Oh yeah, and I have a date with Liam on Friday. That’s only two days away.
I know it’s early, but I can’t wait any longer, and I grab my phone and call Shelly.
“Huh?” she says, her voice full of sleep. I can just imagine her in bed with her hair all tousled, maybe a guy next to her. Pretty soon, I’ll be the one waking up with a guy next to me in bed… hopefully Liam.
“Want to meet for breakfast?” I say.
“Breakfast? Huh?”
“Yeah, there’s a diner down by your place.”
“A diner? What?”
“Yeah,” I say, laughing at her sleepy antics.
“Who’s that?” says a deep male voice in the background.
I laugh. “I knew it,” I say. “I knew there’d be a guy in your bed.”
“So what?” says Shelly, sounding a little annoyed and a little more awake.
“I’d like to invite the two of you to breakfast,” I say.
“In your room?”
“I’m outside,” I say. “I’m out! I’m cured. I’m a free woman.”
“Is this some kind of joke?”
“No, I’m serious. Come on, meet me at the diner.”
“Want to get breakfast?” says Shelly to her male companion, her voice only slightly muffled as she holds the phone away from her mouth to ask the question.
“Sure,” he says sleepily.
“I’ll be there in half an hour,” I say. “I’m going to take the train down.”
“I’ll believe it when I see it,” says Shelly. “Mia… out of her room. Who would have thought?”
We say goodbye, and I find myself staring again at the beautiful sky, with the rich blue.
I’m a free woman now. This is as good as I’ve ever felt, and as free.
And by the end of Friday, I’ll hopefully no longer be a virgin.
What do I mean by hopefully?
I mean I’m going to do everything in my womanly power to take Liam by the cock and have my way with him. I’ll do whatever it takes to lose this badge of embarrassment that’s been haunting me for so long.
Some women have good excuses for being virgins. I mean, in some situations, it’s a perfectly valid state to exist in. Some women have personal belief systems, and they don’t tend to mind being virgins so much.
Others have medical excuses. I know, I know. It seems like I would have a medical excuse as well. But in reality I was only in my room for a year. Some women fall into comas as teens and wake up ten years later and, boom, they’re adult virgins just like that. Me? I had my chances. Well, I could have had them.
I’m not going to make the same mistake twice. I’m tired of not being a real adult, and I’m tired of missing out on a whole sphere of reality and experience. It’s downright disturbing how much I’ve missed.
The train ride is just amazing.
I remember taking the train more than a year ago, before I got “locked” in my room and I was just complaining to Shelly the entire time about how boring it was.
I couldn’t have been more wrong.
The whole world that passes by the windows on the train has that magical sheen that it used to have for me as a kid. It took being in my room for a year to see the world like this. Even the boring paunchy ticket collector fascinates me, the way he walks, the way he grumbles to himself—it all appears beautiful, perfect, fascinating… exactly the way it should be.
The heart of the city where I’m meeting Shelly is even more fascinating, if that’s even possible. I watch with glee as the cars zip by, as the commuters bustle past me with their briefcases and their umbrellas. (Who needs an umbrella on a gorgeous day like today?)
There’s Shelly!
It’s strange to see her on the street after so much time. She looks different, more grown up, and her hair is longer than I remember it being. The last time I saw her in person was when she came to visit me at my parents’ house, and of course she was decked out in the ridiculous plastic wrap.
She looks like she’s going into shock when she first sees me. Her jaw nearly drops to the floor.
I can’t help it. I run towards her, and she runs towards me.
She’s about to give me a hug, but she stops.
“Can I?” she says. “You’re not going to pass out?”
I shake my head, unable to hide the huge smile on my face.
We hug, and it feels good to feel her against me.
…Not in the way it’s going to feel to have Liam pressed against me, his hard cock pushing into me.
“You’re out of your room! I can’t believe it. I thought it was some kind of joke, but I came down anyway.”
“It’s not a joke,” I say. “I’m cured… Where’s your guy friend?”
“Oh, he started following me here, and then he saw some girl he recognized from his class and he started chatting her up.”
“With you right there? What an asshole.”
“Yeah, and they were taking so long, and flirting so obviously that I just walked away without him.”
I laugh. “Serves him right,” I say. “What a pig.”
“You’re telling me. But he was great in bed.”
“Come on,” I say, not sure how to respond. “Let’s get something to eat. It’s been way too long since I had some real food and not that gruel they feed me.”
“You’ve been eating a lot of porridge?”
I laugh.
We enter the diner and sit down at a big booth opposite each other.
The waitress comes over to take our orders.
She’s a rail-thin woman with an interesting face. A year ago, I would have barely looked at her. But because I’ve been cooped up for so long, and everything is so interesting, I find myself just staring at her, studying her face.
“Mia!” says Shelly, snapping me out of it. “She asked you what you’re having.”
“Oh,” I say, vaguely, picking up the menu again. “OK, I’ll have the breakfast platter, the fruit platter, and the full English breakfast… and a cup of coffee, and a tall orange juice.”
The waitress just raises her eyebrow at me but she writes it all down.
Shelly laughs. “Hungry, eh?”
“I just want to try everything.”
“So tell me what the hell happened,” says Shelly, leaning across the table. “I don’t get it. You’re just suddenly all better?”
I tell her everything, including the date I have with Liam.
“Wow,” says Shelly, clearly amazed. “He’s like your knight in shining armor, you know? He just swoops in and a day later cures you! It’s incredible. And now he can take care of your other problem, if you know what I mean.”
I blush. “That’s the plan,” I say. “I can’t even tell you the things I want to do to him.”
“That’s the spirit,” says Shelly, giving me a wink. “You’ve got a lot of time to make up for.”
“That’s for sure.”
“Just be careful,” says Shelly.
“What do you mean?”
She doesn’t respond. The waitress is back, carrying plate after plate of food.
By the end, I’ve got more than five full plates in front of me, with various juices and drinks spread around the plates.
“I hope that’s enough for you,” says the waitress, her voice cracking as she speaks. “Will there be anything else for you?”
“That’s it, thanks.”
“I mean,” says Shelly, taking a sip of her coffee, her eyes widening as I start digging into the food in front of me at a rapid pace. “Your first is… well, I mean it doesn’t always work out, right?”
“Oh,” I say, speaking with my mouth full of… the most delicious flavors I’ve ever tasted in my life. “I know that. Hey, this food is amazing, isn’t it?”
“I don’t know…” says Shelly, eyeing a forkful of her omelet suspiciously. I watch as she delicately pinches out a suspiciously thick hair from the bite.
“It’s great!” I say.
Shelly laughs. “It also could hurt, but you know that, right?”
“Of course,” I say, trying to brush it off like it’s no big deal. In reality, I’m more than a little scared. It’s a weird feeling to be scared and excited about something at the same time.
“I just can’t believe you’re out,” says Shelly. “So are you going to come back to school?”
“I don’t think so,” I say, my mouth full of bacon and fruit at the same time. “I mean, yeah, eventually. But I want to experience the world a little bit, you know?”
“You sure you’re fine?” says Shelly. “You’re sure this isn’t a temporary thing?”
“Liam explained it to me,” I say. “He’s a brain surgeon. He knows what he’s talking about.”
“Yeah, he’s a brain surgeon, but he’s not an immunologist. He doesn’t specialize in allergies.”
“That’s just because he’s smarter,” I say. “What, you want me to have to go back to my room for another year or what?” I’m a little angry that Shelly would suggest this.
“But… look, I just don’t want you to get disappointed if something happens. You know what they say, right? Prepare for the worst, hope for the best.”
“I thought you were my friend and would want the best for me?” I say.
Suddenly, I start coughing.
“Are you OK?” says Shelly, looking worried.
“I’m fine,” I say. “Just went down the wrong pipe. I’m not used to eating proper food.”
“You look a little red, though.”
“I’m fine,” I say. “I’ll be right back.”
The truth is that my face feels like it’s on fire, eerily similar to the feeling I would get before some of my worst allergy attacks.
I put my napkin and fork down and rush towards the bathroom, which fortunately is clearly marked.
Closing the door behind me and locking it, I rush to the mirror to see what I look like.
To my horror, my face is completely red, looking like some sort of rash.
Surprisingly, my first thought isn’t that I’m going to have to go back to my room. It’s that I won’t be able to make my date on Friday. After all, how can I go looking like this? I’ll never get Liam into bed with my face a giant red rash, will I?
Chapter 9
Liam
After the surgery, I have to leave the hospital through the fire escape entrance. Sure, the sound is deafening when I open the door, but it saves me the hassle of having to talk to Johnson another time.
The surgery was a success, and I even notified the family myself of the good news.
It was a long surgery. I’m not sure how many hours. But dangerous and complicated is how I like them. Most of the time.
I’m not feeling like heading back indoors.
For some reason, the thrill of finding the most nubile and busty of the nurses is fading away. I can’t seem to get up the enthusiasm to track them down in the hospital. This is the longest I’ve been in a long time without getting laid.
Mia has something to do with it. I’m not sure exactly what. But ever since I visited her that first day in her room, I can’t get her off my mind.
It’s not like I’m thinking about her every single second, but she’s always there in the background of my thoughts, even when I’m doing surgery.
My phone rings.
“Yeah?” I say.
“It’s me. It’s Mia.”
She sounds upset, even frantic.
“I was just thinking about you,” I say.
“You were?” It sounds like she’s trying to return my vaguely flirtatious comment, but it’s quite obvious that she’s simply too worried to do it properly. Her voice is still frantic, but she’s trying to control it.
“What’s going on, Mia?” I say. “Is everything OK?”
“Yeah, oh yeah, everything’s fine.”
“What’s going on, Mia?” I say. “You can tell me.”
There’s a long pause.
“Where are you, Mia? Do you need help?”
“I’m in the bathroom…”
“You’re in the bathroom?”
“I think I’m having another attack.”
Shit.
“What are your symptoms?” I say. “Did you eat something strange.”
“Yeah.”
“What’d you have?”
“Just about everything… I’m at a diner having breakfast.”
“What are your symptoms, Mia?”
“My face feels like it’s burning. It’s all… red.”
“Any of your other symptoms? Is your throat closing up? Can you still breathe?”
“Yeah.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah,” she says.
“OK,” I say. “It might just be that your system still is going to have a little difficulty with a lot of different foreign substances. After all, you haven’t had a lot of those foods in a long time, and your body doesn’t know what to do with it all. Do you still have the little bottle that I gave you?”
“Yeah.” She sounds intensely nervous, only answering me in short little bursts.
“Do you have it with you?”
“Yeah.”
“OK, Mia. I think you might just need another drop of the blue liquid. It’ll help your cells produce enough energy to cope with the food you’ve eaten. It’s going to calm everything down. I’ll wait on the phone while you take it.”
There’s a long pause, and I can hear her rummaging around in her purse.
I almost chuckle to myself—she’s been stuck for a year in her room, and her purse is still full of all sorts of things.
“OK, I’ve got it. I’ve taken it.”
“Good,” I say. “Call me back if there’s a problem. I’m sure it’s going to be all right. I’ll call back in ten minutes to make sure you’re OK. In the meantime, go back to the table. If you do pass out, which is highly unlikely, you don’t want to do it alone in the bathroom where no one can find you.”
“OK, thanks,” she says, already sounding better.
I hang up.
I suddenly notice that my cock is raging hard. Damn, my body wants her just as much as my mind does.
Despite the potential seriousness of the situation, I couldn’t help but picturing what she looked like all alone in that bathroom. Did she have all her clothes on, or had she taken off her panties to use the toilet and forgotten to pull them up when she went to the mirror?
These are the sort of degenerate sexual thoughts men like me, with high sex drives, have to deal with on a constant and ceaseless basis. In some ways, it’s not fair. It’s like being sentenced to something… then again, I don’t mind it. My cock doesn’t mind it. Sooner or later, I’ll have her.
Let’s just hope it’s soon. I’m getting backed up.
I hop on my motorcycle, which I’ve got parked on the street today, so I don’t have to deal with the parking garage nonsense. Slinging on my helmet, I straddle the bike, my erection making the position a little uncomfortable at first. The engine roars to life as I kick down with my boot, and I’m off, down the street, heading towards a hardcore outdoor gym I go to once in a while, when I don’t feel like working out indoors.
The wind feels good on my face. I’ve got the visor up, and the curves of the road feel good as I lean into them. Not much in life feels better than riding a bike like this. Well, surgery, fucking… It’s going to feel great fucking Mia. I always have a feeling about these things, and I’m always right.
If I could just get her out of my head…
But it’s not going to happen until I sink my cock deep inside her and hear her moaning my name. The look on her face as she comes is going to be glorious, as beautiful as a fucking sunset.
I park the bike at the park. There’s no one here. Sometimes they come after work, a whole group of tough guys who looked at me funny when I first started coming here. But all they had to do was see me benching 300 pounds, and that was that. Soon they were coming up to me, asking
me for tips. Then they found out I was a doctor, and they’d come up to me and ask me, “Hey doc, what do you think I should do for my training?”
“Eat right and work your ass off,” I’d always say.
It works, if they’re willing to stick to it. But it takes dedication to hit the iron bars on a frequent basis, and it takes dedication to eat right, stay off the booze, making sure you carb up and get your protein sources in a row for each day out of the week.
I do a quick warm up set on the bench press. The equipment here isn’t exactly what you’d call sophisticated. It’s just rusty steel, at least a decade old. But it fucking works. That’s what I like about this place. You can get just as good of a workout here as you can in one of those pretentious gyms. This is like one of those gyms but with all the bullshit stripped away completely, leaving just the bare essentials. It’s just me and iron. Just me and the weights. Just my hands on cold steel. I can either push the weight or I can’t. It’s a zero sum game, where the only thing that matters is determination.
I finish my set of twelve reps, 150 pounds on the bar, and then I call Mia back.
“It worked!” she says, as soon as she picks up.
“Good,” I say, slightly out of breath. “I knew it would, but just wanted to make sure. I can send you the link later so you can buy some more. And I might be able to get you some purer stuff through some connections I have with the hospital, but what you have now is fine.”
“I can’t believe it works…” says Mia. “It’s incredible. I have my whole life back… And it’s just some over the counter product… It’s insane. I always figured it would be some crazy kind of expensive treatment, and that was on my good days when I actually thought something would work.”
I look down to see my cock rock hard, sticking up in my pants, making a huge tent.
“Listen,” I say. “I’m glad it worked, too. I’ve been thinking about you. And I’m glad you’re out of that room because I wouldn’t be able to do what I want to do to you in that room, wearing all that crazy plastic wrap stuff.”
She laughs, somewhat nervously.
“That plastic was terrible, wasn’t it?”
SEAL'd Lips: A Secret Baby Romance Page 67
