AUTHOR'S NOTE: I would like to thank everyone who provided constructive criticism to the first chapter. Again, I apologize for not putting "Chapter One" on the first segment of the story. For those of you who did not wish for me to continue the story, then you do not have to read the second chapter. As always, your comments are welcome, and I encourage you to provide more feedback at the end of this chapter.
*****
Towering trees blurred by on either side of the sports car as the happy couple navigated the winding road on a dark summer's night. The evening was perfect for a secret encounter as they were the only people out on the road. The radio gods favored their midnight rendezvous by populating the air waves with love songs. The happy couple laughed at the irony of the late night infomercials played on the radio suggesting that there were hot women staying in, talking on the phones rather than going out and being social. The serenity of the night took away the stress and strain of the daily routines in life. No bills that needed to be paid. No household chores that needed to be done. Nothing mattered except the two people spending time together. The lonely country road fueled the nostalgia and the ability to travel back in time as if they were teenagers all over again. The age of the couple did not figure in to their plans.
The towering trees were not the only phallus symbol along this twisting and winding path. The well built specimen of a man had unzipped his jeans and had revealed his thick penis, giving a knowing glance to the woman sitting in the passenger seat. The veins in the man's cock throbbed with excitement as the woman's eyes bulged at the sight. She reached across so that she could grab hold of the hard shaft, mesmerized by how small her hand looked in comparison to the man's member. The mushroom head seemed to call out to her, begging her to kiss it. The man freed a hand from the steering wheel so that he could guide the woman's lips closer and closer. It was clear what he wanted.
"We're going too fast," protested the woman. Her words lacked conviction as she was mere inches away from welcoming the man's cock into her mouth. Compulsion grabbed her. She planted a loving kiss on the tip of the cock. As she stared at the object of her desire, she found the words to say, "I don't even do this for my husband."
"I'm not your husband," replied the man in a smug tone.
*****
The soft tones of the office telephone brought the distraught man back to the present. Normally, the telephone was the bane of his existence while at work. Constant calls about a computer not working properly, or the system going slow, or any other grievance that centered on 'user error' kept his department busy to the point of being irritated and annoyed. The ringing would normally generate groans and smirks; however, the sound of something other than his thoughts and wild imagination was a welcomed relief. The fact that the caller ID showed up as the Switchboard on the phone's LCD display helped temporarily.
"Information Technology, this is Steve. How may I help you?" was the programmed response from the IT Director.
"Hey," greeted Amber. Her tone quite somber and demure as she questioned, "How are you doing? Are you going to be ok?"
How do you think I'm doing? My wife is fucking around on me, and you think I'm going to be ok?
His thoughts screamed out, lashing out at the first person that he encountered. However, Steve had enough sense to filter his response, "Oh, I'll be fine. Just..." He paused in an attempt to keep the emotions from surfacing; however, he failed miserably. "... It hurts, but I'll get through it." He paused to regain some sense of composure, but dutifully asked, "What can I do for you, ma'am?"
"Steve..." Amber wanted to say so much more, but couldn't find the words. Not without sounding like a greeting card found in some novelty shop. Her heart reached out to him. "Steve, the doctor would like to speak with you about your wife."
What? Does he want her cell phone number so he can give her a call once she's recovered in order to have her thank him properly?
Again with the cynicism, though not once does his filter allow this to pass through to his mouth. "Oh joy." Steve mimicked the physician in his head.
Yes, Steve, your wife has an inflamed larynx caused by having a giant penis stuffed down her throat at the time of the accident. She won't be able to speak ever again.
He contemplated whether or not to list that as a pro or a con since she would not be able to nag him any more. "I'll be right there."
The early morning hours in the Emergency Department focused on two rooms. Patient care and proper documentation ruled the air. The skeleton crew of nurses attended to not only the needs of the patients, but also the attention of the only physician on duty. Entering orders, typing up nurse's notes, receiving lab results and x-ray reports were common tasks and considered the norm. However, upon Steve's arrival to the ER, the nurses found other duties that were suddenly neglected such as checking and stocking supplies. It was only the physician that turned to face him.
"We have stabilized your wife, and we are preparing to have her airlifted to St. Mary's Medical," explained the Indian doctor.
Twenty years of marriage, love and devotion was hard to turn off for the hurt husband. Instinct forced him to inquire, "Airlifted? What's wrong? Is she ok?" He looked past the physician towards the occupied trauma room, expecting that his wife was behind the closed curtain. It was with that gaze that he spotted movement from one of the hallways. The night watchman had made his way in a casual manner to the ER, though his intent was clear: monitor the exchange between physician and the 'angry' husband.
The physician continued in his heavily accented English, "There was some swelling near the spinal cord, affecting her motor functions. Fortunately, there was sensation in her extremities. She's breathing on her own. She's currently on methylprednisolone and being sent to St. Mary's Medical for surgery, to relieve the swelling and to decompress the spinal cord."
Oh, you have got to be shitting me.
Steve looked to the ceiling in frustration and aggravation.
Do you hate me? Do I look like Job to you?
After cursing the heavens, Steve looked the physician in the eye and asked, "Will she be able to walk again?"
"We should know more after the surgery. The fact that she's showing signs of sensory perception in her toes is quite promising," answered the physician.
Steve spied the other exam room being occupied this evening. The pulled curtain protected the privacy and the identity of its occupant. A glance towards the security guard stopped Steve from doing something reckless and stupid. A feigned smile accompanied Steve's response to the physician. "Thank you, Doctor."
The lonesome back corridor of the Emergency Department, generally used for the transitioning of patient care such as moving ER patients to surgery or radiology or admitting ER patients up to med/surg as an in-patient, served as refuge for Steve. Dubbed the "Interstate Corridor" by hospital employees based on its length, the quiet and the long expanse of the hallway provided the IT Director with time to focus his thoughts. With each step, Steve realized that his life resembled the crisis that the hospital faced not an hour ago. The centralized switch failed, causing chaos and disarray throughout the entire hospital. Jill was his 'centralized switch'.
In the safety and privacy of the network operations center, his favorite comic book anti-hero would be proud of his technological man-cave. Tucked away in a hidden closet with the spaghetti mess of network cables and twisted pairs used for the telephone circuitry, Steve found sanctity and serenity in the IT fortress of solitude. The green, blue, orange and red LED lights, which belonged to the various pieces of network equipment, had a calming effect similar to that of an illuminated Christmas tree in a darkened family room. Steve plugged his laptop into the radiology network and pulled up the PACS software.
HIPAA be damned. I'm simply verifying the integrity of patient data after experiencing a potential for data loss, Steve told himself with a sense of purpose. If my wife was being stabilized for a spinal injury, then it was you who needed the CAT scan, mother fucker. Let's find out exactly who you are.
The violation of the governmental regulations hardly registered in Steve's mind as the different screens appeared on his laptop's display. The patient's demographics was the first screen accessed, revealing not only Don Juan's real name, but his address, phone number, and his employer. Unable to curb his technological fetish, Steve scrolled through the numerous images of the CT scan. While he may not have understood what he was seeing, seeing the 'insides' of the man who wrecked his life provided a mild form of catharsis. It humanized his villain. Finally, he accessed the preliminary radiology report to discover that he suffered a mild concussion and would be held overnight at the hospital.
While the pain and anguish lingered in the back of his mind, Steve compartmentalized his thoughts. In the confines of his home away from home, the images of his wife's infidelity were pushed to the background. His task at hand revolved around obtaining information about his wife's lover; a task similar to his system audit responsibilities. In his mind, Steve was back at work where he was safe from harm. The sudden ringing of the telephone startled Steve out of his thoughts and processing of information before him. A quick glance to the LCD display caused him to emit a tiny chuckle. "Do you have a GPS tracking system on me or something? How did you know I was here?"
