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Impulsive
The concrete canyons of downtown were cast in an eerie pulsating
light flashing a stark, harsh white to a searing crimson. The polished
mirrors of the windows reflected this display of light across the streets,
much as the towers themselves amplified the keening wail of a siren. Under
it all was the dull subharmonic roar of a Chevy 454 cubic inch powerplant
propelling the lights and the noise through the city at two A.M. in the
morning. As much a call for hope as a call for caution, Jim Watson
navigated the speeding ambulance toward the site where he'd been summoned.
Quickly making the last turn he approached the crash site, bathed
in the stark white lights of the spotlights and headlamps of the twin Ford
cruisers of the police department. One other ambulance was in the scene,
treating a guy with a massive head trauma as he'd propelled his Porsche
broadside into the Dodge minivan. Pulling to a stop, he and his partner
Dave jumped out to see to the passenger of the van, who the police had
pulled out due to the fire risk of the sports car's leaking fuel tank.
Dave started pulling out equipment, and Jim began his initial
observations. It was a young girl, twenty-three to twenty six, with nice
blonde hair currently in a tangled mess with a nice complexion which
shouldn't be marred by the small cuts due to flying glass. No visible
trauma to the chest region, but he removed her blouse to see the red mark
of the seat belt running across her nice chest which would bruise but
didn't seem to be anything more. Finally he got down and noticed her left
pants leg was dark and wet. Looking at the impact point on the van, it was
all too likely that she'd suffered a nasty cut on the leg. He cut her pants
and underwear off and stopped dead for a moment. For when he'd peeled away
the undergarment it revealed the unexpected, a nine inch penis. He shook
his head quickly to clear it and began to treat her wound, which luckily
had missed the femoral artery, but she was still losing a lot of blood.
Dave ran over with the stretcher and blankets and looked
down. "Whoa, got us a drag queen here, huh?"
Jim looked at him sharply. "Quiet. Nowadays you can get into
trouble with talk like that."
"Aw, the she-man is under. Take care of it we'll get it in the
wagon."
"Dave, if you don't shut your trap, I'll report you
personally. Bigotry doesn't have a place here, damn it. If you can't deal
and keep it quiet or professional, I'll see you sacked, ok?"
Dave nodded.
"You're a good kid, but this job don't let us pick who we save,
'kay? And if you talk like that around unconscious patients, sooner or
later you'll slip around one who's awake and then you'll be in Dutch."
"Right Jim, I got it. Lift."
The two EMT's put the girl onto the stretcher and into the
ambulance. Not wanting to bother Dave more, Jim let him drive to the
hospital and monitored the patient until they arrived. The doctors and
nurses took over, rolling the gurney into the back, leaving Dave and Jim to
resume their shift.
* * * * * *
A month or so later Jim walked into the wardroom and found an
envelope taped to his locker with his name written on it in a bold, flowing
script. Confused and intrigued, he plucked it off the metal door and opened
it. Inside was a simple but attractive thank you card, a nice one from
Hallmark. Opening it up he looked inside and read the note there. Jim was
quite shocked to find out that the card was from that transsexual lady in
the car accident. He'd really not thought about that day since it happened,
only knowing Dave had begun to grow a little reserved since then. The girl,
Carla, wanted to let him know she appreciated the quality of the car he'd
given her, and the degree of compassion he showed in confronting his
partner's comments.
Stunned that she'd heard him in an apparent semi-conscious state,
he failed to hear Dave approach from behind.
"What'cha got there, buddy?"
"Nothing, Dave."
"Naw, I can't see through it, so it can't be nothing. What is it?"
"Mine."
"Oh. Ok."
With one deft move Jim never saw coming, Dave pinched the card from
his hand. He opened it up and quickly scanned it. "Oh. It's from the funny
lady. She could hear us?"
"Yep. Good thing you didn't run off more at the mouth like you
wanted."
"Well, I still don't understand them, Jim, but you were right, I
don't want to be sued. Even if I think their wrong."
Dave handed back the card and walked out of the wardroom. Jim
tossed the card into his locker. When the card hit the back wall a small
piece of paper popped out of the quad-folds in the card. He looked at it,
and saw it said, "Call, if you like" with a phone number. Jim tucked the
paper in his wallet with the three dollars and forty receipts and ran off
to the yard to begin his shift.
* * * * * *
Two hours later Jim and Dave were slinging down some coffee at the
convenience store. Dave was telling Jim about the pair of (probably
fictional) oriental girls he'd been dancing with two weeks ago. Jim nodded
every now and then, letting Dave wind his way through his convoluted and
contradictory tale of conquest. Finally Dave stopped and peered at Jim.
"Jim, buddy, you ain't been on any dates in a while, what gives?"
"C'mon Dave."
"Naw, you gotta get out. Get a girl."
"I work ten hours a day, six days a week. I can't dance, I don't
like to drink, and I'm not about to pay for it. And that leaves what, the
bookstore? Which girl should I hit on there? The Goth queen or the dowager
empress?"
Jim was fuming. It was frustrating, not having a date in a
while. Finally he'd thrown himself into work, and didn't like to be
reminded of it. "Drop it Dave."
Dave opened his mouth to speak, but God arranged for Mrs. Perkins
to think she was having another heart attack and they went about their
duty, the conversation lost amid the shriek of the siren.
* * * * * *
Jim awoke the next morning with a start. He started rushing to get
ready for work, then slowed down as the concept of 'day off' seeped through
his mind. As he soaked under the shower, last night's conversation with
Dave rose in his memory like the steam around him. Goddamnit, he was tired
of spending the day off watching TV or going to the bookstore. He wanted
company, preferably non-work related, and female. His 'little black book'
was non-existent though; no one to call... well there was one person.
He initially rejected the idea of calling Carla, not only because
she'd started life as a man, but also because she'd been a patient. The
company frowned on picking up on patients, but it'd been almost a month and
a half, and talking to anyone was bound to be better than sitting around
alone, again. He picked up the phone, and before his resolve could dwindle
into nothingness, dialed the number on the small piece of paper.
"Hello."
Oh god, someone answered. "Um, can I speak to Carla?"
"Speaking. Who is this?"
"Um, I'm Jim. You left a thank you card for me at the office."
"Oh! I didn't expect you to actually call, but thanks. Thanks for
the call and all the help at the car accident. I feel kinda lucky. A lot of
people don't survive that kind of meeting with a drunk driver."
"No problem. All part of the service. Not many of the people we
help send cards, though. If you'd not mind, I'd like to get together, maybe
sometime today, and check in on my handiwork, as it were."
Carla laughed. "Yeah, sure. How about meeting at Joe's Eats in an
hour and a half."
"Veranda and McCall?"
"I think those are the cross streets, yeah."
"I'll be there."
* * * * * *
An hour and twenty minutes later, Jim found himself in a fifties
themed diner, waiting for Carla to arrive. He'd considered standing her up,
considered it about twelve times already, but kept coming back to the fact
he'd been working too damned long. And her card made him feel appreciated,
something usually reserved for the docs at the hospital.
She walked into the diner, a slight limp verifying Carla's identity
to Jim almost as sure as if he'd seen her ID. He waved to her and she
walked over. As she approached, Jim noted how well done her conversion had
been. Probably started young, or blessed (or cursed) with a slight build,
her frame accentuated the curves that Smith-Kline and Dow Corning had given
her. "Passing" was too mild a term for her appearance, any guy who'd not
known her origin would never guess, but the little voice in his mind
reminded him he'd seen her in her entirety.
Carla gave him a quick peck on the cheek and sat down across the
table from him. She gave him a smile then looked down. "I'm glad you're
letting me take this opportunity to thank you. I mean, hell it's scary
enough being in an accident, but I didn't need any excess baggage from it."
A lot of people don't understand."
"I'd be lying if I said I did, but I'm a professional. Nowadays,
you shoot your mouth off, you get as much trouble as you give, usually
more."
"Your partner, is he cool with what happened?"
"Well, we had a call to an older homosexual couple's house, and he
was careful not to crack wise. Maybe not 'ok', but he's learned tact. He'll
make it."
Carla smiled again. "So Jim, why'd you become an EMT?"
"Well the want ads were always asking for them, and I didn't want a
boring job, so I got some state assistance and trained up. Learned real
quick why they're always hiring too."
"Burn out?"
"Flame out. It's a lot quicker. Stress is high; I mean it really
can be life and death. Had one poor kiddo lose it on the third run. Just
got out of the ambulance at the hospital and walked home."
"That's sad."
"Yeah. So Ms. Carla, what do you do?"
"Nothing dramatic, oh Mr. EMT man. I do loan processing at a
bank. Number crunching, customer service, paperwork. Worst part of the job
is telling a poor young couple that they can't get a house 'cause the guy
had let his first car get repo'd or the girl's still got a maxxed out
Mervyn's card. That's no fun. But it's mostly boring."
"So, would you like something to eat?"
"No, I usually don't eat in the middle of the day."
"Oh. Ok, my big bowl of Rice Krispies is still with me anyway. I've
got time to kill today, Carla, is there anything else you'd like to do?"
"Like Ridley Scott films?"
Fifteen minutes later they were sitting in a nice theater with a
couple of sodas, a bucket of popcorn, and a ridiculously overpriced bag of
candy. The ads rolled, talkies now, so it was kinda hard to converse over
them. The lights dimmed, and shortly after some previews, they were
entranced in Scott's latest bid for a cinema masterpiece. Dramatically told
with bold visuals, Jim wasn't too surprised when Carla moved toward him
scene by scene, grasping his arm when moved or surprised. He was surprised
that it felt like a real date, rather than a 'buddy' outing. Finally the
credits rolled with Carla's arm around his, which she quickly removed in
surprised when Jim moved to get up.
The two walked out and since it was a good three and a half hours
later, by mutual agreement they walked over to the Bananabee's Grill for
dinner. They quickly ordered and Jim finally felt comfortable asked the
questions at hand.
"So... when did you figure out you were a girl?"
"Oh, I think it finally hit me at around ten or eleven. We were all
just beginning to 'grow up' and I didn't like how the boys had to play
sports and become 'macho'. I always found myself gossiping about school
people and soap operas with the girls of my classes. Going through high
schools, I can't say I was 'feminine' or secretly lusted after guys, but I
knew I wasn't wired right and was just kinda killing time until I got out
on my own and do what I felt needed to be done."
"But you haven't gone all the way."
"No. I mean the hormones and the basic plastic surgery were fine,
but I'm a little leery of doing the last step."
"Why?"
"Well, in America I'd have to monitored for a while before a
pshrink can give the ok for the operation. I didn't want that in my life."
"Option B?"
"Overseas. Some girls have had great things to say, others are
horror stories. Since I've not had much occasion to think about it, I
haven't dwelt on it. People see and treat me as a girl, and that's what I
wanted."
"So no plans to..."
"Whack wee willie?"
Jim chuckled.
"No. Would it make me easier to accept if I had a nonfunctional
slit down there that I'd have to lube up before use?"
"No. I was just thinking, however, if you're content emotionally
how you are, then wrecking an existing part of your endocrine system
doesn't seem to be the best of ideas anyway."
"That's very enlightened of you."
"I can surprise myself."
Dinner went well, with the constant bothering of an overly
enthusiastic attendant they turned to other topics. Over slightly
overpriced mass-market diner food they found out that football and baseball
seasons could be fun because they liked the Panthers and White Sox, but
basketball would be contentious because of a Mavs-Rockets rivalry. Jim also
impressed Carla with rather extensive knowledge of General Hospital and
Days of our Lives, explaining that was all firemen talk about it
seemed. Finally the two walked out to their cars in the lot. Jim escorted
Carla to her car and opened her door for her. He then got into his car and
turned the key and heard a most unsatisfying "clunk" sound from the
engine. He popped the hood and got out. Seeing this Carla shut off her own
car and came over.
"What is it?", she asked.
"Dunno. Maybe the solenoid or the starter. Battery seems to have
juice. Turn the key for me."
* Ka-chunk *
"Damn, it's the starter. All froze up." Jim pulled out his cell
phone. "Time to call Triple-C."
Fifteen minutes later the truck came by to haul Jim's car off to
the service shop. Carla followed, and when Jim put his key into the
early-bird drop off, she took him to his place.
As he got out of her car Carla said, "Goodnight, it was fun."
"Yeah, it was. Best day off I've had in a while. Just sixteen hours
to go until my next shift."
"Late shift tomorrow?"
"Yeah."
"I close tomorrow. Don't have to be in until noon."
"Yeah?"
"You want the night to end this early?"
Jim thought about it. "Nope. Not really. Come on in."
Carla sat down on Jim's couch as he grabbed a pair of Cokes from
his fridge. He plopped down next to her and invited Carla to surf the
channels. She eventually settled on a Jackie Chan film and soon the two
were laughing and carrying on at his antics around the world. The credits
rolled and once again there wasn't anything between Carla and Jim.
"It's getting late", Carla said, staring at the TV.
"I suppose."
Carla got up, gathered her purse up and walked toward the front
door. Jim met her there and opened it for her. "Goodnight, Carla. It's been
really quite nice being with you today."
As Carla smiled and began to turn back towards Jim a shadow fell
across her vision and she felt something hot and moist press against her
lips. To her surprise, and Jim's, he'd kissed her. After he pulled back,
the two looked at each other for an instant, placing themselves in the
scheme of the moment. Carla then moved ever so slightly into Jim who
quickly gathered her up in his arms and began to kiss her with real
passion. They fell back onto the couch, kicking the door closed, and Carla
ending up on top of Jim. As their tongues searched each other's mouths,
various hands were also engaged in reconnaissance of other body parts.
Finally the wound down a touch, Carla looking down into Jim's
face. "That was... nice. Jim, are you sure about this?"
"Nope. But after how pleasant today was, are you going to deny me
the chance to find out?"
Carla shook her head no, and sat up a bit straddling Jim. She
pulled off her blouse and undid her bra, freeing her breasts for just the
briefest of moments as Jim's hands began to move over them. After a moment
she got up and proceeded to help Jim off with his clothes. Soon Jim was
naked, sitting on the couch with an apparently pleased erection in his
lap. Carla knelt before him, pulling her skirt down in the motion, and
wrapped her hand around his penis. Jim jumped at the pleasantness of her
touch, which was nothing compared to the feel of her tongue skittering
across the head of his organ.
She stood up before him, clad only in her panties. "Before we... I
go any further, I have to know."
Jim gingerly brought his hands up along Carla's legs and slid his
thumbs under the sides of her undergarment. Slowly his hands descended
bringing the small fabric covering down with them. When they passed half
way down her thigh, out popped her nine-inch rod, semi-erect and scant
inches from Jim's face. Fascination soon made those inches disappear as Jim
rubbed his face against that penis as he finished removing removing Carla's
panties. As they hit the floor, Jim took the long engorged rod into his
mouth, an experience he'd never imagined occurring in his life. Carla was
warm, very warm, in his mouth and with each trip up that fleshy shaft he
could feel her heartbeat with every pulse of the blood rushing into
her. Jim kept sucking on her as Carla's hands ran through his hair, her
moans of passion increasing in both volume and tempo. Finally she cried
out, her penis swelling in Jim's mouth, and began pulsing as Jim felt her
squirt her semen down his throat as she came.
After he swallowed the warm, salty, sticky liquid Carla bent down
and gave Jim a kiss. He wrapped his hands around Carla and brought her to
the couch and rolled on top of her. As Jim's tongue moved inside Carla's
mouth, his hands fondled her breasts; his hot hard organ pressing into her
spent one. He moved away and Carla frantically rolled over to put her butt
high in the air, reaching down to her purse beside the couch she handed Jim
a small bottle of lubricant with a hungry look on her face. He coated his
shaft with the gel and dribbled some on her puckered opening. Jim placed
his head there and slowly pushed into her. Carla let out a long slow groan
as she felt the hot muscle move deep inside of her until she felt Jim's
scrotum pressed against her backside.
Jim looked at the erotic sight below him, this exotic woman lying
underneath him with her ass pressed against his crotch. Suddenly he felt
very lucky and smiled as he leaned forward. Reaching around her, Jim cupped
Carla's breasts in his hands and began to slide his penis in and out of the
tremendously turned on girl sandwiched now between him and the couch. He
started slowly, but picked up his pace as Carla's moans grew in intensity
and her nipples hardened in his palms.
The intensity of the pleasure transmitted from the warmth and
tightness of Carla's cavity made it's way up Jim's penis, tingling his
testicles, coursed up his spine and injected itself into his brain. He
arched, sending his manhood as deep as it would go into the enraptured
woman beneath him and began to fire shot after shot of his semen into
her. Starting with the first squirt, Carla began to cry out as she felt the
warm liquid fill her up. Exhausted, Jim collapsed onto Carla's back and
nuzzled her neck and continued to play with her breasts as he slowly went
soft inside her.
* * * * * *
"Well Dave, it's been good working with you."
"Good luck in Vegas, Jim. We'll miss you."
"Only because anvils are hard to aim."
Jim walked out of the wardroom to the parking lot and climbed into
his car. He'd finished his last two weeks here, and thanks to finding a new
job and a generous transfer, he and Carla would start trying to build their
lives together in... oh... about twenty five minutes.
The concrete canyons of downtown were cast in an eerie pulsating
light flashing a stark, harsh white to a searing crimson. The polished
mirrors of the windows reflected this display of light across the streets,
much as the towers themselves amplified the keening wail of a siren. Under
it all was the dull subharmonic roar of a Chevy 454 cubic inch powerplant
propelling the lights and the noise through the city at two A.M. in the
morning. As much a call for hope as a call for caution, Jim Watson
navigated the speeding ambulance toward the site where he'd been summoned.
Quickly making the last turn he approached the crash site, bathed
in the stark white lights of the spotlights and headlamps of the twin Ford
cruisers of the police department. One other ambulance was in the scene,
treating a guy with a massive head trauma as he'd propelled his Porsche
broadside into the Dodge minivan. Pulling to a stop, he and his partner
Dave jumped out to see to the passenger of the van, who the police had
pulled out due to the fire risk of the sports car's leaking fuel tank.
Dave started pulling out equipment, and Jim began his initial
observations. It was a young girl, twenty-three to twenty six, with nice
blonde hair currently in a tangled mess with a nice complexion which
shouldn't be marred by the small cuts due to flying glass. No visible
trauma to the chest region, but he removed her blouse to see the red mark
of the seat belt running across her nice chest which would bruise but
didn't seem to be anything more. Finally he got down and noticed her left
pants leg was dark and wet. Looking at the impact point on the van, it was
all too likely that she'd suffered a nasty cut on the leg. He cut her pants
and underwear off and stopped dead for a moment. For when he'd peeled away
the undergarment it revealed the unexpected, a nine inch penis. He shook
his head quickly to clear it and began to treat her wound, which luckily
had missed the femoral artery, but she was still losing a lot of blood.
Dave ran over with the stretcher and blankets and looked
down. "Whoa, got us a drag queen here, huh?"
Jim looked at him sharply. "Quiet. Nowadays you can get into
trouble with talk like that."
"Aw, the she-man is under. Take care of it we'll get it in the
wagon."
"Dave, if you don't shut your trap, I'll report you
personally. Bigotry doesn't have a place here, damn it. If you can't deal
and keep it quiet or professional, I'll see you sacked, ok?"
Dave nodded.
"You're a good kid, but this job don't let us pick who we save,
'kay? And if you talk like that around unconscious patients, sooner or
later you'll slip around one who's awake and then you'll be in Dutch."
"Right Jim, I got it. Lift."
The two EMT's put the girl onto the stretcher and into the
ambulance. Not wanting to bother Dave more, Jim let him drive to the
hospital and monitored the patient until they arrived. The doctors and
nurses took over, rolling the gurney into the back, leaving Dave and Jim to
resume their shift.
* * * * * *
A month or so later Jim walked into the wardroom and found an
envelope taped to his locker with his name written on it in a bold, flowing
script. Confused and intrigued, he plucked it off the metal door and opened
it. Inside was a simple but attractive thank you card, a nice one from
Hallmark. Opening it up he looked inside and read the note there. Jim was
quite shocked to find out that the card was from that transsexual lady in
the car accident. He'd really not thought about that day since it happened,
only knowing Dave had begun to grow a little reserved since then. The girl,
Carla, wanted to let him know she appreciated the quality of the car he'd
given her, and the degree of compassion he showed in confronting his
partner's comments.
Stunned that she'd heard him in an apparent semi-conscious state,
he failed to hear Dave approach from behind.
"What'cha got there, buddy?"
"Nothing, Dave."
"Naw, I can't see through it, so it can't be nothing. What is it?"
"Mine."
"Oh. Ok."
With one deft move Jim never saw coming, Dave pinched the card from
his hand. He opened it up and quickly scanned it. "Oh. It's from the funny
lady. She could hear us?"
"Yep. Good thing you didn't run off more at the mouth like you
wanted."
"Well, I still don't understand them, Jim, but you were right, I
don't want to be sued. Even if I think their wrong."
Dave handed back the card and walked out of the wardroom. Jim
tossed the card into his locker. When the card hit the back wall a small
piece of paper popped out of the quad-folds in the card. He looked at it,
and saw it said, "Call, if you like" with a phone number. Jim tucked the
paper in his wallet with the three dollars and forty receipts and ran off
to the yard to begin his shift.
* * * * * *
Two hours later Jim and Dave were slinging down some coffee at the
convenience store. Dave was telling Jim about the pair of (probably
fictional) oriental girls he'd been dancing with two weeks ago. Jim nodded
every now and then, letting Dave wind his way through his convoluted and
contradictory tale of conquest. Finally Dave stopped and peered at Jim.
"Jim, buddy, you ain't been on any dates in a while, what gives?"
"C'mon Dave."
"Naw, you gotta get out. Get a girl."
"I work ten hours a day, six days a week. I can't dance, I don't
like to drink, and I'm not about to pay for it. And that leaves what, the
bookstore? Which girl should I hit on there? The Goth queen or the dowager
empress?"
Jim was fuming. It was frustrating, not having a date in a
while. Finally he'd thrown himself into work, and didn't like to be
reminded of it. "Drop it Dave."
Dave opened his mouth to speak, but God arranged for Mrs. Perkins
to think she was having another heart attack and they went about their
duty, the conversation lost amid the shriek of the siren.
* * * * * *
Jim awoke the next morning with a start. He started rushing to get
ready for work, then slowed down as the concept of 'day off' seeped through
his mind. As he soaked under the shower, last night's conversation with
Dave rose in his memory like the steam around him. Goddamnit, he was tired
of spending the day off watching TV or going to the bookstore. He wanted
company, preferably non-work related, and female. His 'little black book'
was non-existent though; no one to call... well there was one person.
He initially rejected the idea of calling Carla, not only because
she'd started life as a man, but also because she'd been a patient. The
company frowned on picking up on patients, but it'd been almost a month and
a half, and talking to anyone was bound to be better than sitting around
alone, again. He picked up the phone, and before his resolve could dwindle
into nothingness, dialed the number on the small piece of paper.
"Hello."
Oh god, someone answered. "Um, can I speak to Carla?"
"Speaking. Who is this?"
"Um, I'm Jim. You left a thank you card for me at the office."
"Oh! I didn't expect you to actually call, but thanks. Thanks for
the call and all the help at the car accident. I feel kinda lucky. A lot of
people don't survive that kind of meeting with a drunk driver."
"No problem. All part of the service. Not many of the people we
help send cards, though. If you'd not mind, I'd like to get together, maybe
sometime today, and check in on my handiwork, as it were."
Carla laughed. "Yeah, sure. How about meeting at Joe's Eats in an
hour and a half."
"Veranda and McCall?"
"I think those are the cross streets, yeah."
"I'll be there."
* * * * * *
An hour and twenty minutes later, Jim found himself in a fifties
themed diner, waiting for Carla to arrive. He'd considered standing her up,
considered it about twelve times already, but kept coming back to the fact
he'd been working too damned long. And her card made him feel appreciated,
something usually reserved for the docs at the hospital.
She walked into the diner, a slight limp verifying Carla's identity
to Jim almost as sure as if he'd seen her ID. He waved to her and she
walked over. As she approached, Jim noted how well done her conversion had
been. Probably started young, or blessed (or cursed) with a slight build,
her frame accentuated the curves that Smith-Kline and Dow Corning had given
her. "Passing" was too mild a term for her appearance, any guy who'd not
known her origin would never guess, but the little voice in his mind
reminded him he'd seen her in her entirety.
Carla gave him a quick peck on the cheek and sat down across the
table from him. She gave him a smile then looked down. "I'm glad you're
letting me take this opportunity to thank you. I mean, hell it's scary
enough being in an accident, but I didn't need any excess baggage from it."
A lot of people don't understand."
"I'd be lying if I said I did, but I'm a professional. Nowadays,
you shoot your mouth off, you get as much trouble as you give, usually
more."
"Your partner, is he cool with what happened?"
"Well, we had a call to an older homosexual couple's house, and he
was careful not to crack wise. Maybe not 'ok', but he's learned tact. He'll
make it."
Carla smiled again. "So Jim, why'd you become an EMT?"
"Well the want ads were always asking for them, and I didn't want a
boring job, so I got some state assistance and trained up. Learned real
quick why they're always hiring too."
"Burn out?"
"Flame out. It's a lot quicker. Stress is high; I mean it really
can be life and death. Had one poor kiddo lose it on the third run. Just
got out of the ambulance at the hospital and walked home."
"That's sad."
"Yeah. So Ms. Carla, what do you do?"
"Nothing dramatic, oh Mr. EMT man. I do loan processing at a
bank. Number crunching, customer service, paperwork. Worst part of the job
is telling a poor young couple that they can't get a house 'cause the guy
had let his first car get repo'd or the girl's still got a maxxed out
Mervyn's card. That's no fun. But it's mostly boring."
"So, would you like something to eat?"
"No, I usually don't eat in the middle of the day."
"Oh. Ok, my big bowl of Rice Krispies is still with me anyway. I've
got time to kill today, Carla, is there anything else you'd like to do?"
"Like Ridley Scott films?"
Fifteen minutes later they were sitting in a nice theater with a
couple of sodas, a bucket of popcorn, and a ridiculously overpriced bag of
candy. The ads rolled, talkies now, so it was kinda hard to converse over
them. The lights dimmed, and shortly after some previews, they were
entranced in Scott's latest bid for a cinema masterpiece. Dramatically told
with bold visuals, Jim wasn't too surprised when Carla moved toward him
scene by scene, grasping his arm when moved or surprised. He was surprised
that it felt like a real date, rather than a 'buddy' outing. Finally the
credits rolled with Carla's arm around his, which she quickly removed in
surprised when Jim moved to get up.
The two walked out and since it was a good three and a half hours
later, by mutual agreement they walked over to the Bananabee's Grill for
dinner. They quickly ordered and Jim finally felt comfortable asked the
questions at hand.
"So... when did you figure out you were a girl?"
"Oh, I think it finally hit me at around ten or eleven. We were all
just beginning to 'grow up' and I didn't like how the boys had to play
sports and become 'macho'. I always found myself gossiping about school
people and soap operas with the girls of my classes. Going through high
schools, I can't say I was 'feminine' or secretly lusted after guys, but I
knew I wasn't wired right and was just kinda killing time until I got out
on my own and do what I felt needed to be done."
"But you haven't gone all the way."
"No. I mean the hormones and the basic plastic surgery were fine,
but I'm a little leery of doing the last step."
"Why?"
"Well, in America I'd have to monitored for a while before a
pshrink can give the ok for the operation. I didn't want that in my life."
"Option B?"
"Overseas. Some girls have had great things to say, others are
horror stories. Since I've not had much occasion to think about it, I
haven't dwelt on it. People see and treat me as a girl, and that's what I
wanted."
"So no plans to..."
"Whack wee willie?"
Jim chuckled.
"No. Would it make me easier to accept if I had a nonfunctional
slit down there that I'd have to lube up before use?"
"No. I was just thinking, however, if you're content emotionally
how you are, then wrecking an existing part of your endocrine system
doesn't seem to be the best of ideas anyway."
"That's very enlightened of you."
"I can surprise myself."
Dinner went well, with the constant bothering of an overly
enthusiastic attendant they turned to other topics. Over slightly
overpriced mass-market diner food they found out that football and baseball
seasons could be fun because they liked the Panthers and White Sox, but
basketball would be contentious because of a Mavs-Rockets rivalry. Jim also
impressed Carla with rather extensive knowledge of General Hospital and
Days of our Lives, explaining that was all firemen talk about it
seemed. Finally the two walked out to their cars in the lot. Jim escorted
Carla to her car and opened her door for her. He then got into his car and
turned the key and heard a most unsatisfying "clunk" sound from the
engine. He popped the hood and got out. Seeing this Carla shut off her own
car and came over.
"What is it?", she asked.
"Dunno. Maybe the solenoid or the starter. Battery seems to have
juice. Turn the key for me."
* Ka-chunk *
"Damn, it's the starter. All froze up." Jim pulled out his cell
phone. "Time to call Triple-C."
Fifteen minutes later the truck came by to haul Jim's car off to
the service shop. Carla followed, and when Jim put his key into the
early-bird drop off, she took him to his place.
As he got out of her car Carla said, "Goodnight, it was fun."
"Yeah, it was. Best day off I've had in a while. Just sixteen hours
to go until my next shift."
"Late shift tomorrow?"
"Yeah."
"I close tomorrow. Don't have to be in until noon."
"Yeah?"
"You want the night to end this early?"
Jim thought about it. "Nope. Not really. Come on in."
Carla sat down on Jim's couch as he grabbed a pair of Cokes from
his fridge. He plopped down next to her and invited Carla to surf the
channels. She eventually settled on a Jackie Chan film and soon the two
were laughing and carrying on at his antics around the world. The credits
rolled and once again there wasn't anything between Carla and Jim.
"It's getting late", Carla said, staring at the TV.
"I suppose."
Carla got up, gathered her purse up and walked toward the front
door. Jim met her there and opened it for her. "Goodnight, Carla. It's been
really quite nice being with you today."
As Carla smiled and began to turn back towards Jim a shadow fell
across her vision and she felt something hot and moist press against her
lips. To her surprise, and Jim's, he'd kissed her. After he pulled back,
the two looked at each other for an instant, placing themselves in the
scheme of the moment. Carla then moved ever so slightly into Jim who
quickly gathered her up in his arms and began to kiss her with real
passion. They fell back onto the couch, kicking the door closed, and Carla
ending up on top of Jim. As their tongues searched each other's mouths,
various hands were also engaged in reconnaissance of other body parts.
Finally the wound down a touch, Carla looking down into Jim's
face. "That was... nice. Jim, are you sure about this?"
"Nope. But after how pleasant today was, are you going to deny me
the chance to find out?"
Carla shook her head no, and sat up a bit straddling Jim. She
pulled off her blouse and undid her bra, freeing her breasts for just the
briefest of moments as Jim's hands began to move over them. After a moment
she got up and proceeded to help Jim off with his clothes. Soon Jim was
naked, sitting on the couch with an apparently pleased erection in his
lap. Carla knelt before him, pulling her skirt down in the motion, and
wrapped her hand around his penis. Jim jumped at the pleasantness of her
touch, which was nothing compared to the feel of her tongue skittering
across the head of his organ.
She stood up before him, clad only in her panties. "Before we... I
go any further, I have to know."
Jim gingerly brought his hands up along Carla's legs and slid his
thumbs under the sides of her undergarment. Slowly his hands descended
bringing the small fabric covering down with them. When they passed half
way down her thigh, out popped her nine-inch rod, semi-erect and scant
inches from Jim's face. Fascination soon made those inches disappear as Jim
rubbed his face against that penis as he finished removing removing Carla's
panties. As they hit the floor, Jim took the long engorged rod into his
mouth, an experience he'd never imagined occurring in his life. Carla was
warm, very warm, in his mouth and with each trip up that fleshy shaft he
could feel her heartbeat with every pulse of the blood rushing into
her. Jim kept sucking on her as Carla's hands ran through his hair, her
moans of passion increasing in both volume and tempo. Finally she cried
out, her penis swelling in Jim's mouth, and began pulsing as Jim felt her
squirt her semen down his throat as she came.
After he swallowed the warm, salty, sticky liquid Carla bent down
and gave Jim a kiss. He wrapped his hands around Carla and brought her to
the couch and rolled on top of her. As Jim's tongue moved inside Carla's
mouth, his hands fondled her breasts; his hot hard organ pressing into her
spent one. He moved away and Carla frantically rolled over to put her butt
high in the air, reaching down to her purse beside the couch she handed Jim
a small bottle of lubricant with a hungry look on her face. He coated his
shaft with the gel and dribbled some on her puckered opening. Jim placed
his head there and slowly pushed into her. Carla let out a long slow groan
as she felt the hot muscle move deep inside of her until she felt Jim's
scrotum pressed against her backside.
Jim looked at the erotic sight below him, this exotic woman lying
underneath him with her ass pressed against his crotch. Suddenly he felt
very lucky and smiled as he leaned forward. Reaching around her, Jim cupped
Carla's breasts in his hands and began to slide his penis in and out of the
tremendously turned on girl sandwiched now between him and the couch. He
started slowly, but picked up his pace as Carla's moans grew in intensity
and her nipples hardened in his palms.
The intensity of the pleasure transmitted from the warmth and
tightness of Carla's cavity made it's way up Jim's penis, tingling his
testicles, coursed up his spine and injected itself into his brain. He
arched, sending his manhood as deep as it would go into the enraptured
woman beneath him and began to fire shot after shot of his semen into
her. Starting with the first squirt, Carla began to cry out as she felt the
warm liquid fill her up. Exhausted, Jim collapsed onto Carla's back and
nuzzled her neck and continued to play with her breasts as he slowly went
soft inside her.
* * * * * *
"Well Dave, it's been good working with you."
"Good luck in Vegas, Jim. We'll miss you."
"Only because anvils are hard to aim."
Jim walked out of the wardroom to the parking lot and climbed into
his car. He'd finished his last two weeks here, and thanks to finding a new
job and a generous transfer, he and Carla would start trying to build their
lives together in... oh... about twenty five minutes.
