To suck and suck not

Continued from yesterday.

Corwin checked in with me a week later. That hunk o’ married manflesh rolled his eyes at the patients in Reception, then took me by the elbow and guided me into one of my exam rooms.

“How’s business?”

I leaned on the motorcycle I keep in my exam room and ran my fingers through my hair. “If I have to suck ass fat from another peroxide-blonde fake-titted bimbo, I’m gonna — what? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Nothing, Dax, nothing at all. Any leads?”

“Not a blessed one.”

He began pawing over my charts, his married eyes lingering over every last full color photo. I felt the blood rush to my head.

“What do you think you’re doing?” I asked.

He seemed especially interested in Francisquitita Lopez’s naked ass.

“You son of a bitch,” I said. “What about Roberta? What about your kids? Is that how faithful you are, I can just spread out a bunch of nude photos and you get all weak-kneed? I can’t believe how predictable you are, like Pavlov’s bitch –”

He tossed Ms. Lopez’s chart at me. “Look at her ass, Dax.”

“Yeah, so you have great taste in asses. I’m sure Roberta and her lawyer will be very impressed.”

Corwin sighed. “You have her scheduled for two o’clock, right? And what are you going to do to her?”

I looked at the chart, really looked at it. “I’m . . . I’m sucking her ass.”

“Exactly. But it’s a perfect ass, high and tight. What’s she doing getting liposuction?”

He had a point, the bastard. Or maybe he wasn’t such a bastard after all.

“Sorry, Corwin.”

“It’s okay. But . . . who was the guy, Dax?”

“Who was what guy?”

“The one who left you with such a high opinion of men.”

I pointed to the door. “Out. Now.”

“You’ll need backup for the two o’clock ass. Let me pose as a nurse –”

“I said, get out.”

I marched him out to Reception. He paused at the exit.

“If you change your mind –”

“Mr. Jones, the only fat you need sucked is between your ears.”

He held up his palms. “Fine, fine,” he said and left.

Backup! I thought. Like I need help with Francisquitita Lopez’s ass. After all, I’m Dax Montana. I’ve never met an ass I couldn’t kick.

***

Ten ’til two, in preparation for Ms. Lopez, I donned a fresh pair of black scrubs. Good. Plenty of room back there to hide my pistol, too. I’d have to squeeze a little tighter, but after Corwin’s nasty jab, I needed some discomfort to focus my mind.

Francisquitita Lopez didn’t look like a hired gun. A petite, copper-skinned Latina, her green eyes burned with a quiet fury that made me think we could, in a different world, be allies, perhaps friends. But in this world, she meant to kill me.

Maybe.

Corwin couldn’t know everything about asses, could he? Perhaps he was wrong about Francisquitita. Perhaps I should examine her again to be sure.

“Ms. Lopez, you’ll need to change into this gown for the procedure.”

“Yes, Doctor.”

One week at this game and I still liked the sound of that. Doctor. Who knows, maybe after this assignment was over I would go back to school, get my GED fair and square, no blowing the principal this time, and then become a pre-med at the local U. I’d be a killer at Sorority Rush. Then, graduation; then, medical school . . .

The dream burst when I remembered I’d have to give up putting hot lead into all the guilty sons of bitches of the world.

“Okay, Doctor?”

Very okay. She stood inches before me, naked as the day she was born, and before I could say anything she had her hand on the back of my thigh, her fingers tracing the gentle curve of my buttocks.

“I want a perfect one, Doctor. Like yours.”

“But yours is stupendous, Francisquitita.”

“Do you really think so?”

She bent over and touched her toes; her flexibility was a joy to behold. Man or woman, I love an athlete.

I heard a delicate hiss, smelled something like camphor and ether, and fell to my knees.

“Pluto was right about you,” she said. “You’re no doctor. You’re just a skank-ho of a cop.”

I tried to get up, tried to slap her, but my limbs wouldn’t obey. My eyes crossed. The second-to-last thing I heard was the clatter of my pistol hitting the floor.

The last thing I heard was Francisquitita Lopez firing up my liposuction pump.

***

I woke up to find Ms. Lopez cuffed and unconscious on the floor beside me. Head pounding, I got up, staggered over to an exam chair. Corwin sat across from me, smoking a Camel.

There was fat everywhere.

“I suppose I should say thanks.”

Corwin shrugged. “She was unconscious when I got here. Thank your girlfriends.”

“My –” In horror, I noticed an ache in my chest. The bitch! What had she done?

“You jammed the machine and it blew up,” Corwin said. “I think the perp got struck by a flying breast implant. Maybe both of them.”

I looked down at my ruined chest. Oh, God. It was high school all over again.

“Dammit, Jeff,” I sobbed. He raised an eyebrow — I’d never called him by his first name before, but I was too upset to care about appearances. “I’m, I’m ordinary. No one will ever look twice at me again.”

“Don’t be a damned fool. You’re still gorgeous.”

“You mean that?”

“In a married, friendly kind of way, yes, I mean that.”

But I needed more proof. I threw my arms around him and, ignoring the awful ache, squeezed him tight against me. I planted my lips on him and shoved my tongue down so far I could have billed him for an esophagoscopy.

I let him go.

“What did you do that for?” he said.

“I’ve been wondering if I’d like it.”

“What’s the decision?”

“I don’t know yet.”

I tackled him. Poor man, he tried to resist — probably thinking about how he’d never be able to explain this to Roberta. Such a sweet, sweet man, but he was in the right place at the wrong time.

Then, deliciously, he succumbed. Our tongues danced the lambada.

Afterwards, I stroked him on the cheek and kissed him on the forehead. “It’s even better when you help.”

Yeah, I still had it, even without the girlfriends.

***

Epilog

Francisquitita Lopez cut a deal with the DA’s office. She rolled on Pluto Banks, put him out of business for a long, long time. They couldn’t pin the other murders on her — she was too smart for that — but they had her and Banks for attempted murder on a police officer. Me. Judge gave her two years, ten for Banks.

Know something funny? Francisquitita apologized to me on her way out of the courtroom, told me I had the sweetest ass she’d ever seen. I think I’ll be looking her up two years from now. I’ve always had a thing for bad girls.

As for me, the Department offered to pay for replacement implants, but I declined. Things are different now. Just the other day, I began a sentence with, “You know, I was thinking –” and no one laughed.

I like the new me.

D. M.

With apologies to Bogart, Bacall, and the real Jeff Corwin.