Author’s note: No sex in this first part, sorry. Stay tuned for Part 2.
One time, we saved a guy. He went into cardiac arrest and we got called. We hustled over with lights and sirens getting more information from dispatch along the way: 67 year old male, unconscious, unresponsive, witnessed arrest, CPR in progress. It was only three minutes from the station so we arrived quickly. We went full scope: monitor/defib, IV, 02, king airway, cardiac drugs, and non-stop compressions. We shocked him three times and his heart started working and he started breathing. Off to the hospital he went. We picked up our gear, cleaned ourselves up and went back to the station trying to think of ways that we could have improved upon a successful resuscitation while preparing for the next call. That’s our world.
Fast forward about 6 months and we find out the guy wants to come and thank us for saving him. Drill night is on a Wednesday so he and his family come over to thank the staff and volunteers that helped him that day. Somehow the media found out and a reporter showed up to capture all the heart warming moments. That’s when I first saw her.
As I looked around at the assembled folks, my gaze stopped squarely on her: petite, light brown hair, summer dress, heels, imp-like expression, and a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. I didn’t stand a chance. Some women just capture your heart without even being aware that it has happened. You know it though. You feel it. Your heart beats faster and your mouth goes dry and you have to force yourself to stop staring because no matter what you’re doing, your gaze unfailingly lands on her – or parts of her.
I approached and said hi. How could I not? She turned to me and her face just lit up. She glowed. She radiated beauty, youth, and joy. I was dumbstruck. As the Brits say, I was “gobsmacked.” I took in everything: the freckles, the green eyes, the well-formed athletic body beneath the summer dress, the toned legs. We made small talk and she was genuinely nice, in fact, nicer than I expected – friendly even. She asked what I did, what my role was during the call, etc. Her name was April.
After drill was over and the talking was done and the tears of gratitude were shed. The family, the patient, and us responders all went over to the station and took some pictures and bs’d a bit. Even the dispatcher who took the call was there. I spent some time talking to the family and my co-workers. We posed for group pictures. The family was interviewed. It was all so enjoyable. The kind of event that happens once or twice in a career. April found me and asked about the Zoll monitor we used. I explained how it worked and asked if she wanted me to place a 4-lead on her to take a quick view of her heart. Nervously, she agreed and I did my best to attach the leads without getting too “handsy” with her. I put the two upper leads just beneath her collarbones under the straps of her dress and bra. The lower leads were a bit trickier. I went in through the arm holes and placed them on her lower ribs on each side of her chest. I’ve performed this process a thousand times but this was the first time I ever felt a stirring in my groin. I blinked my eyes, shook my head, and tried to regain my focus and professionalism. It wasn’t easy – her eyes were on me, I could feel her warm skin and see quite a bit of her flesh tone colored bra. She was blushing a bit and her heart rate was slightly elevated in the mid 80’s. Other than that, her vitals were outstanding and her ekg looked perfect – along with the rest of her.
Being the investigative type, she asked questions about the monitor including the defibrillation functions. I jokingly said, “This is what we press to shock someone. CLEAR!” She didn’t know that you can’t shock with the electrodes – you’ve got to have the big sticky pads on. Her eyes got big and heart rate shot up to about 140. I actually felt bad about scaring her so I got her calmed down by explaining that I was joking. We had a good laugh about it. We seemed to have this immediate chemistry. She even confided in me about some type of abdominal pain she had been experiencing. I’m not a doctor but I am trained to assess all manner of life threatening medical problems so I did my best. It seemed she was suffering what I thought were stress related symptoms that sounded a lot like an ulcer. I suggested going easy on the spicy foods, buying some prilosec, and trying yoga to help reduce the stress. The thought of her tight body in yoga pants was something I thought about long and hard afterwards. Double entendre intended.
She interviewed me afterward. She got up close to my face and attached a lapel mic to my shirt and ran the wire down inside to the receiver that she clipped on my pants pocket. I could smell her perfume. I fought the urge kiss her as it was all quite intimate. I closed my eyes and savored her invasion of my personal space.
Saying goodbye was painful. She packed up her tripod and camera and gave me a handshake and a smile. I didn’t want our time together to end but as the saying goes, everything is eventual. With a flip of her hair and a twinkle in her eye, she walked away and I watched her go, far longer than I should have. I couldn’t help but stare. She had an ass that I would describe as amazing.
The story aired that night on the 11 o’clock news. It went well. She did a great job and told the story that made us all look and sound very heroic – which, on that call, we actually had been. Like most emergency calls, it happens, we handle it, and when its over we don’t usually think about it much afterwards. I mentally moved on, not wasting too much time thinking about the resurrected dead man or the lovely and beautiful April. Time passed. It always does.
One time a woman drowned. She, for reasons unknown, accidentally lost control of her car, left the road, went down the embankment and into the river. Witnesses said they saw her and her car float by their riverfront home while they were eating dinner. We were called. We frantically searched and searched. About a mile down river, her body was spotted. I was the swimmer that day. The boat kept station in the current upriver while I swam down to where her body had caught on some logs and rocks. I grabbed on and they pulled me back to the boat while I held on to the victim. We got her back on board and I did chest compressions the entire way back to the boat ramp where we handed her off to the medic unit. She didn’t make it but you already knew that. Her car though, that’s the real story.
The car actually traveled another half mile or so down river – self-driving along the hydraulic highway about 12 feet under water, bouncing along with the current where it finally parked itself in a 20 foot hole. It stayed there for about 4 months until the fishermen noticed it and complained to the county that it was leaking oil and gas. So a mission was launched to remove the vehicle from the water. This would be no easy task either. It would require some river guides, a towing company with a wrecker, some diver’s from the county’s dive team, and heavy involvement by the fire department for both boat operations and overall incident management safety. Who else was involved? You guessed it, the media.
It was a sunny day. I was the Safety Officer of the operation. I arranged for downstream throwbags for anyone that fell in and might get swept downriver by the current. I was positioned on a rocky outcropping near the hole where the car was stuck. From there I observed the boat operation and their attempts to hook the car with a long pole with an oversized quick-release carabiner and rope.
“David!” a female voice called. I looked over and there stood April. She had on a blue polo shirt with network logo and blue jeans that stunned me into silence. I tried not to gawk but she just looked so damn good. She came right up to me with that smile and those twinkly eyes. She seemed just as happy to see me as I was seeing her. All of which was baffling to me since she was a 25 year old beauty on a steep trajectory in her career and I was a 45 year old man with 3 kids, separated from my wife, grey hair around the temples with a receding hairline, sarcasm as self defense, nearly burned out, haunted by all the shit I’ve seen, and way too fond of creatively using the f-word almost every time I spoke. My handsome days were long gone.
Despite this imbalance, this “disturbance in the force,” we had an incredible day. She set up her camera and tripod and filmed while sitting right next to me on the rocks. The whole operation took about 6 hours and we enjoyed every second being together. Our legs occasionally touching while we talked, electricity in the air. She asked a thousand questions about my job and the things I’ve seen and done. She genuinely seemed interested. In fact, I was getting the feeling that she might be digging me the same way I was digging her but it just didn’t seem possible. I still flirted with her. I can be quite witty and I am very well spoken. I can even turn on the charm when I am so motivated. This little beauty motivated me like no one else. She was so sweet and so pretty but nearly half my age. She had no business being interested in me but I couldn’t deny the signs – the returned flirting, putting her hand on my forearm when she spoke to me, the delighted laugh, her intense focus and prolonged eye contact when I spoke to her. It all added up: she was into me.
Oh man.
To be continued.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/b7ys7a/best_year_of_my_life_mf_romance_oral_vag_anal