I never thought it would happen to me.
Her hair was the deep brown of the earth after a summer rain, her perfume completing the vision of a forest in bloom. The dress she wore, orange and yellow patterns accentuating her curves, hiked up her legs as she arched her back slightly. Eyes closed and head turned away, her hair covered part of her face which exposed her neck. I approached slowly, her high heeled shoes nearby a prefect color match to her dress, and I am suddenly excited when I see her take a deep breath and slowly moan.
I lean down, my lips near hers and turn my head. Eyes still closed she's moaning quietly as if scared to make too loud a sound while we're together. If her parents hear us, she could get in a lot of trouble. She's not supposed to be here with me, but right now neither of us cares.
Sitting back up next to her I move my hand along her jaw to her neck, then brush the hair away from her soft face. A quiet moan escapes her lips as I reach to see her eyes, those brown eyes. Her eyes are closed as I beg for her to open them like a child wishing to open a present on Christmas Eve. Alas, she would not give me the satisfaction.
She's not from the area and came running up the block waving her arms swearing to anyone who will listen that she was having a seizure. She is one of the rare few who have likely seen a seizure before since a neighbor familiar with the conditions that cause it swears it wasn't a fake.
I have my own opinion.
As we approached her breathing was shallow and for a few moments I was afraid she had stopped breathing completely. My thoughts were on the road of CMS Depressant/Narcotic and I was about to reach for the ambu bag when the moan escaped. Not the moan of deep inspiration and awkward exhilation as heard with postictal and hypoglycemic patients, but an attention getting moan seen on late night cable TV.
The other rescuers and I shared a glance of confusion. I reached down to listen to her breathing and smell for alcohol or keytones and felt a pulse.
She pulled away ever so slightly when I leaned in, clearly awake and the decision was made to check her pupils.
And she held her eyelids shut.
I have never met an unconscious person able to do so and I leaned in and whispered this information to my new friend and almost like magic, she was awake and talking.
Almost had me fooled. Almost.
Her hair was the deep brown of the earth after a summer rain, her perfume completing the vision of a forest in bloom. The dress she wore, orange and yellow patterns accentuating her curves, hiked up her legs as she arched her back slightly. Eyes closed and head turned away, her hair covered part of her face which exposed her neck. I approached slowly, her high heeled shoes nearby a prefect color match to her dress, and I am suddenly excited when I see her take a deep breath and slowly moan.
I lean down, my lips near hers and turn my head. Eyes still closed she's moaning quietly as if scared to make too loud a sound while we're together. If her parents hear us, she could get in a lot of trouble. She's not supposed to be here with me, but right now neither of us cares.
Sitting back up next to her I move my hand along her jaw to her neck, then brush the hair away from her soft face. A quiet moan escapes her lips as I reach to see her eyes, those brown eyes. Her eyes are closed as I beg for her to open them like a child wishing to open a present on Christmas Eve. Alas, she would not give me the satisfaction.
She's not from the area and came running up the block waving her arms swearing to anyone who will listen that she was having a seizure. She is one of the rare few who have likely seen a seizure before since a neighbor familiar with the conditions that cause it swears it wasn't a fake.
I have my own opinion.
As we approached her breathing was shallow and for a few moments I was afraid she had stopped breathing completely. My thoughts were on the road of CMS Depressant/Narcotic and I was about to reach for the ambu bag when the moan escaped. Not the moan of deep inspiration and awkward exhilation as heard with postictal and hypoglycemic patients, but an attention getting moan seen on late night cable TV.
The other rescuers and I shared a glance of confusion. I reached down to listen to her breathing and smell for alcohol or keytones and felt a pulse.
She pulled away ever so slightly when I leaned in, clearly awake and the decision was made to check her pupils.
And she held her eyelids shut.
I have never met an unconscious person able to do so and I leaned in and whispered this information to my new friend and almost like magic, she was awake and talking.
Almost had me fooled. Almost.
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How did I know?
Because any post that starts with "I never thought this would happen to me," is usually preceded by, "Dear Penthouse Forum..."