body. Her hands moved up and down her body, slowly caressing the sensitive parts. She massaged herself in slow little circles until waves of pleasure rippled down to her toes. Almost in unison with Alexa’s rhythmic ecstasy came moans of pleasure from another couple in the adjacent room. Alexa couldn’t help but laugh out loud over the coincidence. She drifted off to five blissful hours of uninterrupted sleep.
She woke to a perfect Parisian morning. After a quick breakfast, she decided to spend the day at the Louvre. Alexa jumped in a cab outside her hotel, and they headed toward the museum. The skinny, pale, dark-haired cab driver appeared in his fifties and smoked cigars while he chauffeured his clients around Paris. What a horrid stench . Alexa put her window down as far as it would go, but she couldn’t get it to open all the way.
The man sped through the winding streets at a rate that wasn’t safe by anyone’s standards. Alexa searched the crevices of the bench seat for a seat belt. Her hands scavenged across the stained upholstery to no avail. The car raced past a teenage girl on a vintage red bicycle. The tires of the bicycle were only about a foot away from the tires of the car. Alexa scowled at the cigar smoker’s carelessness and screamed, “Hey!” out loud.
The cabbie answered with a nasal grunt and a wave of his hand. In that moment, another car pulled out ahead of the taxi, making the cab swerve hard to the left. The cab veered off the road and smashed through the short brick wall separating the road from the bank of the Seine.
The accident happened quickly, but Alexa’s hands were already clutching the car door for stabilization. The cab plunged into the water below. Alexa turned the handle hard and thrust her shoulder at the car door, but she couldn’t get it to budge. The car sank rapidly, and water flooded through the open window. She scrambled to maneuver her arms and torso through the window opening, forcing one arm at a time through the small opening. When the second arm passed through the window, the glass gave way. It didn’t break; the glass merely separated from the window frame of the door.
Alexa floated the rest of the way through the window and to the surface of the water. The rear of the car continued to sink slowly. Bubbles rose from where the front of the car was submerged. The front windshield shattered after the collision, and water covered both the hood and the driver-side window.
Among the bubbles in the water, the unconscious body of the obnoxious cab driver bobbed along in the river. Alexa eyed the body. She held nothing but dislike for him, but she had to help him. She judged the distance to the shore and the current of the water. I’m an awful swimmer, but I should be able manage that despite the current. She swam to the cabbie and tucked his neck and shoulders under her right arm. She made slow, gentle strokes until she reached the bank of the river.
A small crowd had formed along the shore. Onlookers helped Alexa pull the driver’s body out of the water and onto the pavement. She shouted to the crowd, “Ambulance!” in the best French accent she could muster. The words came out breathy. She knelt by the cab driver. His chest didn’t rise. She turned and surveyed the eyes of the French patrons, silently pleading with them. She wanted one of them to step up and take over. No one moved.
Alexa grunted in desperation. She worried about liability, malpractice, and lawsuits. Rule number one in medicine — a physician should never render services outside of work, especially in emergency situations. Unlike other individuals who are protected by Good Samaritan clauses in emergent cases, physicians can still be held liable. It was a similar type of loophole that the prosecution had tried to use to hold Alexa responsible for Jamar’s death. Alexa remembered the bitter taste of Portia Willis’ lawsuit and silently thanked Jacob Appleby for his ability to make the charge go
She woke to a perfect Parisian morning. After a quick breakfast, she decided to spend the day at the Louvre. Alexa jumped in a cab outside her hotel, and they headed toward the museum. The skinny, pale, dark-haired cab driver appeared in his fifties and smoked cigars while he chauffeured his clients around Paris. What a horrid stench . Alexa put her window down as far as it would go, but she couldn’t get it to open all the way.
The man sped through the winding streets at a rate that wasn’t safe by anyone’s standards. Alexa searched the crevices of the bench seat for a seat belt. Her hands scavenged across the stained upholstery to no avail. The car raced past a teenage girl on a vintage red bicycle. The tires of the bicycle were only about a foot away from the tires of the car. Alexa scowled at the cigar smoker’s carelessness and screamed, “Hey!” out loud.
The cabbie answered with a nasal grunt and a wave of his hand. In that moment, another car pulled out ahead of the taxi, making the cab swerve hard to the left. The cab veered off the road and smashed through the short brick wall separating the road from the bank of the Seine.
The accident happened quickly, but Alexa’s hands were already clutching the car door for stabilization. The cab plunged into the water below. Alexa turned the handle hard and thrust her shoulder at the car door, but she couldn’t get it to budge. The car sank rapidly, and water flooded through the open window. She scrambled to maneuver her arms and torso through the window opening, forcing one arm at a time through the small opening. When the second arm passed through the window, the glass gave way. It didn’t break; the glass merely separated from the window frame of the door.
Alexa floated the rest of the way through the window and to the surface of the water. The rear of the car continued to sink slowly. Bubbles rose from where the front of the car was submerged. The front windshield shattered after the collision, and water covered both the hood and the driver-side window.
Among the bubbles in the water, the unconscious body of the obnoxious cab driver bobbed along in the river. Alexa eyed the body. She held nothing but dislike for him, but she had to help him. She judged the distance to the shore and the current of the water. I’m an awful swimmer, but I should be able manage that despite the current. She swam to the cabbie and tucked his neck and shoulders under her right arm. She made slow, gentle strokes until she reached the bank of the river.
A small crowd had formed along the shore. Onlookers helped Alexa pull the driver’s body out of the water and onto the pavement. She shouted to the crowd, “Ambulance!” in the best French accent she could muster. The words came out breathy. She knelt by the cab driver. His chest didn’t rise. She turned and surveyed the eyes of the French patrons, silently pleading with them. She wanted one of them to step up and take over. No one moved.
Alexa grunted in desperation. She worried about liability, malpractice, and lawsuits. Rule number one in medicine — a physician should never render services outside of work, especially in emergency situations. Unlike other individuals who are protected by Good Samaritan clauses in emergent cases, physicians can still be held liable. It was a similar type of loophole that the prosecution had tried to use to hold Alexa responsible for Jamar’s death. Alexa remembered the bitter taste of Portia Willis’ lawsuit and silently thanked Jacob Appleby for his ability to make the charge go
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