"I'm going to do you."
"You most certainly are not!"
She was seat belted on the bench seat, wearing the guy on the stretcher's button down shirt, and it definitely was buttoned down and a pair of dirty underwear.
"Because I'm happily married." I couldn't think of anything else at the moment.
"Then I'm going to do him."
She pointed to the nearly comatose man on the stretcher. How he managed to fit into her tight jeans is beyond me.
"No you're not!" I said as she unbelted her seatbelt. The guy on the stretcher was blissfully unaware.
We had found the two lovebirds down an embankment in the city's East Side, off of Gano Street, a little enclave that sported all the enmities, a sitting log, a broken in mattress, pretty colored glass flooring, careful not to cut your feet! a water view and privacy. A few dirty needles and lots of empty bottles only added to the ambiance.A pedestrian had heard moaning from the bottom of the embankment as he walked past and called 911.
Quick as a rabbit she stood and fell onto the guy on the stretcher, straddling him. Fortunately for all involved, a gallon of Viagra would not have been enough to revive him.
She gave me a toothless grin, pulled her shirt open exposing her milk duds then passed out on top of her lover.
I finished the report, considering bringing them into the ER just the way they were.