Is that, it, Malcolm?
“What now, Malcolm?” That question again.
“I am going to get you to drink more, and continue to get your hydration level back to where it should be. Also, that longer term analgesic will gradually take effect, as the other wears off.”
That wasn’t what she’d been asking, but he wasn’t ready to deal with the other, suddenly important issue raising its head between them. She’d been asking about far more personal things that would soon need to be addressed as they moved forward.
They both knew how they felt. Those feelings went back ten years and had never been addressed then. They would absolutely have to be dealt with in the next hour or so, and possibly before they left here, if she had her way.
He still sounded like a doctor trying to explain things to a patient, but he never felt less like being a doctor, and he certainly didn’t look upon her as one of his patients… except he had to, for another hour or two anyway, for both of their sakes, though it might kill him to do so.
A cool drink, with ice, would be welcome and he could use the ice to help cool her down too. After that, he would get some lotion onto her. All of it, no matter what he did, would be never-ending temptation, and she knew it.
He should get her talking. “At this time, you can ask more of your questions of me, Cassie. Ask me anything.”
She smiled up at him.
“I don’t need to ask anything. I just want to rest, and watch you, as I think about how everything changed today for me, and in a way I had often hoped it would, while never seeing this, happening as suddenly as it did.”
Nor had he.
Megan, her twin sister (how had he not known that?) would have been a challenge he could have dealt with. Cassie, wasn’t. He knew that he was going to lose this battle, but he could try and delay it, if he could, for as long as he could.
He lifted her good hand to his lips and kissed it again, holding it securely in his own as he looked into her eyes. She felt his warm breath on her hand and felt how he trembled, unless that had been her.
Her nakedness did not bother her so much, now that she knew she was still loved by this man, and in a way he couldn’t hide from her, but her being this way bothered him a lot. She knew the signs.
His mind was rebelling. One tried never to get to this completely undressed stage with any female patient, (with them, undressed, rather than him), except in this case he’d had no choice… she’d started that way, and those fishhooks...? Fate had been unkind to her....
But kind, to him. ‘Thank you, fate’.
She did have a question, as he prepared something for them to drink, dropping half a dozen ice cubes into a large glass jug that he’d rinsed out. (The stale smells around the house, suggested that Mrs. Sinclair was not so concerned about cleanliness.)
“Malcolm?” She still hesitated to ask certain things or to be too aggressive.
He smiled at her and waited, pausing in his efforts to tidy things away. Just to look at her set his heart beating fast. If she knew what power she held…?
She nursed the cool glass, letting the base of it rest between her breasts. Water was already condensing on it and running down the outside of it.
It felt good.
“Malcolm? When did you first know that you were falling in love with me?” She wasn’t going to let up on him.
He knew that question would have to come up for him to address sooner or later. Women loved to ask those kinds of question that too often put a man on the spot, scrambling for a cautious and diplomatic answer.
He thought about it; answering it only after he’d filled their glasses again, as he sat on the table beside her.
He’d often thought about it, so it was an easy question to answer.
“I suppose it began for me, about three weeks after you first came to us.” That had been ten years ago, but it still seemed like yesterday.
That was what she’d wanted to hear. She didn’t interrupt, letting him continue, as she drank. He had to continue. One could never go only part way there, with that kind of question.
“You were that mysterious young girl that was living under the same roof as me, and that my mother tried to keep me far away from, while trying not to be too obvious about it, at first. Although, when it appeared that we seemed intent on meeting, she did make her guardianship of you, very obvious to me, in the sense that a mother hen will guard her chick (putting herself between Cassie and him). I had never seen that side of my mother before, directed against me, and it piqued my interest in a way that I am sure she did not intend; the attraction of forbidden fruit.”
Cassie understood what he was saying, liking the way it was going. It had been the same for her, but she’d never had courage enough to ask his mother why they couldn’t meet each other as they seemed to want to.
Malcolm continued to explain.
“Then, one morning, soon after that, before I left for study hall, I saw your journal beside where you had eaten breakfast. I was curious enough to pick it up and to read it. That, was when it really started for me. You interested me. You seemed to be mature, well beyond your years. I really wanted to meet you then, to see if your conversation matched what you were writing.”
It had been an open door into the romantic mind of a thirteen-year-old girl, who was old, well beyond her tender years, and had a body that went with it, from what he’d seen of her intimate clothing, in the laundry.
She came back at him without hesitation. “Girls, mature several years beyond where a boy is, once they start… puberty, or not long after.” She threw that one out as one of those perceived truths that one had to accept. It was mostly true. Girls always wanted to attract older boys who were interested in them, and let them know it. It was playing with fire by doing so, of course, but who cared? It was the thrill of it all.
He nodded. “As I gradually discovered with you.”
Girls seemed to mature… blossom… ‘overnight’ then; transitioning from gangly, awkward, sensitive, moody, girls, to… developing, awkward, sensitive, moody, and distantly aloof, young women.
She’d stayed with his family before, for just one or two nights during the previous year, but he’d never even seen her then, finding out about it only sometime after the fact.
Just as well.
“After reading your journal, I found that I wanted to know more about you.” He was being cautiously diplomatic. She’d figuratively grabbed him by the balls but in a gently interesting way. “So I began to observe and to listen, but without being too obvious about it, except, my mother blocked me at every turn.”
That, had bothered him.
She decided it was time for her to add to this conversation, holding onto his belt again, not letting him leave her, until she was ready to let him go.
“I was always curious about you too, Malcolm. I think your mother saw that.”
“Yes. She soon caught on about the pair of us trying to get our lives to intersect in some… closer way”—a polite way of putting it, considering what he had in mind for her. “Unfortunately, for me.”
Fortunately, for her.
He had been a particularly intense and horny individual with no sense of restraint.
“I spent less and less time at home after that, because of exams, studying, and summer jobs that kept me away from home, as well as preparing for medical school as I helped my father where I could. He kept me away from most patients except as they walked into the waiting room, but he got me to order supplies and take on the role of office manager and receptionist, while his own receptionist, was on holiday.”
Malcolm had a question of his own to ask.
“What did my mother tell you about me?”
Of course, he would be curious, and he needed to know what his mother had been thinking. Probably something not very flattering.
She thought for a while.
“Nothing much. Mostly that I should stay out of your way while you were studying for exams, and what your plans were… medical school. However, there was that one time when she was more specific.”
He waited for her to explain.
“She sat down with me one evening and told me about boys in general. I already knew all about the ones my sister was involved with.” Everyone knew about her sister’s unrestrained antics around boys and men.
“Your mother was obviously talking about you, warning me, explaining how boys were driven by hormones, and lust, without giving a moment’s thought to consequences, which should always be forefront in the mind of any girl.”
Pregnancy was not something a teenager needed to discover at that early an age.
“I already knew all about that, from seeing what my sister and her boy… men friends got up to. They weren’t slow getting undressed and … getting on with it, no matter where they were or who was watching.
“They, scared me, which is why I left when I did.”
His mother had had a similar talk to him, and she’d not held back. She’d laid the law down to him but in less diplomatic terms. ‘He would spend more time studying at school, and he would wait each morning until after they had gone to school together, before he thought of getting up to shower’.
His mother knew that he was often quite careless how he was dressed for the first hour of the day, and it wasn’t likely to get any better, with Cassie curious about him in the wrong way. She knew that he usually slept late, each morning, so none of that would a hardship for him. It hadn’t been, until she’d mentioned it the way she had.
It was the principle of the thing that he mentally rebelled against.
He knew he would have to put up with it, or he’d antagonize his mother. She was a force to be reckoned with, but he could dream, and push boundaries, without actually testing them too far, and risking pissing her off too much.
After they’d gone to school, the house was his to explore, and he had.
He’d soon realised that Cassie; their guest, also did the same with his bedroom while he was not there during the early evening, and while his mother was cooking dinner.
He took to leaving things out for her; books that she might like, with an impersonal little note to go with them, without being too obvious with his mother. He knew his mother would check his bedroom the moment they arrived home, and vet, what he left out for Cassie to discover.
When he’d discovered that Cassie was having some trouble with math, he’d helped her with that too, at a distance, with books, and worked examples.
His mother seemed to grudgingly accept that kind of distant connection, knowing how it would be constantly tested.
“There is one more thing I need to do for you and then I’ll tidy up, to hide what happened here, before we go.”
“I need your permission to remove these damp paper towels, and to cover your body with a moisturizing lotion to try and cut down the sun damage. You will be naked again for a while. I will have to touch you very personally again, all over your body.”
Why was he warning her, now. He’d already touched everything.
She giggled over his seeming difficulty with that, warning her as he did.
“Of course, you’ll have to do it for me, Malcolm. I can’t do it for myself.”
She held up her bandaged hand for him to see.
“And that fishhook that was in my back… I’m not sure I should, or can, use this other arm either, for a while. But why would any of that concern you now? I hope you haven’t forgotten already. You married me. Nothing is out of bounds for you now. Nothing!” She was smiling suggestively at him.
The hell it wasn’t.
“I think that makes us, consenting adults by now.”
He hadn’t noticed a sense of humor before.
She was playing games with him and being deliberately provocative, but what she said, was true. She couldn’t do it for herself.
“That marriage thing, was just a ploy I suddenly thought up to try and get you to relax.”
“Really?” As if she hadn’t known. “Well, it worked. It was a clever ploy on your part. You used it on me, so why can’t I use it on you?” She was still smiling.
“I suppose I’ll feel it all later, once that other sedative wears off, but at this moment I feel almost euphoric, as well as relieved about so many things.” That, was a normal reaction to having got through a minor trauma.
She stretched a little, moving, sensing what range of motion she had, where she had been in so much pain before. Her breasts seemed to stand out more, hypnotizing him as she pulled him closer to her. She relaxed back, again.
She watched him delve back into his bag and retrieve a bottle of moisturizer.
She let go of his belt.
“How do you want me?” She could be a torment too.
“Just as you are, minus the paper towels.” A few of them had survived her stretching. He lifted the others off her and shook his head as he focused where he really needed his mind to be, rather than upon her nipples and her breasts.
“You got quite a sunburn. I guess with us being inside, out of the brightest light, it’s more obvious now. If you would rather wait and get my mother to do it for you...?” He felt that he had to give her that choice, in case she was feeling reservations about this, as he did.
She wanted none of that. “No. You do it. I’m uncomfortable with this feeling, and… anyone else seeing me like this. The fewer who see me like this, the better. This can’t possibly get any more embarrassing.”
She was no longer embarrassed, but she wasn’t going to tell him that. “You should do it please. Never mind any finesse. I’m not a fragile piece of china, and I won’t break now, not after the delicate and very personal things I’ve already tolerated you doing.”
She would chuckle, later, at the look she’d seen on his face as he’d focused between her legs for those last hooks, seeing the flush on his neck and ears, and aware of how it affected him in other ways, that they couldn’t speak about just yet.
She would save those fishhooks and mount them in a corkboard. They had a story to tell.
“I’ll be gentle.”
“I know you will.” She grasped his belt again and pulled him closer.
“The lotion will help replace the natural oil in your skin, or you’ll peel, and that’s not what you want. You might peel anyway. I couldn’t do it until I got rid of those hooks and got everything cleaned around them.”
He poured lotion into his palm and then used his fingers on the other hand to work across her forehead, the bridge of her nose-- always sensitive to sun burn-- then her cheeks, shoulders, neck; just smearing it on fairly-thickly.
It was a translucent thick lotion that would soon be absorbed, but initially, she would look like a candidate for the Kabuki theater.
She sighed as the lotion seemed to assuage the tenderness, and tightness in her skin. It would soon soak in.
“Why stop now? You don’t have to be shy, Malcolm. Not now. You’ve already touched all of me and seen more than any man has ever seen before. I won’t tell anyone, if you won’t, no matter what you do to me now.”
He chuckled. She was challenging him again.
She let out a long slow sigh as he wiped a generous amount of lotion across the tops of her breasts, around them, between them and under them, seeing and feeling the nipples begin to harden under his touch.
He shouldn’t be doing this.
She let go of his belt and reached up with her good hand, placing it over his, causing him to pause, with his hand full upon her breast.
She’d read his thoughts?
“Yes, you should be doing this for me, Malcolm. There is no one else I would trust.”
That, didn’t help him.
“I think I would have liked you to have done this, ten years ago too, but how did one confess to an older boy you’d never met, that you dreamed of him touching your breasts, touching you everywhere he wanted to touch, and that you would let him do other, wonderful things to you… anything, and everything you wanted him to be doing… when his mother’s back was turned?”
You didn’t, if you valued your virginity, and your life.
They said nothing for a few moments, looking into each other’s eyes, until they recollected where they were.
She let his hand go, to get on with it.
He poured more lotion into his palm and smoothed it slowly over her abdomen, feeling her jump at his cooling touch, moving to the top of her legs and slightly between them, seeing her put her legs wide apart for him again… much wider than he needed. He paused, almost forgetting for a moment where he was, and what he was doing, before continuing down her individual legs.
“I’ll leave it uncovered for a while to be absorbed, or it will be wiped off by your clothes. I can give it another application before we get you dressed, and we leave here.”
“Thank you. What are you, going to do?”
“I still have some tidying up to do here.” He needed to hide all evidence of him having been here and what he had done for her.
He packed his bag away and left the lotion beside her for later.
“I’ll shower while you rest, then I’ll get you dressed, and figure out how to get you across the lake. We can come back for your car tomorrow. I’d better get you over there as soon as I reasonably can, or my mother will get impatient and call again.”
She might even decide to come over, to see what was keeping them.
He’d write it up, later, when he got back to the surgery. She’d soon fall into that awkward category of doctor’s wife, as well as his patient. No doctor wanted another doctor, playing ‘doctor’ to his wife. No sirree.
She put her hand back over his.
He leaned over her and kissed her. He could take that small liberty at least, now that he was almost finished.
“I am the one who should be thanking you, my love. You were very patient with me.”
She wouldn’t be patient for much longer.