“Hiya, Roy,” Kerry answered, still gazing at me.
“Not happy to see me?” she drawled, pressing her hips down and onto my crotch.
God, I couldn’t do this now. I might have unintentionally said that last part out loud.
She was my girlfriend, after all, and normally I was happy to see her, except she just didn’t seem to take this whole thing seriously. My class simply didn’t mean to her what it did to me and Roy: a ticket out—out of student loans and scraping by on a dumb job at the supermarket while trying to maintain a decent GPA at our local City University, the College of Staten Island, otherwise known as CSI. Because it was local, some called it the College of Stupid Idiots, but it was what we could afford, tuition and commute-wise.
Roy worked at a 7-Eleven making the same close-to-minimum wage that I did at the local supermarket I’d worked at since I was in high school, even though I’d graduated three years ago. At least I’d finally been promoted to head cashier.
Now, at the beginning of our junior year, the pressure was on and coming down hard. Roy had a girlfriend and a brand-new baby girl just two months old, and while I didn’t have the baby, I had the babe who needed to know I could take care of her; and I did, every way I could, since we’d moved in together about two months before. Not that we did too bad. I mean, Kerry was a bonds analyst for a major firm, but I wanted to do my part and do it right.
Still and all, though, there was that degree and its accompanying loans and debts—and the accompanying future Roy and I both wanted after the degree. I couldn’t see a way to afford it. My student loans only went so far, and between the apartment and the money I sent my mom every week to help with my sister’s schooling, I didn’t know what I was going to do—I’d already maxed out on everything.
One of our professors had turned us on to this possibility: even on a per-diem basis, EMTs—emergency medical technicians—could get paid pretty well once they got seniority, and our instructors had told us that paramedics made even more. Plus, that training was two years of medical school crammed into thirteen months, which appealed to me. I could skip a whole year of medical school, take the MCAT before finishing undergrad—and go into the classroom with some real-world experience too.
But the only way to get on that train was to ride the bus, as our instructors affectionately (and sometimes not so affectionately) called the ambulance, as an emergency medical technician, BLS: basic life support.
That license was an express ticket to the end of the line, and tonight? We got that ticket punched—by earning our CPR cards.
As important as all of that was, Kerry was living and warm, her cunt separated from me by two layers of denim. I couldn’t deny the body, and I slid down slightly in my seat so Kerry could ride me just that much better—better for both of us, and worse, because I really needed to know this stuff, and in another minute I was going to excuse us and take her by the hand to my car so I could—
“Okay, again: the four valves are…?” Roy asked, bringing my attention back to the matter at hand, the most important matter in the world. My cunt didn’t agree, but again, it was rare that big head and little head were on the same wavelength, at least not when Kerry was around. That was something I still had to get used to.
“The tricuspid, between the right atrium and right ventricle; the pulmonary, between the right ventricle and the pulmonary—” I began to recite from memory, but Kerry interrupted.
“Give it a rest, Tori. Roy, come take a drive and let’s go grab some pizza—you’ve got another hour before class starts again.”
I glanced around Kerry over at Roy—he had just complained a few minutes earlier about being hungry.
“Roy,” I asked, “can you study when you’re hungry? Wanna go grab a bite?”
He sighed and shut the books in front of him, shoving them against the pile on the center of the table.
“Can’t study when I’m hungry, can’t study when I’m”—his eyes rested on Kerry for a moment as she slid ever so slightly against me, and he grinned—“really hungry.”
“Okay, let’s go eat, then,” I said, clapping my hands around Kerry’s waist not only to hold her, but also to still her motion a bit—she was getting me to the point where I was going to cry if I didn’t come soon. Maybe not cry, exactly—but I’d definitely get ornery, and Roy and I had a practical lecture after our exam. I wasn’t looking forward to bandaging my fellow classmates while I fought down a raging hard-on.
“We can take my car,” Kerry offered as I smiled at her. She ran her fingers through my hair—it was starting to get a bit long, I thought. I’d have to take care of that soon.
“No need, baby, we’re just going to the caf,” I said.
Kerry got that look in her eye, the one that meant she disagreed.
“We really do need to study—and we can’t be late for the exam.”
Kerry gave one final hard push against me, her way of making sure I wasn’t late coming home, either, then stood.
“Yeah,” Roy agreed as we collected our various books and papers from the table, including our all-important Brady books, the bible of emergency medicine, and tucked them carefully into our bags. “This is really important, Kerr.”
“It’s all right, guys. You just take it so seriously.”
I stopped, my hands on the clasp of my bag, and straightened to stare at her, surprised. “Kerry, it
is
serious—people are going to put their lives in our hands.”
She smirked. “Not tonight, they’re not.”
I shook my head. I didn’t know if she thought her eight, almost nine years over me gave her an insight I didn’t have or if she wasn’t interested, but either way, she just didn’t get it.
*
We ate, we studied, then studied some more, and thankfully, the written and practical parts of the exam went well. Two hours later Roy and I had our shiny new cards to slip into our wallets, and we spent the following practical lecture learning how to say “it feels snug” whenever a triangle bandage was applied correctly.
From here on in, Bob, the head instructor, who was not only the founder of this particular EMT school but one of the founders of emergency medical services in the country, reminded us that we would each need to carry to every class an O
2
wrench or key (to open the oxygen tanks), medic shears (which were very cool because they could cut right through a penny), and our pocket masks (which would provide a layer of protection between the rescuer and the patient), as well as our stethoscopes.
Even though we used military time for everything, we also had to wear a sweep-hand watch so we could count respirations and pulses against the movement of the little wand, and I wore a Timex on my left wrist so I wouldn’t beat up my favorite Mickey Mouse one my grandmother had given me years ago.
With all the equipment we had to start carrying, I was eyeing the utility belts that some of the instructors wore. I needed to get one soon, I thought; well, that and a decent stethoscope. Toys, I mused to myself, it really was all about the toys.
One of our toughest instructors, Kathy, who knew her shit down cold, had a Sprague Rappaport, a stethoscope I really liked. Instead of a single tube to transmit sound, it had two, plus it had two listening heads that she could switch over for pediatrics or to discern tones differently. When Kathy had let us try hers to listen for lung sounds and blood pressures, well, I was impressed with how much more I could hear with that than with my single-tube, single-head one. Sprague. Sprague Rappaport. That’s what I wanted, especially after Kathy showed us all its different pieces and parts: bells and diaphragms and earbits. It was like a customizable hot rod for your ears. Maybe I’d eventually get one, in blue or something, but black would be fine, since it was really all about the improved function.
“Never ever
ever
,” Bob insisted, his tone grabbing my attention from my equipment daydreams, and I watched as he pointed in the air for emphasis, “let rescuer number one become victim number two—not by accident, not by inhalation, and not by contagion. Gloves on, masks ready to go, and eyes open, people!”
At the end of the session I said good night to Roy, Bennie, and various other classmates, slung my bag over my shoulder, and walked out to my car.
Kerry sat on the hood of my ’79 Grand Prix, black with a black ragtop, waiting for me. “Hey, lover!” She smiled at me as she slid to the ground.
“Hey, yourself.” I grinned back, happy that she’d come to meet me earlier, that she’d waited for me until my class was over. I wrapped my arms around her. “You know…I don’t have class tomorrow night,” I told her, then kissed her.
“So,” Kerry asked when we broke for air, “what are you planning—a threesome with that hot instructor of yours?” She ran her fingertips up and down my neck, a smirk playing across her mouth.
“I didn’t know you were so into Bob,” I joked back. “No, it’s a surprise.”
I cupped her face in my hands so I could see her wink back at me, her eyes as mysterious as a cat’s in the lamplight. “I know how much you like my surprises.”
Kerry reached under my jacket and ran her palms over my breasts, making tiny circles that made my nipples harden and my clit twitch.
I grabbed her ass and pulled her closer, massaging firmly because I knew she liked that, because it would shift and spread her pussy lips, force her clit to rub against whatever she was wearing. She wouldn’t be wearing it much longer; I knew that for certain.
“Naked. Home. Now?” Kerry requested, a heated murmur against the skin of my throat.
Oh, God, yeah, I thought, definitely—we just had to get there first.
“I’ll race you there,” I almost stuttered as we separated.
Kerry gave me a knowing glance as she pulled away and sauntered over to her car parked several feet away from mine. The sway of her hips was meant as a preview, and I certainly appreciated it.
“I’ll be waiting for you,” she called as I slid into my seat. I hit the button and let the window roll down as she started her engine.
“You better!” I called back.
I broke no traffic laws on the ride home and slid into my parking spot, anticipating the one that waited for me once I got inside. After grabbing my books and bag off the seat next to me, I made sure the car was locked and hustled to the door, then up the stairs. I wasn’t disappointed when I got inside—this was a race we both won.
*
“That was fucking
nice
,” Kerry sighed as she stretched languidly next to me, then curled up against my side.
“It really was.” I kissed the crown of her head while she trailed her fingertips up and down my chest. She kissed my sternum, then stared into my eyes with an amused smile.
“What?” I asked, smiling back.
She stroked the fine hairs that had fallen back over my brow—my hair really was getting way too long.
“Nothing,” she said, and kissed my chin, “I just love how your eyes shade—you get this dark green ring around the brown after you come.”
“Really?” I thought the only time they did that was when I drank or when I cried, neither of which I indulged in too often, though I was finally legally old enough for the one and not terribly fond of the other.
“Really,” she answered in a tone that meant there’d be no further discussion. She pressed her cunt against my stomach firmly, sending fire into my groin. Letting her tongue tangle with mine, I wrapped my arms around her and gently turned us over.
I nibbled on her neck, working toward that soft spot under her ear. “Ready for round two?” She’d already wrapped her legs around my waist.
Kerry reached over my ass and slid into me. “As ready as you are, babe, as ready as you are…” She sighed as she fingered my willing cunt. I was more than happy to return the favor.
*
Even though I’d been scheduled for only a half shift, the day dragged, and I raced home to get ready for everything that I had planned for later. Kerry came home from work just as I was drying my hair, but we didn’t have much time, and I told her so as I kissed her hello briefly, then rushed her to get ready.
“So…what’s the big surprise tonight?” Kerry asked as she walked out of the shower. All I’d told her was that tonight was formal, formally funky: dress to impress—everyone.
I handed her a towel and checked my watch, my good one.
“Hurry, Kerry,” I urged with a smile as she took the towel from my hands, “the car will be here in forty-five minutes.”
“I like this on you—a lot,” she murmured, and licked her teeth. She played with the collar of my jacket, a slightly fitted, oxblood red leather that hung about four inches down my thighs over a black turtleneck and black leather pants. I liked it too.
“Thank you.” I grinned a bit self-consciously. I didn’t want to let her get too close—we had to leave.
Kerry understood and slipped past me to the bedroom to finish dressing while I waited in the hallway. I was nervous—she didn’t know it, but she’d meet my whole family tonight—and I had planned another surprise to take the edge off. Besides, Kerry really did like my surprises, usually. I just hoped tonight followed the typical pattern.
While I waited for her I thought about the impending meeting. I’d lived with my mother and sister until I’d moved in with Kerry. It had been one thing with the other girls I’d dated, casually or otherwise, but…Kerry was a little different. Honestly, I’d gotten tired of fucking in my car or at her place, and no way would I take her back home, that was simply too…I just couldn’t do it anymore, and it wasn’t because I had issues at home. My mom really didn’t care about my being gay, and neither did my younger sister, Elena.