John's Tale

A cold breeze didn’t stop the night time revellers from coming out in . Nor did it stop the girls from wearing short seductive cocktail dresses. But Francis, who’s my paramedic technician, and I sat in the warmth of the ambulance, observing the crowds as we were trained to do. I say observing, but most of the time we’re rating the women on a scale of ten. Sexist, I know. But we’re bored men passing time until the early hours when all hell usually breaks loose.

Despite the long hours and regular night shifts, I love working as a paramedic. I’ve always liked helping people. When I was young I wanted to be a doctor. However, I’d be the first to admit I’m not quite academic enough to go the whole way. For starters, I hate studying. So being a medic is more than a good compromise. Apart from the odd aggressive drunk, people are usually more than happy to see me.

As I mentioned the one bitch about this job is working nights, spending most Friday and Saturday evenings away from my wife Semra. The love of my life. My Persian Princess.

Semra is a rep for a pharmaceutical giant. She is young, beautiful, and ambitious. Ever since I met her at the hospital canteen seven years ago we’ve been inseparable. I am a bit older and when we met I was already set in my ways. So In Spite of her smooth olive skin, long elegant limbs and undeniable beauty, the fact she was clingily grated on me. Damn, she was almost barnacle-like. But her love defeated my selfishness and now we’re inseparable.

Truth be told. When she’s away I now find myself pottering around the house like a lonely shadow… feeling sorry for myself. A sad state of affairs, I must admit. But luckily despite the fact that Semra travels across the country, she never sleeps over, even if it means spending half the night driving. She’s that sort of woman. We both value our time together.

But tonight was different. Earlier I had gotten a phone call telling me that she had decided to stop at the hotel with her boss, Monica. They had won a big contract with a private health provider and wanted to celebrate. Now, I had met Monica several times, and to say she was charming was a fucking understatement. She has instant appeal. A real cock magnet. But after initial hesitation, I was cool with it. It was good for Semra to let her hair down. She works hard and should revel in her success.

Only there was something not quite right. A suspicion lay deep within. Something to do with our past which I had tried hard to bury, may have been unearthing. God help me if it has.

Caught in a wave of thoughts, I rested my head against the door window and imagined what my wife was up to. I didn’t trust Monica. She was way too forward and confident. Francis nudged me.

“Not like you to sleep on the job, boss.”

“I’m not. Just thinking.”

“Come to think of it. It’s not like you think all that much, either.”

I chuckled. “Fuck you.”

“What’s your wife doing tonight?”

“She’s working.” This was the automatic response. She was always working. “Well, she was. But now she’s out with her boss.”

“Semra drinks?”

“She enjoys a glass or two of wine. Likes the odd G&T too. She’s Muslim but relaxed about life.”

“Sorry, man. Always said she was too hot for you.”

“Again. Fuck you.” My outburst shocked me. I took a breath and calmed. “Her boss is a woman.”

“I’m not saying she’s a slut.” Francis stared through the windscreen. “But look at the mess out there. And give it a few hours and it will be carnage. A hot girl like Semra is going to have a load of men drooling all over her.”

“I trust her.”

“I trusted my ex,”

“You just haven’t met a good woman yet.” I patted his knee like a father would his child. “Your time will come.”

My phone suddenly vibrated. A picture was waiting on WhatsApp. It was a Semra, posing with Monica. She looked cute. They both did. Semra’s smile melted my heart. It made my cock twitch.

“She’d get it.” My fist curled as I noticed Francis’ fat face peering at my phone. “The blonde. Not your Semra… although you do have a hot wife.”

“Monica has everything. Looks, intelligent but a cracking sense of humour.”

“She looks like a cock jumper though.”

“Well, she’s on husband number three.”

Suddenly a job came in through the radio. I responded. Nothing too serious. My thoughts of Semra and her hot boss were put on hold. Apparently, it was a woman with a nose bleed. She had told a policeman she misread a push door for a full one. It happens.