Charlie's Bar - the Phlebotomist


Caution: This Romantic Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Consensual, Oral Sex, .

Desc: Romantic Story: Toby Hansen is a phlebotomist and she was his last client of the day. You never know who you will meet at Charlie's Bar. Phlebotomist: (noun) a person trained to take blood from a patient for examination or transfusion.

"I tell you Gil, in all my years as a phlebotomist... ," he broke off, shaking his head and taking a healthy swallow of scotch. "I have never had that happen to me, never."

It was quiet at Charlie's Bar, especially for election Tuesday. Charlie had never had much patience for "electioneering" as he called it. He was as patriotic as they came, always voted, made sure his staff did too. He kept himself knowledgeable, not only on the current events but the positions of the major political figures as well as the local representatives, but he was not political. He did not trust politicians. He would not let either party use him or his reputation. Charlie's was neutral ground. That was the reason it was so quiet. Every regular knew better than to darken the door on election night if they were even tempted to think a political thought. It was the one night of the year when the televisions were off and the music was calm and soothing.

Toby Hansen, the phlebotomist, was a regular and politics were the last thing on his mind.

"She was my last customer of the day," he began, letting his mind drift back several hours.

It had been a long tiring day for Toby Hansen. Traffic had been terrible. He suspected the high number of people trying to find their polling place so they could cast their vote in this historic election was partially to blame. People that until today did not care one way or the other who was making decisions for them suddenly had an opinion and were shocked to discover they did not know where to go to have it heard. The rain was not helping the traffic. It never did. He could not understand why this area seemed to lose its collective mind, not to mention feeble driving skills, when the first dribble of water or flake of snow would fall from the sky. People seem to come completely unglued and it added an extra layer of chaos to his already fouled up day.

He worked for Allied Health Corp, a subsidiary of a subsidiary of a wholly owned partnership twice removed from anything he considered reality, but they paid him, regularly and on time and that was all that mattered. His job was to take blood from people who wanted AHC to give them life insurance. He had gone to University and flunked out of medical school, could not hack it as a registered nurse and barely passed the exams to be an emergency medical technician. When AHC had said they were looking for people to become phlebotomist and the pay was better than he was getting as a volunteer EMT, he jumped at the chance. That had been five years ago. AHC was different from most insurance companies. They had their own lab and medical staff and for the pre-screen blood work, they sent the phlebotomists to the customer. As such, Toby had, in any given day, a half-a-dozen customers to pull several vials of blood out of. Most only took a couple of minutes each, but the company scheduled it at 30 minutes a customer plus the required travel times. Sometimes he got lucky and could wrap up his customers in a couple of hours and then take in a movie or play a round of golf. Sometimes, like today, the day never seemed to end. It was well past six already and he was just leaving his next to last appointment. His last appointment was several miles in rush hour traffic away and he had already had to cancel her once this month because of scheduling screw-ups. As he sat in the front seat of his car, he pulled out the clipboard and flipped open his cell phone, fumbling with the two as he tried to dial the numbers.


"Mrs. Helen Diggs?" he said, vaguely recognizing the voice, a soft alto.

"Ms. Yes?"

"Sorry. This is Toby Hansen with Allied Health Corp. I am just on my way to you. I do apologize for the late hour."

"That is all right Mr. Hansen. I only just got home myself. When should I expect you?"

Toby sighed inwardly. At least she did not sound upset. "I hope to be there within thirty minutes, but the traffic seems worse than ever."

"Yes, it took me twice as long as it normally does. I will be here."

"Thank you. I will see you shortly. Good-bye."

"Good-bye," she said, hanging up.

Toby sighed again and pulled the map book out of the pile of papers on his passenger seat, flipping to the paperclip that held Helen Diggs address and map page. He preferred paper maps to the GPS units that the rest of the technicians seemed to be in love with. Maybe it was because he liked seeing more than just a little window on where he was going, or perhaps, like now, he could plot a couple of alternate routes that might not be the most efficient or direct, but could get him around most of the foul traffic that the computer generated route the company provided him would force him to drive through.

Toby checked his directions again, started the car, turned out the dome light and after making sure the coast was clear, pulled into the flow of traffic and made his way across town to the apartment of Helen Diggs.

Forty-five very frustrating minutes later, Toby Hansen was pulling into a parking spot in a sparsely filled parking lot in front of the garden apartments that housed his last client of the day. The rain had intensified during his drive and he had narrowly missed being part of several accidents where people had misjudged either their speed or the speed of the person behind or beside them. It was the usual stuff but enough to have pushed Toby to near breaking point at the end of this very long day. He took a moment to calm his breathing before picking up the clipboard again and checking it. Routine blood work, all the stickers were there. Two vials. It would take him no more than ten minutes. One more deep breathe, pop the latch on the trunk, and he got out of the car and walked swiftly around to the back, pulled out the bag and closed the trunk and dashed for the awning over the entry way to the stairwell. Ms. Diggs was on the second floor and a short walk up the stairs found him knocking on her door.

"Who is it?" she called from behind the door.

"Toby Hansen, Allied Health," he responded.

The bolt was unlocked and the door opened. Helen Diggs was standing in front of him, and swiftly backed up, the foyer too small to hold two people and he took her invitation and walked into the main room of her small apartment while she stepped behind him and secured the door again.

"Ms. Diggs? I am Toby Hansen," he said, offering her his hand and his identification.

"Yes. Hello. Thank you," she said, handing his ID back to him. Where would you like me?"

Toby took a moment to look around and indicated the couch. Ms. Diggs was young. He had forgotten that, twenty-six, according to her paperwork, which he took a quick glance at as she moved to the sofa and she was quite attractive. She was short but not small, curvy with well developed breasts and ass. He could feel a slight stirring in his pants as he tried to get his mind back on business.

"I'm sorry. I will need to see your driver's license or similar ID please," he said, as he put his bag on the coffee table.

"Of course," she said, reversing course and walking back around the table towards the door. He watched her move and tried not to focus on the way her ass shifted under the lightweight pants she was wearing. He felt his cock twitch just a bit more and the room seemed to heat up. He did not often have clients this close to his age and it had been a long time since any of them looked as pretty as Helen Diggs.

"Here you go," she said, her pretty voice forcing him to look up, her ID in her hand. He was looking directly at her chest from his seat on the sofa, her round breasts clearly supported but under a heavy cotton sweatshirt he could tell little more about them, other than they looked to be a good size, full and round the way he liked them. He wondered if her nipples were hard, pressing against the material of her bra.

"Thank you," he said, clearing his throat and taking the proffered license, using the clipboard to shield his burgeoning hard-on, which was pressing uncomfortably against the material of his boxers.

He reviewed the license making sure her name, address and birth date matched the paperwork. He had never encountered a switch, where someone who was not the intended recipient of the policy tried to act as blood provider, but a couple of his coworkers had run into it before, which is why the company insisted on a license check every time. If the individual had no proof of identification, then he had a multipage document they had to fill in and submit to the insurance company as well as pay for the blood work out of their own pocket.

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Story tagged with:
Ma/Fa / Consensual / Oral Sex /