Page 8 of Venus

The only sound in the delivery room is the rhythm of the fetal monitor and the tense breathing of a soon-to-be mother taking in as much air as she can between pushes.

“You’re doing great, mama,” I coo. “Just keep breathing and give me another good push.”

She nods, tears streaming down her red cheeks.

As most men are in the delivery room, her husband hovers over her looking like the baby is coming out of his body and complaining about how hard his wife is squeezing his hand during the most painful experience of her life.

My eyes flicker to him, giving him a stern glare to hold it together.

“Almost there, just keep holding her hand.”

This has been a long labor. Mama opted to go through it naturally, so she’s been in pain, moody, sometimes rude, but it doesn’t bother me.

This is one of those deliveries that makes me proud to be in this field.

This couple has been trying to have a baby for years.

They’ve been through everything. IVF, chemical pregnancies, miscarriages soon after getting the two lines they’ve been praying for .

They’ve been desperate, and anxious, for this entire pregnancy. Now that they’re here, in the delivery room, moments away from meeting their first baby, all of that fades away.

These moments make me feel alive, and it helps me get over the grief of knowing I’ll never have it myself.

As the doctor helps mama through her final pushes, I move to her side to coach her, but I do it almost on autopilot. My mind drifts to Vulcan. Carter.

He’s a bit irritating, really, always lingering in my mind like the smoke he’s so familiar with.

He’s sweet and charming, but respects my boundaries, which is a nice change from other men I’ve been with.

He doesn’t back down from my challenging teasing, and the push and pull between us is the most fun I’ve had in a long time.

I think I like him, and that is a problem.

My thoughts come back to reality when I hear mama cry out for a final time. A blink of silence passes, and then the beautiful wail of a new life fills the room.

Mama sobs in disbelief as her new baby is laid gently on her chest. Her husband kisses her forehead and looks at his new son with pride and tears in his eyes.

This is the best part. Handing a baby to new parents so they can feel their tiny fingers and soft skin for the first time. It’s a momentous time in life, like nothing else matters in the world except for what’s happening in this delivery room.

I’ll never experience that feeling myself, so I dedicate my life to giving it to others .

I help mama with her first feeding, and as they drift into that lovely little bubble of newborn bliss, I slip away to the breakroom.

I collapse into a chair and roll my shoulders as I pop some green grapes into my mouth as if I’ll never eat again. You never know with this field, so we’ve all mastered the art of eating full meals in five-minutes flat.

I pull out my phone to check Facebook, when I notice a message from an unknown number.

Unknown: Miss me yet?

I furrow my brow and text back asking who they are. I see the typing bubble pop up, and my phone buzzes a second later.

Unknown: It’s Carter. Have you already forgotten about me? Wow. Wounded.

Me: Sorry, I don’t know any Carters. I only know Vulva.

Unknown: VulCAN.

Unknown: You didn’t answer my question. Do you miss me enough to let me take you out?

Me: Depends. Do I get to throw water in your face?

Unknown: If you wanna get my face wet I know better ways.

I giggle to myself and roll my eyes before replying.

Me: Fine. But there better be snacks.

I shove my phone back into my pocket and finish my shift with a smile on my face.

Carter picks me up in his beat-up truck to take us to the drive-in movie theater.

It’s a pretty empty lot, so we get to come to a stop right in the middle of the screen to get the best view.

The sky is streaked purple and blue from a fading sunset, and soon it will be filled with millions of glittering stars.

I’m wearing an old sweatshirt and a pair of leggings, with my hair pulled up into a high, messy ponytail. I told Carter to bring snacks, but I didn’t trust him to get the right ones, so my mini backpack is filled to the brim with my favorites. Barbecue chips and black licorice.

When I pull them out of my bag, Carter’s mouth falls open. “You like black licorice?”

“Yeah. Why? You think it’s gross?”

He opens the center console of his truck and pulls out a bag of his own black licorice, popping a piece into his mouth. “You kidding? It’s my favorite!”

I recline back into my seat and the drive-in employee delivers our order of popcorn, soda, and nachos to the truck. Carter looks like a man starved when he opens the lid of the nachos, only to lift one out of the box and painfully tell me they’re not cheesy or jalapeno-y enough for him.

We’ve both seen the movie already, so instead of watching, we critique the bad acting and CGI effects from the early 2000’s. It’s the most fun I’ve ever had watching a shitty movie.

The cool autumn breeze drifts into the truck cab through the cracked windows.

I lift my legs up to rest the feet on the dash and get more comfortable.

I peek over at Carter, and he’s focused on the screen, but he’s also got this cute smile plastered on his face that shows off a dimple on his cheek.

He pulls off his cap to brush some of his loose hair back before putting it back on backwards.

His head drifts in my direction and he catches me looking at him.

He gives me a knowing raise of his brow.

I raise my hands in surrender. “You caught me. Sorry, just…you have a nice smile.”

He cocks his head as if it’s the first time someone’s complimented it. “Thanks.”

“So are you really not going to ask why I’ve been playing hard to get?”

He shrugs. “If you wanted to tell me, you would. Maybe you just like the chase.”

I shake my head. “It’s not that at all. I like spending time with you, more than I probably should. But I’m not looking for–”

“A thing?”

“Yeah. I’m not looking for a thing. And you’re great, so I don’t want to mislead you about what this–” I motion between us, “–is.”

“Who says we need to put a label on it? For the one who doesn’t want this to be a thing, you seem pretty eager to slap one on it. ”

I give him a thankful smile for his understanding. “I just don’t want you to think this is going somewhere that it isn’t.”

He sighs. Not in a defensive or hurt way. Just a sigh. “Venus, I just want whatever this is to be real. If that means shitty movie and licorice, I’ll consider myself lucky.”

“You’re really okay with casual?”

“I mean…would I like more? Yeah, of course. But if that’s all you’re willing to give me, then that’s enough for now.”

I scoff playfully. “You’re great, you know that? It’s kinda suspect.”

He laughs and turns back to look at the screen for a second. “Maybe you’ve just got low standards.”

“Low standards, huh?” I ask as my hand drifts over the center console to rest on his thigh. My fingernails drift along the rough fabric of the taut denim on his thigh. “Where should my standards be, then?”

His breath hitches and he swallows slowly as he looks at my hand tracing patterns on his thigh. I shift closer as my hand rides upward.

“Here?” I ask, rubbing the bulge in between his legs. He lets out a shaky breath and bites his knuckles. “Use your words, Vulcan. Or can you not handle the heat?”

“Shit, yes, put me in your mouth.”

He lifts his hips and shoves down his boxers, letting his full girth spring free.

He sighs at the relief from the confines of his jeans.

I wink at him and lick one thick stripe up his length, balls to tip with a flat tongue.

He bucks his hips when I reach the spot on his shaft directly below the tip, so I swirl my tongue there until a fat drop of precum leaks from the head. I greedily lap it up.

I suck his shaft into my mouth and hollow my cheeks, I catch his eyes rolling back just a second before his head falls back to his head rest. His hand lightly grips my head and presses me down a little further.

I gag a little, but take him all the way to the back of my throat before I let myself breathe.

I only take one deep breath before I dive back in, bobbing my head to the ever-increasing rhythm of my heartbeat. My spit drips out of my mouth, leaving a mess all over his crotch and my hands.

Carter uses both of his hands to pull my hair into a tight ponytail and holds my head still as he starts rocking into me.

The salty taste of his precum fills my mouth, and then he grunts loudly before his warm release shoots into my throat.

Some escapes, but I swallow what I can and lick my lips before lifting my head.

When I pull back, we’re both breathing heavy. My lips are swollen and my hair is a mess. His eyes are wide with that post-sex haze men get, and he’s got a lazy grin on his face as he tucks himself back into his pants and buckles his belt.

“If that’s your casual blow job, V, I might not survive your committed one.”