Chapter 7
Keeping the car in second, Paul slipped in and out of traffic, heading for the outskirts of the city...and then the open road.
But something was wrong. Some force seemed to be pressing and squeezing him, choking him almost...some memory or feeling, perhaps, something that he was afraid to let into his conscious mind. But it wasn't that simple, he thought to himself. It wasn't just one thing. It was his whole life, his whole life which seemed to be coming down over him like a steel net, engulfing him, binding him. It had been building, this feeling of being trapped, for the last month. Now he had to do something; something clean and powerful. He had to do something more than just leave the city. He had to conquer! And he would...he would conquer death. He would risk his life and win...not for any reason he could easily put into words, but because he had to.
His mouth was dry with the anticipation of what was to come. Blindly, almost furiously, he took the corner on two wheels. Ah, that's better, he thought as he emerged onto a long, straight, deserted street. His heart beat wildly at the thought of the treacherous bend in the road which lay about a mile ahead; even in this car, which he knew so well and which was so responsive, even in this car he had always slowed down for that curve...it was not banked, it was flat out. And that was dangerous.
He stepped hard on the accelerator and the car jumped ahead, tires screeching...50...60...70...then shifted into third...houses, streetlights, flashing past in a blur...100...still plenty of road ahead.
He took a deep breath and searched the road for the turn he knew was coming up fast. Yeah, there it was. He let upon on the gas, entered the turn at 80, then immediately slammed his foot to the floor, just avoiding fish-tailing...even so he had to fight for control and he was half a mile down the next straightaway before he knew that he had done it.
He had done it and he had won! His mind still reeled with the excitement of the challenge he had just taken. He wiped the sweat from the palms of his hands and breathed deeply.
Now, as he drove more slowly, out towards the highway, he could feel the fatigue of the last few days. The exhilaration of his victory was gone and he felt tired. He couldn't drive far feeling this way. He reached into the glove compartment for his bottle of Benzedrine, but, as he had feared, it was empty. Damn! That meant another stop, at Dr. Andersons for more Benzedrine. Of course he didn't have to stop; he could drive for a few hours and then sleep someplace. But he didn't want to do that; even though he didn't know exactly where he was going, he wanted to keep moving. So he needed the pills.
He pulled into the gravel driveway in front of the office and parked the car. It was almost five o'clock and it didn't look like he had any other patients.
"Dr. Anderson here?" he asked the pretty, red-haired receptionist.
"No, he's out of town," she answered, looking down at the appointment book in front of her. "If it's something urgent, I can make an appointment with Dr. Porter; he can see you tomorrow."
"No, it's not that important." He watched as she closed the book and reached around to put it on the table in back of her. Even the heavily starched uniform could not hide her large full breasts; he imagined the rest of her body would be just as exciting. And there was something else he liked about her, something that was quick and alive beneath the cool nurse-like manner of hers. He wanted to find out if he was right.
"What happened to Suzy? Did she finally get married?" he asked, moving forward to sit on the edge of the desk.
"Suzy? Oh, the other nurse you mean? I don't know what happened to Suzy; I've been here four months; Suzy was gone when I arrived. My name is Emily. What's yours?"
"Paul Mason," he answered, returning her smile.
"Paul Mason," she repeated almost absent-mindedly. "Oh yes, you're an old friend of the doctor's, aren't you? I've heard him mention your name a few times."
"Yes, the doctor and I are old friends. And now that we've established that bond, how about giving me a few bennies out of that big blue pill jar he keeps in the back?"
"Oh, I don't know, Mr. Mason, the doctor...."
"Call me Paul."
"O.K., Paul then," she replied. "But Paul, I really can't give them to you if the doctor isn't here; I'd like to, but I really can't. Couldn't you come back tomorrow? I know the doctor will be back by then. Anyhow," she said, lifting her arms over her head and raising her full, ripe breasts, "I was just about to close up shop; it's been a busy day without the doctor here and I want to go home and get into a nice warm tub and forget all about pills and shots and expectant mothers. I've had it for today. You see before you one hell of a tired nurse."
"No, tomorrow is too late. Look, why don't you close up the office and then get the doctor on the phone. Then he can give you the O.K. Come on," he said, getting up and going over to the window, "I'll pull the blinds and lock the door; then we can have the place to ourselves and you can make the call."
"You aren't going to take no for an answer, are you, Paul?"
"That's right," he answered. "Today I have no time to take no for an answer."
"O.K., I'll see if I can reach him. But I'm not promising anything; and if I can't get hold of him, I still can't give you the pills. Agreed?"
As he looked into her cool green eyes, he realized that she didn't know quite what to do; she didn't know quite how to act towards him. She was nervous and a little afraid. He liked that about her too...it was charming in such a beautiful woman. If he hurried her now, it would be over...she would really get scared and she would back away and be cool and distant. So, he had to be patient and gain her confidence.
"Agreed," he answered.
He walked over to the window and pulled the blinds; he locked the door and then turned back to Emily. She had removed the starched white nurse's cap, allowing her luxuriant red hair to fall free over her shoulders. He felt his prick rising as he thought of the silken triangle of hair nestling between her thighs; it would also be red.
"Oh yes, that's better," she said as she gave her pretty head a shake. "I always feel better when the end of the day comes and I can take that thing off.
"Do you have a cigarette, Paul ? Just one, and then I'll call. Promise."
"Yes, of course," he answered as he walked over to where she was sitting.
As he bent over to light the cigarette he caught a whiff of the perfume she was wearing; it seemed to suit her perfectly: cool and lush and fragrant.
She took a deep drag and leaned back in the chair; her eyes met his but then she looked away quickly. He was sure that she was aware of the physical attraction they had for each other. But she wasn't ready yet to acknowledge it. In his growing impatience, it was only with an effort that he did not reach down and put his hands on her generous breasts.
But he could wait.