Page 9 of Captivated

It’s a Tuesday afternoon and Cooper is about to end his shift just as I’m starting mine. Months ago he got switched to days, but I’ve still been assigned to the night shifts since I’m one of the newer guys in the department. Besides that, I’m single and don’t have anyone waiting for me at home, so it doesn’t bother me so much to be working all hours of the night.

My life is pretty simple—work, go to the gym, take care of my yard, and visit Birdie whenever I can. I enjoy my peace and quiet, except at night when I look forward to the company of a woman who can treat sex for what it is—a physical release between two people that enhances your mood tremendously. Without that release at least twice a week, I’m a surly asshole and Cooper is always the first one to call me on it.

Now my sour mood is a result of the fact that he gave my phone number to Misty. That’s a hard rule in my hook-up handbook—no phone numbers exchanged. After having to change my digits a few times back in college, I learned my lesson and now know to avoid that exchange of information, hence why most women track me down through social media instead, although I’m really not on there that much anyway.

Back on traffic patrol for the evening, I spend a few hours cruising around town, writing a few tickets for expired registrations and one for an illegal right-hand turn on a red light. Traffic laws are in place for a reason, people. Obey the rules of the road and no one gets hurt.

The truth is, I don’t mind being the one to make sure people don’t drive like idiots. It gives me a sense of pride to put people in their place and make sure they know to be aware of the other innocent lives on the road. And maybe there is a small part of me that wishes I could catch Piper going the wrong way down a one-way street again.

I’m rattled by the notion that even two weeks later, I still can’t get the image of her face out of my mind. Women are a dime a dozen to me normally. I mean, I respect them, understand they’re people to. But when I meet one I want to get to know on a physical level, I’m very upfront about the stakes from the beginning. It’s not my fault then if they read too much into our time spent together. I can’t help it if the orgasms that wrack their body make them momentarily delusional and they wake from the ecstasy thinking there will be anything more than sex between us. But I’m not disrespectful to them. Women tend to associate sex with feelings—but I never let myself go there. Feelings are messy. Feelings lead to love, which I’m convinced isn’t for me, not with the example of a marriage that I witnessed growing up.

So when thinking about Piper makes little goblins of confusion start to manifest in my chest, it makes me feel uneasy. Even after leaving the retirement center a few weeks ago, I tried like hell to find a woman to take my mind off of the blonde angel that shook me. My pick for the night was adequate, but I couldn’t fight the need to envision Piper’s face while I fucked the other woman. It was dirty and raw, but I didn’t feel the same satisfaction that I normally do from sex.

And now I’m just frustrated and confused and wondering why the hell I let one interaction with a mystery woman shake me so hard.

Around midnight I’m gliding along downtown, hoping to catch an idiot or two who decided to drink and drive. It may only be a Tuesday, but some people still like to hit the bottle early in the week. Tony’s Bar looks particularly busy for this time of night, so I circle and wait. The temperature has decreased tremendously outside, blasting a frigid chill through the crack in my window.

Turning down a one-way street to make my way back around, I’m paralyzed by bright headlights that barrel towards me as I lay on my horn—but it’s too late. I slam on the brake but apparently the other driver forgot where theirs was because the crunch of metal, smell of oil, and crack of glass all hit my senses in a matter of seconds. The impact from the collision rattles my mind and I vaguely recall smacking my head on the window before everything goes black.

I filter in and out of consciousness, fighting the need to go to sleep with being awake enough to let the responders know what happened. I’m a deputy—I’m the one that should be responding to the scene instead of being a victim of the crash. But contrary to what someone may think, officers are involved in far more collisions on duty than you might realize.

“Where am I?”

The white lights above me in the ceiling burn my retinas as I blink and adjust to the haze, and I realize I’m lying down in a bed that is not my own.

“Calm down, Deputy. You’re at the hospital,” a soothing hand and equally smooth voice draw my attention to the left of my bed, but the face of the nurse comforting me is turned towards the screen of the monitor, clicking away on the keys.

“What… the hospital? How did I… how did I get here? What… what happened?” The laundry list of questions clouding my mind fire off at lightning speed even though I stutter as I try to form words. The pounding in my head throbs as I fight the pain, and I swivel my head in every direction imaginable while I attempt to recount what landed me in this bed.

“Don’t worry. I’ll bring you up to speed in just a minute. But first, we need to discuss your injuries…” the woman says with her face still turned away from me.

“My injuries?”

“Yes, I’m afraid there was an infection.”

“Where?”

She turns to face me and then that same rush of heat that occurred the first time I saw her face burns hot within my chest and between my legs. A slight tilt of her head accompanied by a grimace alerts me that I might not like the answer.

“In a spot of yours that apparently all the ladies want to see…”

I glance directly down to my crotch, covered in the hospital gown that lies flat over my dick, but the appendage quickly starts to rise when I look back up at her and notice how tightly stretched the fabric of her scrubs is across her chest and how much brighter her eyes look now in the hospital lights, accompanying the slight smirk of her lips.

Suddenly my brain and my dick wake up when I realize this woman is joking with me. “Well, by how he’s standing at attention right now, I’d say my dick is just fine.”

She chuckles and I can sense her attempt at control in not peeking at the goods herself.

“Maybe the antibiotics kicked in then finally,” she says while standing tall again, reaching for something on the counter under the window spanning the entire far wall of the hospital room. Walking back towards me, she reaches her hand out and places my phone in my palm. “But by the amount of messages from women blowing up your phone, I’d say it’s only a matter of time before your dick catches something and falls off.”

Sure enough, one peek at my phone and I see dozens of notifications from the woman from a few weeks ago. She’s already had a turn on the Williams’ sexual rollercoaster and is desperate for seconds. Not surprising though, is that about half of the messages are texts from an unknown number asking about a date. I’m assuming the number is Misty’s, but I can deal with that later. For now, I’m much more focused on getting to know the woman that has serendipitously landed in my lap again.

Fucking Birdie.

“Are you jealous, Piper?” That catches her attention, her head flicking back at me so fast, I swear I can hear her neck pop. A devious grin stretches across my mouth as her entire sarcastic demeanor from before disappears. “What? You think I didn’t remember you? Well, I guess it looks like you found your way to your meeting, huh?”

My heart kick starts in my chest with the realization that earlier the thought of this woman was distracting me, and now I end up in the same hospital where she works.

Well played universe, well played.

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