Her head shakes violently. “Please don’t leave me.”
I let out a deep sigh. “Okay. I’ll stay right here, but I’ll close my eyes. You let me know when you’re done.”
“Deal.” I sit down in one of the two chairs in the room, and I can hear her rustling around. Seems like it’s taking a very long time, so I peek.
I’d only seen her from the back before, there in my office, and when my eyelids crack open, I’m caught off guard. Her breasts are small but full, and her nipples are large, soft, and brown. She’s not quite as emaciated as I remember, and I feel good about that – at least I seem to be doing a good job at something. Beneath those breasts is a long, smooth drop to her belly, flat as a pancake, and opposite it is a small but round ass that looks totally squeezable. And I want to squeeze it. Her legs aren’t particularly long, but her thighs aren’t heavy at all, just muscular, and I wonder how much time she spent running away from people who were trying to do her harm. Probably quite a bit, considering the descriptions she’s given me of her living conditions and circumstances. I’m so sad and, unfortunately, turned on at the sight before me. I manage to squeeze my eyes shut again before she spins to face me. I hear a slight metallic creaking sound and she says, “Okay, I’m done.”
I gather her clothes together and put them into the handled bag they’ve given me to carry them in, shoes too. Watching her, she seems to be trying to get comfortable in the hard surgical gurney, but I think her greatest discomfort is with what I said to her just a short time before in the waiting area. Dropping the bag into my chair, I walk to the bed and sit on the edge. She still hasn’t looked at me. “Olivia, we need to talk.”
“Yes?”
“I meant what I said out there.”
“I know. And I love you too.”
“I know.” Taking one of her hands, I stare at the floor. Saying this will be hard. “Olivia, I love you. I wasn’t lying. I’d like for this to be a lot more than a friendship, but it just can’t be. I’m too old. You’re too young. You have far too much of your life ahead of you. Mine is almost over.”
“No it’s not. You’ve got a lot of good years ahead of you.”
“Compared to yours, yes, it is. I don’t have a life to offer you. Do you understand.”
She shakes her head. “You do. You have a lot to offer someone.”
“Yes, but not someone your age. I couldn’t do that for you, offer you the things you need. You’ll want kids and a family.”
Her eyes light up. “Clint and Trish adopted!”
“I know. That’s not what I mean. It’s not about having kids – as far as I know, there’s no reason I couldn’t father a child. It’s being a father to a child. I would never saddle you with a child I wouldn’t be around to help raise.”
Her face falls. “But I don’t care.”
“I do.” Before she can respond, a nursing assistant comes through the doorway.
“Time to go.”
“Dave?”
I smile down at her. “We’ll continue this conversation later. Don’t worry about any of that now. We just need to get you healthy.”
“But . . .”
“No. Go. I’ll be right here when you get back.” I kiss her on the forehead as I rise from the bed, and she gives me a weak wave as they wheel her away.
God, this is a mess. How in the world did I let this happen? I know in theory that it’s a very, very bad thing to let a woman move in with you and be that close to you. It’s a bad idea to be in that close proximity with anyone if you don’t want to have feelings for them, and sometimes that’s hatred if it’s someone you have reason to loathe. But this is the opposite, and I’m afraid this won’t end well. Correction: I know it won’t end well.
I busy myself getting a soft drink and some cookies while I wait. I check my phone for messages, then send Clint and Trish a text telling them that she’s in surgery. The chair isn’t very comfortable, but I’m exhausted, and I doze for a little while all slumped over. I’m awakened by a rustling and open my eyes to find that they’re wheeling her bed back into the cubicle. Her eyes are closed and she’s breathing quietly, and I feel like I should whisper. “How’d she do?”
The nurse laughs. “Don’t whisper! Your job for the next thirty to forty-five minutes is to try to get her good and awake. Talk to her. If she’s thirsty, they’ll get you some ice chips for her. Oh, and she did quite well. The doctor will come and talk to you in just a little while.”
When she leaves, I sit on the side of the bed again and stroke Olivia’s cheek. She looks like she’s twelve as she lies there sleeping quietly, and eventually her eyelids flutter open. Before she can speak, I ask, “Thirsty?”
She nods. “Throat hurts.”
“It was the tube. Let me get you some ice chips.” Once they bring the cup, I spoon a few in at a time and let her suck on them until she opens her mouth for more.
In about twenty minutes, she’s more than alert and aware when the doctor walks in and asks, “How are you?”
“My throat is scratchy. And my stomach hurts.”
“That’s to be expected.” She pulls up a chair and sits down, and everything in my brain screams, Uh-oh. This doesn’t look good. Putting on her game face, she says, “We need to talk about some things. First, how did you get the wounds on your back and buttocks?”
Olivia looks at me, and I nod. “Um, I was homeless and people hurt me.”
“I see.” Giving that bit of information time to digest, the next question is, “So what is your relationship with the gentleman here?”
“He’s my friend. We met a few days ago. And he and his family have been very nice to me.” The minute the word “family” comes out of Olivia’s mouth, I see the woman relax a bit.
“Family?”
“Yeah. Son and daughter-in-law. Their children. Their friend and his wife and kids. They’ve all been so nice to me. I’d still be on the street if he hadn’t found me.”
She smiles. “Sounds like you were in the cabbage patch!”
Olivia doesn’t smile when she answers, “No. The dumpster.”
I see the woman’s eyes go wide and she starts to say something but chokes. After a few seconds to regroup, she says, “We should talk about what I found. Massive infection. I want you on antibiotic infusion for several days, so you’ll be coming back here. And lots of scarring. Were you violated?”
I watch the young woman nod in sadness as she looks at her hands resting on the blanket across her lap. “Yes. Many times. And sometimes with things.”
“I see. Beaten?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Dr. Cavanaugh nods. “Well, I have good news and bad news. The good news is that as soon as the infection is gone, you should start feeling better and your abdomen should stop hurting.”
“That’s great,” Olivia smiles, then her face falls. “What’s the bad news?”
“I’m sorry, Miss Warren. I doubt you’ll ever be able to have children.”
The look on Olivia’s face isn’t what I expected at that news. She looks almost happy. “Okay. That’s good to know. Thanks for telling me.”
“You’re welcome. We’ll keep you here for another thirty minutes or so, watch your vitals, get you set up for the antibiotic infusion, and then let you go home. Only acetaminophen for pain. Did your situation lead you into substance abuse?”
“No.”
“Good. If the acetaminophen doesn’t do the trick, we’ll have to prescribe pain meds, but I’d rather not do that if we don’t have to. And I’ll see you in two weeks for your first follow-up. Any questions?” Olivia shakes her head. “Call if you have any problems and I’ll see you in a couple of weeks.” As she leaves the cubicle, she mouths a thank-you to me and I nod.
When she’s gone, Olivia’s eyes light up and she grins. “Problem solved!”
“What?” I don’t understand.
“I can’t have kids! There’s nothing for you to worry about!”
Oh. My. God. I never d
reamed she’d go in that direction. “Olivia . . .”
“You said you were worried about kids. Now you don’t have to be. It’s all okay.”
“Honey, that’s not what I meant. It’s just that . . .”
Her eyes flash. “Did you lie? That’s not it? That’s what you said.”
“That’s just one of many reasons.” I can’t believe she’s turned this corner, and now I feel conversely backed into it. “I’m a Dominant in the lifestyle. I’m accustomed to a submissive and . . .”
“I can be your submissive. I can! I know I can.”
“Olivia, a submissive isn’t something you can be. You either are or aren’t, and it’s a personality trait, a personal characteristic, not something you can just become. And,” I add, “I’m used to having sex with a lot of women. Anytime I want. Usually subs in the club. But that’s what I’m accustomed to, and I like it. The idea of being with one woman isn’t something I thought I’d ever do again.”
“But I can be all those things to you, Dave, I can! You’ll see if you’ll just give me a chance.”
“No. Out of the question.”
“It’s not out of the question.” Her eyes narrow to slits. “I saw you in the shower.”
“I know.” I watch as her eyes widen. “I knew you were there.”
“And you did it anyway?” She turns her head sideways and cuts her eyes at me. “You wanted me to see you.”
Now I don’t know what to say because she’s right. I did. “That was a mistake.”
“No mistake. I’m in love with you, Dave Adams, and you’re in love with me, I know it. And you’ll see. This will all work out. You said it: Things happen the way they’re supposed to happen.”
My own words thrown back at me. Great. I don’t stand a chance.
While she’s getting dressed, I make a phone call, and then help her into the car. She’s more animated and cheerful than she was on the way. I know why, and I hate it. I take a detour and tell her, “Sit in the car.” When I come out of the store, I hand her the bag.
“What’s this?”
“Your cell phone. You need one. We’ll get you home and get you settled, and then we’ll work on getting all the contacts into it later. I’ll put most of them in from my phone. And then you can put in whatever you like.”
“Oh my god! A cell phone! I can’t believe it! Is it a . . .” She opens the box and squeals. “Ohhh! It’s a smart phone! Thanks, Dave! Thank you so much. Thank you!” She digs around and then yells out, “Oh, a case! It’s so cute! It has butterflies on it! Thank you!” There’s a lot of cursing and muttering as she sets about putting the case on the phone, but when she gets it done, she holds it up. “See? Oh, it’s so beautiful! Thank you so much! Oh, look at this!” Before I can say anything, there’s the sound of a shutter.
I blush. “Did you just take my picture?”
“Yes! And I’m going to make it my wallpaper.”
“Oh, god, don’t do that.”
“Yes! I want to be able to see you even when you’re not around. Give me your phone. I want to call Trish.” Once I’ve gotten it out of my hand and into hers, I see her rooting around in my contacts. “Who’s ‘My Girls.’?”
“That’s my ex-wife and her girlfriend. Clint’s mom.”
“Ah.” Out of the corner of my eye I can see her digging around, then punching things into her phone. In a few minutes I hear that familiar “whoosh” as a text message leaves.
“What did you send?”
“I sent Trish the picture. And I said, ‘Dave bought me a phone!’”
“Nice.” I bet I never hear the end of this. There’s a ping.
“Oh, she sent one back!” I hear her giggle. “She says, ‘Congrats. And he’s as handsome as ever.’” Now I am blushing. Another one comes in, and I see her typing furiously. “She wants to know how I am.”
“Tell here you’re back to your sassy self.” She laughs out loud. “Because you are.”
Her laughter turns to a mile-wide smile. “It’s because of you. I was never sassy before. But when I’m with you, I feel sassy, like everything’s going to be okay and it’s all right to be happy.”
Oh, god. That’s what I want for her, but why do I have to be the catalyst? Why can’t it be the phone, or her driver’s license, or something like that? Why does it have to be me? “That’s good, I guess.” If she catches what I’ve said, she doesn’t say so. She’s so busy playing with the phone that she’s distracted, and I’m glad. It’s just good to see her happy and smiling and having fun. And I decide right this minute that, for the next two weeks, I’m going to do everything I can to make her happy and show her that there’s a life out there without me.
Every evening I go and pick up something. I’ve forbidden her to cook because I don’t want her to be on her feet. She’s doing great and I don’t want a setback.
She gets through all of the infusions fine. Every day for four days I take her in, and every evening I take her to Clint’s or Steffen’s because she doesn’t want to go to the club. She’s happily planning things, like lunches and shopping trips, and I think the phone was the thing that did it. That feeling of connectedness was what she was missing, apparently. She’s set up social media pages and started friending people who sound interesting, and taking pictures of things to use as her profile pictures or timeline banners. It keeps her busy. I’m contemplating getting her a tablet too; she’s read everything in the house and she’s looking for more. And going to the library really isn’t practical.
It’s been nine days since the procedure and she seems to be feeling pretty good. I’m seeing fewer and fewer toilet paper-wrapped items in the hall bathroom’s trash can, and that’s a good sign, as I understand it. She talks to Trish and Sheila pretty much every day. She announces to me before dinner that night, “Trish and Clint have invited us to dinner tomorrow night. Can we go?”
I shrug. “You don’t have to ask me if you can go to their house.”
She rolls her eyes. “They didn’t invite me. They invited us.”
Uh-oh.
“Olivia, there is no ‘us.’ You know that.”
She gives me this sweet, knowing smile that surprises me. “It could happen. I have faith.”
“Misplaced faith.” I wander into the kitchen in need of a beer; hell, maybe two or three.
“Faith in you. And misplaced? I don’t think so.”
I stroll back in shaking my head. “Olivia, we’ve been over this . . .”
“Apparently you don’t understand,” she quips.
That kind of pisses me off. “So enlighten me.”
“You want me.”
I sigh and roll my eyes. “Yes. That’s true. Doesn’t mean I’ll act on it.”
“And I want you.”
Despite my best attempts, I feel my cock twitch. Damn thing always gives me away. “You just think you want me.”
“I know what I want. And I want you.” There it is again, that damn twitch.
Where’s my usual self-control? What’s happened to the Dominant inside me? This is crazy, just crazy, and I say out loud, “This is crazy.”
“No. It’s love.”
That brings me right up off the sofa. “Whoaaaaa. Let’s stop this right now. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Yes, you do. You can deny it, but we both know it’s true. You love me. You told me so.”
“Yes. I did. I meant it like I’d love a daughter or granddaughter.”
“Yeah? And do you get excited about your daughter or granddaughter?” she asks, then points straight at the front of my jeans.
Fuck me. Talk about world-class betrayal – the stiff little son of a bitch is pointing right straight up and there’s no denying what’s going on with him. Little rat bastard. All I can think to say is, “Physiological response.”
“I call bullshit.” A big, cheesy grin covers her face and it makes me furious.
“I’m going to the club.”
“And how do I get
to Clint’s or Steffen’s?”
I toss my beer bottle into the trash and hear it break. “I don’t care. Have them come and pick you up. You’re not riding in the car with me.”
“What the . . .”
“You heard me. Get that notion right out of your head. There’ll be no lovey-dovey stuff going on between us, so it’s just not happening.” I throw the door open and look back at her startled face. “Not happening, Olivia. I mean it. Get over it.” I drag the door forward hard enough to make the glass rattle when it slams, and I’m breathing hard when I get to the car.
Plopping down behind the steering wheel, I sit there for a minute. God, she’s right, but I’m not about to tell her that. I can’t. This can’t go anywhere. When I start the car, I see her peeking out the living room window, but I don’t acknowledge her, just start out and keep my eyes on my driving.
I’m still fuming when I step out into the common area about an hour after the club opens. And who’s the first person I see?
Melina.
“Hey, gorgeous, I was looking for you,” she purrs as she takes my arm. “I’d really like to enjoy some of your expertise. Have you given any more thought to a film?”
“Hi yourself. And yes, but Clint said he was hoping I’d forget about that.”
“Oh, that Master Clint is no fun.” She leans in and gives me peck on the cheek. “Do you need a submissive for the night? Because I need a Dom.” The arms she’s got wrapped around my waist slide downward and cup my ass, and everything inside me lights up.
“And what do you need a Dom for?” I can’t wait for the answer to this one.
“I need to be whipped and then fucked brutally. I need it hard. Big and hard. And I think you’ve got that covered, right? I know you do.” One hand trails around the side of my hip and cradles my balls, and I know I’ve got something for her, something she’ll just eat up.
I look around and spot Gary; he’ll watch the bar for me. “I’ll set up. You go and get yourself ready. Nothing but your earrings, nose piercing, and belly chain. Oh, and those ‘come fuck me’ heels. I need those to stay on track.”
“Yes, Sir.” She trots off and I watch that gorgeous ass sway across the room. And somehow, the image is suddenly replaced with Olivia’s backside, burns and all. It’s all I can do to force the pictures out of my mind long enough to talk to Gary.
Incredible Us Page 10
