High Velocity Psa

Karma Levitates a Train

Continuation of Slow Velocity Karma, prequel to High Velocity PSA. If you hated the other stories in this series, you won't enjoy this one either.

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March 28

I don't like roller coasters. I don't like the sudden drops. I loathe the slow ascents to what feels like an impending doom. Yet here I was, standing in line for the Rocky Mountain Roller Coaster with my children Elsie and Robert. Ethan was supposed to be here, but he had to run off to pee. This was maybe the third time since we arrived at the Tempest Amusement Park. I was alternating between annoyance, worry and abject terror. The annoyance was waiting in line, praying for him to take my place before we went through the turnstile. The worry was that some ailment was causing his frequent trips to the toilet. The terror was that I would actually have to accompany my kids on the roller coaster.

He returned just as we got to the turnstile. A couple of people behind us whined that he was pushing in line, but when I quickly removed myself from the queue they dropped their objections. My kids took over in the complaints department. "Mom, we're supposed to ride this as a family. Come back here!" I smiled and took a place against the fence several yards from the turnstile.

"I'll watch you from here. Have fun!"

The daytime was for the kids' fun. The evening was for Ethan's and mine. Well, mainly for Ethan. He had wrangled a couple of tickets to Hamlet; not the tame version he had taken the children to recently. We were in the best seats in the house, about ten rows back from the stage, in the center. By the time Hamlet slashed Laertes with the poisoned sword, Ethan was shifting around in his seat, leaning to the right, leaning to the left, slouching, sitting straight. "Go pee," I told him, but he couldn't interrupt the last scene to squeeze his way past maybe a dozen other people. When Hamlet's body was carried away, Ethan ran like greased lightning.

I met him in the lobby. "You have to get that checked out."

"What checked out?"

"You've been racing desperately for the toilet all day long."

"Peeing isn't an illness."

"Peeing isn't an illness, but it might be a symptom of one. It could be many things, like an enlarged prostate. or even prostate cancer. Cancer runs in your family."

Ethan, ever the gentleman, opened the car door for me. "My mother had breast cancer. My tits are fine."

He was usually smarter than this. "Would it hurt you to get your prostate checked?"

"You tell me if it would hurt: how do they check it?"

"Digital rectal exam. The doctor puts his finger in your rectum and feels around to see if it's enlarged, obstructing the urethra. A blood tests checks for signs of cancer."

"Ouch! No way in hell I'm letting a doctor stick his finger up my ass."

"Ethan, stop being so stubborn." We drove on in silence. We were almost home when he turned to me with a lopsided grin on his face.

"You're a health care professional. Why don't you check my prostate?"

"What?"

"We could have a lot of fun. You stick your finger up my ass, then I'll stick my sausage up yours. Very sexy."

I pulled a tissue from my purse and wiped my eyes. "Ethan, that's disgusting. You should take this seriously."

"You've never given me your ass. This would be the perfect way to try something new."

"Gross. Never going to happen."

"I guess you're not really that concerned about my prostate."

March 29

Marla, one of the better Nursing Assistants came up to me. "There's a policeman here. He wants to talk to you."

It was Zarim, the well-hung officer from Daniel's party at Guy's. What was he doing here? This couldn't be good.

"Is there a place where we can speak privately?"

I motioned him into the nursing office and closed the door. He pulled out a pair of handcuffs. "Please put your hands behind your back. Barbara Abbot, I'm arresting you for prostitution. Your performance at the Club was obscene, illegal, and most of all disrespectful to the police."

This couldn't be happening. "Disrespectful?"

"It was humiliating when you stuck your finger into me. I was a policeman for ten years before I came to America. People respected us, they feared us. When we asked a woman for consideration, she always gave it, because she knew she would be punished otherwise. In America the police are treated like dirt. I won't accept that."

I was stunned.

"I told you to put your hands behind your back."

"I remember you. I told you to go see a doctor, because your prostate is enlarged. Did you make an appointment?"

"Yes, I went to a clinic and they confirmed there is a problem that needs to be investigated."

"I probably saved your life with that examination and you're arresting me for it?"

He locked his eyes on mine. "Come stand in front of me, now."

I approached him while he clipped the handcuffs back onto his utility belt.

"Put your hands on my hips, and don't move them."

I obeyed. He reached around me, slipped his hand inside the back of my pants, and penetrated my ass with a finger. It hurt like hell, and I gasped. He grabbed a breast with his other hand. "Since you may have saved my life, I will give you a chance to save yours. You will come to my apartment after work and give me your body."

"I can't... My husband is expecting me tonight at the regular time."

He pulled his finger from my rectum and grabbed my chin. "I am giving you four days to show up at my apartment after work. You will be jailed if you don't." He handed me a paper with his address, not far from the hospital. "Four days," he said, releasing my breast and walking out.

He had pulled his finger from my ass and then touched my face. I walked to the sink, turned the water on hard, and washed my hands, my face. I still felt the contamination. I made the water hotter and repeated the process. It still felt dirty. I kept on washing, using lots of soap and water. I don't know how long I was at it before Marla came into the office, turned off the water and sat me in a chair.

I stared with vacant eyes. Marla was speaking to me, asking questions, but I couldn't make out what she was saying. My mind was spinning too fast to be able to cope with any extraneous tasks such as responding to what was going on around me. An elephant could have been dancing the Polka in the room, and I wouldn't have noticed.

How could I sleep with Zarim without Ethan finding out? How could I avoid sleeping with Zarim without Ethan finding out what I had done? Should I just come clean and admit my failures to Ethan? What would that solve? With a divorce, with time in jail for prostitution I would have no job, no family no future. I'd actually have to become a whore. Maybe I could work full time for Guy. He seemed to like me, but after a prostitution conviction, he probably wouldn't want to associate with me any more. He ran a high-end gentlemen's club, not a tawdry sex bar featuring cheap hookers.

Except when I was performing.

I was numb, but the voices around me were starting to penetrate my fog. They were discussing sending me down to Emergency. If they did that, everything would come out in the open. I got control of my breathing and forced my eyes to focus. "No, it's not necessary. I... I'm okay."

"What's going on Barbara? What happened?" Marla was kneeling in front of me, holding my hands.

I sighed. "He had some shocking information for me."

"What was it? Did someone in your family get hurt?"

I turned my head to the side. "It's kind of personal, the kind of thing I have to keep to myself." I stood up. "I should get back to work."

"No, go home." It was the Responsibility Nurse for the evening shift. She had the authority to say that. "Whatever it is, you're too distracted to focus on your work."

I gathered my things and headed down to the parking lot. I couldn't see a way out of this. Playing at being a stripper had been exciting at the moment, but there was a price. If I had kept it to being a stripper, maybe it wouldn't have ended up such a high price, but I had done much more than that. Zarim was right. I had sold my pussy for money. I was a prostitute. Not a mother, wife or nurse. It was the former, not the latter that was going to shape my life.

I started the motor, clicked on my seatbelt and froze. I couldn't go home two hours early. What would I say to Ethan? Tell him that I was upset because a cop came to arrest me? I could go to the red-light district and practice my new trade, but I wasn't dressed for it. Besides which, I didn't have a pimp to protect me.

And despite some insane behavior, I really did not want to be a prostitute, or even a stripper. I wanted to be a loving wife to my loving husband. It was like there were two people inside me, fighting for control. I pulled out of the parking lot, but didn't turn towards home. All these problems had started with one man and one place. I headed towards Guy's Gentlemen's Club.

Allison was off that evening, and the greeter didn't want to let me in. The baggy nurse's uniform finally convinced her that I wasn't a hooker coming to ply my trade. When I asked her to tell Guy that I needed to see him right away she had a flash of insight. "Oh, you're the one... Wow." It sounded like she was in awe. She buzzed Guy, then told me to go straight to his office.

Guy welcomed me with a huge smile, which faded as soon as he saw the tears on my cheeks. He opened his arms and I fell into them, crying. He rubbed my back, stroked my hair as I wept. I finally composed myself enough to tell him about Zarim's threat, and how my life faced destruction.

"No, no, your life is not destroyed, my love. Nobody messes with a woman of mine." He wiped my tears away with his thumbs. "Whenever you have a problem that no one else can help you with, you come to me. I will take care of you."

"But Zarim's right, I am a prostitute, a cheap whore. I hope my behavior doesn't harm your club. He's a policeman, and can make a lot of trouble."

"Barbara, Barbara... He's one policeman, not particularly high ranked and not particularly respected among his fellow officers. Did you see how many policemen were here when you performed? They all loved it. Calm yourself, darling. Zarim isn't going to hurt you, your family or reputation. I will make sure of it. Right, Bill?"

I hadn't heard Bill come into the office, but he was leaning against the door, his usual pleasant smile on his face. Bill nodded. Guy led me to the bed, took off my shoes, and told me to lie down.

"Rest here till you're ready to go home. Bill will stay with you. Do you want a drink?"

I sat on the edge of the bed. "Cold water?"

Guy went to the fridge and pulled out a small bottle. I took two gulps then handed it back to him. He sat beside me, took my face in his hands and kissed me gently on the lips. "You're safe here. You're safe from Zarim."

Guy was the cause of all my problems. He was the one who turned my life upside-down. But I believed him. Bill massaged my back and stroked my hair for over an hour till it was time, till I was relaxed enough to go home.

March 31

Ethan had taken to preparing breakfast for me. Toast, peanut butter, jam and coffee. He looked agitated this morning.

"What's wrong?"

He slid the newspaper across to me, pointing to an article on the bottom corner of the front page. "A policeman was killed. They've become sitting ducks for criminals." My breathing halted as I grasped the truth of it. Zarim had been shot with a high-powered rifle as his car rounded a serpentine street in a hilly, elegant part of town. He crashed through a guard rail at high velocity and rolled several times. Bags of an unidentified white powder were found under the seat. Investigators were unsure whether Zarim had them because he was a drug dealer, or because he had bust a drug dealer. The latter would explain the shooting.

Guy had told me the truth. Nobody messes with his woman. I was in that category.

April 15

Bill Richards was in the parking lot, leaning against my car when I finished my shift. I tensed, having little doubt that it was Bill who had taken care of Zarim. I immediately relaxed, having little doubt that this smiling, unassuming had done it because of his feelings for me.

"Hey, Barbie, how are you?" He extended his hand, and shook mine. This was odd. He usually had my genitals in his hand, not my fingers.

"I'm good, everything is good. How about you? Is everything okay at—"

"Everything's fine. Business is good, all our staff is doing well, earning a nice living."

"Ethan's expecting me soon. Do you need me for something tonight?"

He laughed. "No, no. I just wanted to make sure my woman is happy. Are you happy?"

I nodded.

"Listen, if you ever want to earn a few extra dollars, or even just visit, we'd be happy to have you come by. But no pressure. If you don't feel comfortable, then don't." His eyes narrowed, his countenance darkened. "If you ever have a problem, any kind of problem that needs fixing, you come to us. Guy told me to take care of you a long time ago, and I will. You're my woman, my responsibility. Remember that." He shook my hand again and walked off.

I was Bill's woman? Guy had already claimed me as his woman. Before both, when I married Ethan, I had taken a vow that I was his. How did I end up being the property of so many different men? How many people was I?"

May 3

Ethan was peeing a lot today. Every time I turned around, he was in the bathroom. I watched his face; he looked uncomfortable as he urinated. He was manipulating his cock, but clearly not for pleasure. The last time he had a urination issue was back at the end of March, and it lasted a few days. I would give him that much time to get better, otherwise I had to come up with some other plan.

Elsie and Robert were in their rooms. Ethan was standing in front of the toilet, holding his penis, looking unhappy. I reached over for it. "Can I hold this for you?" It immediately pointed up towards the ceiling.

"If you want me to pee on the ceiling rather than in the toilet, by all means."

"You've been standing here a while. Problems letting go?"

"Problems with a study I'm doing. There's a company I'm working on, Belize Holdings, that seems to be on the up-and-up, but something smells wrong and I can't get a grip on it."

I squeezed his organ. "I've got a good grip."

"Well you're going to have to let go if you don't want to have to clean my pee of the ceiling."

"I'll clean something else." I began to stroke him.

"What do you mean?"

I reached for the baby oil, dribbled some on him, stroking harder and faster. I grabbed a washcloth as I felt him tense, intercepting his jets of white goo before they reached orbit. Pointing him downwards I smiled. "Now pee already." He couldn't, but that may have been my fault. "Will you go to the doctor for a prostate exam?"

He shook his head.

"You'll pay for this," I said.

May 7

It was one of those rare weekday evenings when I wasn't working, when the kids had gone to bed early, there was nothing on TV, and the internet was painfully unresponsive. I had put the security settings to maximum, so our system was rejecting just about everything that anyone tried to download. I wanted Ethan's undivided attention.

I came downstairs wearing a white, slutty nurse uniform which I had borrowed from Guy's on the way home from work a couple of days ago. Ethan was on his recliner, watching an old rerun of Chicago ER. He looked bored. I sat down on the couch and crossed my legs. The short skirt had long slits, exposing the length of my thighs.

Ethan immediately turned off the television and sat down beside me. "What's this?"

"I wanted to try a new look at work. What do you think?"

The top of the outfit was a white, tight, button-down blouse, with the top button maybe half-way down my chest. The bottom button was just above my navel. The cotton was so thin that even where I was covered, I was exposed. A lot was showing, including the shape and color of my nipples. I lifted one foot onto the couch, displaying my lack of panties.

"You plan to go to work like this?"

"I wore it to work yesterday. All the men seemed to like it. Do you?" Ethan looked a little unsure of himself. He had kissed me goodbye when I left the house yesterday, proudly wearing the Winnie-the -Pooh scrubs he had bought not that long ago. "I was a better nurse because of it."

"Oh?"

"All the men I had as patients wanted to hug me in appreciation. The doctors too, and the orderlies. I got a lot of hugs. There was a problem though."

By now he was pretty sure I was teasing him. "What problem?"

"All the men said that the skirt made their skin itchy, so they pulled it up before they hugged me"

"They hugged your bum?"

"Yes, and they all said I have a very fine bum. Do you want to check it out?"

"I think that's a good idea. Let's go upstairs."

I lifted the skirt up as I led the way. "I want to check your bum, too. It's probably a very fine bum."

Ethan was too focused on my display to notice the rubber gloves, lube and paper towels on the bureau. I bent over, putting myself on full display. He fondled my ass, he ran his finger along my slit, playing with my pubes. One hand reached for my breast while the other started to penetrate me. I was getting worked up, and had to shift gears before we got too involved. I straightened up.

"Now I'm going to check your bum. Take the position." He bent over, leaning on the counter. I stood behind him to unbuckle his belt, dropping his pants, removing his briefs. He stepped out of them and kicked them to the side. I licked his butt cheek to distract him. Quietly as possible I put a rubber glove on my right hand, put some lube on the index finger and on my left hand. I rubbed my left index finger along his ass crack, taking care he only felt the lube, not the rubber of the glove. When he started to breath heavily I shifted my left hand to palpate his testicles. My right index finger played with his anus.

His testicles seemed okay. I couldn't detect any lumps. I slid my finger into his asshole, and started prodding. He gasped. I had been sure there was trouble, from all those days where he was constantly at the toilet. But his prostate felt normal to me. I withdrew my right hand, pulled off the glove and wiped him. I could tell he was annoyed by the surprise penetration, but I had him too worked up to do anything about it. I lifted him from the bent-over position, put my right hand on his penis, and pressed my now-uncovered breasts against him. I felt him tensing up, turned him around, and took him in my mouth for his release. He collapsed onto the bed. The ecstasy on his face gave me a greater rush, a greater sense of fulfillment than anything I had ever done down at Guy's Gentlemen's Club. I flopped down on the bed, my head on his chest, my thigh squeezing his groin. We both lay there, catching our breath, catching our thoughts.

I felt him stiffen, and slid my hand down. He pulled it away. "My turn," he said.

"Turn for what?"

"We made a deal: you stick your finger up my ass, and I stick my sausage up yours."

"No, I never agreed to that deal. This is a case of you getting molested by your health care provider. It doesn't entitle you to put your sausage back there, but there's somewhere else I urgently need you to put it."

"Oh? Where would that be?"

He lay flat on his back as I climbed on.

May 8

There was an extra piece of toast on my breakfast plate this morning. Ethan grinned at me.

"My health care provider worked hard last night. I want to make sure she gets enough nourishment."

I undid the top button of my nightgown. "Your health care provider wants to make sure you stay healthy. Are you ready for your diagnosis?"

His eyes lit up in anticipation. "Give it to me, you sexy bitch."