Justin Caas - The Third Sex

“Even so, he could have picked an opportune moment?”

Lucy shook her head. “I doubt it. Not his style. He would have wanted to give you the last speech to settle a personal score. So I worked alongside him to get a little control of the situation, to make that moment more of a reality.”

“I’m not sure what’s real any more.”

“The reality is you were nearly history, and if my uncle hadn’t stepped in, I would be, too.”

“Your uncle?”

“Dad has a collection of army weapons. I doubt whether he’s ever fired one. But uncle has. He saw more of the real action. When I explained the situation in front of me—at first he was reluctant—said to go to the police. I pointed out that the police don’t run a twenty-four hour baby-sitting service. In the end he instructed me in the use of firearms provided I could equip myself with a suitable weapon—and at the same time distancing himself from any consequences which might arise from my use of it. It wasn’t hard to sneak the Beretta from father’s collection. Uncle has retained army sources and for several months he coached me while I practised using a handgun. He also supplied the ammunition. In the army I think they call them rounds . Don’t imagine it all comes automatically. Ignore what you see in the movies. The reality is a lot more boring and uncomfortable. Many times I returned home with a sore hand, shoulder or hip. Yes, the backlash is real. But I persisted.”

“So all this was set up from the start?” I said slowly.

“Yes,” Lucy acknowledged. “but I could hardly let you into it without risking exposure of the whole scene. Are you so unhappy that you’re still alive?”

My next out of town appointment was a return to a Metro III city, always busy in the big cities. After nearly twenty years they began to blur, run together. The people were different but the routine the same. Some tours of duty were pleasant occasions, especially if I was fortunate enough to pair up with a good nurse. Some could be a lot of fun and help the time pass more smoothly. Others, well life has its share of dull, boring times and of course sometimes troubles.

I thought back to last week’s altercation. Husband, a large florid faced man insisted on being present. Normal procedure, but I’m inclined to be watchful of such requests. Husbands tend to fall into two main categories, those with a voyeur streak who get aroused watching the wife being mated, and those who are insanely jealous and want to control every waking moment of their wife’s activities. Red-face fell into the latter category. At one point he rose from his chair, “Here! that’s enough. This is supposed to be a medical exercise, not a porn show!”

I withdrew from his wife’s vagina. He took a step backwards when he saw the swollen organ. “You want to stop immediately, I’ll call a halt right away. There will be no refund of course.”

I waited, “Well?”

Red-face became flustered. He eyed the swollen member again. Licked his lips. “There’s no need for such a florid display,” he managed weakly.

I turned to the intercom. “Nurse, there’s a cancellation here. Please assist the lady.” Of course he backed down didn’t he. It wasn’t anything that I was doing that upset him, more likely the fact that his wife was responding more enthusiastically than he thought proper, and when her legs wrapped around my own the more completely to become engaged, his outrage became vocal.

I had my share of quirky ones too. Although what is quirky? What is normal for one is a perversion for another. The quiet time of actual impregnation can sometimes stretch to twenty minutes and it is in this tranquil and intimate state that women often choose to confide their most personal secrets. Janine told me that it felt so much like her dog Rufus. I mostly just listened quietly without judgement one way or another. I said, “Go on.”

“My husband and I own a large property so nobody thinks twice about us keeping guard dogs and all that carry-on. However the dogs are more than that, they are lady-pleasers.

When I was growing up my parents bred Labradors. As a teenager I had intercourse with all the dogs and the funny thing is that they all knew exactly what to do. That doesn’t happen naturally. Someone has to teach them. And that could only have been my mother.

She caught me once behind the kennels with a dog on my back. The expected telling off didn’t eventuate: instead she just smiled and left me to it. Once I knew I wasn’t going to get into trouble, I used to let the dogs fuck me just about every day.”

As I lay with her, I reflected that it does raise a serious question about how our society perceives right and wrong. A dog can hardly be forced to perform with a woman so we have two beings engaged in an activity that both enjoy and which harms neither. And yet society of an earlier era condemned it as wrong and punished transgressors harshly. Why? It makes no sense. Fortunately in the present age such prejudices have weakened considerably from the dark era three hundred years ago. But although now no longer illegal there is a lingering sense in some segments of society that it is not exactly respectable either.

So why do women sometimes choose this option in preference to a husband or partner? Alice, another client gave me her own explanation. “I do it because I can, and let’s face it, men today are hardly very reliable performers. So if needs aren’t being met in the conventional way why should it be a surprise if we turn to a very willing and capable alternative?”

I had read that in earlier times there was a more compelling reason for women to seek this alternative. Birth control methods were unreliable, a dog didn’t talk behind your back, was always eager to please and never forced himself upon you if you said no, unlike some arsehole men. But whatever the reason, the practice has a long history and neither law nor church ever managed to stop it.

At a quiet little Metro VII township I encountered something new. The nurse turned out to be a young man perhaps in his early thirties. “Hello, my name’s Carl. Pleased to meet you.” He extended a hand in greeting.

Seeing my look of surprise he added, “Nurse Allison is off on maternity leave, I’m standing in for her.”

“Maternity. That’s unusual how…?

Carl smiled, “The Stud here before you arrived was quite active and…”

“But wait a moment, he was only here six weeks, right? That’s a bit early for maternity leave surely?”

“True, except he was here for three consecutive terms which is also a bit unusual. He was an unusual fellow actually. Makes for variety though.”

I thought about it. This seemed to be more unconventional than usual, although I’d struck some that were pretty individual. “So there’s not much call for our services here then?”

“One booking a day if you’re lucky. That’s about average.”

“So how do you usually fill in your time?”

“Well the last Stud filled in his time with Nurse Allison which is where things took a wrong turning.”

“Obviously. I meant how did you fill in your time?”

Carl nodded complacently, “With the last Stud.” Seeing my look of puzzlement and thinking that this might need some further clarification Carl went on, “Him being so active the Ministry thought to send a male nurse and took care not to send a gay one in case the Stud considered him a likely candidate too.”

“So you’re not gay?”

“Oh no. I adore anything with a vagina. Lady, cow, mare—don’t look so surprised. I’m a bit unusual in that I also am rather over-active, a freak maybe in the general male population. But I’m not a Stud.” Carl smiled pleasantly.