The phone jangled me out of a particularly erotic dream at 6:30 AM. I was pretty disoriented, trying to make the leap from Salma Hayek's hot tub back to my dumpy bedroom. But even in that state I knew it had to be one of two things: a family emergency or Dickie, the scheduling supervisor at work. Fortunately it was Dickie.
"What do you want, Dick? It's my day off."
"I need you to go cover Schaeffer's shift out at Community Hospital."
"I'm sleeping, Dick."
"Come on, Harris, give a guy a break. You're the sixth person I've called since Schaeffer called in. Besides, girl, I thought you could use the overtime."
Dickie was right, I could use the money. I'd moved out of my ex's apartment a couple of months ago and was finding it a little hard to make ends meet on my own. I asked who my medic would be.
Angelina Shea. My heart fluttered. Gorgeous and smart, she was one of the best medics in the whole ambulance company. For a moment I hesitated; would I be able to keep my mind on the job with her in the passenger seat for twelve whole hours? I decided that the chance to work with her was worth the risk. I gave Dickie a hard time for another minute or so, then agreed to take the shift.
"All right then, Harris. Get a move on. Shift starts at eight."
When I arrived at Community, Angelina was already in the back of the ambulance, counting her drug box and checking the supplies. "Where's Schaeffer?" she asked with a frown.
"Out sick. Guess you're stuck with me, Shea."
"Hm," she grunted and went back to counting the gauze pads.
Oh great
, I thought,
this is going to be a long shift
.
On the other hand, there were compensations. As I walked around the ambulance, checking the lights and mechanicals, I stole glances at Angelina through the windows. Her long auburn hair fell in waves around her shoulders and she hooked it back over one ear with a short, shell-pink nail. I imagined those nails lightly tracing the curve of my breast. She paused to twist her hair into a knot at the nape of her neck and clasp it with a barrette. I imagined twisting that hair around my fist as I pulled her into a powerful kiss.
And, oh, her perfume. Our first call came in and she came around to the passenger seat. As I searched for the street in my map book, I slowly became aware of a spicy musk that reminded me of the scent of an aroused woman. I swear, my mouth actually began to water and I felt a frisson of excitement in my clit.
We took a couple of easy calls together. I had to lean heavily on the map book, since I hadn't driven in that part of town in a while. Angelina made helpful suggestions when I got stuck, but otherwise we rode together in silence.
For my part, I decided to make up for my poor navigational skills by being the best assistant she'd ever had. When she was working up a patient, I tried to anticipate her every need. I watched how she worked and quickly learned how she liked things done. We worked smoothly together and I appreciated her deft skill and her gentle way with the patients.
She was strong, too, and had no trouble holding up her side of the stretcher as we lifted patients into the back of the ambulance. She moved gracefully within the cramped space of the patient compartment and I could see that she had to have a supple body under the unflattering, baggy jumpsuit uniform we both wore. I imagined tugging her zipper gently down to discover what she was wearing underneath.
As we worked together, Angelina gradually thawed. She even smiled once when I suggested we bring back a dozen donuts to butter up the ER staff. My heart skipped a beat. I silently vowed to bring donuts to every ER I worked out of for the next month.
Things slowed down for a while in the afternoon. We had time for Angelina to go help out the ER nurses and for me to wash and polish the rig in the ambulance bay. I had just finished and was strolling past the nurses' station on my way to the Coke machine when Dr. Lewis called me over. I remembered him from his previous post at General Hospital in the city, where I usually worked.
"Harris! You driving today?"
"Sure am, Doc. What's up?"
"Thank God. You can drive like a bat out of hell when you want to, can't you? Well, I've got a volunteer squad coming in from Farmersville with a guy who got mangled in some farm equipment and he's bleeding out."
"Sheesh, Doc – what are you going to do?"
"We can't handle that kind of trauma here. He'd bleed to death in the ER before we could page in a surgeon, and our blood bank is a joke. Where's your partner?"
I called Angelina on the walkie-talkie and she hurried over. The doctor brought her up to speed and told her what the game plan was. We'd transfer the patient to our stretcher in the ambulance bay, Doc and Angelina would start IV's on him, we'd toss him in the rig and I'd drive like hell to the trauma center at General. With any luck, he'd live until the trauma surgeons could patch him up.
The volunteers were five minutes out, so I called dispatch while Angelina prepped the IV sets and got out the rest of her supplies.
In no time, the volunteer ambulance pulled into the bay. A couple of nurses yanked open the back doors and a trickle of blood poured out.
Oh shit
, I thought,
this guy's in bad shape
. We pulled the stretcher out and Doc Lewis and Angelina each took an arm. They both got lines started on the first try and I felt a glow of pride in Angelina's skills as I trotted to the driver's seat. I heard the stretcher lock into place and the back doors slam, and I hit the lights and siren and pulled out of the bay.
Traffic was surprisingly light as I smoothly danced through the city streets on my way to the expressway. I felt completely in my element as I worked the siren and dodged through intersections. I spared a glance into the rearview mirror and saw Angelina with the cell phone tucked onto her shoulder, talking with General's ER while she squeezed the bag of IV fluid with both of her strong hands. She glanced up and caught my eye – I thought I saw a flicker of fear before she looked away.
On the expressway, traffic melted before me. I accelerated smoothly and surged into the left lane. With nothing in front of me for half a mile, I glanced back at Angelina. She was still squeezing the IV bag and looking at the display on the heart monitor. Again she caught me looking. I couldn't hear her voice over the scream of the siren, but I read her lips. "Faster," she said.
"Faster," yes, Ma'am: I could give her "faster."
I gripped the steering wheel lightly but firmly. I pressed the accelerator to the floor and felt the ambulance respond with another surge of speed. I glanced at the speedometer – it was pinned at 120 MPH. The car swayed gently at this speed and I could feel the texture of the road in my seat, in my sex, in my whole body. I felt like a part of the machine as we moved together; I was in total control and she responded beautifully to my touch. The knowledge of what we'd all look like if I lost control added a spice of danger. It lasted forever. It was over in an eye blink.
We pulled into the ambulance bay at General and a small crowd of nurses and interns had the stretcher out almost before I had the car stopped. Angelina joined the swarm as they hustled through the door and down the hall toward the trauma suite.
The driver of another ambulance winked at me and sniffed the air. "Hot brakes," he said with a grin. "How fast were you going, anyhow?"