Bare Shoulders in Spaghetti Straps

101

After Hutch rescues Meredith and Starsky from Train and his gang, she accompanies them to the hospital and meets an attractive doctor, Sammie Mason.

 

Written for the SHareCon 2022 zine.

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The Bay City General ER was surprisingly quiet when Starsky bundled Hutch up to the admitting desk. Joan Meredith trailed behind, feeling oddly like the third wheel on a date. She looked around for a seat, seeing an older couple speaking to a woman in a white coat. The other banks of chairs were completely empty.

“He had surgery two days ago and his shoulder—where they operated…” Starsky blurted to the woman seated behind the counter.

“Starsky, I can speak for myself—” Hutch waved him off, cradling his left arm close to his chest. “I left the hospital—”

“Your jacket is covered in blood,” the nurse assessed quickly, pointing them through the double doors to the inner sanctum. “Go right in.”

Starsky didn’t even glance back at Meredith, hanging onto Hutch’s good arm as if it was him who needed support and not the injured man.

“I’ll wait out here for you,” she said, not expecting an answer. There was something more going on between Starsky and Hutch that she couldn’t fathom. She’d only met Starsky’s partner, Ken Hutchinson, over an hour ago when he burst into the house where she and Starsky had been taken hostage by Train and his band of teenaged thieves. She rubbed her wrists where the rope had abraded her skin. There’d been a prickly sort of emotion bouncing between Starsky and Hutch since Hutch arrived, as if one or both of them were angry. Or afraid.

It had been a hell of a day, with more ups and downs than she’d ever dealt with in her first two years on the force. She was a capable, intelligent woman—Too smart for your own good, her mama used to say. You’ll never find a husband reading books. Go to a party, or a bar. That’s where the men hang out waiting for a woman.

No, thank you.

If there was one thing Meredith knew, she was not interested in any man who looked for a mate in a bar.

She’d met bus loads of men at the gym while mastering judo. A whole roomful of men at the police academy where she had been one of only three female cadets. None of those guys had been a contender for her heart.

And now, she’d met Dave Starsky. He played it all cocksure, as if he bedded a conquest and went on his way, but there was something underneath. Something she couldn’t quite read. She’d gone along with his line, expecting that he’d try coaxing her into his bed under the guise of watching the ill-fated TV set. Yet, after a few kisses and light petting, that was all they’d ever done.

A gentlemen. What a rarity in the hyper-masculine world of the police force.

One who worried about his partner enough to follow him into the ER room.

You should have gone with them, her inner mama voice chided. Don’t let a cute one like that get away.

“Excuse me.” A gorgeous woman with long glossy black hair approached, tugging at a stethoscope hanging around her neck. “I saw you come in with Starsky and Hutch. Hutch looked awful. I don’t mean to pry, but what happened?”

Deep in her own head, it took Meredith a moment longer than it should have to recognize the doctor who’d been speaking with the older couple. They were slowly walking out the main doors. “You know Starsky and Hutch?” she asked belatedly, sounding stupid to her own ears.

“Friends of my extended family,” the doctor explained. “Sammie Mason—uh, Dr. Mason.” She shook Meredith’s hand, immediately zeroing in on the abrasions around her wrists. “You need to have a doctor look at your injuries.”

“I’m not hurt!” Meredith protested, embarrassed. Dr. Mason was model caliber gorgeous, and here she was looking like a street urchin in her satin jacket and black knit watch-cap. Meredith had never gone for the latest fashions but she strived to present the picture of a sophisticated, well-dressed woman. “I’m a cop. Detective Joan Meredith.”

Dr. Mason’s brown eyes went wide with surprise, cradling Meredith’s right hand in hers. The doctor had clearly assumed she was a teenager.

“Sorry, I thought…”

“Hutch was shot the other day. I was working undercover with Starsky,” Meredith elaborated, suddenly wanting very much to keep talking to this beautiful doctor. “A teenage theft ring, hence, the get-up.”

“It’s very convincing, but I probably shouldn’t know the details of an ongoing case.” Sammie grinned. “I’ll have my colleague examine at your wrists—”

“You’re not going to?” Meredith blurted. She’s never had such an immediate reaction to anyone. She craved Dr. Mason’s soothing touch as much as she did chocolate.

“Uh—” Sammie stammered, looking like she’d meant to say something else. Giving a tug to her stethoscope, she lifted one shoulder. “I was just going off duty. Better if Adam does it.”

Still holding Meredith’s hand, she pushed through the ER double doors, flagging down a doctor so young Meredith figured he didn’t shave yet.

“Adam,” Sammie called. “This is Detective Meredith, she came in with Starsky and Hutch, and has some bad abrasions on her wrists.”

When Adam ambled over, Sammie moved away. Meredith forcibly squashed the thought of Sammie caressing her palm while bandaging her wrist. Clearly her brain was addled from too many romance novels as a teenager.

“Dr. Adam Scarlotti,” he introduced himself, shooting a bratty younger brother glance at Sammie. “Dr. Mason likes to lord over me since she’s a second year and I’m a first.”

“He’s my little cousin’s boyfriend,” Sammie said, laughing. She patted Meredith’s arm. “I have familial rights. Detective, I’ll go get an update on Hutch so you don’t wait around for nothing.”

“Thanks.” Meredith watched her walk away with a pang of regret.

“Wow, are those rope burns?” Tony asked.

He had the gee-whiz kind of face Meredith associated with the kid who used to play Dennis the Menace on TV. But he clearly knew his stuff. With a resigned grimace, because her wrists were really beginning to hurt, Meredith sat down on the exam table in cubical three.

~~**~~

Sammie wanted to run away and remain with Joan Meredith at the same time. Oh, Lordy, she was drawn in by those mischievous eyes and sweet smile. Staring desperately at the board that listed which patients were in what exam room, she located Hutchinson, K; room five. Behind her, she heard Adam taking Meredith into cubical three, used for non-emergency injuries and illnesses.

For a brief moment, Sammie let herself fantasize about a quiet dinner with Meredith—just the two of them, both wearing dresses with spaghetti straps for ease of kissing vulnerable areas on the neck, not to mention those sweet places on the jaw and collar bone. All before dining on—not an obvious aphrodisiac like oysters–but maybe something sexy like salmon mousse with white wine, followed by cheesecake swirled with chocolate.

Or just chocolate by itself. With Meredith kisses in between bites.

She’d long accepted that she preferred girls over men. That had not precluded her from dating guys. She was in a male dominated profession, and being a lesbian was definitely dangerous for career advancement.

She still indulged in admiring the female form. Nobody was the wiser, certainly not her landlady and friend, Mrs. Walters. Or Starsky and Hutch, for that matter, which brought her around to her objective.

Knocking on the exam room door, Sammie poked her head through. Starsky was holding Hutch’s hand, facing the table where Hutch lay. Hutch’s chest was bare, a four by four gauze covering his upper left shoulder. Whoever had taken the case was not in the room at the moment.

Hutch looked up when she entered, blushing slightly. He disengaged his hand from Starsky’s, pointing at Sammie. “What a surprise!”

“Hey, Sammie!” Starsky leaned forward to peck her on the cheek. “Where’d you come from?”

“I was about to go off shift when I heard you two were here. What happened?” Sammie asked, her doctor brain giving Hutch a quick assessment. Aside from looking tired and pale, he seemed healthy enough.

“Hutch got shot during a house break-in, and then left the hospital this morning….” Starsky said in a rush. “Whadda you call it when you leave without being discharged?”

“Starsky, there were extenuating circumstances,” Hutch spoke over him, raising himself up on his right arm. That clearly hurt and he lay back down with a groan. “This bozo ended up tied to a chair…”

Same old Starsky and Hutch, squabbling with such obvious adoration. Sammie half grinned, something other than her doctor skills kicking into her brain. Holding hands, gazing at each other—constantly—with hearts in their eyes…

Starsky and Hutch were in love.

Whether or not they acknowledged the fact, it was as plain as day. Particularly to someone who’d just met the woman of her dreams.

And she’d completely lost track of the conversation.

“Uh—AMA, Starsk,” she said to focus. “Against medical advice. Not a good thing.” Horning in on another doctor’s case without being asked to consult wasn’t proper Emergency Department etiquette, so she refrained from lifting the gauze covering the wound and flipped open the chart instead. “Wound dehisced and you need a couple stitches, plus antibiotics for possible infection.”

“Sounds worse than it is,” Hutch said defensively, although Starsky shot him a stern glare. “Dr. Frasier seems competent.”

“Best suturer in the department,” Sammie said. “Won’t heal like a set of railroad tracks.”

“Is Meredith still out there?” Starsky asked suddenly, as if he’d just remembered her.

“I met her. She’s…” Sammie amended the lovely she’d meant to say with, “very nice. I’m supposed to report your progress.”

“Tell her I’ll stay with Hutch until they release him, or make him stay overnight,” Starsky said.

“Perish that thought,” Hutch growled.

Starsky snorted good-naturedly. “Serves you right. At least that nurse cut off your bloody jacket and tossed it in the trash.”

“I was saving your sorry hide!” Hutch countered peevishly, rubbing his chest as if he could erase the pain.

“Tell Meredith I’ll talk to her tomorrow in the squad room,” Starsky said. “She can be my partner for another couple days until gimpy here is off medical leave.”

“I’ll leave you tied to a chair the next time,” Hutch muttered. “Thanks for stopping by, Sammie. Tell Mrs. Walters—”

“We miss her pie,” Starsky finished for him.

“I will. She’ll insist you visit,” Sammie started to leave just as Dr. Frasier and a gray-haired nurse pushing a Mayo stand with a suture kit came through.

“Are you taking this…” Frasier asked with surprise.

“Visiting friends.” Sammie waved and backed out. She nearly collided with Meredith standing at the counter where the doctors worked on their charting. “Oh! Are you finished already?”

Meredith raised both arms now wrapped in Kerlix gauze. “Just minor, nothing to get fussed about. Signing my discharge papers.” She scribbled a signature on the standard forms. “Thanks, Adam.”

“Don’t be offended if I say I hope you never come back,” Adam said cheerfully.

“I hope I never, ever have to visit your ER again.” Meredith winked, glancing over at Sammie.

Her chest tightening, Sammie knew. There was something in Meredith’s eyes, the way her full lips curved in a welcoming smile. They both had the same desires.

“Guess I’ll grab a taxi,” Meredith said, pulling her satin jacket over a blue sweatshirt.

“I…” Should she do this? Put herself out like this? Sammie had only ever taken another woman out—anywhere—with thoughts other than friendship or girl’s night out once. And that had been years ago. Before medical school. “I have a car—it’s a used Pinto but I can drive you home.”

Meredith’s grin was like water on the desert. Flowers bloomed in Sammie’s heart.

~~**~~

“Should I tell Starsky and Hutch they were matchmakers?” Joanie Meredith asked softly, snuggling up against Sammie on the couch she’d bought on sale at Macy’s. The beat up sofa she’d hauled home from the Goodwill the year she started at the police academy had been relegated to the dump. Since Sammie had no private space, renting a room at the Walters’ house, their first few dates had been at restaurants, and once at a hotel, for the night. She’d finally gotten up the courage to ask Sammie over to her house, and then had redecorated the front room in a panicked shopping spree.

“And give them the satisfaction?” Sammie laughed. “Their egos are big enough.” She ran her palm lightly down Joanie’s arm. “I like what you’re wearing.”

“I like what you’re wearing,” Joanie echoed. They both had chosen spaghetti straps. Hers was a blue top paired with hip hugger jeans. Sammie wore a pretty, summery dress splashed with tiny pink roses and white daisies.

“You know, the first time I saw you, in the ER.” Sammie hooked a finger under the narrow strap, sliding it down until Joanie’s pert, brown breast was bared. “I had a fantasy that we were wearing tops with spaghetti straps, with salmon for dinner, and I’d do this—” She leaned in close for a kiss.

Every single time, the simple act of kissing this woman made Joanie’s head spin. Like a damsel in a melodrama, she swooned with rapture when she pressed her lips to Sammie’s. When she thrust her tongue into Sammie’s mouth, it was as if she’d found her center. Her home.

They cuddled on the couch for a long time but the blat of the doorbell bolted both off the couch simultaneously.

“Must be the pizza.” Joanie laughed, resettling the blue strap on her shoulder before grabbing her wallet from the narrow table by the door.

“I’ll chip in.” Sammie sat down to rummage in her purse for cash.

The delivery guy thrust the large flat box through the opened door, grabbed the money Joanie held out and escaped without saying more than two words.

“Save it for next time.” Joanie shook her head, placing the pizza on the coffee table between their glasses of wine. “It’s not salmon, but we’ve got the spaghetti straps, and we can recreate more of that scenario.”

“Only if you have chocolate.” Sammie chuckled, selecting a piece of sausage and mushroom.

“Who doesn’t have chocolate?” Joanie countered, taking a bite from the slice of pizza Sammie held to her mouth. “That’s a given around here.”

“Perfect.” Sammie wiped tomato sauce off Joanie’s mouth with her thumb and then popped that thumb into her own mouth. “Yum.”

Pizza and wine led to more kisses. Panting slightly, Joanie unzipped the back of Sammie’s dress, flipping it over her head. “No bra, you liberated woman,” she observed, running her hand between Sammie’s breasts to the narrow pink panties that hid her mound. She longed to plunge her finger into that warm, sweet vagina.

“In this little dress?” Sammie’s eyes were merry as she divested Joanie of her blue top with equal aplomb. “You’re not wearing one either.”

“Hampers mah style,” Joanie said with a heavy southern drawl. “Cause I jist wanna mash against my woman and…”

“What?” Sammie’s lips turned up with that sexy come and get me smile, and Joanie was swooning again.

“You just wait and see, sister,” Joanie promised, doing exactly what she’d planned on. She thrust her whole hand under the edge of Sammie’s panties, rubbing along the soft labial folds before parting the moist skin to insert a finger into the slippery recess.

Sammie drew in a loud breath, rising up slightly to encourage the penetration. “Yeah, yeah.”

Using the natural lubrication she’d found there, Joanie moved her hand up to that delightfully sensitive bud, massaging Sammie’s clit with her own juices. Sammie grabbed a kiss, pulling Joanie so close that she had to sling her left thigh over Joanie’s hip.

That made the position awkward, but not impossible, because there was no way Joanie was going to stop at this juncture. She sucked on her lover’s lip, feeling Sammie’s clitoris swell. Joanie’s groin throbbed with desire, and she used the pressure of her hand caressing Sammie to grind against herself to provide stimulation.

They came within moments of each other, gasping in the petit mort of a fantastic orgasm. Joanie luxuriated in the brief clenching and utter release, her whole body tingling as if she’d touched a live wire.

“Don’t know how, but you raise the bar every time.” Sammie reached out to hold her hand. “I could do this all day long.”

“Want to?” Joanie asked lazily, even though her heart was suddenly banging in her chest. She kissed their joined hands.

“What’d you mean?” Sammie sat up, taking a drink of wine.

“Stay here, with me,” Joanie clarified before her inner mama could throw up any objections. “You don’t have a lot of privacy at the Walters’ house. And I have an extra room.” Would Sammie understand what she was alluding to? “I mean, I know it hasn’t been very long and we haven’t gotten to know each other well, yet, but…”

“Yes!” Sammie hugged her gleefully. “Yes. I knew from that first day.”

“I think I did, too,” Joanie confessed, stunned at her own audacity. They were going to live together! She wanted to hop and skip around the braided rug but chose to steal a sip of Sammie’s wine.

“We’d have to visit Jackson and Mrs. Walters, regularly,” Sammie said. “If nothing else, for her—”

“Pie,” Joanie said. “That goes without saying.”

“And I’ll hang my stethoscope and white coat the closet in the spare room, put the one-eared bunny I’ve had since I was a baby on the bed, on top of the quilt my gramma made, but.”

Joanie interrupted her with a celebratory smooch.

“We’ll sleep in your bed. Together,” Sammie finished.

“That goes without saying, too.”

FIN