pretending to focus on putting on his rope and harness, he spoke to her without looking.
“We need to secure him first.”
And with that, he trotted away, two of his men following with the rest of the rigging. They hurried up six flights of stairs and out onto the roof. The fresh air was a relief, and he gulped back the oxygen, feeling his heart racing from the exertion and the rising panic. The tunnel vision was starting to appear too.
As they set up the A-Frame, firing bolts into the rooftop to secure it, he clambered onto the ledge and swung his legs over the edge. He didn’t look down, because he knew he would be overcome with sudden vertigo. Instead, he examined the cable as it rubbed against the ledge, moving slightly from left to right as the man swung in wider arcs two storeys below.
Patrick didn’t want to do this.
Knew he couldn’t.
But he was the only one on watch who was certified for the rigging.
Fuck it.
He clipped onto the harness, and fell out into the open air.
His stomach lurched and he gasped for air, unable to breath, his heart thumping hard in his chest now. His feet found a purchase, and the rope took his weight.
He began his descent.
Slow and steady.
One foot after the other.
Struggling to breathe, struggling to see, struggling to hear.
It was as if his whole body was shutting down.
He felt like he was about to die.
Ropes unfurled either side of him as his men threw them down, and he realised he was nearly at his destination.
For the first time, he looked over his shoulder and down.
Immediately, he regretted it, and had to grip the rope tighter to stop from fainting. He took a few deep breaths, and moved the final few feet towards the man.
“Hey,” said the man as he swung close. He seemed surprisingly happy, and Patrick realised it was a mixture of shock and blood rushing around his head.
“What’s your name?”
“Lenny,” he replied in a brusque New York accent.
“What happened?”
“Fucked if I know.”
Patrick reached out and grabbed his hand. Lenny’s weight nearly yanked him from the wall, but Patrick got him under control and abated his swinging.
“I was fixing the cable, next thing I know,” Lenny indicated with his hands the nature of the predicament.
“Can you feel your leg?”
“Nope.”
He said it with such cheer that Patrick knew something was wrong.
And he could hear the ladder climbing to meet them, even though it was too far to reach.
He took another peek, bracing himself for the reaction, and saw Amy clambering
up the ladder.
What the fuck was she doing?
No time to argue or shout, he just got on with attaching Lenny to his own harness, ignoring the rising panic, ignoring the lack of air, ignoring everything that was wrong in that moment. Having a task to complete helped him concentrate and block everything else out.
“Ready?” he asked, holding up is bowie knife.
“Fuck it,” Lenny said, for the first time showing the real fear on his face.
Patrick sliced through the cable and lurched.
Lenny’s whole weight was transferred to Patrick’s harness, and Patrick wasn’t ready for it.
Together they came away from the wall, and in a panic, Patrick released the descender, and they fell three feet in an instant. His stomach was in his mouth before he got them under control, both of them unable to stop from letting out a scream of terror.
“You got me?” Lenny asked with a terrified laugh.
“I got ya.”
Patrick wasn’t sure who was more scared now.
But at least they were closer to the top of the ladder.
“You okay?” Lenny asked, wrapping his arms around Patrick and holding on tight.
Patrick realised he was hyperventilating.
“Fine,” he managed to say, and then slowly released the descender, letting them fall in a controlled manner to the top of the ladder. He heard his feet clatter against the metal before he felt it, and it was enough of a relief to stop the hyperventilation.
Amy began to examine Lenny’s leg, but Patrick was becoming impatient to get back on the terra firma.
“Come on,” he chastised.
“Just a minute,” she snapped, trying to get a better look.
“Fuck this,” Patrick said, and moved.
But he lost his footing and slipped, spinning Lenny in front of him. The man knocked into Amy, and Patrick heard the air escape from her lungs. In slow motion, she fell to one side and out into the open air. Only Patrick’s proximity meant he could grab her arm.
Her weight yanked his shoulder, and he felt a searing hot pain all across his back and down one side. Gravity took her down, and his arm kept her up, dangling in the open air, her legs swinging automatically, looking for a foot hold or purchase. It was making holding her more difficult.
“Stay still,” he screamed through the pain and panic.
She looked up at him, eyes so wide, mouth open, utter fear plastered across her face.
And the ladder was wobbling now as someone came running up.
Patrick couldn’t see, what with Lenny strapped to him, and Amy hanging on for her life below.
He heard Jennifer saying something to Lenny, then felt his harness loosen, felt Lenny being detached.
“Get the fuck down from here,” Patrick yelled at Jennifer.
His arm felt like it was going to be yanked out of its socket now.
Lenny’s weight suddenly left him, and Patrick realised Jennifer had managed to release him. But he too lurched, and he heard an oof as he hit Jennifer.
“You okay?” Patrick called, wincing with Amy’s weight.
“Yes,” she said, clearly lying.
“I’m going to swing you, get your leg hooked over the ladder,” he cried down to Amy.
She nodded.
He began to swing her from side to side, fighting hard against the agony in his shoulder now, unable to catch a breath, working solely on adrenaline.
Finally he got enough momentum, and Amy kicked out, her legs hitting the ladder with a loud clatter. But she managed to get a grip with her thighs, and within moments she had worked her way back to safety.
Patrick lay on the ladder getting his breath back, feeling it rock and bounce as the others moved down its length.
He’d nearly killed them all.
When he opened his eyes, he saw stars dancing in his vision, and it took all his self control to get his body moving. He slowly descended the ladder, and at the bottom he saw Lenny pacing back and forth declaring that his leg was fine.
Patrick looked back up at the building, and realised the height. It made him dizzy again.
So he turned around and tried to focus on something else.
That’s when he saw Jennifer sitting on the step of the ambulance, bent double in pain.
Five
Amy clambered off of the ladder and immediately let the pain in her arm overcome her. Supporting her whole weight by the shoulder had been agonising, and she hunched over and gave into it.
A single sob, and she felt tears welling in her eyes; but she wasn’t going to cry in front of anyone. Instead, she straightened up and moved her arm in a circle, making sure it was okay. Yet the pain was too much.
That’s when she saw Patrick, and she was about to go over and tear him a new one when he saw he was trotting towards Jennifer; and Jennifer was hunched over the rear step of the rig.
Amy moved more quickly than she thought her body could manage, and when she arrived at her partner’s side, she saw that she was in some discomfort.
“What happened?” Amy asked.
Patrick was wide eyed, confused and afraid.
“Dunno,” Jennifer said with a deep, pained grimace.
“Get in the back,” Amy instructed, and started heading for the driver’s seat.
“It’s nothing.”
“GET. IN.”
She barked it with such force, Jennifer was unable to defy her. By the time Amy was starting the engine, she heard the rear doors slam, and looked in the mirror to see Patrick helping Jennifer into a seating position. The way she was moving so gingerly concerned Amy a great deal.
When she yanked the gear lever into Drive, she yelped back the pain in her arm. She was going to have to do this one-handed.
“What was that?” Patrick asked, looking up.
“Nothing.”
She span the bus round in a tight arc and sped off down the road, sirens blaring. They bounced over potholes, swerved to avoid cars, and every time the rig moved, Amy winced in pain.
Patrick was swapping his gaze from Jennifer to Amy, a look of concern all over his face. At least his panic was gone.
“I should drive,” he called.
“Shut up.”
“You should be back here.”
There was some truth to that argument, but stopping and swapping would only slow them down.
Amy slammed her foot onto the brake pedal, skidding to a halt just inches from a truck slowly moving across an intersection. She slammed her hand into the horn, more from fear than anything else.
And then the pain overwhelmed her, and she grabbed her shoulder with her good hand and fell forward, gritting her teeth and trying to fend it off.
She felt a hand on her shoulder, and when she looked up, she saw Patrick at her side, urging her to move.
With a reluctance she tried to make obvious, she obliged, clambering out of the door and walking round to the back. She was only just up inside, the door still open, when Patrick pulled away at great speed.
“Fuck,” she screamed, having to grab something to strop from falling out.
She struggled to keep her footing, and span round, whipping her arm out to try and get a hold of the door. He went round two corners before she managed to wrestle it under control and close it.
That done, her heart thumping in her chest, she decided not to give voice to her anger, and instead moved to Jennifer.
Her partner was curled up in a ball, hugging herself.
“Let me,” Amy said, as soft as possible over the roar of the engine.
“No,” Jennifer snapped.
Amy chose not to push the point.
Moments later, they pulled up at the ER, and together Patrick and Amy helped Jennifer down from the rig and into a wheelchair. Amy grabbed the handles and started to push her inside.
They were quickly ushered into a curtain area, and a Doctor Amy didn’t recognise soon appeared.
“I’m going to ask you two to leave,” she said.
&nbs
p; “No chance,” Amy exclaimed.
“Please,” Jennifer sounded so weak when she said it.
Reluctantly, Amy stepped out, with Patrick behind her, and she heard the curtain swishing closed.
She didn’t know what to do, and so carried on walking until she was in a quiet corner of the main area of the ER, where she hugged her arms around her chest, wincing with pain, but holding herself for comfort.
She realised Patrick was next to her, and she looked at him, about ready to scream and shout at him for putting them in such peril.
But as she opened her mouth and took a deep breath in preparation, he reached out and pulled her to his chest, engulfing her with his arms and hugging her tight. She melted into his embrace, and began to silently cry against him.
“Hey,” she heard Joseph’s voice, and it made her snap away from Patrick, stepping back hurriedly and putting a few feet between him and her.
Joseph was oblivious.
“What’s going on?” he asked.
“It’s Jennifer.”
“Is she okay?”
“We don’t know.”
“Okay.”
He stood there, not moving, looking a bit lost as to what to say.
Patrick clapped his younger brother hard on the shoulder.
“Why don’t you go and find out for us?”
“Yeah,” he muttered. “Okay.”
And with that he turned and left. Patrick stepped back to Amy, holding out his arms, but she refused the embrace, shifting on her feet like they had been caught fucking. She felt so guilty in that moment, in spite of everything Joseph was hanging over her head.
But now wasn’t the time.
“Coffee?” she asked Patrick from a distance.
He shook his head, and she wasn’t sure she wanted one herself. She was just trying to make some busy time.
Time ticked on, and just as she was considering hunting Joseph down, he returned with a fairly grim look on his face.
“There’s some bleeding,” he said, without elaboration.
Amy nodded.
Silence.
No-one really knew what to say or do, and so they just shuffled around, avoiding one another’s gaze and feeling utterly self-conscious.