I decided to take Keith to work with me last night. Before we left, I made him a bubble bath in a mixing bowl. I played with bubbles that were bigger than his head, popping them and laughing as the soap sprayed in his face. I used a turkey baster as a makeshift shower to rinse him off. I filled the baster the second time with cold water and giggled as he gasped, shriveled and began to shiver as he was doused with the unexpected chilly rainfall. I used a thick, fluffy washcloth to dry him off… rubbing him vigorously, perhaps a bit too vigorously, but it's hard to remember how fragile he is now. I dropped him, always naked now, in my breast pocket. I thought about how much he would be teased by being captured there all night, right on the swell of my breast. He would feel my warmth, be inundated with my scent, every breath I took would move his entire world, like he was on a ship rolling on the high seas. He would feel the drumbeat of my heart, it's beating not only calming, but also a constant reminder of my being, my strength-both frightening and evoking desire throughout him. All night he would be so close to me but still held prisoner by 100% combed cotton. I imagined his ache to feel the softness of the skin beneath him, how tormented he would be by every move I made, his whole world vibrating with every word I spoke. I jammed the javelin of a pen into my pocket and felt him scurry to the other side to avoid being impaled. Every time he moved little jolt of electric pleasure shocked me… and I asked myself, "who's suffering more?" I undeniably relished teasing him in such a manner, but in teasing him, I was teased as well.
We always get police officers on our calls. My partner, Alan, and I went on a particularly bullshitty bullshit call-a toothache-and I stayed outside to talk to the officer while Alan filled out the paperwork. The cop began telling me about one of his fellow officers who had disappeared. Apparently this guy's car and house were untouched, but his motorcycle was gone. The cop said that it looked like he'd thrown together a few things, jumped on his bike and just… disappeared. I tried not to look too pleased with myself while the cop told the story, although part of me yearned to brag that I was the cause of the mysterious disappearance, this was my canvas, my paint, my masterpiece. Pride blazed through my eyes, but thankfully the cop was so caught up in regaling me with the story that he was oblivious. I remembered that Keith could hear every nuance of the tale, from the subtle derision because he ran away to the slight begrudging admiration for the same thing. My mind meandered from the cop in front of me to what Keith must be thinking. This removed any doubt that he was unequivocally on his own-even the department thought he'd just had an early mid-life crisis and bolted. There would be no hail-Mary 4th quarter pass, no suicide bunt with 2 out in the bottom of the 9th in Game 7 of the World Series, no half-court basket with 0.2 seconds left on the clock. Not only that, he was completely out of time-outs… the shrinking continued and neither of us seemed able to do anything about it (not that I'd tried, mind you.) I sensed his dismay and frustration-should he try to climb out of my pocket now? Should he attempt to make them see that he hadn't run away? He was right here, sort of, held prisoner in a shirt pocket… or should he just accept his fate? Accept that I was his world, his religion? My heart beat faster as my thoughts skipped to what would happen if he decided to crawl out… what would I do? What would the other cop do? I liked that feeling of anticipation, of hammering indecision and excitement about the possibilities. The cop in front of me touched my arm and brought me somersaulting back to the here and now. Momentary anger at being pulled from my daydream flashed across my face, the cop quickly removed his hand and even took a step back from me. I recovered, smiled and said, "Excuse me?" He kind of nervously half-smiled and hopefully said, "I asked if maybe we could go to dinner sometime?" I chuckled, fuck that, I threw my head back and laughed from my gut. He stood there, dazed, unsure if I was laughing at him or if he'd missed my joke. I winked and asked, "Think you could handle me?" He rose to the challenge, puffed out his chest like a strutting bird and informed me he'd sure like to try. Ahhh… the game begins… I wouldn't give him my number, but I took his. I wondered if Keith was jealous or proud that someone else asked me out, but I hoped a combination of both. I tossed my stethoscope seductively around my neck, the heavy bell made a direct hit on Keith's cloth prison. I let him debate between whether that meant I had forgotten he was there or if I was letting him know I knew he was there and carefully listening.
We were pretty busy most of the early evening and I didn't have time to take Keith out and play until fairly late. He stood on the vast expanse of the stretcher... the sheet stretched away from him like a great white tundra in all directions. He was smaller than a New York second and I contemplated what I looked like to him... what the whole world looked like to him. I wanted to know what thoughts danced in his mind about me, perhaps he was attracted to me with the same erotic pull the macabre has on people that makes them drive so slowly past a motor vehicle accident. I knew his feelings ran much more deeply than necessity because although he couldn't live without me, I could tell he was definitely beyond mere appeasement as well. I was his whole world, I was his hell... I was his sanctuary. He had nowhere to go, no one to turn to. I had taken so much fom him. His entire life had been modified for me, by me, for my wants and whims. The epitome of sacrifice. I sat on the jump seat and thought about everything that had happened up to that point. This was the first time I'd attempted to see things from his perspective, and all it accomplished was to make me feel even more powerful and strong. I overpowered a strong, courageous, tall man... in order for him to offer me his power, control and strength he had to possess them in the first place and victory swept through me like a monsoon. Even with everything I had taken and everything he had given willingly he stood there more of a man than many of his full-sized gender. And he was all mine. Words aren't enough to describe how that ownership of him made me feel, there is no way to articulate the tingling in my belly, the dilating of my pupils, the ache of pure, raw desire that consumed every millimeter of me. My evil streak flowed like the Rio Grande... I mean, I appreciated certain things about Keith, but push come to shove, he was nothing more than a possession to me, a possession that bounced along like a bobber on a fishing line... and there are plenty of bobbers in the sea, if you know what I mean. He boldly returned my piercing gaze, his face was an unreadable mask. I've always had a sexual fantasy about the back of the ambulance, tying someone to the stretcher and having my way with him. My eyes sparkled as ideas began to tentatively materialize and then cement into a plan. I had so many items at my disposal that it was hard to decide which to use-3" tape, 1/2" tape... hot pack, cold pack... IV catheters in various sizes... alcohol prep pads... I giggled and bit my lip as my mischievous thoughts skipped from one implement to the next. So many toys, so much fun. Just as I was reaching into the cabinet to grab some of them, our tones went off and we received a call for an unresponsive person. Talk about bad timing! Keith stood on the stretcher with a deer-caught-in-the-headlights look on his face, scared shitless that my partner was going to come out and catch him standing there. I grabbed him, thinking quickly, and dropped him down my shirt and into my bra. I shivered a bit as he moved around in the soft crevice between my breasts. Alan came out and gave me a confused look, he wondered what the hell I was doing in the back of the ambulance and why I looked like a cat who ate the canary. I shrugged, smiled mysteriously and crawled up front.
The call was a cardiac arrest, and calls like that tend to be total chaos. Alan and I are a good team and things went as smoothly as possible. Keith completely slipped my mind as my training took over. Tasks seemed to complete themselves as Alan and I worked. People think paramedics save lives, but we don't save lives… we cheat death. Nobody dies in my ambulance. My adrenaline was kicking, my heart was thundering, I was working hard and fast… cheating death can be laborious work, and by the time we got to the hospital I was fairly close to being drenched with perspiration. I remembered I had dropped Keith in my bra and as soon as I could I ran to the bathroom and literally stripped off my shirt. He still crouched in the valley, but looked slightly bewildered and he was dripping with my sweat. I ran some lukewarm water in the sink and let him stand under the cooling shower from the faucet. He kept stealing glances at me, I saw his tiny mouth forming words but couldn't hear his quiet voice over the running water. I used some towels to wipe my face, neck and chest, the cool water felt like heaven against my hot skin. I shrugged my shoulders back into my shirt and looked down at Keith balancing on the rim of the sink. He held his arms out to me like a toddler wanting to be picked up and I couldn't resist. I held my palm out for him to crawl into and brought him up to my ear. "You're amazing," he had to talk loudly even when help up closely to my ear. I was touched. Somehow his awe with me made butterflies dance in my stomach. It's one thing for me to think I'm the total shit, but it was a different feeling altogether when just my very being inspired such feeling of utter amazement in my special toy. I truly felt unstoppable and omnipotent. I lowered him down and asked if he wanted the pocket or the bra. He immediately pointed to the V-opening in my shirt… so I dropped him in my pocket. You didn't think I'd go soft just because he said I was amazing did you? For one thing, he should have already known I was amazing and for another, he could have been a hell of a lot more worshipful than `amazing.' So he went back in my pocket.
The rest of the night was steady with uneventful calls and I never got a chance to play with Keith again. On the way home, I felt him banging on my chest. I ignored him, but glanced down when I felt him moving around to see him shinnying up the stethoscope dangling around my neck. I laughed as he climbed, hand over hand, like a rope in a grade-school physical education class, up the slippery tube. His persistence and devotion made my mouth water. He reached my ear and precariously hung there, he seemed content to sit on the crease where my shoulder curved into my neck. He reached out to stroke the soft skin beside him wonderingly, his tiny touch felt like the soft sigh of a butterfly against my sensitive neck and icicles zipped down my spine. He had turned into a wonderful little toy, not only had his cocky attitude returned, but he'd developed just the right amount of awe, amazement and worship. Things were looking up.