“Yes, yes, of course,” Pudding was now blubbering in the extremities of his anguish. “Leave town. Not return. Never bother you again. Lucy turned from him in disgust.
She turned to me. “Help me get this grave covered over, but first see this rodent off the premises.” I had followed Lucy out to the garden and now had a new appreciation of her capabilities. Gone the silly teenager, the self-indulgent girl. Now a hard-faced woman. I was proud of her, and more than a little daunted.
“But why the big charade?” I was puzzled.
Lucy regarded me speculatively. “You still don’t get it, do you?”
“Get what?”
Lucy sighed. “Gretan spoke the first word of truth in his life when he said that he was a killer for hire. He was good at it. He was aiming for you for a long time. Revenge perhaps. I don’t know. What motivates stupid males? But he wouldn’t do it publicly. By the time that he’d become proficient as a killer you also had acquired something of a public persona. So shooting you dead in an alley would put a lot of heat on him. This was not the way he worked. His preference was to remain quietly anonymous.”
“Even so, he could have picked an opportune moment?”
Lucy shook her head. “I doubt it. Not his style. He would have wanted to give you the last speech to settle a personal score. So I worked alongside him to get a little control of the situation, to make that moment more of a reality.”
“I’m not sure what’s real any more.”
“The reality is you were nearly history, and if my uncle hadn’t stepped in, I would be, too.”
“Your uncle?”
“Dad has a collection of army weapons. I doubt whether he’s ever fired one. But uncle has. He saw more of the real action. When I explained the situation in front of me—at first he was reluctant—said to go to the police. I pointed out that the police don’t run a twenty-four hour baby-sitting service. In the end he instructed me in the use of firearms provided I could equip myself with a suitable weapon—and at the same time distancing himself from any consequences which might arise from my use of it. It wasn’t hard to sneak the Beretta from father’s collection. Uncle has retained army sources and for several months he coached me while I practised using a handgun. He also supplied the ammunition. In the army I think they call them rounds. Don’t imagine it all comes automatically. Ignore what you see in the movies. The reality is a lot more boring and uncomfortable. Many times I returned home with a sore hand, shoulder or hip. Yes, the backlash is real. But I persisted.”
“So all this was set up from the start?” I said slowly.
“Yes,” Lucy acknowledged. “but I could hardly let you into it without risking exposure of the whole scene. Are you so unhappy that you’re still alive?”
Chapter 10
Those who flee temptation generally leave a forwarding address.
My next out of town appointment was a return to a Metro III city, always busy in the big cities. After nearly twenty years they began to blur, run together. The people were different but the routine the same. Some tours of duty were pleasant occasions, especially if I was fortunate enough to pair up with a good nurse. Some could be a lot of fun and help the time pass more smoothly. Others, well life has its share of dull, boring times and of course sometimes troubles.
I thought back to last week’s altercation. Husband, a large florid faced man insisted on being present. Normal procedure, but I’m inclined to be watchful of such requests. Husbands tend to fall into two main categories, those with a voyeur streak who get aroused watching the wife being mated, and those who are insanely jealous and want to control every waking moment of their wife’s activities. Red-face fell into the latter category. At one point he rose from his chair, “Here! that’s enough. This is supposed to be a medical exercise, not a porn show!”
I withdrew from his wife’s vagina. He took a step backwards when he saw the swollen organ. “You want to stop immediately, I’ll call a halt right away. There will be no refund of course.”
I waited, “Well?”
Red-face became flustered. He eyed the swollen member again. Licked his lips. “There’s no need for such a florid display,” he managed weakly.
I turned to the intercom. “Nurse, there’s a cancellation here. Please assist the lady.” Of course he backed down didn’t he. It wasn’t anything that I was doing that upset him, more likely the fact that his wife was responding more enthusiastically than he thought proper, and when her legs wrapped around my own the more completely to become engaged, his outrage became vocal.
I had my share of quirky ones too. Although what is quirky? What is normal for one is a perversion for another. The quiet time of actual impregnation can sometimes stretch to twenty minutes and it is in this tranquil and intimate state that women often choose to confide their most personal secrets. Janine told me that it felt so much like her dog Rufus. I mostly just listened quietly without judgement one way or another. I said, “Go on.”
“My husband and I own a large property so nobody thinks twice about us keeping guard dogs and all that carry-on. However the dogs are more than that, they are lady-pleasers.
When I was growing up my parents bred Labradors. As a teenager I had intercourse with all the dogs and the funny thing is that they all knew exactly what to do. That doesn’t happen naturally. Someone has to teach them. And that could only have been my mother.
She caught me once behind the kennels with a dog on my back. The expected telling off didn’t eventuate: instead she just smiled and left me to it. Once I knew I wasn’t going to get into trouble, I used to let the dogs fuck me just about every day.”
As I lay with her, I reflected that it does raise a serious question about how our society perceives right and wrong. A dog can hardly be forced to perform with a woman so we have two beings engaged in an activity that both enjoy and which harms neither. And yet society of an earlier era condemned it as wrong and punished transgressors harshly. Why? It makes no sense. Fortunately in the present age such prejudices have weakened considerably from the dark era three hundred years ago. But although now no longer illegal there is a lingering sense in some segments of society that it is not exactly respectable either.
So why do women sometimes choose this option in preference to a husband or partner? Alice, another client gave me her own explanation. “I do it because I can, and let’s face it, men today are hardly very reliable performers. So if needs aren’t being met in the conventional way why should it be a surprise if we turn to a very willing and capable alternative?”
I had read that in earlier times there was a more compelling reason for women to seek this alternative. Birth control methods were unreliable, a dog didn’t talk behind your back, was always eager to please and never forced himself upon you if you said no, unlike some arsehole men. But whatever the reason, the practice has a long history and neither law nor church ever managed to stop it.
At a quiet little Metro VII township I encountered something new. The nurse turned out to be a young man perhaps in his early thirties. “Hello, my name’s Carl. Pleased to meet you.” He extended a hand in greeting.
Seeing my look of surprise he added, “Nurse Allison is off on maternity leave, I’m standing in for her.”
“Maternity. That’s unusual how…?
Carl smiled, “The Stud here before you arrived was quite active and…”
“But wait a moment, he was only here six weeks, right? That’s a bit early for maternity leave surely?”
“True, except he was here for three consecutive terms which is also a bit unusual. He was an unusual fellow actually. Makes for variety though.”
I thought about it. This seemed to be more unconventional than usual, although I’d struck some that were pretty individual. “So there’s not much call for our services here then?”
“One booking a day if you’re lucky. That’s about average.”
“So how do you usually fill in your time?”
“Well the last Stud filled in his time with Nurse Allison which is where things took a wrong turning.”
“Obviously. I meant how did you fill in your time?”
Carl nodded complacently, “With the last Stud.” Seeing my look of puzzlement and thinking that this might need some further clarification Carl went on, “Him being so active the Ministry thought to send a male nurse and took care not to send a gay one in case the Stud considered him a likely candidate too.”
“So you’re not gay?”
“Oh no. I adore anything with a vagina. Lady, cow, mare—don’t look so surprised. I’m a bit unusual in that I also am rather over-active, a freak maybe in the general male population. But I’m not a Stud.” Carl smiled pleasantly.
I chose my words carefully, “So how, exactly, if you don’t mind my asking, did you ‘spend time’ with this Stud?”
“Well I fucked him of course. He found it quite a novelty being on the other end of one. Started to see things from the client’s point of view.”
“How could you possibly do that? I mean granted that from the front we do look like a female, but there’s a good sized penis in there. Surely that would frustrate your best efforts.”
“Not at all,” Carl explained. “The Stud himself, apart from his other qualities was a bit of an innovator and had discovered a curious feature that may not have occurred to you.”
This was so unusual that I found myself becoming curious to learn more. “Do explain.”
“The way the Stud described it to me, when the time comes for you to start work, as it were and your testicles must descend why do you think your penis doesn’t get in the way when this happens?”
“That’s true. I hadn’t given it much thought.” A bit ironic an ordinary man explaining to a Stud how his insides work.
“The Stud said the penis moves upwards into a sort of pocket. So imagine it like this. It’s lying inside you pointing forward ready to come out, right?”
I nodded.
“Then if you were to slip a finger inside, underneath it and press upwards it would still lie pointing forward but now higher up, tucked into a sort of pocket, only the underside is present along the length of your opening.”
It’s possible I thought. After all I remember that happening all by itself when the testicles descended and I distinctly remembered that it was simply a muscular squeeze to lower the penis again. “As far as I am aware, there’s not a lot of sensation inside that opening,” I commented, “so what sort of a buzz would your Stud be getting from another penis entering it?”
“Can’t say from personal experience,” Carl admitted, except from my end, the sensations were fabulous, just like a real girl’s one and from the Stud’s response he was obviously getting something rather unexpected also.”
I shook my head to clear it. “When’s the sole client of the day turning up?”
“11:00 am.”
“So I’m going out for a coffee. Want to come?”
“Okay, sure. There’s a good place not far down the road.”
The café was set back from the road a little and from the antique furnishings I suspected that at one time it had been a theatre, or perhaps a gentlemen’s club emulating an earlier era. But the coffee was good and Carl proved to be an entertaining speaker and held forth on a variety of topics.
As we were finishing our coffee, Carl made a request, a little tentatively, “While you’re doing it, you know, with the client, would you mind too much if I sat in discreetly on the side?”
“Now that’s a strange question. None of the nurses I’ve met so far have actually asked to be present. Normally that only happens if the client asks a nurse to be present.”
“True,” Carl seemed embarrassed. “But in the past I’ve always asked the client and most are comfortable with the idea.”
“For what purpose actually?” This was turning out to be more weird than I’d expected despite being a small, sleepy township.
Carl rallied a bit. “Well it sort of gets me going. You know, watching. No harm in it is there?”
“I guess not, provided the lady agrees.”
“Thanks very much. It means a lot to me. Not much else happening in this town. By way of recreation I mean.”
No. I suppose there isn’t. The client was a certain Becky Dawson, age 23, petite, long, light brown hair, and little elfish features. She said it was her first time. First time with a Stud, that is. Repeat visits are generally more comfortable. The client knows the score, what’s expected and how it will probably turn out. First times are a little more fragile and most clients tend to be nervous, so we try to take a little longer and spend more time with them making them feel comfortable.
Becky wasn’t really nervous but I sensed she wasn’t all that excited about the prospect either. The tongue is a sensitive instrument, especially on a Stud as it can reach into places normally impossible for an ordinary male and it was while it was exploring some of these very sensitive locations that Becky became animated, began to breathe heavily. To be sure, I spent a little extra time on further intimacies and I sensed now was the right time to mount her. I caught a quick glimpse of Carl standing motionless against the wall, studying every sublety and nuance with a rapt fascination.
I slid gently into Becky then began a rapid thrusting. Becky responded rather more forcefully than I’d expected and was soon away with the fairies. The thrusting slowed then ceased as I entered her fully and began to spray the sperm of new life within her. As we lay together Becky began to talk. She had been married a year and dearly loved her husband and yes he was able to give her a baby but they had discussed it carefully and both agreed that the superior health and genetic options that a Stud was able to offer would give their baby the best chance in life, and with so many unknowns it just seemed prudent to minimise the risks didn’t I think? I agreed, saying that according to the Ministry the health, vitality and overall superior chances in life from a baby conceived by a Stud was well established. I also said that as an artificial breed, we were also dying out. A few more generations perhaps we’d become a rarity.
“I have to come back tomorrow, right?”
“Yes, for three days. Tomorrow could be the definitive one, but you can never tell, humans are unpredictable.”
“So we’d better make tomorrow a special occasion,” Becky said anxiously, “in case you aren’t here next year for another occasion.”
“Oh no worry about that, we’re not dying out quite so fast—at least I hope not. But okay, we’ll make tomorrow a special occasion.”
“Nurse,” I said as I looked down, “If that’s what I think it is, it’s less than professional.”
“Oh that,” Carl gave an insincere smile. “Just an accident really.”
“You sure it was an accident, or did you give it some help?”
“A bit of help, yes. You put on quite a performance.” Carl moved swiftly away to remedy the large stain on the front of his pants.