Mmmm… Oh, yes! Yes! My hands were already wet, even as I clutched my umbrella. A marvelously good-looking fire fighter was doing his best to make me blush. His strong arms were struggling to tame his wild hose, and I could feel his mind drift to the now-transparent fibers of my sodden blouse.

…with his warm heart in my hands I revel in the promiscuous, soap-opera fantasy. I do indeed blush, but only for a second, as I realize the blood had been dripping on my shirt for some time now. Displeased with my findings, I want to chuck the lustrous clump of muscle and life on the ground, but in the end I place it neatly in the silver pan of my scales. With this done, I peel off my rubber gloves off and tread to the sterile sink of the morgue examination room. As I wash the deceased fire fighter’s blood of my wrists and elbows, I proceeded further with my fantasy.

… hmm, lets make it two fire fighters…

Being a doctor of pathology is a well-paid, but rather dull job. Even so, one does have plenty of time to ponder upon many a things, in this quiet place. [Margaret Johnson]