Broken

We were wrapped up in our own world and I was falling for her harder with every passing moment. The night found us once again in a perpetual tangle of legs and arms, reaffirming our connection through the contact of our skin. Though neither of us wanted to leave the comfort of the bed the next morning, it was her first day of physical therapy, and I didn't want her to be late.

Lila's appointments were at the hospital; the same hospital where Martha had been admitted. We tried to see her, but the staff said that she didn't want to let us in. It occurred to us to tell the desk nurse that we were family and she finally let us know that Martha was recovering well, and that she would be released soon. But Lila's calls were never returned and weeks went by with no word. In the meantime, Lila's therapy was going very well. She took to it like everything else in her life, with determination. The therapists were impressed with her progress, and commented on how they'd never seen anyone drive themselves so hard to get better. I knew why Lila was doing it though; she wanted to make a comeback. A triumphant comeback, to show everyone who had ever doubted her that she was more than just "The Ball Girl" -- that she was someone who had been through hell and back and could still make it to the top. And she was doing it for one more reason. Martha. She had been the only one who stood by Lila, the only one who believed in her. And now, she wouldn't even talk to her, the result of what Lila believed was a silly argument over me. If she only knew the truth ...

Lila's physical therapy was scheduled every other day. On the days that Lila didn't have physical therapy, we would sleep in until noon after making love all night. It was pretty obvious that I had transitioned from being Lila's nurse to being her lover. But, Lila wasn't completely out of the woods yet, and I still had a job to do. And it was my pleasure to develop a unique "alternative therapy" to coincide with the physical therapy that Lila was getting.

She was coming back into the bedroom after getting out of the shower. As she came into the room with a towel around her, I was putting the finishing touches on the new apparatus. I got the idea from watching Pilates and purchased two long strips of stretchable fabric, then tied padded cuffs to the end of each one. Next, I attached them to the wall through a screw eye at the head of Lila's bed, and tested them to make sure they would hold.

When she came into the room, Lila started to laugh and asked me, "Paul, what the hell are you doing?"

Laughing myself, I said, "Hey, don't make fun. I'm supposed to still be your 'nurse', remember?"

Still laughing, she said, "Well, okay. But, how is this supposed to help?"

"Just come over here," I said, "and I'll show you."

She dropped her towel and walked slowly over to the bed. It was such a wonderful sight to see her walking again, even if it was just for a short trip to the bed. Her legs were starting to get back their tone and strength, and it wouldn't be long before they returned to their original glory. When she lied down, I raised both of her legs up and attached each of the cuffs to her ankles. "Now," I told her, "try to put one leg down."

She did so, and found that when she did, the strap would provide resistance. It would allow her to lay her leg flat on the bed, but not without some effort.

"Well, this is pretty inventive, if I must say Paul," she said, flashing that sly smile of hers at me.

I shrugged modestly and moved toward her. Grabbing her legs suddenly, I raised them so that they were pointing to the ceiling. "Okay I said, "let's see how long you can keep them at the same height." And I proceeded to start licking her pussy.

She kept them steady for only a few minutes before I could feel one of them coming down. The resistance from the strap made it difficult to get them even again and my tongue on her clit made it impossible for her to care. Next, I started to slide myself into her, and showed her how she could keep one leg up while working on putting the other leg down. She noticed that when she did this, she not only exercised her leg, but more importantly changed the way my cock stroked her pussy. So, I would hold onto one leg, while she brought the other leg down. Before long, she was getting the hang of it and was doing quite well; gasping in combination of exertion and pleasure and beckoning me to spread my seed all over her stomach.

I took her legs out of the cuffs and brought them back down. "Now that," she said, "is what I call a great workout."

"See?" I said, "Who needs a gym?"

Lila was about to give a snarky answer when there was a knock at the door. "Now, who could that be?" she wondered aloud.

"I don't know," I said, getting up and putting some clothes on, "I'll go and check." The knock came again as I made my way down the stairs. "Just a minute!!" I opened the door to find a policeman standing there.

"Paul Alexander?" he asked.

"Yes, I'm Paul Alexander officer. What can I do for you?" It was then that I noticed Martha standing next to him on crutches.

"If you don't mind," he said, "I'd like to ask you some questions."

- Lila

Since I wasn't expecting anyone, I was curious to see who was at the door. Still grinning about the fun little therapy game Paul had concocted for that morning, I wriggled into my robe and slowly stepped into the hall. From the top of the stairs I could hear Martha's voice. My grin turned into a full on smile as I started down to greet her. I was so happy that she had stopped by; my dear friend. I had been worried sick about her and so unhappy about how things had been left between us. Gingerly, I navigated my way down the stairs and Martha's voice became clearer. I was at the landing when I heard her say, "I told you that you wouldn't get away with this, Paul!"

And then came a man's voice, "Ms. Stone, I know you are upset, but like I told you at the police station, I am just here to ask Mr. Alexander a few questions, for now."

Police station? I grew concerned. "Martha?" I called out as I entered the foyer and tightened my robe. "What's this about?"

She stepped around the two men and grabbed me into an embrace. "Lila honey, You've got to get this man out of your house, today!" she was breathless and wild looking.

"Martha, what are you talking about? When did you get out of the hospital, I've been worried to death? How come you wouldn't let me see you?" I was full of questions, but Martha was shaking her head furiously.

"Listen to me, Lila. You have to kick him out! He's a liar and he's not who he says he is!" She was gripping my arms, with a desperate look in her eyes that sent a chill down my spine. I glanced over at Paul, who gave me a confused shrug.

"M'am" the officer interrupted. "Is this your residence?"

"Yes," I said, still trying to understand what was going on.

"Do you know this man as Paul Alexander?" he asked.

"Yes, Officer."

"Will you show me some ID?" he turned to Paul, who nodded and said that his wallet was in his room. He quickly jogged up the steps to retrieve it.

I turned toward Martha. "What the hell do you mean he's not who he says he is?"

She finally released me, and her expression was ice cold. "Lila he's manipulated this whole thing. I called the agency that he's supposed to be working for. The only Paul Alexander they employ is assigned to a terminally ill man named Fred Hamilton about 100 miles from here. Then I went to the police and got a copy of the snap shot the traffic light took when you were hit. Lila, it's him!" She handed me the grainy photo. "He's the one that ran you over and left you for dead!"

She was speaking so fast, it was had for me to digest it all. I concentrated on the dark figure behind the wheel of the car. Really, it was just a blurry silhouette. When I looked up, Paul was stepping back into the foyer with his driver's license extended towards the officer. He looked at me and reflected my dismay in his brow.

"Thank you." the officer said as he inspected it. He jotted down the number and returned it to him. "Do you own a car, Mr. Alexander?"

"No sir, not right now." Paul placed his ID back in his wallet and stepped closer to me.

"Where were you on August 29th at 8:05 PM?" he asked.

"I was at home. I heard about Lila's accident that night on the local news." He put his arm around me. Instinctively, I stepped away.

"Is the address on your license current?"

"Yes, when I'm there. I'm mostly on jobs."

"Were you alone?" He handed him back his ID.

"Yes, but I had a few phone calls. And I suppose I probably ordered take out."

The officer looked closely at me. "Ms. Stevens, is this man a welcome guest in your home?"

I looked at Paul and then at Martha, and then at Paul again. He reached for my hand and gazed back at me with his blue eyes narrowed in concern. I loved this man who had taken such gentle care of me and made me whole again, this man who had made amazing love to me and showed me unbelievable pleasure. And then there was Martha, who had been acting so irrational lately, so jealous and competitive. She had lied to Paul about how I felt about him, could she be lying now? Could she be delusional -- upset that I was not under her thumb anymore? Could she be trying to take away the one thing she didn't control in my life? I turned to the officer. "He's my boyfriend," I said simply, "of course he's welcome here."

Martha's mouth fell open. "Lila, no! He's a maniac. He pushed me down the stairs!" She tore over to Paul and beat him on the chest. "Tell her you asshole! Tell her!"

The officer pulled her away from him. "Ms. Stone, that's enough. I'm finished here, it's time to go."

He turned to me one more time and produced a business card. "If you would like to add anything Ms. Stevens, don't hesitate to call."

Paul reached for the door, I spied him fix a stare onto Martha that was unmistakable; pure venom. Martha was still looking over her shoulder at me as the door closed; that same wild, desperate look in her eyes.

Alone now, Paul reached his arms around me in a tight embrace. "That was really weird," he said, squeezing me close.

"What's gotten into Martha?" I asked rhetorically, incredulous about the visit.

He kissed me on the forehead. "You know, I think she is adjusting to the changes in your life. She's used to having you all to herself."

"But to say those terrible things about you? Of course you work for the agency. I send them a check every week. They would have said something by now." I was rationalizing it for myself.

"Lila, we should get away for the weekend, let Martha cool down. You can work things out with her when we get back." He stroked my head, letting his fingers linger in my hair.

"Maybe you're right. She'll probably come by again and I'm really not feeling up to hearing anymore of her bullshit."

"I know I'm right. We can go up-state. My family has a cottage in the mountains, it will be perfect." He was grinning from ear to ear.

I agreed. A change of scenery sounded nice and it would give me a chance to think about my future with Martha. I had a business relationship with her that needed to be considered as well.

"Great. I'll help you get packed. If we leave by 3:00 we can get there before dark." He was already jogging back up the stairs.

We rolled up the long gravel driveway just as the last of the sun was disappearing behind the trees. It was beautiful there. A salt box colonial sat on a field of sedge grass, dotted with day lilies. The paint was a bit worn and the porch was leaning some, but the rustic nature of this small country home was undeniably quaint.

"This place has been in my family for three generations," he said as he jiggled the key in the lock. Once inside I took in more of the nostalgia. Neatly preserved antiques made up most of the decor. Someone had indeed cared much about this home, and it felt very warm and cozy. I flopped onto the sofa while Paul brought our baggage and groceries inside. When he was finished I patted the seat cushion between my legs. "Now, let me take care of you a bit," I said lifting off his shirt and massaging his neck and shoulders. "The long drive has made you tight."

"I can think of another way for you to relax me," he said placing my hand on his groin.

How I adored making him feel good. And after the messy drama from earlier that day, I just wanted him to know how much I appreciated and loved him. He sat on the coffee table in front of me and I made haste with opening his fly. He was not quite hard yet, his cock pliable in my hand. I licked at the sides from base to tip, watching closely as it began to grow. He was smiling down on me, caressing my cheek and brushing my hair from my face so he could watch as well. I toyed at the head with my tongue, slurping at it and kissing it softly, all the while enjoying his sighs and coos. Then, at last I took him in deep to the back of my throat. He was firm now, and his grip on the coffee table tightened as did his grasp of my hair. He pressed my head onto him and thrust his hips forward. As always, I was up to the challenge and kept pace with him, looking up and enjoying the expression of pleasure written on his face. He came, in a slow stream onto my lips. Then, with his thumb, glossed them up and smiled again, before leaning into my ear.

"Don't you ever doubt who you belong with," he whispered.

"I won't," I responded softly, only I wished I could be sure.

That night over dinner Paul entertained me with stories about he and his cousins' trickery and games during many summers at this cottage. He seemed to always be the ring leader among them, getting into all kinds of trouble. It occurred to me that I had never really asked him about his family.

"So Paul, what about your parents? Where do they live?" I asked, finishing up the last of my pasta.

"My parents are both dead," he said rather flatly. "I was raised by my Grandfather."

"I'm sorry. I guess we have that in common. No parents, I mean." I started to ask how they died so young, but he was already clearing the table and throwing me vibes that he was not up to discussing it. I decided to help him instead.

"No, no. You sit. I'll take care of this," he protested.

"I'm perfectly capable of helping you do the dishes. What kind of house guest would I be if I didn't?" I grabbed his ass. "You can repay me later."

"Alright, I'll wash and you dry." He agreed and I lightened the mood with some chatter about the football game we planned to watch that evening.

Everyone is always a bit clumsy in some one else's kitchen, and I was no exception. Though Paul had told me where the silverware goes, I mistakenly opened the drawer across the room where it is kept in my house. Inside was a stack of mail addressed to Fred Hamilton. Confusion and fright flashed through me as I remember that it was the name of the person Martha said Paul was really assigned to. Softly I closed the drawer and grabbed another towel resting on the counter.

"This one is soaked," I said innocently. Then, wanting to excuse myself to call Martha, I told him that I needed to use the bathroom. As I turned to leave, I saw him look at the drawer and then back at me. I looked at the drawer myself, and saw a corner of an envelope sticking out. I looked back at him and turned quickly on my heel, trying not to appear hasty.

Once in the bathroom I plucked my phone from my pocket, only to discover that there was no signal. Then a knock. "Lila, is everything alright?"

"Oh, just fine. I'll be out in a minute." I had to think. Should I ask him about Fred Hamilton? I wasn't sure what to do. Then it hit me. On the front door, I had admired it coming in; there was a beautifully carved H. Fred Hamilton could be his grandfather.

Did Paul know that Martha had spoken his name to me that morning? I was trying to remember. He had been getting his wallet when she did. Did he overhear? I began to believe that Martha had been right about him all along. I just needed to get back home.

"Come on Lila, you'll miss the kick-off. What are you doing in there?"

I opened the door and sauntered over to the table where he had placed the car keys. "I thought that I would take in some of that country air out on the porch, why don't you open another bottle of wine and I'll be back in a few minutes." I casually glanced at the table but the car keys weren't there.

"You're not going anywhere," he said in a light hearted tone, but the glint in his eye told of a more serious intention as he patted the seat next to him on the couch. "I want you right here with me all weekend."

"I just want to relax in that rocking chair. Open the wine and you can join me." I hoped that would give me enough time to try for a signal outside. I had to call Martha.

He hesitated, and then nodded in agreement, before heading back into the kitchen. I hustled outside, hobbling off the porch and into the darkness to find a place where my phone would display a few bars.

"Hello?" Martha's voice was dry as a bone.

"Oh, thank God!" I had to be quick. "Martha, you were right. Something is screwy with Paul. I'm at his grandfather's house up north. I'm going to text you the address. I need you to come and get me. Please hurry!"

"Send me the address. I'm on my way. Just don't let him know you're on to him." She paused a moment. "Be careful sweetie."

I hung up and sent the text. It was pitch black outside and hard to know if I entered everything correctly. As I began to dial her again to make sure she'd received it, Paul stepped in front of me and grabbed the phone. I jumped back with a gasp.

"Paul, you scared me." I didn't know what he had heard.

"Lila, I love you. You know that don't you?"

"Yes. Of course I do," I said casually, turning to head back to the house.

"I've always loved you," he continued, grabbing my arm.

"Its chilly out here, lets go inside." I tried to shake free of his grasp.

"Lila, I know you called Martha and she's probably on her way up here right now."

A fresh shot of adrenaline exploded through me. "What, what are you talking about?" I was stalling, trying to figure out an escape.

"I knew you were coming out here to try to call her. I can't keep you if you don't want to be mine. I know this." His clutch loosened and my arm fell out of his hand. Then he continued, "I also know that you saw the mail in the drawer. Lila it's not what you think."

"Then tell me Paul, if that's you name. Tell me just what the hell is going on here!"

"I didn't run you over like that crazy bitch keeps insisting!" he said sounding equally as frustrated. When I jumped again at his elevated tone, he lowered his voice. "Let me start from the beginning. I have been a fan of yours since we were both teenagers. Its corny I know, but I worked part-time at the club you used to belong to with your dad. You were so intense and dedicated to tennis that you didn't even notice me hanging around after work to watch you practice. My cousin used to kid me all the time about how sprung I was over a girl I didn't even know. Well, I never grew out of that crush, and when my cousin Jason started working for your accountant, he would get off by making me jealous with all the time he got to spend with you.

"Jason is your cousin?" I repeated, trying to follow it all and remembering the cute young assistant who used to get me coffee anytime I visited their office. "He doesn't work there anymore does he?"

"No, he was conveniently fired when he went to his boss about the anomalies in your taxes. They said that they were downsizing, but he knew it was because he had discovered that Martha was taking a lot more than 10% of your earnings as agreed in her contract."

"Martha? Stealing from me? I don't believe you." This was all too much.