Page 46 of Unforgivable Ties

My cock had been aching and fucking my fist each night wasn’t cutting it. I would picture Stephanie naked and writhing underneath me, making those cute little noises she made when I heard her masturbating. It was far from the real thing, and the redhead had come along at a time when I needed some relief.

I needed to sink my cock into an actual cunt, and as much as I wanted it to be Stephanie’s pussy, I didn’t think that was going to happen. At least with this woman, I could pretend I was blowing my load inside Stephanie.

Her hands continued their descent, tracing my abs before resting on my clothed cock. I was as soft as a marshmallow. She didn’t turn me on at all; I was repulsed by a different woman’s hand on my dick.

“I need to go,” I muttered, hastily pulling away from her and walking down the hallway.

I brushed off the sparkles her lingerie had left on my clothes, and desperately wanted to rid myself of her horrible, cheap smelling perfume. The air around me felt heavy, each second stretching out into an eternity as I walked down the hallway.

I unlocked the door to my car, sighing as I closed it behind me. The redhead’s perfume still lingered in my nose, sickeningly sweet and completely wrong. It looked like it was going to be another night of touching myself thinking of my cute little med student.

Stephanie

It was another day at the mafia warehouse. I should study, because it was slow and I needed to study for my pathology final, but I was too busy wallowing in self pity.

When I was doing Vincenzo’s laundry, one of his shirts had been covered in sparkles and cheap floral perfume. I knew I had no claim over him, especially after denying his offer to sleep with him, but I was still devastated. I broke down sobbing on his bedroom floor for an hour before I pulled myself together.

Even though I knew I shouldn’t, I wanted it to be me who he touched, kissed, whispered sweet nothings to at night. The idea of him sleeping with a different woman made me sick. The thought brought a wave of bitter jealousy that soured like vinegar in my heart.

Would things have been different if I slept with him? Maybe he would only want to be with me. Perhaps the sparkles and cheap perfume wouldn’t be littering his clothes.

It would probably be the same. I hadn’t known him for long, but Vincenzo didn’t seem like a man who would commit to one woman. I would have been just another notch in his belt, aname on a long list of women he had slept with and discarded. Our night together would have been a mere blip in his memory, fading into obscurity like countless others before me.

And even though I knew it was logical for me to stop thinking about him, and stop wallowing in pity, my heart didn’t listen. I played with one of the pencils I had sitting on the table, trying to hold back fresh tears.

Suddenly, Cesare burst into the room.

“We have a critical patient on the way,” he said, grabbing some scrubs to put on over his normal clothes.

Oh, it really was serious. Cesare barely bothered with those garments unless it was a life-or-death situation. I quickly wiped away any remnants of tears, shuffled my textbooks aside, and moved to get ready.

I quickly threw on a set of my own, washing my hands before covering them in sanitizer. Cesare had hastily thrown an operating bed together and was now preparing the surgical tools.

Two men I hadn’t seen before burst through the doors, carrying a younger man who was unconscious and covered in blood. They placed him on the operating bed, where Cesare quickly got to work, his hands moving with a dexterity that came from years of experience.

I was always way out of my element in these situations. All I did was pass Cesare what he needed and helped with the most basic of tasks, should they arise.

The man had been shot three times in the chest, and it wasn’t looking good. Looking at him, I guessed the bullets had pierced his pulmonary arteries and possibly his coronary arteries as well, leading to massive internal bleeding.

His heart rate was just a blip on the monitor, each beat weaker than the last, and the oxygen saturation level rapidly declining.Cesare worked in a desperate frenzy, his gloved hands firm yet gentle as he tried to stabilize the man.

Things were going well. Cesare had almost stopped the bleeding and was patching the patient up, all the while I passed him things he needed.

Then he flatlined.

“Intubate him,” Cesare said, not looking up from his work.

Grabbing the laryngoscope, I opened the man’s mouth and guided the endotracheal tube down his throat. My hands were shaking, because I hadn’t done this without Cesare’s help before, but I was in a medical school for a reason. I wanted to save as many lives as possible. Even if those lives belonged to mafiosos who made questionable decisions.

The line stayed flat.

“Administer Epinephrine,” Cesare commanded, still not looking up from his work.

Epinephrine was a drug used to stimulate the heart and increase blood flow to vital organs. We couldn’t use a defibrillator on him, because there was no sign of electrical activity in his heart.

I fed the IV line into him and delivered the dose swiftly yet steadily. His heart rate was still nonexistent. It seemed like I could feel my own pulse pounding in my ears.

It had been ten minutes, and nothing was happening. The man’s heartbeat hadn’t restarted.

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