Allow Me In Ch. 02

It was with this additional change that I forced myself to act.

What little part of my mind that wasn't succumbing to my raging hormones remembered that in the staff room two floors above the basement was a private unisex shower room along with my locker where I had put a change of boxers, shirts and surgical scrubs in the event that I needed them.

Judging from the heat spreading between my legs and the fact that my thighs were slick with what I hoped was perspiration but knew to be my juices, I knew my boxers were probably already soaked and I would need to change them.

At that moment, all I could hear was the sound of Imani flat out breaking down with laughter, no doubt taking some kind of sick pleasure from my clear discomfort.

"Mani, do you think you'd . . . be alright for a while so I can take a really cold shower?" I just barely managed to ask as I tried to take deep breaths in the hopes of relieving the pain I felt but to no avail.

Imani stopped laughing to take a breath and then nodded her head in response, her voice marred by her laughing.

"Mason . . . You know I don't mean to laugh but can I just say? . . . He must be working with a sledgehammer if he's got you having blue vulva!" She exclaimed with a laugh, her words coming out fast and aggressive as she lapsed into her native Patois, the words sounding similar enough however that I caught onto what she said.

Fucking tosser!

Hearing her response and the laughter that accompanied it, I rolled my eyes and abruptly turned around.

"Just remember to get that file to Lynchburg P.D. before I get back and start preliminary examinations on any bodies that come through!" I half-way ordered and half-way exclaimed before I straightened my back and forced myself to walk towards the door that separated the morgue from the main hallway.

"You got it, boss girl!" Imani exclaimed.

In that moment with every step that I took, the heaviness in my pelvis felt worse than what I'd imagine a man would feel if he hadn't had release in three weeks and edged every day during that same time frame.

I suddenly realized that this was going to be a very long walk.

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It wouldn't be a stretch to say that under normal circumstances, I hated the fact that the showers in the hospital locker room always seemed to blast freezing cold water even when the faucet was turned onto scalding hot.

There were many times when, after a more demanding examination, I had gone to the showers to clean myself off and get a moment of relaxation, only to be hit by a jet of ice-cold water that, when combined with the already cold air in the locker room, lead to me screaming a wail that would have given Anna Netrebko's high notes in Macbeth a run for their money.

Today wasn't a normal circumstance by anyone's guess as the ice-cold water not only didn't make me scream but instead proved to be the hose that extinguished the fires flowing through my veins.

More importantly, it killed the intense arousal that I had felt, the cause of which I still was unsure of.

Admittedly, I was somewhat puzzled by the fact that I had heard the beautiful singing I had only to then become insanely horny almost immediately afterwards like I did.

I had always prided myself on my ability to not allow anyone or anything to get me into a state where I was incapable of being objective; a trait of my INTJ personality that had served me exceptionally well as I advanced through the rates of the US Army.

For me to have the emotional and sexual experience I had just had flat out disturbed me but nonetheless, as I wrapped a white towel around my bare torso and pulled on a set of white Calvin Klein boxers underneath it, I pushed those thoughts from my mind and then gazed into the open locker I was standing in front of.

The shower, having done the primary job of killing my intense arousal, had done the perhaps more important job of refreshing my mind and I felt more than ready to get back to work.

Reaching inside the locker, I opened a jar of moisturizer, dipped the fingers of my left hand into it and then began to run them through the triangle parts of my scalp between the jumbo box braids my hair was styled into.

I closed my eyes and relaxed as I massaged the area and felt the tension on my scalp melt away. So focused was I on the task at hand of moisturizing that I failed to notice that the sounds of my hand moving across my scalp and the water moving in the pipes around me were suddenly growing fainter until they seemed to stop completely.

My eyes snapped open and I stopped moving as recognition of what was happening suddenly dawned upon me again.

Before my mind could move to think, I heard it again.

The same beautiful angelic soprano voice rising up from within my mind like the opening notes of a slowly building operatic aria. However, this time, instead of notes without any noticeable words, I heard it singing strange words that I didn't recognize but somehow understood.

These words weren't like the harsh hissing, clicking and snarling language that I had heard him speaking which confirmed to the small part of my mind that was still attempting to focus that it wasn't him somehow speaking to me from afar.

Instead of the harsh sounding fricatives that I noticed his language was, these words sounded as though someone who was underwater was trying to speak but instead of sounding garbled and inaudible, the words were melodic, calming and almost refreshing; like a literal breath of freshness in a cloud of sterile static air. The closest language I could think of that it sounded like was Irish Gaelic only with an added airiness.

As I focused on the words and closed my eyes, I felt the words and the song re-ignite the flames inside me that I had extinguished with my shower . . . along with the accompanying arousal that proceeded to come over me.

Only this time, instead of the sudden rush that had happened earlier that had come like bullets being fired from a fully automatic machine gun, this wave of arousal came over me like a gentle breeze on a calm ocean.

I felt warm and for some reason, as I gazed into the mirror, a bit naughty.

It was because of this that, rather than panicking or fighting the urge, I turned around and bent down to sit on the wooden bench.

So focused was I in that moment that I didn't notice I didn't hear the song anymore but I was already too far gone to even care; I wanted to do something I almost never did and I was surprisingly fine with that.

Removing the towel from around my body, I pulled off my boxers and then spread my legs.

I was near eye level with the mirror set up at the back of the locker and as I saw my body reflected in it, I realized that I looked good.

Really good.

Fucking hell, I could see why my ex had wanted to fuck me as badly as he did since I wasn't exactly unattractive. Even without the silicone on my chest, my body was slim yet my ass was plump and my toned stomach had the start of abs although my face was easily my favorite part of me, namely my amber colored brown eyes.

With these thoughts fueling me, I closed my eyes as I slipped my right hand down to my pussy, finding that I was already wet and ready.

Starting with a slow clockwise motion, my fingers went to work as I held my left hand to my mouth, unable to stop the moans.

I wasn't the type to touch myself, it having been something my devoutly Christian adoptive parents hammered into my head as being a sin, but as I slipped a finger inside my tight snatch, my palm grinding against my aroused nub in the process, I felt whatever sense of religious foreboding vanish.

My body shuddered with spasms and I threw my head back as I proceeded to move my fingers in and out of myself in a slow yet steady motion whilst rotating my palm so that every move sent sensation through my nerves.

Adding to the already intense sensations was the single naughty thought that not only was I in a locker room, where anyone could walk in and find me masturbating, but that I was at work where I was expected to keep a professional attitude and behavior at all times.

Yes, I was a professional . . . a professional freak!

Even more surprisingly, my mind saying this brought a smile to my face rather than jumping into reality and kicking myself as I had earlier.

"Need some help baby?"

The sound of a French accented girlish mezzo-soprano voice caused me to snap my eyes open and then turn my head to the left side, the direction from where the voice had come from.

When I did, my eyes fell upon someone whom I recognized almost immediately.

The sudden wave of fear I felt was only outweighed by the equally intense excitement that passed through me.