by Tahlia Gold
Dylan tries to hold me but I pull away. “Are you okay?” he says.
“No,” I snap at him. “I’m not fucking okay. Did you not hear what just happened? This is so fucked. I can’t even begin to explain to you how fucked this is. Are you an idiot?”
His face softens for a moment. I can see the hurt. Why did I say that to him? It wasn’t his fault. But then just as suddenly as it came, the emotion leaves his face, and he’s the same old stoic Dylan. Nothing can bother him.
I don’t have time for this. For any of this. “Just leave, please,” I say. “I have work to do.”
22
Dylan
Smoke swells up from my cigarette as I let it burn down to the filter. I drop it down into the pile of butts at my feet. I’m sitting on the curb next to Jess’ car, waiting for her to get out. I wasn’t sure if I should leave or if I should stay and wait for her. She seemed pretty pissed off but I couldn’t just leave without making sure she’s okay after that bitch Webber walked in on us.
The sun is starting to creep up over the horizon. I’ve been sitting here for hours with nothing but my thoughts to keep me company. I don’t even know if she’ll want to talk to me when she sees me. Why would she? She should run the other way. Maybe I’m the one that should run the other way. Just go. Stay out of her life. Make sure I don’t fuck it up any more than I already have.
But I can’t.
There’s a feeling in me, an undeniable feeling. I don’t know what it means but I have this pull to her. I need to be around her. When I’m not with her, I’m constantly thinking about her. About how pretty she is, about how smart she is, about how caring she is, about the way she laughs. I can’t get her out of my head.
The sun is almost completely up. Usually I love this time of day. Not many people are out and the light has this surreal quality to it. Like everything is going to be alright. Like you can pick up all the broken pieces and start over.
Is it like that though? She’s probably going to be pissed as hell at me. I mean it was my idea to come up there and blow up her spot. I didn’t mean for us to get caught of course but I knew it was a possibility. And for what? Just to get my dick wet?
Nah, it was more than that. I wanted to see her.
But everything’s gone to shit now. I need to make this right for her. I can’t just fuck up her life and take off. I’ve already done that once before and it felt shitty.
Maybe I can hire a PI to dig something up on Webber. Everybody, and I mean everybody, has skeletons in their closet. Something they don’t want anybody else to find out. I could figure out what her skeleton is then use it against her. Let her know that she can’t go around being a bitch to everyone. That there’s consequences to her actions. Somebody needs to teach her a lesson.
There’s footsteps behind me. I crane my head around. It’s Jess. I scramble up to my feet, ready for the worst. Ready for her to tear into me.
But she doesn’t. She comes to me, buries her face in my chest. I put my arms around her, hold her. She’s sobbing.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
She doesn’t respond. I lock her to my body. She feels exhausted. “What happened?” I ask.
“It was terrible,” she says, her voice muffled against my ribcage. “I hate fires. There were so many kids. They were burned so badly. It was horrible. You could smell it on them.”
“Wow,” is all I manage. I hadn’t even been thinking about the fire. I was too wrapped up in if she was going to be mad at me. I’m such a fucking asshole.
“They sucked down so much smoke, they could barely breathe. Some of them are going to have scars for the rest of their lives. God, I felt so bad for them. Two people died inside the apartment. One fireman almost died trying to save them. He may never work again.”
“Jesus,” I say.
We stand there in the parking lot for a while. I have no idea what to do, or what to say to make her feel better so I’m just hugging her. Finally, she stops crying and looks up at me.
“What are you doing here?” she asks. “Have you been sitting out here all this time?”
I shrug. “I just wanted to make sure you didn’t get in trouble. Is Webber pissed at you?”
“She wrote me up. She said it was my last strike. If anything else happens, I’ll be kicked out of the residency. I’m surprised she didn’t kick me out right then. I think all the burn victims softened her reaction a little.”
I shake my head. “What a bitch.”
Jess lets go of me, looks me in the eye. “Yes, she can be a bitch sometimes. I can too. But she’s right about this. I have no idea what I was thinking bringing you in like that. I like you but we can’t be having sex at the hospital. We’re not kids sneaking around anymore. It’s irresponsible.”
“That’s true, but listen: I was thinking what if I had somebody follow her for a bit, see what she’s up to. It wouldn’t hurt to have some leverage against her if she tries to make a move on you.”
Anger flashes onto her tired face. She takes a step towards me. Pokes her finger into my chest. “No.” Her voice is flat, low. “That’s ridiculous. You can’t solve all your problems by intimidating people. Maybe that works with gangsters, but here, in the real world, we have to get along with the people we work with. Humans evolved passed that shit a long time ago and we’re better off for it.” She starts to get into her car.
“Hey, it was just an idea,” I say.
“Well, your ideas are going to get me kicked out of residency. I don’t need your help with this. You’ll just make it worse.” She slams the door closed, then rolls the window down. “I’m going home,” she says. “I’m fucking exhausted. Give me one of those cigarettes.”
I put one between her lips and light it for her then I watch as she pulls out of the parking lot and I stand there until her car disappears into the horizon.
23
Jess
It’s my day off. I should be studying for these damn board exams. These board exams that are weighing down on me like a fucking elephant on my chest. That’s one of the warning signs of a heart attack by the way. If somebody comes into the hospital saying it feels like there’s an eighteen-wheeler parked across their ribs, then it’s very likely they’re having a heart attack.
I’m not having a heart attack—at least not in the medical sense. My heart is a little bit wrenched though. I don’t have time for a wrenched heart. I only have time for being a resident. I don’t have time for a boyfriend, especially a boyfriend who is unintentionally threatening my very status as a resident physician.
After what happened at the hospital the other night—god, I can’t even think about it without the elephant getting heavier—it’s abundantly clear that I cannot have any kind of relationship with Dylan.
Dylan. Fuck! Why does he have to be so goddamned hot?
I’m going to the clubhouse to tell him in person. To tell him there can’t be an “us” anymore. Is there even an “us” in his mind? I have no fucking clue. He’s about as easy to read as the airway on a four-hundred-pound unconscious person—in other words, impossible.
I’m going to tell him we can’t see each other anymore. And who am I kidding? I’m going over there for one last romp with that perfect body of his. A fuck for the road, you could say.
That’s why I’m not wearing a bra underneath my t-shirt. This is something I don’t do in public. Yet here I am, nipples on full display because I know he’ll like it. I know he’ll want me, bad. I know he’ll want me the way I want him. And to narrow the time between decision and execution, I’m also not wearing any panties under my skirt. A girl can be practical can’t she?
When I pull into the clubhouse parking lot, my plan to cut him loose is immediately under attack. Dylan is outside, no shirt, working on his bike. As soon as I see him I’m wet.
Breathe. Yes, he’s hot. You knew that when you made this decision. Hot does not equal boyfriend material.
Breathe. Go over there. Fuck his brains out, and go back
to your already-too-full-life and forget about him.
When I walk up to him, he looks up from his bike. His eyes go straight to my breasts. He smirks.
“Hey,” he says. “I like your shirt.”
I look down at the black pavement. My face is turning red, I’m sure. I force myself to look up at him, smile. “Thanks.” Then my embarrassment melts away. He has grease all over his face. I can’t help but laugh.
“What?” he asks.
“You got a little something here.” I point to his forehead.
“Yeah?” He gets up from the ground and I see there’s more grease on his chiseled pecs. He must have done this on purpose. Now it’s my turn to stare. There’s heat all between my legs. I’m going to start dripping from my nether regions onto the asphalt soon. Maybe I should have worn panties.
I’m still laughing at his face. It’s too cute.
He lunges for me, wraps his arms around me.
I squeal. “You’re getting me dirty!”
“Poor thing.” He picks me up. My breasts are pressed tight to his chest. My nipples are so pout and hard it almost hurts. I can’t help myself. I wrap my legs around his waist. I want him to fuck me right here. I don’t care who sees. I want his huge cock inside me.
But he puts me down. “It’s good to see you,” he says. “I thought maybe you were still mad at me.”
“I am. I’m pissed.”
He nods. “I’m sorry.”
Great. Now he’s going to be all contrite and I’m going to forget the whole reason I came over here. I’m already second guessing myself.
We work on his bike together for a little while. By “we” I mean he works on it and I stare at his rippling muscles as he moves around and I fantasize about all the things I want him to do to me.
After he asks me for the fourth different wrench and I hand it to him (I had no idea there were so many different kinds of wrenches) I ask him something. It just kind of comes out. “What are we doing?”
He looks at me. “What are we doing? I’m working on my bike and you’re being very helpful, sitting there all sexy. Don’t think I didn’t notice you’re not wearing panties.”
My face heats up again. I cross my legs. “No,” I say. “What are we doing? I mean where is this going? Are we in a relationship? Are we considering that as a possibility? What if that’s what I want? I don’t even know how you feel about it.”
My plan is crumbling on the ground like week-old bread.
He drops his wrench on the concrete and looks at me. I have no idea what he’s thinking. He probably makes a killing in poker games with that unwavering ability to hide his emotions. He squints at me, doesn’t say anything.
“Is this a fling?” I ask. “I mean, I’m totally cool with that. I’m not trying to put pressure on you. I just want to know what’s going on in your head. Are you open to this being something more serious?”
He gets up and sits next to me on the cooler. He’s picking at the grease under his fingernails. Then he looks at me. “I’ve been thinking about that a lot.”
After another awkward silence I can’t wait any longer. “And?”
He smiles. “And… I think…” His forehead wrinkles.
Fuck! You’re killing me. But I resist the urge to talk. He needs to do some of the talking now.
He puts his hand on mine. I don’t care that he’s getting me all dirty again. The sweet smell of his sweat is filling my nose. Sweet? Jesus, I’m head-over-heels. Since when does a sweaty-ass dude smell sweet to anybody? But he does. He really does.
Finally, he says something. “I think I’m open to something more serious.”
Jesus, was that so fucking hard? It’s my turn to put on a poker face. I don’t want to come off as some desperate girl. I’m playing it cool.
He kisses me.
Okay, now I’m melting.
Our tongues are touching; his hand is on my waist. I uncross my legs. There’s electricity between them.
He pulls away from the kiss. His eyes are so amazingly blue. “Let’s see what happens,” he says. “We can try it on, see how it feels. I just don’t want to fuck up your life, you know?”
“Trust me, I don’t want you to fuck up my life either.”
He frowns. “I’m already doing a pretty good job of fucking it up I think.”
“I think if we can avoid getting caught having sex in the Emergency Room by the director of the Emergency Department, then that would be a good start to not fucking up my life.”
“I think I can do that.” He’s smiling, happy again.
I imagine he’s thinking about what happened that night. If it weren’t so serious then it would be funny.
“So,” I say, “we’re just trying it on?”
“Why not?”
“Like, I’m at the mall and I see a cute dress and I’m in the dressing room trying it on, looking at it in the mirror, making sure it doesn’t make my ass look fat. Trying it on like that?”
“Sure. I like the thought of you getting naked in the dressing room. Have you ever had sex in a dressing room?”
“You have a one-track mind, you know?”
“I know.” He reaches over and grabs my breast. My nipple is hard against his palm. I want him inside me.
“Can we finish this conversation first?” I ask.
“Sure.” He doesn’t let go of my breast though.
“Not to put any unnecessary labels on us, but since we’re in the mall trying things on, is it safe to say I can call you my boyfriend?”
“Safe? I doubt it. But it does sound good doesn’t it? I can’t remember the last time I had a girlfriend. I think I might like it.”
“It sounds a little childish doesn’t it? Girlfriend. Boyfriend. It’s like we’re in high school again.”
“Fuck it. As long as we’re trying things on….” His hand moves to my other breast. He leans in and kisses my neck. He whispers into my ear, “Wife.”
The air leaves my lungs. My heart is pounding. I know he’s just joking around but hearing him say that word is making me swoon. I kiss his cheek, run my hand through his hair. Then I whisper into his ear. “Husband.”
We’re whispering and nobody can hear our little game. Our little secret. It feels so hot.
He grins at me.
“What?” I ask.
“I don’t know.” He’s looking at me intently. I feel like he can read my thoughts. His smile widens.
“Really, what?” I ask. “You’re grinning like one of my mental patients.”
“I really don’t know. I’m just happy I guess. I figured you were coming over here to tell me we were done, maybe have one last fuck. But now I’m thinking maybe this could really work. I mean, you have your doctor thing. I have my motorcycle gang thing. It doesn’t make a damn bit of sense for us to be together. But, I don’t know. Maybe it could work.”
He gets up and turns on a water hose and starts to spray his bike down. Then without warning he turns it on me, sprays my chest. I scream and jump back. I look down at my shirt. It’s completely soaked and my breasts are on full display. “You asshole!”
He’s laughing. I try to tackle him, but he doesn’t budge an inch. I want him so bad.
“Are we done with your motorcycle?”
He nods.
“Then, as your doctor, I order you to the bed right this minute.”
He chuckles. “Yes ma’am. But don’t tell me I need rest because that ain’t happening.”
24
Dylan
When I open my eyes from a perfect dream with a perfect woman, I look down to find the cause of it: Jess has her lips wrapped around my cock. With no effort I drift from a deep sleep to absolute wakefulness.
I sigh in ecstasy. Can life get any better than this?
Jess takes her dick from my mouth for a moment. She’s grinning like she’s done something naughty. She has. “Good morning, sleepy head,” she says. “I hope you don’t mind that I woke you up.”
I laugh. “I c
an think of worse ways to be woken up.”
“Should I keep going?”
“Whatever you like, baby.” That feels good, calling her baby.
She kisses my balls. They’re tight and ready to explode. Even after making love three times last night, I’m still more than ready to put out more.
Her tongue snakes along the base of my penis. She comes to the sensitive skin beneath the head and she flicks her tongue across it. I let out a groan. Jesus.
She’s grinning at me again, looking up at my face to see the fruits of her labor. She’s a maestro. Now she moves forward kissing my belly. It makes me squirm every time she touches me there. Her breasts hang down and she runs them across my cock. She looks up at me again. Her hair is in her face so I brush it out of the way.
This girl is so goddamned pretty. It’s almost unbelievable how beautiful she is. She’s always been this way. I assume she always will be. Beauty like this is timeless.
She gets back to work on my dick. For her it’s not work though. She’s teasing me with her tongue. I know she loves to see me beg, not with my words, but with my body. My hips thrust up towards her mouth. I cup the back of her head in my hand, tug gently at her hair. I won’t go so far as to press her head down… unless she wants it.
But I’m completely inside her mouth now. I can feel my tip fitting into the tight space at the back of her throat. Her hand runs up and down my shaft, gliding smoothly over her saliva.
I have a brief idea of asking her to stop so that I can be inside her for real, so that I can make her orgasm before I come. But it’s fleeting. Her body language says she wants no part of that, at least not now. Her hand and her mouth are operating as one. My legs tense, I push my cock deep inside her mouth until my balls can’t hold out any longer and I release my load into her throat. She’s pumping her tiny hand up and down my shaft as I come, moaning, eyes wide open, taking it all in. I don’t want to forget this. This perfect moment. This perfect moment with a perfect girl. My perfect girl.