Q Without U

The home was a modest wooden structure with three bedrooms, one full bathroom, and an added-on bathroom with shower stall.

"It's functional," was Katie's only comment as the newlyweds proudly showed Quinn's parents and Ulysses' parent the home.

"Love the kitchen, oh, gas, gas is the best to cook with," Terrie enthused.

"And can tell, both of them love to cook, huh?" Dwight said, patting Ulysses' slight paunch.

"Dwight, really!" Terrie hissed, embarrassed.

"Yes, like cooking almost as much as you love eating," Ulysses said to his father-in-law.

Terrie's prediction did come true; the home had sold for thirty seven thousand dollars. Within three months of purchasing the home, The Lees were approached by a Century 21 agent, offering them seventy two for it.

Ulysses became an Emergency Room nurse. He might carry a little extra weight around his middle, but he was quite strong. He was also the source of calm in a chaotic environment.

Quinn began her work in the Neo-natal section of St. Elizabeth Parish Trauma Center.

"Love babies," she smiled happily.

When she lost her first patient, an infant that had been born two and a half months premature, she was devastated, though.

"Go, Trevor," she sobbed to the infant. "Go to God."

Ulysses had already seen his share of death, a Homecoming Queen that didn't survive drunkenly falling off the back of her boyfriend's motorcycle at eighty miles an hour, an elderly man that claimed he felt fine, then collapsed from a massive heart attack, a boy whose brother accidentally shot him with their mother's boyfriend's hand gun.

But Ulysses held his wife tightly as she sobbed bitter tears for a child she'd known for less than twenty four hours.

"What? It wasn't even her baby," Katie replied when Ulysses told her about the incident.

Because they worked in different sections of the hospital, it was not uncommon for one to be clocking out just as the other was clocking in.

When they worked the same shift, they made sure to have lunch, or dinner together. When they were off, they made sure to be together, and if possible, unclothed as much as possible.

Three years after their wedding, Ulysses and Quinn managed that honeymoon their prudence denied them. And they found out that two very fair skinned people on a sun soaked expanse of sand was not a good idea.

So at four years of marriage, they decided to go to the Smoky Mountains.

Then both had to explain to coworkers how they managed to get poison oak on their bare bottoms.

"Swear to God, want to take a piece of sandpaper and just scratch, scratch, scratch," Ulysses muttered.

"Thought you don't believe in God," Quinn teased.

"Ever since meeting you? Kind of starting to," Ulysses said.

"Baby, that's the sweetest thing anyone's ever said," Quinn smiled and continued applying the lotion to her own posterior.

Then Dr. Marcus Olsen transferred from Missouri River State University Medical Center to St. Elizabeth Parish Trauma Center.

At the Lee home, Ulysses listened as Quinn talked about the new cardiologist.

"We're in the cafeteria, Debbie's there, God, you'd swear she was a Marine or something," Quinn said. "You sure she's a doctor? Anyway, we're eating and this Greek god walks in and Debbie says, 'Damn, I'd fuck him dry, then spank him for making a mess.'"

"Sure that was Debbie? Sounds kind of tame compared to the stuff I hear coming out of her mouth," Ulysses said.

While Quinn was teasing Ulysses about Dr. Debbie Ann Thompson, the former cheerleader turned ER doctor and Ulysses was teasing Quinn about the Greek god cardiologist, Dr. Marc Olsen was sitting in his new office, still seething over his meeting with Paula Lambert, St. Elizabeth's CEO.

Upon meeting her, Marc had envisioned bending the attractive, voluptuous strawberry blonde over her desk and pounding his thick cock in and out of her while she screamed obscenities.

Then she lowered the boom on him. Somehow she had found out why he'd done his residency at Hambolt Hospital in Lowridge, Texas, but had not been asked to stay on. She found out why he'd suddenly decided to move from Missouri River State University Medical Center and accept a post at St. Elizabeth's, even though he'd been well established at the University Medical Center.

One complaint, Dr. Olsen, one complaint of impropriety, I will bounce you out of here, as well as contacting the AMA about yanking your license. This is a hospital, not your hunting grounds," the woman said, regarding him coolly. "That clear?"

He no longer imagined pounding her, just imagined punching her.

"Absolutely," he assured her.

Now, in the sanctity of his office, he reflected on the nurses and doctors he'd seen that day.

He knew what he looked like; Marc had heard it all of his life. And he knew he was more than capable of getting the Homecoming Queens, the head cheerleaders, the aspiring fashion models. But Marc preferred the less attractive women. It was truly a bonus if they were married.

For one, they were easier; most homecoming queens and models knew they were beautiful, therefore knew they were deserving. But the homely ones? They were grateful for any small kindness shown to them.

And often, the less attractive the girl, the freakier they were willing to be, the more they were willing to degrade themselves.

And if they were married, they usually stood to lose a lot more than he should their affair come to light.

Unfortunately, though, his last conquest, his last affair had committed suicide after Marc had dumped her to begin chasing after another. Her note gave intimate details of the affair. So, Dr. Marcus Olsen transferred to St. Elizabeth Parish Trauma Center.

The web page for St. Elizabeth Parish Trauma Center showed the pear shaped pale skinned woman he'd seen in the cafeteria.

"Just saying 'hi' to her ought get her creaming her panties," he muttered as he looked at Quinn Lee's photograph.

"Neo-natal," Marc muttered to himself.

*.*.*

Sergeant Elise Richards patiently waited while her brother in law, Dr. Charles LaPointe checked on his patient. She smirked when he jokingly told Ulysses that if Elise was bothering him, just press the call button and he would personally escort her out of the building.

"How long's my throat going be sore?" Ulysses asked.

"Couple of days," Charlie said.

"Great," Ulysses croaked.

"Anyway, see you later, Leesy," Charlie said.

"What? Don't call me that," Ulysses said.

"No, no, I'm Leesy," Elise smiled. "Trey, my godson had trouble saying 'Aunt Elise' so I'm Aunt Leesy."

"Oh," Ulysses smiled. "Yeah, you kind of look like a Leesy."

"Name I wear with pride," Elise admitted. "But getting back to this whole mess, huh?"

*.*.*

Another baby was born to a meth addict, born addicted to methamphetamines, born with a large heart murmur and Dr. Marcus Olsen was called into the neo-matal operating room.

Quinn Lee was one of the three surgical nurses on duty and she watched, anxiously watched as Dr. Marc Olsen struggled to save Olive Sue's life.

"Come on, sweetheart, keep fighting, you can do it," Quinn quietly begged the infant.

But Olive Sue Trapani did not survive.

And Dr. Marc Olsen held the sobbing nurse, murmured words of sympathy, words of comfort.

Thus began the courtship dance. He would stop by, see how she was doing. On the days that Ulysses was off duty, Dr. Marc Olsen would 'just happen' to be on his lunch break when Quinn would be on hers.

As flattered as Quinn was that Dr. Olsen, he insisted she call him Marc was attentive to her, she did not believe the handsome man had any interest in her.

Then another baby was born with a deformed heart. Dr. Olsen was paged and he and Quinn labored to save Annette Jensen's life.

Seven hours after her surgery began, Annette Rachael Jensen let out a healthy cry. Sobbing with relief, Quinn fell into the arms of the ready Dr. Marc Olsen.

Their first kiss took her by surprise and she bolted from the room. All the way home, she replayed the kiss over and over in her mind.

Surely it had been an accident. Surely, just as her own emotions had overtaken her, Dr. Marc Olsen's emotions had overtaken him.

"Hey, Sweetheart," Ulysses greeted his weary wife. "How'd it go?"

"We did it; Annette Rachael Jensen's crying for her momma," Quinn whooped.

Husband and wife made love. Even though she was exhausted, Quinn dragged an unresisting Ulysses into their bedroom and the couple made slow, gentle love.

And the entire time Ulysses thrust in and out of her, Quinn thought of Dr. Marc Olsen.

The next time their paths crossed, Quinn allowed Marc to kiss her. He was an accomplished kisser, but then again, so was Ulysses. Ulysses knew what kind of kisses his wife liked, what kind of kisses she gave when she was in a playful, happy mood, what kind of kisses she gave when she was ready to mess up their bed.

By now, Ulysses knew how Quinn liked her breasts massaged, how she liked her nipples teased and licked.

Ulysses knew that Quinn hated her large backside, knew she was resistant to any touches or squeezes to her chubby buttocks.

Marc knew none of these things and actually seemed fascinated with her large ass.

The next time Quinn and Ulysses made love, Quinn yelled at Ulysses.

"What? My ass disgusting or something?" she screamed.

"What?" Ulysses asked, shocked.

"Huh? Can't even stand touching it?" Quinn accused.

"What? NO, Honey, no, I love your ass, but you never want me touching it," Ulysses protested.

"So fat and disgusting won't even touch it?" Quinn screamed as she slammed the bathroom door shut.

From that moment on, Quinn found much to criticize in her husband.

One morning, after a grueling late night shift in the Emergency Room, Ulysses wearily shrugged out of his blood spattered scrubs and gathered up their laundry.

And found a pair of Quinn's panties with dried semen in the cotton gusset.

They used condoms every time they made love. And since she'd been finding much fault with him lately, it had been over a week since they'd last made love.

Ulysses put the stained panties on the top of the washing machine, washed all their other clothes, dried and folded their clothes, put her scrubs in a neatly folded pile, with the stained panties on top, turned inside out so that the semen was plainly visible.

Then he packed all of his belongings and drove to his mother's home.

Katie Lee was her usual cold, reserved self as her son sobbed over the loss of his marriage, loss of the woman he had loved dearly for much of his adult life.

"So, room and board should be worth what? About a hundred a week?" Katie asked.

"Yeah Mother, I'll pay you a hundred a week," Ulysses replied.

Quinn came home an hour later than usual. Marc had taken her to his condo where they made slow, deliberate love, not the rushed sexual frenzy they'd had in his office.

Quinn had an excuse in mind, but seeing that Ulysses was not there, promptly forgot about it. Instead, she made herself a quick microwave meal, ate it while watching a show she'd recorded, then went to bed.

In the morning, she grabbed her last clean pair of scrubs, wiggled into a clean pair of panties, and decided she'd do the laundry.

She smiled when she saw that Ulysses had already emptied the laundry hamper. She fixed herself breakfast, then ran off for another day on duty.

She saw Ulysses' car in the parking lot and wrinkled her brow; he had not been home last night, or this morning. ER nurses normally did not work doubles; the job was far too demanding for that.

Then she remembered, Brian was out on vacation. Ulysses was most likely working Brian's shift.

She finished her shift, declined Marc's invitation to meet him at his condo, and drove home.

Quinn sat in her car in the driveway of her home for a long moment. Ulysses' car had not been in the parking lot when she left the hospital.

And his car was not here.

A walk through the house showed Quinn nothing was amiss.

Until she looked in the utility room and saw her neatly folded clothes.

With a pair of her panties on top. With the semen stained crotch staring her right in her face.

"Oh God no," Quinn whispered.

"Hell oh," Marc answered his phone. "Changed your mind about..."

"Ulysses knows,' Quinn sobbed out.

*.*.*

"Did she try to get in touch with you?" Elise asked after Ulysses returned from the bathroom. "And uh, wash them hands, mister?"

"Yeah, blew up my cell phone with all kinds of voice mails, all kinds of texts," Ulysses replied as he got back into the bed. "Never realized what a pain in the ass these stupid gowns are, know that?"

Then he smirked at Elise.

"Uh, Sergeant? I'm a nurse? What you think; of course I washed my hands."

"Anyway, usual stuff; 'it's not what it looks like' and 'it's not what you think' and 'it didn't mean anything.' Well, how the hell does she know what I'm thinking, and it might not have meant anything to her; I'm the atheist here, but it meant a lot to me," Ulysses said.

"You're an atheist?" Elise asked.

"No, not really," Ulysses admitted. "Mom's an atheist, tried raising me that way, but honestly? Fourteen billion years ago, there was this cosmic gas that just kind of imploded and some of the gas cooled and some of it didn't and we just happen to be on a hunk of rock that has all the right conditions for water and air and trees and animals and people and... It's just too damned many coincidences for there not to be some divine guidance, you know? And if there's not some divine creator? Where did that cloud of cosmic gas come from? How did it get there?"

"You're making my head hurt," Elise smiled.

"Anyway, I'm supposed to be the atheist, but I have some feelings about it, you know? Some moral feelings about what marriage is supposed to mean," Ulysses went on.

"She's blowing up your phone," Elise reminded him, wanting to get off the religious bent the man was taking.

"Hmm? Oh, oh yeah, anyway, she's leaving like a million messages and I'm deleting them almost as fast as she's leaving them," Ulysses said. "And this goes on for a couple of days, and then I get one from good old Marc Olsen."

"Got that text?" Elise asked.

Ulysses grabbed his cell phone and frowned. Someone had turned off the ringer and he saw that, once again, Quinn had left several text and voice messages. He resolved to delete them after Elise saw the message from Dr. Marc Olsen.

*.*.*

"Shit, this is not good," Marc said as Quinn sobbed.

Paula Lambert had laid it out for Dr. Olsen; one dalliance, one inappropriate encounter with a married colleague and Paula would do her best to not only fire him, but have the AMA review his case. Marc desperately needed for this incident to disappear.

"I just want to talk to him; he won't even answer his phone," Quinn sobbed.

"Just need to talk to him too," Marc agreed.

"Just need to get him to see it's all right, it doesn't have to threaten your marriage," Marc mused.

"It doesn't," Quinn sniffled. "I love him just as much, hell, I love him more than the first time I met him."

"What's his number?" Marc asked, formulating a text message in his mind.

The plan was a simple one. Marc just wanted to get Ulysses in a susceptible state, a state where he would listen to, agree to suggestions. He would assure the fat little nurse that his fling with Quinn was over, that Ulysses had nothing to fear, had no reason to complain about Marc's seduction of Quinn. In his suggestive state, Marc would also assure the nurse of Quinn's love for him, even if Ulysses wasn't a handsome doctor.

A response to his text message popped up nearly an hour after Quinn left his condo. Marc had just showered Quinn's smells off of his body when his phone chimed.

'Excellent!' Marc responded.

Marc suggested the Dead End bar the following evening. In his text, Mark pointed out that the beers were cold and the women were hot.

At her home, Quinn was laying in her bed, her large, lonely bed when Marc called. Seeing the phone number, Quinn just let the call go to voice mail.

Marc was about to disconnect the call when Quinn's voice mail came on. He was Dr. Marcus Olsen; he didn't leave messages.

"Hey, Sweetheart," he said. "Okay, so going to meet with your husband tomorrow night."

Marc went down to Maintenance smiled and tried his charm on two of the muscled young men that worked for St. Elizabeth Parish Trauma Center. His charm did not work, but twenty five dollars each, and a beer each did work.

Ulysses let his mother know he would not be home for dinner the following evening; she could burn whatever she desired for her own dinner.

"One piece of chicken, and it wasn't that badly burned," Katie snapped, finding no humor in her son's teasing.

"Smoke detector went off, Mother," Ulysses said, finding no humor in his mother's cooking.

His shift at the ER was a grueling one. A three car pile-up on Highway 19 created four accident victims, including a terrified little girl. Ulysses helped Dr. Debbie Thompson stabilize the child, then watched as Dr. Charles LaPointe lost the child's mother. The man that had caused the accident lost both legs, but would live.

Several times, Ulysses had to dig out his keys, locate the supplies closet's key, grab more supplies, document what supplies he'd removed, then make sure the door was securely locked before racing back to the emergency room.

Then, just before he was due to clock out, another child came in, a victim of electric shock.

As beautiful, as sexy as Dr. Thompson was, grief did not suit her. They tried to resuscitate the child but finally, Dr. Thompson had to shake her head in defeat.

Then she wiped at her tears as she told the child's mother how sorry she was. Ulysses hovered nearby. Sometimes parents, family members blamed the doctors for their loss. But in this case, mother and doctor hugged and shared their grief.

Quinn's car was not in the parking lot. Nor was Dr. Olsen's BMW. Ulysses shook his head again at the tragic loss of life he'd just witnessed.

"Come on, my boy, let's go get us a cold beer," he said.

The dancer on the stage was gorgeous, stunning. She was the kind of girl that Ulysses had lusted after, had masturbated to thoughts of when he was in high school. The dancer looked like the kind of girls that used to laugh when Ulysses would somehow summon the courage to ask them for a date. It was rare that he managed the courage, and after a few harsh rejections, he quit asking.

Quinn had been a wonderful, welcome presence in his life. Until Dr. Marc Olsen came slithering along.

The waitress was an Asian-American woman; she actually looked a little cheap, almost slutty in her waitress uniform and surgically enhanced breasts. But she did have a sweet smile.

Ulysses realized, he'd had to pee before leaving the hospital, and still needed to pee. Another dancer was striding around, trying to entice a client to pay for a tryst in the Hurricane Room. Ulysses could not deny that it was tempting; she had a sweet, wholesome face and a stunning physique.

But Ulysses could hear his mother's voice, deriding him for spending one hundred and fifty dollars to consort with a tawdry girl.

"Sorry Mother," Ulysses smirked to himself as he relieved himself into the urinal. "But have you seen the prices that good girls charge? Tawdry's about all I can afford."

His beer was waiting for him on the table when Ulysses returned. It had a good head on it, Ulysses could see the condensation from the frosted mug coursing down, tricking onto the vinyl padded table top.

That first sip of a draft beer is always the best. A little bit of the foam tickles the lips, enters the mouth along with the heady cold amber liquid. It teases the tongue with its carbonation.

"Nothing like an ice cold..." Ulysses started to say.