The man in the middle

Dylan the nurse auxiliary showers a patient and waits for his drug dealing partner

The man in the middle

 

Staff asked Dylan if he minded taking Jack into the Shower. Only if he minded. It had been a quiet Saturday morning so he told the nurse that it would be no problem. Dylan looked in the mirror, run his fingers over his bald head, tapped the sides and then shouted into the cubicle.

            “Jack-Oh.”

            “Hell-Oh-ho.” The sound of Jacks voice bent around the half shut door.

            “I’m gonna give uwe a shower, orie!”

            “Okay-Hey.”

            Dylan turned away from his reflection, he was happy. As he moved around the nurses’ desk he pinched the staff’s a*s and then headed for the sluice to get a plastic gown and latex gloves. He looked back. She stared, a dead stare. He mouthed, I’ll f**k you later. The Staff ignored Dylan and lowered her head into a patient’s notes, but the pen slipped out of her hand, wet with sweat, and shaking with excitement and possible anticipation.

            “Come on en c**k chops, shower time.”

            “Shower-Tie-Hi-Hime.” He sang back.

            As Dylan loaded a wash bowl up with shower gel, shaving cream, razor, flannel, hair brush, shampoo and conditioner, he called each item out and Jack repeated each item back through his gumless mouth, tapping his feet in time and staring at the blank cream wall of his cubicle.

            “Rie then, I’m gonna pull uwe to the shower room in this commode.”

            “I’m not going in that. I don’t need the Toy-Hoy-Let.” Thick black stripes from the blinds shadows ran across Jacks face like a cartoon superhero.

            “No, iss not for the toilet. I’m gonna wheel uwe into the shower room on the commode.”

            “You are going to wheel me in on the commode.”

            “Yeah I’m gonna wheel uwe in, uwve juss gorra sit on the commode, uwe don’t need to go to the toilet.”

            Jack cleared up the situation, “I don’t need the toilet. I just have to sit on the commode. You are going to wheel me into the shower room.”

            “Yeah sih on the commode.”

            “Ho-kay-hey, sit on the com-oh-hoh-hode.”

            Dylan hooked his arm under Jacks armpit, counted to three and then pulled him up - F**k manual handling he thought – and swivelled him around and dropped him onto the commode seat, then placed the bowl on Jacks lap.

            “Ere we goh then!”

            “Ere we go, ere we go, ere we go. Ere we go, ere we go, ere we go-oh…” together all the way down the corridor to the shower room, passing the Staff who dropped a folded piece of paper into Dylan’s tunic pocket.

            “Rie then c**k-chops, less take off this stinking jumper of yours.”

            Dylan pulled the Navy Blue material over his head. Jack took the superman takeoff position and the jumper came off.

            “Trousers.”

            Then they came off, along with the incontinence pad. Immediately Jack started playing with his dick.

            “ooooooh, look at him, in he lovely, my little willie.”

            Jack rubbed the foreskin over the helmet. Dylan turned on the shower, tested the water, it was a suitable temperature, ignored Jack’s fiddling and asked him if it was warm enough.

            “ooooh oooooooooh ooooooooooh you’re burning me. What you doing? You’re burning me. Oh God help me, help me God. Why, what have I done?”

            So Dylan turned the temperature down.

            “ooooh oooooooooooh ooooooooooooh, what are you doing to me? It’s cold. Get it off me, turn it up. Oh god!”

            Dylan turned the tap back to its original temperature.

            “There. There we are. That’s it. Perfect. Just right. Spot on. SPO-HOHT-ON!.”

            So Dylan held the shower over his grey hair. Jack continued to rub his foreskin. His dick started to grow. Not totally hard, but some blood did get there.

            “Oh – In he lovely. Look at him. My little willie. In the middle. There he is. In the middle. Up and down, up and down. There he is. In the middle.”

            Dylan washed Jack’s hair.

            “Oh look at him. He’s lovely in he. He’s lovely. Oh that’s nice. You like my head don’t you. That’s it, rub it hard. That’s it boy. In the middle. Yes. Yes.”

            “Ere ewe are, wash you’re body and your bits.”

            Dylan passed Jack a flannel, and he rubbed at his body. With Dylan’s free hand he removed the note from his pocket.

DON’T MAKE IT TOO LATE.

            “Oh that’s nice. Yeas. Here you are boy. Wash me down. Wash me down boy.”

            Dylan washed him down.

            “Don’t forget him in the middle. Oh that’s it. That’s it. Do it good boy. Give him a good rub.”

            Dylan pulled the red chord to call the nurse. The buzzer went off.

            “Oh look at him now. In the middle. Up and down, up and down.”

            The shower room door opened and the Staff Nurse walked in and turned off the buzzer.

            “Look at this dirty b*****d.” Dylan nodded his head in Jacks direction. The Staff looked at him rubbing at his dick, then pulled towards Dylan towards her and poked her tounge in and out of his mouth. In and out. Then her hand slid down into his pants and grabbed his c**k. He ripped open her dress and pulled out her breasts.

            “Ooooh hooooooo. Look at him. You’ve got one too. In the middle. Put it in her middle. Go on. In the middle…There, there, there it is.”

            Spunk flew out of Jack’s dick. “Oh –ho. He’s spitted it out. All out. All out.”

 

The staff and Dylan sat at the nurses’ station studying the off duty. Both silent; both checking what shifts they were working together. Dylan put his hand up the back of the Staff’s uniform and cupped her c**t. “There it is. In the middle.”

            Dylan and the staff laughed together.

 

*

 

The wind blew hard down St Mary’s Street. Buses and Taxi’s bustled down the road. Pedestrians shopped, banked, ate and drank. The ever eternal cue outside Gregg’s the bakers was ever eternal. Dylan stood outside the window of Pizza Express. Cupped his hands up to his eyes and stared into the restaurant. He turned around; a couple of grannies slowly fell out of a bus in front of him, clucking and fussing. He looked up and down St Mary’s street. Then pushed up his sleeve and squinted at his watch. He walked a few yards towards the castle and arched his head around The Royal Bank of Scotland at the corner of St Mary’s and Duke Street, turned back, dug his hand into his pockets and checked his mobile phone. Nothing. He lit a f*g, and walked back towards the pizza parlour. He stopped at the Games Centre, and peered in at the staff and customers. He threw his half smoked cigarette, it rolled off the pavement and into the gutter.

            The Manager of the Games Centre greeted Dylan as he walked through the door.

            “Hello Sir.”

            “Orie.” Dylan Responded. He looked around at the shop. The walls were covered in toy soldiers, goblins, nights, dragons, princesses, knights, cavalries, dragons, paint pots, paint brushes, boxes and boxes of landscapes.

            “Wot uwe sell ere then?”

            “Well Sir, we are a gaming centre, people come here for their gaming needs. We supply everthing that a gamer requires.”

            “Hmmmm” Dylan Turned around and watched other members of staff float around the tables covered in model battle grounds. They rolled die and moved cavalries over mountains. Teenagers with long greasy hair, combat trousers and hoodies; screamed with either excitement or horror.

            Dylan continued to question the manager of the store. He backed towards one of the battlegrounds. Felt around the mountains. His fingers rubbed over the top of a soldier. Swiftly he flicked the soldier to the floor. It landed just behind his right boot.

            “So as you can see, we also host game nights here. The staff interact with customers, well we call them customers, but they are friends really. That boy in the corner with the thick rimmed glasses is Marc, aka Slapshot, the tall lanky one with buck teeth next to him Andrew aka the Adonis, and the over weight 10 year old next to him is dean AKA Dorus Insepedituim Garius Hawk.”

            Dylan crushed the foot soldier under his. By the end of the conversation he had destroyed half an army.

            “Well thanks for that, uwe really broadened my mind, like. I berra go thou, gorra meet someone. Druggus copious amountus dealerous.”

            When he walked out of the door he mumbled, “F*****g losers” to himself.

 

Dylan became very impatient waiting for his partner. He became annoyed, he could do without this, he had to get back to his wife, and he had to visit his sister, who he was increasingly worried about. So he thought to himself that his partner could go f**k himself. He got better goods from Birmingham anyway. So he headed back to the train station.

           

He looked up at the metallic pigeons underneath the art deco clock. They flapped their wings and rose into the air, as the train ran underneath them. Dylan wondered why the pigeons were bigger than the train. The digital timetabled informed him that the next train to Newport was in 12 minutes. Just enough time to look at some porn in WH Smiths.

            “Excuse me Sir. I’m not trying to sell you anything. I just want to know if you are aware of the poverty that exists in …”

            “Newport. Yeah I am. And I’m trying my best to help solve this problem ortie. With my business. Charity starts ar ome, mate. Now f**k off out of my face, before I ruin uwe.”

            The Charity worker folded his clip board under his arm, and straightened his Hi-Vi jacket. It would be half an hour before he would approach another person. His self-confidence was non-existent. He had only taken this job to pay the rent and over due council tax that he had to pay; or the bailiffs would return to collect his guitar and amplifier - his only possessions. The Charity worker really wanted to be a musician - a credible musician - he didn’t care for fame. He just wanted critical acclaim. He watched the top of the heads of the commuters, bobbing up and down, dreaming of waking at 9 in the morning to a coffee made by his wife before heading off to his studio overlooking the sea, maybe in Brighton.

            “F**k” Dylan Shouted out loud. The customers turned their heads in his direction. “Why the F**k do they Cover the Porn with celofane.” He turned to the customer service assistant. “I Cants gets it open. Miss f*****g piggy over there, gets to read er Cosmo, why cants I read MILFS ON TOP? Uwe f*****g tells me. Well f**k uwe anyway, I’m late for me train. F*****g ridiculous shop this. I’m gonna complain to the head office. I tells you that for nothing.”

            Dylan stormed passed the dropjaws, out through the electric doors. The staff were to stunned to notice the alarm sounding. “Works every time” he laughed to himself. “Uwe ave to create a distraction” he said to a mother pulling her pram up the stairs to the platform, and took a picture of her with one of the disposable cameras he stole. “Smile” it might never appen.”

            “Prick.” The mother Shouted up the stairs at him, when she lost her footing and shopping bags fell out of the undercarriage of the pram. Cucumbers, bread and Pringles bounced down the stairwell.

 

Dylan kissed his wife on her head. She was still asleep. Montel shouted at teenagers on the flat screen HD ready TV. Then he kissed her bump. “And how’s Zidane today?” His wife turned away, moaned, a leave me alone I ‘m sleeping moan.