by JR King
I feel warm. Warm and safe.
“Alex.” A woman’s voice, sultry and warm. “She doesn’t need to know.”
A tangentially atypical nightmare, I divined.
*
When I regained consciousness, my stomach gave little flutters as recognition sizzled through my senses. Alexander was with me, positioning himself on the narrow bed so he could lie next to me. It was crowded and cramped, the two of us barely fitting, but he made it work by sliding his arms around me and anchoring me firmly to his body.
He put one arm underneath my head so it was pillowed against his shoulder, letting out a long breath. He was silent and trembled against me. Touching me, his hand slid up and down my chest, stopping over my heart, his fingers splayed wide as if reassuring himself of my heartbeat. “Everyone’s here. Michael is upset with me. Tony too. A little less, though.”
His voice sounded like it came from a fog. Reality was running laps around my brain. I took slow, quivering breaths. Ice cream and Sara were the first words that came out, confusing me. My voice was all mousey.
Alexander bristled, and had he not yelled, I would have thought him a product of my wild imagination. “Baby, you’re awake. Robert, get the doctor! Where’s the fucking nurse! Is she screwing some doctor in a supply closet? We need that slut to come check on Elena!”
There it was, the flash of the man I knew, sarcastic, vulgar, and self-confident, plucking at my heartstrings. I smiled, or at least, I tried to smile. He was here for me, this part wasn’t a dream.
Unfortunately, his appearance had changed.
Never had tousled hair and one-day stubble looked so good on a man. He also looked uncharacteristically tired, dark shadows slanting under his eyes, a hint of sweat grazing his normally clean-shaven face. To me, he still looked spectacular. Only for him were nature’s rules reversed; instead of diminishing his beauty, these imperfections enhanced his attractiveness.
“Stay with me, baby girl.” He sucked in a deep breath. I could see now how truly shaken he was, looking haggard and completely strung out. Like he hadn’t slept in days. I caused this. In an instant he became another person. His grey eyes ignited in a flash of anger, his lips curling into an animalistic snarl as his powerful hands shook me out. “Stay with me, Elena!”
“Can you hear me?” A frown was plastered skin deep on the giant, chubby-cheeked nurse’s forehead looming over my bed.
“Of course,” I exclaimed at the top of my voice, getting frustrated.
Alexander Turner
The Night Nurse
Once she’d been transported to a private area, I let my eyes wander about the cushy, spacious inpatient room. Tasteful curtains, serenity paintings, floor-to-ceiling windows bursting with spectacular city views, a flat screen TV, and a foldout couch. Not a boutique hotel, but good enough. Bathroom is—Legionnaires’—disease free, Tony confirmed. Elliot Pharmaceuticals, a specific branch of his company, and MGH partnered up for many scientific studies each year.
I watched the doctor examine Elena. It felt like thousands of fire ants were crawling over every inch of my body. Elena’s hands visibly shook when she held a cup of water, mine shook from the sight of it all. I sat on the bed beside her. Sat watching people steer in and out of the room, murmuring get well soon messages in a timely manner. I constantly planted kisses on her temple to mark my territory. A few of us engaged in idle, trivial chitchat to make the encounter somewhat bearable. The nurse came in at some point, looking less than thrilled over people crowding the large room as she gave Elena pain meds.
Maybe it was an hour later when Elena held her head between her hands, taking shaky breaths. We’d been sitting like this for several minutes, visitors and medical staff having walked off a moment earlier.
I took a deep breath and asked, “What do you remember?”
“Everything.” She said this quietly and sat back against the bed. Her head turned to one side, away from me.
“It was a hit-and-run. A desperate housewife, barely a soccer mom, half-drunk and on the phone. Not hands-free.”
“I despise drunk drivers.” Her large, vacant eyes were fixed on the wall, her voice overflowing with hatred. “Why don’t they kill themselves instead of hurting others? I hope she…,” her voice trailed off, her hand swiping across her face.
“She’s dead. Overdosed on drugs after she hit you.”
Silence fell. Elena tried to move her feet, but they were caught in the blanket. Looking frustrated, she gave up. I fluffed it for her and put her feet in a more comfortable position. The thought of all the dead people this piece of fabric had shrouded as they crossed over to the other side put something of a downer on the situation. Tentatively touching her face with my hands and my lips, I whispered my love for her over her skin.
“Did Robert?” Elena’s raspy voice was barely audible, tears glistening in her eyes.
“Robert’s colleague gave her the drugs. Told her she was a waste of space, and left. Not a scapegoat for your sake, this was her fourth hit-and-run, she was driving with a suspended driving license. I neither asked Robert to do this nor will I apologize for it.”
“Apologize? What if kids were waiting at the crossing, Alex? What then? That bitch would have ruined families!”
“Don’t speak ill of the dead. And, are we not a family?” I touched her hand.
Given her drug-fuddled condition, her fingers caught mine with surprising strength. She looked at me and tears were running down her face. They matched mine. “I thought it was…like…the end, you know.”
“So did I.” I felt my throat close and took another breath, but couldn’t drag in enough air. My chest shuddered, more tears leaking out of my eyes. I used my free hand to wipe my face.
“It’s okay. I’m okay. We’re okay.” She started sobbing audibly. I let her cry into my comforting shoulder while my fingers trailed up and down her back. When I glanced at her again, she’d fallen asleep. Some color touched her cheeks, she looked semi-well to me. Even in her condition, the sensuality of her lips mesmerized me. They still had the power to shape my fantasies. Plump and pink, a mouth that demanded to be kissed with fire and passion.
I sat next to her, resting my head beside hers on the raised pillow, watching her nap and recuperate her strength. Because the position was uncomfortable, I propped my back against the headboard and rested her head on my shoulder, listening to her breathe as if I’d cease existing if she didn’t. My phone vibrated on the nightstand, and I ignored it. I heard the door open and close, but didn’t bother to look up. We were comfortable. A few hours passed without so much as a twitch from Elena. Or at least, that’s the conclusion I drew, considering I was experiencing unrestful sleep.
Hyper-aware of everything around me, I opened my eyes when the first knock came on the door. The air was stale and heavy with my scent. I needed to shower. It took multiple raps before I budged. Mindful not to wake her, I snuggled in closer and planted soft kisses and licks at my favorite spot on a woman’s neck; the cylindrical shaped strap that runs from the back of the ear to the collarbone. “I’m going to answer that, kitten.” In reluctant stroll, I padded barefoot toward the door. Stoically, I turned the doorknob.
“What took you so long? No bumping uglies, doctor’s orders,” hissed Tony.
My hand moved to my throat, choking it.
“Bull’s eye. You’ve been through enough.”
“Who is it?” we heard Elena groan. The room was dark except for a small table lamp.
“It’s me.” Walking over to the bed, Tony pinched both her cheeks. “There, prettified with a burned sienna blush. Sleep now.”
“Nighty-nite, Tony.”
“What would you give in exchange for some Jack and a carne asada taco or three?” Tony asked me.
That gave me a shot in the arm. My eyes swept over him like I was a man dying of thirst and he was a bottle of cold Perrier water I found lying discarded in the Nevada desert. “I’ll pull out the sofa bed for you.”
“Abracadabra,” he uttered with panache, and with sleight of hand he produced a long stemmed white rose. He looked so proud of himself that I burst into laughter—its timbre still a tad bitter. “But, the prestidigitation?” he insisted, holding at his heart as if I’d rendered him impotent.
“Got any other tricks up your sleeve?”
Unbuttoning his overcoat, he simply laid it all out on the table. One rose, six tacos, plastic cutlery and paper serviettes, a bottle of Jack, and a small trash bag. “Specific requirements, sir. I remain at your service.”
“It’s either this, or we’re drinking from the bottle.” I set a hospital cup on the table. “I miss this, man. Us doing crazy shit.”
“Skinny-dipping is what we need. Boyish hijinks. We need go sail the waters of St. Bart’s.”
My mouth curved upward into an appreciative pucker. “Dinner and dancing. Sipping rum in Caribbean décor, sharing minds and perfect moments.”
“Can I come?” Elena again.
“If you don’t go back to sleep, we’re taking this party elsewhere,” Tony warned her, softly.
My voice rose. “Do you want to wake up alone?”
“Nite, guys. Love you,” was her answer.
Tony snapped his fingers at the Tumi duffel bag in the corner. “Go wash up before supper. I’ll watch your girl.”
My smell, to be entirely honest, was a bit ripe, but it could be smoothly classified as a musky masculine aroma. “I’m hungry.” It was the whine of a petulant child, the expulsion of breath hitching.
“Patience, man. Not your strong suit. I know. Who brought the cake?”
“What cake?”
“That one.” His finger pointed to a Rubbermaid cake keeper on a small round table.
In my forlorn state, I hadn’t seen it before. “I’ll be damned.”
“Hey, come here.” He pulled me into an open-palmed hug. “She’s fine. Breathe. Just breathe.”
“I always knew you wanted to fondle my ass.” I let out a chagrined laugh, halving the degree of awkwardness.
Before going to the bathroom, to be certain Elena was asleep, I winked at Tony. “The nurses here are pretty. How about a blonde and a redhead for a sponge bath?”
He winked back at me. “I’m afraid there’s no skanky redhead night nurse. How about two blondes? Pencil-thin bodies, nearly breakable?”
Ultrafocused, we waited. Nothing happened. Then, just as I opened the door to the bathroom, wild giggles hit the room, like imaginary bullets from a sawn-off shotgun.
“I’m done for tonight. I can’t handle her. She’s all yours,” I told Tony.
When I emerged later, in fresh clothing, Tony, like an ideal night nurse, was reading Elena a story from One Thousand And One Nights.
I’m knocking on wood here, but if she’d died I wouldn’t be standing. Wouldn’t be coherent.
Elena Anderson
The One-Month Rule
Fucking was innate to Alexander, a skill he’d mastered. He used every inch—no pun intended—of his hard body to depravedly enslave women. Lying on the hospital bed, I pictured his thick biceps straining as he supported his weight above me, his thighs vibrating with exertion, his ass flexing as he pistoned into me, his abs rippling with shamelessness as he bucked his hips against mine…
Harsh streaks of sunlight slashed through the venetian blinds. I blinked through them. Part of me wanted to raise my hand and block the rays, but physical exhaustion wouldn’t let the command travel. My throat was impossibly parched.
The shower I took was unassisted. I smiled at the mess I saw in the mirror. I looked worn-out. My eyes were a tad bloodshot and my chest had pale red patches. Not to worry. Designer spruce up could fix any ugliness. I had a crack at putting on some pink lipstick, a little smudge of blush, neatly applied eyeliner and eyeshadow, and black mascara to give the eyes that wide-open, doe-eyed effect.
Alexander arrived with a few minutes to spare, and took his time perusing my understated makeup. “Ms. Anderson, you’re trying to seduce me.” Just like in The Graduate, he paused. Warmth washed momentarily over me as his eyes sniped my cleavage. “Aren’t you?”
“Busted.” My smile hurt my face. “All or nothing.”
I bathed in his scent when he wrapped his arms around me. I rested my cheek against his chest. In the close confines of the sterile room, the floral note of my perfume mingled perfectly with the muskiness of his woody aftershave. My arms and hands clutched his shoulders as tightly as possible, fondling his muscles right through his jacket. I listened to our beating hearts. His head came down a little, his cheek brushing up against my forehead, the rasp of his two-day old beard furthering my arousal.
His breath was hot against my ear. “I’ll call Frank if you make this difficult for me.”
I broke off, shaking my head. “Don’t do that. I want to stay with you.”
“I’m saying it because if you don’t stop, I’ll take you hard, and your sutures will come undone.” His eyes pierced mine. “Behave. Don’t touch me unless I say so.”
“Yes, my master.” I was serious.
He drove me home in his favorite Aston Martin, glancing at me with a private smile that made me want to ask him what the joke was. I turned to look out the window. Unfeeling concrete pavements and brownstones gradually gave way to the urban countryside. Passing the gate, I zipped down the passenger window. The air was thick, rejuvenated with the spirit of the holidays. Winter birds chirped and went about their daily tasks, cheerily heralding Christmas.
Alexander put the car in park and looked at me. His eyes danced. He looked like a teenager who was about to do something mischievous. “Welcome home, Elena.”
“What are you not telling me? I’m not in the mood for a surprise welcome home.”
“Good thing that I didn’t plan one.”
I was still staring at the mansion in delightfulness when I heard my door open. I took his outstretched hand, and we went straight to the playroom. It now had a trompe l’oeil ceiling, and the towering polished wood column-posts of the canopy bed had diaphanous netting flowing in thick cascades all around them. What gave the room a cozy allure were the amount of blankets and throw pillows and orchids and candles.
“Ceiling was done by a local painter. I redecorated the rest myself. Cozy enough for you, ma’am?” With arms crossed, he smiled at me grimly.
I wanted to touch his face so badly, trace its slopes and curves with my fingertips. “When can we inaugurate this?”
He kissed the top of my head, delicately. “In a month.” Before his lips, I felt the hotness of his breath. My chest tightened at the sound of his rough exhalation. Then he kissed me, really kissed me, and every part of me went up in flames. His breath was warm on my mouth, his perfect teeth tugging at my lower lip. I liked how his tongue slotted inside my mouth. Liked how his lips grazed my ears. In spite of everything I’d been through, he could still manage to make me desperate and weak for him with just a kiss. I cottoned on to his hadean need; he was itching to manhandle me.
Expelling a litany of muffled curses, he broke away, emotions brimming in his eyes. They narrowed, and his eyebrows drew together as his gaze locked on mine. “Abstinence. I’ve never tried. I figured now’s the right time to take a crack at it.”
“Alex,” I wetted my lips with a slow lick of the tongue, unflinchingly staring him into the eyes, “there are other ways. I scratch your back and you scratch mine?”
He inhaled deeply, a slow, sad smile curving his lower lip. “You heard me. One month, Elena.”
Alexander Turner
The Sexy Healing Process
After one week of monitoring and follow-up treatments, the hospital had discharged Elena with general instructions of strict bed rest for two weeks followed by a convalescence of an additional two weeks. I worked from home as much as possible. Friends and family came to see her on a regular basis, and each weekend her grandparents stayed with us. Other than quarreling with her nurse about teleworking, during the day Elena played
WoW, and in the evening she read page-turners. Investigating tragedy and the whys of life, she and I talked about Sartre, Che Guevara, Marx, and Stalin. The moment she’d woken up from her coma, I realized she’d heard my confession but wrote it off as a dream.
Until one fateful December evening.
“This isn’t up for negotiation.” Robert flashed me a pointed glare before glancing back at Elena.
She smiled sympathetically at him, winding her fingers through his. “Okay. You may watch over me.” There were no captious questions and no astute remarks, as if she’d reached the IDGAF point about submitting to me without feeling guilty.
“No hard feelings, honey,” he grinned with a pleasant, satisfied voice.
“It’s not a temporary thing, Elena,” I said in as firm a tone as I could manage.
“Robert is my driver, and Hamilton yours. Oh, and his men will take care of my security, and so on.”
“Technically, they’re your men now. Their sterling purpose is to assist you,” Robert stated earnestly. “You’re the girl of the hour. Christopher has almost doubled your capital. Rolls Royce and Pitbull soundtrack?”
“I caaan’t wait to leave home,” she squealed.
He nodded and turned to leave but, before his fingers could slip from hers, she gripped his hand and gave it a squeeze. “Thank you. You called 911—again.”
He squeezed her fingers back and brushed a stray lock of hair from her face. “You’re welcome, Elena.”
After a few more obligatory inquisitions, Robert excused himself, asking me to walk him out.
“What is it?” I began as soon as Elena was no longer close at hand.
