Impulsive

Impulsive Jeff Exilimar jeff_exilimar@yahoo.com

The concrete canyons of downtown were cast in an eerie pulsating light flashing a stark, harsh white to a searing crimson. The polished mirrors of the windows reflected this display of light across the streets, much as the towers themselves amplified the keening wail of a siren. Under it all was the dull subharmonic roar of a Chevy 454 cubic inch powerplant propelling the lights and the noise through the city at two A.M. in the morning. As much a call for hope as a call for caution, Jim Watson navigated the speeding ambulance toward the site where he'd been summoned.

Quickly making the last turn he approached the crash site, bathed in the stark white lights of the spotlights and headlamps of the twin Ford cruisers of the police department. One other ambulance was in the scene, treating a guy with a massive head trauma as he'd propelled his Porsche broadside into the Dodge minivan. Pulling to a stop, he and his partner Dave jumped out to see to the passenger of the van, who the police had pulled out due to the fire risk of the sports car's leaking fuel tank.

Dave started pulling out equipment, and Jim began his initial observations. It was a young girl, twenty-three to twenty six, with nice blonde hair currently in a tangled mess with a nice complexion which shouldn't be marred by the small cuts due to flying glass. No visible trauma to the chest region, but he removed her blouse to see the red mark of the seat belt running across her nice chest which would bruise but didn't seem to be anything more. Finally he got down and noticed her left pants leg was dark and wet. Looking at the impact point on the van, it was all too likely that she'd suffered a nasty cut on the leg. He cut her pants and underwear off and stopped dead for a moment. For when he'd peeled away the undergarment it revealed the unexpected, a nine inch penis. He shook his head quickly to clear it and began to treat her wound, which luckily had missed the femoral artery, but she was still losing a lot of blood.

Dave ran over with the stretcher and blankets and looked down. "Whoa, got us a drag queen here, huh?"

Jim looked at him sharply. "Quiet. Nowadays you can get into trouble with talk like that."

"Aw, the she-man is under. Take care of it we'll get it in the wagon."

"Dave, if you don't shut your trap, I'll report you personally. Bigotry doesn't have a place here, damn it. If you can't deal and keep it quiet or professional, I'll see you sacked, ok?"

Dave nodded.

"You're a good kid, but this job don't let us pick who we save, 'kay? And if you talk like that around unconscious patients, sooner or later you'll slip around one who's awake and then you'll be in Dutch."

"Right Jim, I got it. Lift."

The two EMT's put the girl onto the stretcher and into the ambulance. Not wanting to bother Dave more, Jim let him drive to the hospital and monitored the patient until they arrived. The doctors and nurses took over, rolling the gurney into the back, leaving Dave and Jim to resume their shift.

A month or so later Jim walked into the wardroom and found an envelope taped to his locker with his name written on it in a bold, flowing script. Confused and intrigued, he plucked it off the metal door and opened it. Inside was a simple but attractive thank you card, a nice one from Hallmark. Opening it up he looked inside and read the note there. Jim was quite shocked to find out that the card was from that transsexual lady in the car accident. He'd really not thought about that day since it happened, only knowing Dave had begun to grow a little reserved since then. The girl, Carla, wanted to let him know she appreciated the quality of the car he'd given her, and the degree of compassion he showed in confronting his partner's comments.

Stunned that she'd heard him in an apparent semi-conscious state, he failed to hear Dave approach from behind.

"What'cha got there, buddy?"

"Nothing, Dave."

"Naw, I can't see through it, so it can't be nothing. What is it?"

"Mine."

"Oh. Ok."

With one deft move Jim never saw coming, Dave pinched the card from his hand. He opened it up and quickly scanned it. "Oh. It's from the funny lady. She could hear us?"

"Yep. Good thing you didn't run off more at the mouth like you wanted."

"Well, I still don't understand them, Jim, but you were right, I don't want to be sued. Even if I think their wrong."

Dave handed back the card and walked out of the wardroom. Jim tossed the card into his locker. When the card hit the back wall a small piece of paper popped out of the quad-folds in the card. He looked at it, and saw it said, "Call, if you like" with a phone number. Jim tucked the paper in his wallet with the three dollars and forty receipts and ran off to the yard to begin his shift.

Two hours later Jim and Dave were slinging down some coffee at the convenience store. Dave was telling Jim about the pair of (probably fictional) oriental girls he'd been dancing with two weeks ago. Jim nodded every now and then, letting Dave wind his way through his convoluted and contradictory tale of conquest. Finally Dave stopped and peered at Jim.

"Jim, buddy, you ain't been on any dates in a while, what gives?"

"C'mon Dave."

"Naw, you gotta get out. Get a girl."

"I work ten hours a day, six days a week. I can't dance, I don't like to drink, and I'm not about to pay for it. And that leaves what, the bookstore? Which girl should I hit on there? The Goth queen or the dowager empress?"

Jim was fuming. It was frustrating, not having a date in a while. Finally he'd thrown himself into work, and didn't like to be reminded of it. "Drop it Dave."

Dave opened his mouth to speak, but God arranged for Mrs. Perkins to think she was having another heart attack and they went about their duty, the conversation lost amid the shriek of the siren.

Jim awoke the next morning with a start. He started rushing to get ready for work, then slowed down as the concept of 'day off' seeped through his mind. As he soaked under the shower, last night's conversation with Dave rose in his memory like the steam around him. Goddamnit, he was tired of spending the day off watching TV or going to the bookstore. He wanted company, preferably non-work related, and female. His 'little black book' was non-existent though; no one to call... well there was one person.

He initially rejected the idea of calling Carla, not only because she'd started life as a man, but also because she'd been a patient. The company frowned on picking up on patients, but it'd been almost a month and a half, and talking to anyone was bound to be better than sitting around alone, again. He picked up the phone, and before his resolve could dwindle into nothingness, dialed the number on the small piece of paper.

"Hello."

Oh god, someone answered. "Um, can I speak to Carla?"

"Speaking. Who is this?"

"Um, I'm Jim. You left a thank you card for me at the office."

"Oh! I didn't expect you to actually call, but thanks. Thanks for the call and all the help at the car accident. I feel kinda lucky. A lot of people don't survive that kind of meeting with a drunk driver."

"No problem. All part of the service. Not many of the people we help send cards, though. If you'd not mind, I'd like to get together, maybe sometime today, and check in on my handiwork, as it were."

Carla laughed. "Yeah, sure. How about meeting at Joe's Eats in an hour and a half."

"Veranda and McCall?"

"I think those are the cross streets, yeah."

"I'll be there."

An hour and twenty minutes later, Jim found himself in a fifties themed diner, waiting for Carla to arrive. He'd considered standing her up, considered it about twelve times already, but kept coming back to the fact he'd been working too damned long. And her card made him feel appreciated, something usually reserved for the docs at the hospital.

She walked into the diner, a slight limp verifying Carla's identity to Jim almost as sure as if he'd seen her ID. He waved to her and she walked over. As she approached, Jim noted how well done her conversion had been. Probably started young, or blessed (or cursed) with a slight build, her frame accentuated the curves that Smith-Kline and Dow Corning had given her. "Passing" was too mild a term for her appearance, any guy who'd not known her origin would never guess, but the little voice in his mind reminded him he'd seen her in her entirety.

Carla gave him a quick peck on the cheek and sat down across the table from him. She gave him a smile then looked down. "I'm glad you're letting me take this opportunity to thank you. I mean, hell it's scary enough being in an accident, but I didn't need any excess baggage from it." A lot of people don't understand."

"I'd be lying if I said I did, but I'm a professional. Nowadays, you shoot your mouth off, you get as much trouble as you give, usually more."

"Your partner, is he cool with what happened?"

"Well, we had a call to an older homosexual couple's house, and he was careful not to crack wise. Maybe not 'ok', but he's learned tact. He'll make it."

Carla smiled again. "So Jim, why'd you become an EMT?"

"Well the want ads were always asking for them, and I didn't want a boring job, so I got some state assistance and trained up. Learned real quick why they're always hiring too."

"Burn out?"

"Flame out. It's a lot quicker. Stress is high; I mean it really can be life and death. Had one poor kiddo lose it on the third run. Just got out of the ambulance at the hospital and walked home."

"That's sad."

"Yeah. So Ms. Carla, what do you do?"

"Nothing dramatic, oh Mr. EMT man. I do loan processing at a bank. Number crunching, customer service, paperwork. Worst part of the job is telling a poor young couple that they can't get a house 'cause the guy had let his first car get repo'd or the girl's still got a maxxed out Mervyn's card. That's no fun. But it's mostly boring."

"So, would you like something to eat?"

"No, I usually don't eat in the middle of the day."

"Oh. Ok, my big bowl of Rice Krispies is still with me anyway. I've got time to kill today, Carla, is there anything else you'd like to do?"

"Like Ridley Scott films?"

Fifteen minutes later they were sitting in a nice theater with a couple of sodas, a bucket of popcorn, and a ridiculously overpriced bag of candy. The ads rolled, talkies now, so it was kinda hard to converse over them. The lights dimmed, and shortly after some previews, they were entranced in Scott's latest bid for a cinema masterpiece. Dramatically told with bold visuals, Jim wasn't too surprised when Carla moved toward him scene by scene, grasping his arm when moved or surprised. He was surprised that it felt like a real date, rather than a 'buddy' outing. Finally the credits rolled with Carla's arm around his, which she quickly removed in surprised when Jim moved to get up.

The two walked out and since it was a good three and a half hours later, by mutual agreement they walked over to the Bananabee's Grill for dinner. They quickly ordered and Jim finally felt comfortable asked the questions at hand.

"So... when did you figure out you were a girl?"

"Oh, I think it finally hit me at around ten or eleven. We were all just beginning to 'grow up' and I didn't like how the boys had to play sports and become 'macho'. I always found myself gossiping about school people and soap operas with the girls of my classes. Going through high schools, I can't say I was 'feminine' or secretly lusted after guys, but I knew I wasn't wired right and was just kinda killing time until I got out on my own and do what I felt needed to be done."

"But you haven't gone all the way."

"No. I mean the hormones and the basic plastic surgery were fine, but I'm a little leery of doing the last step."

"Why?"

"Well, in America I'd have to monitored for a while before a pshrink can give the ok for the operation. I didn't want that in my life."

"Option B?"

"Overseas. Some girls have had great things to say, others are horror stories. Since I've not had much occasion to think about it, I haven't dwelt on it. People see and treat me as a girl, and that's what I wanted."

"So no plans to..."

"Whack wee willie?"

Jim chuckled.

"No. Would it make me easier to accept if I had a nonfunctional slit down there that I'd have to lube up before use?"

"No. I was just thinking, however, if you're content emotionally how you are, then wrecking an existing part of your endocrine system doesn't seem to be the best of ideas anyway."

"That's very enlightened of you."

"I can surprise myself."

Dinner went well, with the constant bothering of an overly enthusiastic attendant they turned to other topics. Over slightly overpriced mass-market diner food they found out that football and baseball seasons could be fun because they liked the Panthers and White Sox, but basketball would be contentious because of a Mavs-Rockets rivalry. Jim also impressed Carla with rather extensive knowledge of General Hospital and Days of our Lives, explaining that was all firemen talk about it seemed. Finally the two walked out to their cars in the lot. Jim escorted Carla to her car and opened her door for her. He then got into his car and turned the key and heard a most unsatisfying "clunk" sound from the engine. He popped the hood and got out. Seeing this Carla shut off her own car and came over.

"What is it?", she asked.

"Dunno. Maybe the solenoid or the starter. Battery seems to have juice. Turn the key for me."

• Ka-chunk *

"Damn, it's the starter. All froze up." Jim pulled out his cell phone. "Time to call Triple-C."

Fifteen minutes later the truck came by to haul Jim's car off to the service shop. Carla followed, and when Jim put his key into the early-bird drop off, she took him to his place.

As he got out of her car Carla said, "Goodnight, it was fun."

"Yeah, it was. Best day off I've had in a while. Just sixteen hours to go until my next shift."

"Late shift tomorrow?"

"Yeah."

"I close tomorrow. Don't have to be in until noon."

"Yeah?"

"You want the night to end this early?"

Jim thought about it. "Nope. Not really. Come on in."

Carla sat down on Jim's couch as he grabbed a pair of Cokes from his fridge. He plopped down next to her and invited Carla to surf the channels. She eventually settled on a Jackie Chan film and soon the two were laughing and carrying on at his antics around the world. The credits rolled and once again there wasn't anything between Carla and Jim.

"It's getting late", Carla said, staring at the TV.

"I suppose."

Carla got up, gathered her purse up and walked toward the front door. Jim met her there and opened it for her. "Goodnight, Carla. It's been really quite nice being with you today."

As Carla smiled and began to turn back towards Jim a shadow fell across her vision and she felt something hot and moist press against her lips. To her surprise, and Jim's, he'd kissed her. After he pulled back, the two looked at each other for an instant, placing themselves in the scheme of the moment. Carla then moved ever so slightly into Jim who quickly gathered her up in his arms and began to kiss her with real passion. They fell back onto the couch, kicking the door closed, and Carla ending up on top of Jim. As their tongues searched each other's mouths, various hands were also engaged in reconnaissance of other body parts.

Finally the wound down a touch, Carla looking down into Jim's face. "That was... nice. Jim, are you sure about this?"

"Nope. But after how pleasant today was, are you going to deny me the chance to find out?"

Carla shook her head no, and sat up a bit straddling Jim. She pulled off her blouse and undid her bra, freeing her breasts for just the briefest of moments as Jim's hands began to move over them. After a moment she got up and proceeded to help Jim off with his clothes. Soon Jim was naked, sitting on the couch with an apparently pleased erection in his lap. Carla knelt before him, pulling her skirt down in the motion, and wrapped her hand around his penis. Jim jumped at the pleasantness of her touch, which was nothing compared to the feel of her tongue skittering across the head of his organ.

She stood up before him, clad only in her panties. "Before we... I go any further, I have to know."

Jim gingerly brought his hands up along Carla's legs and slid his thumbs under the sides of her undergarment. Slowly his hands descended bringing the small fabric covering down with them. When they passed half way down her thigh, out popped her nine-inch rod, semi-erect and scant inches from Jim's face. Fascination soon made those inches disappear as Jim rubbed his face against that penis as he finished removing removing Carla's panties. As they hit the floor, Jim took the long engorged rod into his mouth, an experience he'd never imagined occurring in his life. Carla was warm, very warm, in his mouth and with each trip up that fleshy shaft he could feel her heartbeat with every pulse of the blood rushing into her. Jim kept sucking on her as Carla's hands ran through his hair, her moans of passion increasing in both volume and tempo. Finally she cried out, her penis swelling in Jim's mouth, and began pulsing as Jim felt her squirt her semen down his throat as she came.

After he swallowed the warm, salty, sticky liquid Carla bent down and gave Jim a kiss. He wrapped his hands around Carla and brought her to the couch and rolled on top of her. As Jim's tongue moved inside Carla's mouth, his hands fondled her breasts; his hot hard organ pressing into her spent one. He moved away and Carla frantically rolled over to put her butt high in the air, reaching down to her purse beside the couch she handed Jim a small bottle of lubricant with a hungry look on her face. He coated his shaft with the gel and dribbled some on her puckered opening. Jim placed his head there and slowly pushed into her. Carla let out a long slow groan as she felt the hot muscle move deep inside of her until she felt Jim's scrotum pressed against her backside.

Jim looked at the erotic sight below him, this exotic woman lying underneath him with her ass pressed against his crotch. Suddenly he felt very lucky and smiled as he leaned forward. Reaching around her, Jim cupped Carla's breasts in his hands and began to slide his penis in and out of the tremendously turned on girl sandwiched now between him and the couch. He started slowly, but picked up his pace as Carla's moans grew in intensity and her nipples hardened in his palms.

The intensity of the pleasure transmitted from the warmth and tightness of Carla's cavity made it's way up Jim's penis, tingling his testicles, coursed up his spine and injected itself into his brain. He arched, sending his manhood as deep as it would go into the enraptured woman beneath him and began to fire shot after shot of his semen into her. Starting with the first squirt, Carla began to cry out as she felt the warm liquid fill her up. Exhausted, Jim collapsed onto Carla's back and nuzzled her neck and continued to play with her breasts as he slowly went soft inside her.

"Well Dave, it's been good working with you."

"Good luck in Vegas, Jim. We'll miss you."

"Only because anvils are hard to aim."

Jim walked out of the wardroom to the parking lot and climbed into his car. He'd finished his last two weeks here, and thanks to finding a new job and a generous transfer, he and Carla would start trying to build their lives together in... oh... about twenty five minutes.

• • • • • • • • • • Feel free to write back! jeff_exilimar@yahoo.com * * * * * * * * * *