Texas Thunder

by R. Casteel

  “It doesn’t look like much,” Charles agreed as he watched her look around at her new home. “You have to remember what this is used for. We have several women on the work force nowadays, but they don’t come in here for tea at social hour.”

  “Good,” she replied sarcastically. “I didn’t come here for tea.”

  The phone truck pulled up to install the phone and computer lines.

  Charles carried her bags to the bedroom. “I’ll let you get settled in. If you need anything just holler.” Charles stopped outside the bedroom door and softly swore.

  “As soon as the phones get connected I’ll call down to Star Lumber and get two new interior doors for this room and the bath.”

  “What about ‘til then if I would for some strange reason have to use this room?” she quizzed with a grin.

  “Unless you have to right now, I’ll get the tools out and start taking the doors and the frames off. If I cut out one stud it should give you room to maneuver.” He turned and walked down the hall.

  The hum of the electric motor filled the silent trailer as she slowly followed.

  Charles was enlarging the opening in the trailer for the new entrance door when Cynthia, Ronald and the delivery truck pulled in. Charles put down the electric saw and gave her a hug and a kiss. “Mmm you feel good,” he murmured in her hair. “I have missed you.”

  “Me too,” she whispered taking his lips again in another deep kiss.

  He reluctantly broke the embrace, “Let me get these doors unloaded and we can resume where we left off.”

  “Anything I can do?” she asked.

  “A fresh pot of coffee would be nice. I haven’t taken the time to make one yet. I think everything is out of Kristina’s reach right now. She’s inside,” he headed for the truck.

  He met Ron and shook hands. “Kristina is inside. I didn’t try to talk her out of coming. I’m going to try and get her to rest but doubt she’ll even agree to that.”

  “As her doctor maybe I can get her to at least lie down for awhile.” He laughed when he saw the doubtful expression on Charles’s face.

  “I’ll see how she is doing anyway. I have been told that I possess a charming bedside manner. At least that’s what the little white-haired ladies at Sunset Villa tell me.”

  Charles signed the ticket for the doors and the lumber that had been delivered.

  “Hungry?” Cynthia asked. “I stopped by KFC and grabbed a bucket, coffee will be done soon.”

  Charles looked at her with unhidden desire, slowly shifting his heated gaze from her waist to her lips.

  “KFC is fine, for now,” he managed to answer.

  She felt as if he had stripped her naked in the yard. When his eyes stopped at her breasts, she reacted instantly. Her already sensitive nipples hardened, plainly visible now through her thin shirt. “I’ll ah, go get…the food.”

  She was shaken by her reaction. Cynthia reached the car, checked her jeans and felt the heat from her blush. Even if know one else knew, she would.

  The musky fragrance on her hand where she had touched her jeans was strong.

  Cynthia set the food on the table and headed for the bathroom. There was no door, taking a washcloth and hoping no one would walk by, she dropped her jeans.

  “Kristina’s stitches need to come out,” Ron mentioned, “I can run her over to the office and remove them. I also want to do a blood test to make sure everything is all right and there’s no infection. If you don’t need her back it might be easier for her to rest at my place away from all the noise of your hammering and the saw.”

  “That’ll be fine.” Charles tried not to sound too elated. “There won’t be any applications to be handled for a day or two.”

  “I was wondering,” Ron continued, “could Kristina handle the applications for the hospital as well? We can go over the requirements and get everything set up and ready to go. I mentioned this to her and she has agreed, if it’s all right with you?”

  Charles pondered the alternative motive behind the request. “If she’s willing then it’s fine with me.”

  Ron loaded Kristina in his van and left.

  “Do you need to finish the door right now?” Her voice was low and sultry.

  Charles felt himself harden even as he turned around. As he looked at her and their eyes locked Cynthia slowly ran her hand over the front of her jeans, feeling the dampness between her legs. Unbuttoning her shirt from the bottom up, she let it fall to the floor. She was wearing a thin lacy bra that was almost transparent. Her nipples, hard and straining against the thin fabric ached as she rubbed her hand over them.

  Charles’s breathing was labored and rough. The blood pounded in his veins with every pulsating beat of his heart. As if in a trance, he walked toward her.

  Unconsciously tracing her lips with the tip of her tongue, Cynthia’s fingers floated sensually from her breast to the buckle of her jeans.

  Mesmerized by the sheer force of her desire, Charles was drawn as a moth to a flame. He was close enough to touch her, yet his hands remained motionless by his side. Almost breathless, he watched as she lowered the zipper and the jeans fell to the floor. As she reached up to touch his face, the spell that held him was released. Charles lifted her into his arms and carried her into the master bedroom. Still supporting her in his arms, he turned and closed the door.

  * * * * *

  Ron carried Kristina into the small emergency room. “I’ll get you a gown.”

  “Ron, that won’t be necessary, just give me a hand.” She started removing her top.

  Stepping behind her, he gently raised the garment over her head. Since becoming a doctor, he had seen and examined many women, even women who threw themselves at any available bachelor. Through all the feigned breast lumps, contrived pains in the uterus and other mysterious ailments that required intimate examination, he had always been able to be professional. None had earned more than a chuckle at their obvious ploy.

  Yet, as his fingers lightly skimmed the underside of her breast, he felt a tremble he couldn’t suppress. Kristina exhaled fully causing the weight of her breast to rest disturbingly on his hand.

  “I’ll get a suture kit.” He walked to the sink and washed his hands, taking longer than normal, trying to gain control over emotions that were not allowed and should never happen between a doctor and patient.

  Ron started on the sutures in her back. Taking the staple remover from its sterile pack, he slowly and carefully removed the staples. “Ok, those are out, now lie down and I’ll have these out shortly.”

  It took all the willpower he had to concentrate on removing the stitches. His hands trembled with the effort it took not to touch her full breast in a more than professional manner. Although it was cool in the room, heat flushed his body. The last stitch was out and he started to turn away. Her eyes bored into his with such intensity they out shown the spotlights above his head.

  Ronald cleared his throat. “These…incisions look good and in another couple of weeks the discoloring should be gone. I think we can safely take the stitches out of your leg at this time.” He went over to another cabinet and retrieved a small grinder.

  “Are you sure you don’t want a gown, Kristina?” his voice suddenly shaky.

  “I’m fine Doc,” she said unfastening her skirt. “If you will help me with this, it will save having to get up again.”

  As Kristina raised herself off the table with her good leg Ron pulled the skirt down.

  He wasn’t prepared for what greeted him. A nest of thick curly black hair was inches from his hand.

  “Why Dr. Petterson,” she laughed, “is that a blush I see? Is that a normal reaction to every woman you see naked? If it is, you must be the talk of the town.”

  “No, ah, it’s not,” he stammered. “I, ah, was just expecting you to be, ah wearing panties. It sort of, ah, took me by surprise.”

  “Obviously you’ve never had to put panties on over a cast before or you would know that it is rather inconvenient,
especially when one arm is also in a cast. I haven’t met many men who blush nowadays. I think it is a very redeeming quality.”

  Ron laid her skirt carefully over a chair and picked up the grinder. He steeled himself for what had to be done and started cutting the cast at the ankle, working up past the knee to mid thigh. He carefully pried the cast open enough to remove it from Kristina’s leg. Opening a clean kit, he carefully removed the staples from her leg. He examined the tissue around the break. “It looks good so far. I’ll know more with an x-ray.” He pulled a portable unit over to the table and positioned it. A few minutes later, he came back.

  “Well the x-ray shows everything is looking great. I think that by the thirtieth you can be in a walking cast. Now let’s get another cast back on that leg. I think a short leg cast will do now.”

  “Not so fast Doc.” She stopped him with a hand on the arm. “The cast has been on since Christmas. It was starting to itch and smell. I want to wash first before you recast.”

  “Even though it’s pinned, any excessive movement could damage the healing process that has already begun. I wouldn’t recommend it.” He directed his gaze away from her body.

  “Fine, if I can’t wash myself then you do it.” She directed with a tone of finality.

  Why did I give the nurse the afternoon off?

  He hadn’t had any appointments, which was strange. Normally a steady stream of patients would require his nurse and receptionist to be here, but not today. He looked back Kristina’s nude body lying on the table, her eyes pleading for understanding.

  “I’ll just be a moment.”

  Ron came back with a pan of steaming water, sponge and a towel. Gently, with tender hands he started at her ankle and worked upward, taking special care around the incision and pins. His hand lightly shook when he washed her inner thigh and lightly brushed the soft tightly curled hair. He dried her leg. “There, all done,” he managed hoarsely.

  “Mmm,” she sighed. “That feels so good. You have good hands, Ron.” Kristina kept her eyes closed for fear that if she opened them he would see her desire, the need she felt. When his fingers had brushed against the hair covering her vagina, it was the most erotic feeling she had ever experienced. No man’s mere touch had ever excited her like his.

  Ron turned away and reached for the new cast. Placing it carefully around her leg, he taped it together. Then with great care lifted her leg to wrap the wet plaster strips around the cast. When he had finished, he covered her with a sheet. “Let that harden a bit. I’ll be back shortly.”

  Ron left the room and sat down heavily at his desk, ashamed of his inability to control his emotions. He had almost given into the urge to stroke those luscious curls and find the silky folds of flesh they concealed. It had to be lust. Nothing else could explain these feelings. Fondling a patient, even a willing one, was something he couldn’t do. He lit a cigarette and drew the smoke deep in his lungs. The shaking in his hands began to subside.

  Ron stood staring out the window of his office. At least Cynthia could take care of her frustrations. Lighting another cigarette, he delayed going back into the exam room. Ashes fell to the floor unnoticed as he fought the battle raging from within. Looking at the clock on the wall, he sighed and stubbed out the butt.

  I can’t put this off any longer.

  “Okay,” he said reaching for her skirt. “You ready to get dressed? I promised Charles that you would get some rest.” He handed her the clothes and watched as she slowly got dressed, covering that beautiful body from his gaze.

  “Ron, I really ought to be getting back. There are things I need to do.”

  “Sorry to overrule on this, but doctor’s orders.” Ron picked her up and carried her to the van. “Just let me lock up and we can go.”

  Ronald drove the short distance to his home, wondering if this was really such a good idea. After the emotional hour and a half he had spent with Kristina in his office, he was beginning to have second thoughts. Ron shook his head as he contemplated the wisdom of this. He could hear the gossips now. Doc Petterson took that Randall girl home with him and they spent the whole afternoon together. Then, there would be the little old women at the garden, high society nose in the clouds, club that would sniff and disclaim his actions as a typical man not to be trusted alone with good decent women.

  Ron pulled into the drive and carried Kristina into the house. Gently, he laid her on the guest room bed. He hoped his neighbor, Mrs. Weatherbee across the street, wasn’t in her normal perch just inside the large bay window.

  “You have a lovely home Ron,” she hesitated, “but kind of big for just two people.”

  “When I bought this place, the original plan was to fill it with children. I bought it from the Doc Watson when he retired. He and his wife had five children. They were all grown and had moved away and Doc didn’t need all the room. Besides, it’s a beautiful house and now it will be close to the hospital. Get some rest.” He closed the door.

  Ron walked through the house, reminded again by her comments how empty it was. The house was unusual, laid out in a mis-shaped H off a central hexagon that contained a sunken living room with a large fireplace and wet bar. The bedrooms and the kitchen-dining area branched off from this room. He had converted one bedroom into a study; Linda had a room, which still left two bedrooms empty. The master, a combination of two bedrooms, had a full walk-in closet, large sunken bath and a double shower. He had had such dreams when he remodeled this room then one day those dreams had walked out the door. Could he dare dream again?

  Ronald heard a noise from the bedroom and a muffled curse. As he opened the door Kristina was on the floor, her skirt hiked up revealing a rounded and perfectly formed hip. “Just where do you think you’re going?”

  “I am going to the bathroom,” she replied still scooting across the floor.

  “You could have asked for help,” Ron scolded as he bent down to pick her up.

  “And who is going to help me next week or the week after? Are going to run over two or three times a day to set me on the can so I can pee? I knew it would be difficult before I came here.”

  Ron picked her up, sat her on the toilet and started to walk away. “That is a question I have been wondering about. Why did Charles allow you to do this so soon after you got out of the hospital?”

  “Charles didn’t actually allow it, at least not at first, we had a…discussion and I convinced him to agree.”

  “In other words,” he chuckled, “you two had one hell of a screaming match and Charles gave in hoping you would fall on your face and admit he was right.”

  “I’m finished,” she said. By changing the conversation and ignoring the truth of his statement, she verified its correctness.

  “Did you get all the stubbornness in your family or is it a trait shared by all?” He carried her back to the bed.

  “No. Charles and I share about equally.” Her mouth was only inches from his face.

  Ron’s head turned slowly as if drawn by an unseen force, his lips gently caressing hers. They were like a forbidden fruit. Once tasted, he was drawn back for more. His lips trailed the line of her jaw to her graceful neck as she laid her head back giving him access. He shuddered from the pleasure of the contact. The awareness of his own arousal brought him back from the edge of oblivion. Avoiding her eyes, he sat her on the bed and left the room.

  You can’t get involved. Yet, every time he was with her, he did. And each time, he was finding it more difficult to pull back and separate himself from her.

  Kristina was confused. Being in his arm and kissing him had felt so very right. There was an attraction between them she could no longer deny. She had felt his hardness against her leg yet abruptly, without a word, he had walked away. Kristina thought about her physical therapy that was due to start soon and smiled. He couldn’t walk away forever.

  Charles was finishing the front door when Ron brought Kristina back. He put on a big smile and then noticed the tension that radiated from the two of them
. Cynthia came out and stood beside Charles wrapping her arm around his waist.

  “What’s with those two?” she whispered while maintaining a smile. “Ron acts like he can’t get away fast enough.”

  “That was my impression too.” Then in a louder voice, “You got back just in time. Sherry called inviting us over for supper. She said it would be ready in about an hour. Linda is already there.”

  Ron looked at his watch, “I should be able to make it; there’s some paper work I need to get done first.” He put Kristina in the wheelchair, got in and drove off.

  “Well Sis, looks like you’ve gotten a new cast. All the stitches out?”

  “Yes.” She directed the chair through the door and back to the bedroom.

  Charles and Cynthia looked at her retreating back and then with a raised eyebrow at each other. “I smell smoke.”

  She looked at him with a blank expression.

  “Did you ever start a fire by rubbing two sticks together?” he asked with a chuckle. “It takes a lot of friction to start a fire that way.”

  The realization of what he was referring to brought on a smile. “Now that you mention it, there was a certain amount of heat coming from those two.”

  Charles finished installing the new bathroom door and then it was time to go to the ranch for supper. On the drive over Kristina was quiet and withdrawn refusing to be drawn into any conversation.

  Charles tried to draw her out, “When do you start the physical therapy?”

  Kristina finally gave him a pointed, “Two weeks,” for an answer, and continued to stare out the window.

  Charles slowly closed and opened a fist. He didn’t know anyone in the world that could aggravate him as quickly as his sister. Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to relax. She would stay in this mood until she let off steam. Kristina had been like this as a child and would probably always be. Obviously, he wasn’t the only one who could put her in a snit.

  “You want to talk about it?”

  “No!” she snapped, “I don’t want to talk about it with you, not now and not later.”