Author's Notes:
In this story, I thought I would try something a little different. I don't know if it is going to work or not, but here it is. What I am attempting it to do; is interweave both of the main character's perspective in a way that I hope gives a fuller story. I know there can be some confusion when you switch the point of view, so I am going to try and mark it in a way to avoid this. Let me know if I have achieved my goal. Some people have suggested that my stories belong more in the Romance or the Novella section. That is true to an extent. Yes, they are longer love stories more than sex stories. But this one does deal with lesbian love, so I will leave it here.
Please remember this is a copyrighted work, intended for mature adult audiences, and all legal disclaimers apply. All constructive comments are welcome and please vote.
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Trish
Let me get one thing straight from the start. I'm not black, Afro-American or a ghetto-gurl... I am a woman of color and damn proud of it. My ancestors were from Europe, just like most of those pasty faced elitists you'd meet. My family originated from Spain. We're what are known as the Moorish Spaniards. Our skin is a deep rich coco brown, and our hair isn't kinky and tends to hang in ringlet curls. We have wide faces with patrician features. My eyes are golden brown and I can carry myself with the willowy elegance of a model when necessary.
Not that I have anything against my brothers and sisters of color from Africa, Jamaica, Australia or wherever they come from. I believe it is more important to know who you are, rather than where you came from. Take me for instance.
I hate it when people come up to me and start talking in all that ghetto trash, street slang. It doesn't make you look or sound tough, nor does it impress me. It makes you look uneducated. I don't know about you, but I'm proud of my college education. I can speak formally in three different languages. I don't need to butcher the English or any other language to make a statement or be heard. And no, I haven't sold out to the "man"... please, save me from those idiots!
I'm Trish by the way. Actually Patricia Ellen Hafez, I have a normal family with an older brother and younger sister. My parents worked very hard to ensure we all got the opportunity to finish college and take advantage of the great American dream. My brother, Alonzo, is an engineer, who married his college sweetheart and is doing his best to continue the species, giving our mom as many grandkids as she can spoil.
My sister, Sheila, is finishing school, trying to see how many hearts she can break as she wanders through the male population. She's not a slut, not by a long shot. I don't think she's had sex with more than two or three people. That's the problem. She's this hot sexy little number, with an athletically tight body, who knows how to say no. She'll settle down with some nice man when she's about thirty or so. She's not in a rush. Sheila wants to enjoy life to the fullest before she makes her contribution to the population.
That leaves me. To be completely honest, I've never dated a guy in my life, never plan to either. Oh I've been hit on, begged, and even bullied. But, guys have never flipped that trigger, if you know what I mean. To me, that thing they have dangling between their legs looks like a big ugly worm. And yes, I've gone fishing and hooked my own worms. Think of a six gauge hook piercing your little wobbly the next time you want to swing that thing in my direction... anyway....
Women look so much better. They don't have to have bulging muscles, or have their intelligence drop to their crotch when confronted by a future mating prospect. So what, I missed my prom.... I had a really important math final I had to study for. Yeah that's me, the studious one. School held more importance than a social life.
Besides, give me a firm curvy woman and watch me drool. For me, there was no experimentation. I've always known I like girls more than guys. Girls are so sexy. They know how to dress and how to act. Well, most of them. And yes, before you ask. I've had a few lovers, but I hadn't met anyone who could hold my heart... yet. And no, I'm not into the whole casual lifestyle scene. All that bar hopping and silly games. I have no time for it. I'm too busy working. I've worked too hard to become a top Hospital Administrator, with her PhD in Social Welfare to spend untold useless hours in those kinds of meat markets.
Yeah, I'm a Social Worker... But, I'm also the boss of all those stuck up doctors strutting around like kings. It's great. Oh sure, the hours suck and the work is hard, but it's like my father always said. "If it was fun, then they would call it play." Very intelligent man, my father.
Okay, now that we got all that sorted out, I can get on with this story. Where was I? Oh, yeah! I was telling you how I found the love of my life. I was working in my office when I got the call.
***
"Trish, there's a victim in ER that needs your attention." David, my assistant told me over the intercom.
"Okay; do we have a history yet?" I asked, gathering what I'd need to do the intake interview. We're always short on social workers on staff, so I'm always on call when they can't find anyone else available in emergencies.
"Um, let me look..." David replied, "The nurse says, she won't talk to any of the men, is all I got. I'm also supposed to warn you... she's a mess, so don't be shocked by what you see. She came in as an accident victim."
"Okay... I got it. I'll be down in ten minutes. Call down and see if Liz Jensen is on for security. If she is, post her at the door until I get there." I ordered as I pulled on my blazer over my blouse. This wasn't the first time, and I knew it wasn't going to be the last time; I dealt with the tragedies of humanity. It was part of the job.
I prepared myself for the worst as I rode the elevator down to the first floor. I ignored the eyes that always followed me as I walked through the hallways. I've become accustomed to it. All the employees know who I am and what I do. Even the prideful doctors knew they could look, but I'd have their ass if the ever crossed the line. It's kind of funny. I would know who to look at after one of my walks through the hospital. The guilty ones always gave themselves away.
My heels clicked as I walked down the polished tile hall, following the quickest route to where I was needed. As I turned the corner into back half of the ER, I entered bedlam. A woman was screaming and the doctors and nurses were trying to deal with the hysterical woman.
"Where's my son! Don't touch me... help me please... where's my son...!" She screamed, as Dr. Well called for the medical restraints. I took a few seconds to scan the scene, before I took control.
"Dr. Wells..." I called out to get his attention. "What's going on?" I demanded.
"They said she was stable, then she..." The young doctor snapped. "Hold her down before she hurts herself more." He ordered a male nurse. "She has gone into hysterics.... Hold her down damn it! She might have internal injuries...." He attempted to control the situation. I realized if this was my client, he was going about this the wrong way.
"All the men out of the room now...!" I ordered as I came closer. "Dr. Wells... call Dr. Martin! She's on call for surgery. Get her down here STAT!" I unbraided the males who were in the room impartially. "No males in here without my orders.... Ma'am... You need to calm down... they're leaving...." I told the thrashing woman. "Sally I want you in here now." I called down to the nurses' station calling on the one senior nurse I knew on shift.
Sally came running, as I pushed the men out of the room. "Make sure her IV is secure, and get her to calm down some more until Dr. Martin gets here." I told the little no nonsense nurse, and then focused on the young man in front of me. "Dr. Wells with me...!" I walked away, knowing he had no choice in following. I didn't even try and take in the carnage of the bloody woman in the bed.
