Getting Better

I cannot say that the operation was all that bad. Of course I was awake for it so that they could wire the implants into the right places, but I was also sedated so much that I cannot really remember the details. It was the post-op period that was grim.

Being depressed was bad enough. I wish depression on no-one. That feeling of utter uselessness, all encompassing exhaustion, When I was asked if I would accept the experimental surgery, I confess that my thoughts were, "What if it kills me, death would be better than existence."

After the operation my depression was even worse. I had the pain of the healing scars, but also I was being withdrawn from the anti-depressants that had been my previous treatment. It was clear that, contrary to my belief, they had been doing some good. Without them, well, I hate to remember how I felt.

Then they started to activate the implants. As I understand things, my depression had been caused because the areas of my brain that should have been triggering good feelings had stopped working. They were getting all the right signals, but not passing the message on. They should have been triggering hormones, but weren't. I understand that the drugs that some addicts take mimic these hormones. They trigger the pleasure centres of the brain, they mimic make the addict feel good for a while, until the drug wears off. But as the brain becomes resistant to the drug the addict requires a greater and greater dosage to achieve the effect again.

Well one of my implants had the same effect. It excited one part of the brain and that, in its turn stimulated the production of the hormones that then stimulated my pleasure centres.

At first they tweaked the implant's level of activity so as to exactly, on average, counteract my depression. This process was trial and error. As my underlying mood varied the effect of a constant level of stimulation meant that I experienced a mental see-saw.

However, once they had a baseline level to work on they brought the other implant to life. This monitored the areas of my brain that should have been triggering the first area. It measured the signals they received, and then the information was used to control the activity of the first implant.

It was wonderful. I felt normal.

Once they were satisfied that they everything worked they were able to give me the control unit. This I wore like a wristwatch. It communicated by radio with the two implants. I returned to normal life, and to work. The years of depression were just bad memories. Yes I had bad moments, but everybody does, that is part of normality.

That was years ago. I was the first, the guinea pig. The technology improved. My control unit was replaced by one like a button implanted under the skin of my neck. I recharge it by wearing a special collar from time to time. The treatment has now been given to many other people.

When they had done the one-hundredth operation I was invited to come to a party to celebrate their success. I met their hundredth patient. That is how it started.

The party was held in the pub across the road from the hospital. It is often said that medics work hard and play, or in this case party hard. The music was loud, and the poor lass who's operation was being celebrated was rather overcome. I saw her expression, and moved over to talk to her. Because of the noise I had to lean towards her to make myself heard. I felt a surge of well-being. She brightened as well.

I took her hand, and led her to a quiet room. She thanked me. We chatted. I liked her. She liked me. We discovered that we lived in the same area. We promised to meet again, and we did.

Of course things happened slowly. After her operation it took her some time to rebuild her life, but I think that I was able to pass on some of my own experiences to help her.

When we were together we both felt well.

Slowly something dawned upon me.

Being ill can seriously damage your wealth. Since I had been treated I had been able to earn again, and so could rent a reasonable sized flat. She had a scruffy bedsit with a kitchen. To be fair to it, I had lived in and in fact shared much worse worse accommodation at times.

We visited each other quite regularly.

I knew that she loved a particular type of chocolate cake. She did not buy it for herself, because she thought she needed to loose weight, so the next time I visited her I bought a couple of slices. She made coffee, and I managed to sit close to her on the pretext of showing her a book I was reading. I took the box from my bag and gave it to her. She opened it, and said all the usual "You shouldn't have." and "No, I mustn't." sort of things, but I took one piece from the box and put it beside my coffee cup. She could not resist, took the other piece, and took a bite from it.

I was right. As soon as she tasted the cake her pleasure centres were triggered by her enjoyment of the cake, but not only that, I felt that mine had also been triggered. My implants were responding to her control unit as well as my own.

I nibbled my cake, and she seemed to blush. She then did something she had not done before. She leaned over, and kissed my cheek. I felt another surge of the hormone being triggered. I raised my hands and cupped her face in them. I did not have to do anything else. Our lips touched, and we had our first real kiss.

We were both out of breath when our lips eventually separated.

I did feel guilty. I stood up and moved a short distance away from her. She made to come after me but I asked her to stay where she was. At first she looked hurt, but her mood seemed to cool quite quickly.

With some distance between us, I explained what I thought was happening. I asked her to think, carefully, if she still felt the same way when there was some distance between us, and she agreed that yes, her feelings seemed different.

"You gave me the cake as an experiment."

She was thinking. She was not sure if she was offended by what I had done. She stood up. From her expression I thought that she was going to slap me. I knew I deserved a good slapping for the trick I had pulled. She withdrew her arm, and swung it towards my face. I closed my eyes ready for the slap, but she stopped her hand just short, and then gently stroked my cheek. Then I felt her breath on my cheek.

"I see what you mean. I felt your mood change myself. When you thought I was going to hit you I felt... something... not fear, but something. Then it felt so good when I stroked your cheek.

We both started to approach the other for another kiss, but then she jerked herself away.

"Is this real? Do I love you? Is it just chemistry? "

"Perhaps that is all that love is? Chemistry."

"Well chemistry and electronics for us." She laughed.

"Lets sit apart and discuss this."

We sat at opposite corners of the room. The table with our coffee and cake was between us. We both glanced at it, smiled, stood up, retrieved our mugs and cake, and returned to sit in our corners.

Neither of us knew what to say. We sipped and nibbled.

Eventually she spoke.

"I think I liked you from the start, when you rescued me from that party."

"Well I know that I wanted to rescue you, not just anybody."

"Chemistry at first sight?"

We were silent again.

"More coffee?

"Please."

I sat while she left the room. I could hear all the noises. The clunk as she put the empty mugs down. The clatter as she lifted the kettle. The hiss of the water from the tap. The kettle clattered back onto its base. Then there was the sharper click of its switch.

A cupboard door opened. A teaspoon tinged against a jar. Again. The cupboard closed again.

Silence.

Then I heard that shooshing sound that comes as the element heats up in the cold water.

The listened to pot takes a long time to boil too.

After aeons it did.

Click. It switched itself off.

Clatter. She had lifted it.

She must have been pouring.

Clatter. The kettle was back in its place.

Teaspoon in mug.

She came back in, and put both mugs on the table.

She looked at me.

"I've been thinking."

I nodded. So had I.

"I would like you to come and sit over here again."

"You mean?"

"Yes."

"You sure?"

"Who cares whether it is chemistry or electronics or old-fashioned love. I like it."

We kissed, and the coffee went cold.

It had happened so quickly. We both wanted to take things further there and then, but equally, we were both aware that we might be deceiving ourselves. We agreed that we should take things slowly. We agreed that we should not meet in each others home's again until we were sure. We did go to a lot of films, and we did not watch very much of them. We got to know the pubs and cafés with dark intimate corners. We lasted a couple of months.

I have not the faintest idea what the film was. All I know was that the weather had been good when we went into the cinema, and it was pouring when we came out. A man was going round emptying the rubbish bins in front of the cinema, and he had a roll of black plastic bin liners on his trolley.

I approached him and and begged a bin bag from him. I used my penknife to slit it so the the bag corners made a sort of double rain hood. With our arms around each, with out heads covered by the makeshift cloak, we made for the bus stop. It was unsheltered, and there was a long queue. Even if a bus came we were not sure of being able to get on it.

It was raining, so there was no chance of getting a taxi. My flat was nearest. When we got there our legs were soaked, but otherwise, we were not too damp.

" Magnificently inspired protection Sir."

She swept the bin bag off us as if it had been a heavy velvet cloak.

Before I could stop myself I blurted out "We don't need to improvise protection now."

"No!"

She grinned, and opened her bag and took out a

large box of condoms.

"No, No, No, that isn't what I meant." I was blushing, What I had been thinking did not exactly involve condoms, but it did, in fact run along exactly parallel lines.

Neither of us were virgins. She had lived for several years with someone called Pete. Pete was long gone. I had been married. Somewhere I had a couple of children and an ex-wife. Depression had led to squabbles had led to depression had led to divorce. After the children, and before the divorce I had had a vasectomy. That had been the protection that I had been thinking about being unnecessary.

She misunderstood my noes. She thought that I didn't want her. She was about to cry.

I put my arms around her. I hugged her. She raised her face to me.

"Don't you want to?"

"I do. I do. What I meant was that..."

She did not let me explain.

She laughed. Her voice changed to a sort of robotic monotone.

"My electrons are working. You are my leader.

Take me to your bedroom."

That evening we made the greatest discovery.

As I said. Neither of us were virgins. Similarly, neither of us were porn stars. Neither of us had experienced passionate sessions of copulation lasting for hours and hours. She was not expecting to display a series of earth and ear shattering orgasms as soon as her private parts were diddled with.

We undressed each other slowly and lovingly. As her blouse came off I cradled a breast in my hand, still in its bra cup. The friction through the fabric excited her. I gently circled her nipple with my finger tip. She smiled, and I felt the surge as much as she did. I was not having to guess what might feel nice for her. I knew it. There was no guesswork. All her erogenous areas were there for the discovery.

I turned her back towards me and undid her bra. I ran my finger lightly up her spine. No reaction. I kissed the back of her neck. Wow. I stroked her earlobe. Wham.

She unbuttoned my shirt and ran her fingers over my chest. She undid my belt and trouser waist band. They slid downwards.

We laughed.

It was clear that my underpants were not going to be removed so easily. She was too shy to try, and so I wrangled my penis back into my boxer-shorts so as to permit their removal. She slid her own pants down.

Under other circumstances I would have been ashamed. I was living on my own. I am not the tidiest person at best. My bathroom's -- well shower room's -- door was agape and it was in need of a good clean. The toilet needed scrubbing. My bedroom was a tip. At least the sheet and duvet cover were reasonably clean. She lay beside me and started to explore. She ran her fingers up my leg. She stopped. You are cold and wet. So am I. And I need to pee. Come on.

She dragged me off my bed, and towards my shower room.

She stopped.

"Is the water hot?"

"It will be."

"Good. Get it running."

She sat on the loo. I remembered the total lack of self consciousness between man and wife. This wasn't the hormones flooding through us. It was natural, it was trust, sharing and friendship. The lust was there as well of course, but underneath that we had more. We had been holding off intimacy for so long, and now that we had taken the plunge (well almost) we were a complete couple. I readied the shower, she finished her pee, and joined me.

The warm relaxing water slowed us down. I rummaged amongst the empty plastic bottles and found one with some shower gel in it. I squeezed some onto my hand, and passed her the bottle. I rubbed my hands together, and started to rub her back. She put down the bottle, and braced herself against the wall as I ran my finger tips over her. I knew exactly when I was massaging the right place. If you have ever given a successful back rub then you will know the lines:-

"Ow, that hurts."

"Yes, just there."

"Ow. Ow, OW. OOOch. OOOOCCCH."

"No, don't stop."

"OOOOWWWW."

I could not stop myself. My hands slipped under her arms and cradled her boobs. She pressed herself back against me, grinding her buttocks onto my penis. She soon knew just how I felt about that, and parted her legs so that my penis could be better accommodated and held. She knew she was pleasing me. In response, I found her nipples and gently tweaked and circled them. She thrust her buttocks back and forth. My penis, lubricated by the shower gel slid between them, and pressed against her rosebud. She liked that -- my god, she liked that.

Her knees gave way, and I found myself supporting her under her armpits. She recovered and turned to face me.

"Before we both collapse, lets finish the shower."

We were both laughing so much by the time we had finished that we were aching. We had started to try to wash the other without causing titillation. But then we each tried to thwart the other's attempts. We ended up washing ourselves, while trying to avoid touching, which in the tiny shower cubicle was impossible. We rinsed each other, 'accidentally' spraying the water at areas that seemed to be the most excited by the process.

At last I pushed the shower door open, and went in search of some clean towels. When I returned she was finishing, with a rather glassy look upon her face, by making sure that all her nooks and crannies were well rinsed. She turned the water off, and I wrapped her in the towel.

We both knew that making love would be the end of the evening. We would both sleep like logs. We wanted to do it, but we wanted to extend the preliminaries as long as we could. This was so wonderful, we did not want it to end, however ecstatically. There was another problem. We were wet. My flat is draughty. We were already feeling cold again.

"Do you want a hot drink?"

"Yes please," she answered.

I found an old pair of floppy slippers and a thick old dressing gown for her. I slipped on some rubber sandals and wrapped myself in a blanket.

"Tea? Coffee? Cocoa? - but I haven't got a lot of milk."

A few minutes later we were nude again, snuggling under the duvet sipping hot dark cocoa.

"Come here you."

She pulled my face toward her, and licked my upper lip.

"You had a chocolate moustache."

"I wasn't going to mention things like that."

I licked my finger, and used it to remove a speck of cocoa from her chin. I licked my finger again, and then dipped it into my cocoa. She saw me do it, and looked quizzical.

I lifted the duvet, and dabbed the drip of cocoa onto her breast.

We both grinned.

She took a last slurp from her mug. Then dipped her finger into the dregs, and adorned her other breast with another drip. She put her mug down on the bedside cabinet.

She lay back, parted her legs, and guided me to lie between them so that my chin was resting between her boobs.

"I think that you had better clean up the mess you made."

"Do I have to?"

"Yes you do."

"It wasn't all me. You made a mess as well."

"No arguing. Get on with it. Now."

When my lips touched her nipple we both gasped. She arched, and then pushed her crotch upwards against my belly. One nipple, and then the other pulsed to engorgement.

"Please. Now. Now, my love."

I crawled up her body. I kissed her lips. She squirmed, and positioned herself ready with her chasm just parting around me.

I slowly pressed inwards. She parted, welcomed, caressed and gave herself to me. The shared waves of pleasure as we slowly united were... were...

They were indescribably wonderful.

We lay still, united, luxuriating in shared pleasure, for what seemed a long time. It may have been minutes or only seconds. Then she ground herself against me. I withdrew a little and then thrusted. I rotated my hips.

"Oh God, you've got it. Don't stop."

Her eyes were closed. Her mouth was open in a silent scream.

She started to shake. She was bucking underneath me. I tried to maintain the pressure where she wanted it,

"Oh Fuck. Fuck."

She arched and bucked, swearing at each movement of my penis within her.

I am only a man. I can only do what I can. I tried to pace myself, but I didn't stand a chance. Eyes closed, I pounded into her, out of all control. In return, she squirmed and swore.

And it was beautifully and sweatily and stickily over. I was panting. She was panting. I could feel her muscles surrounding me, pulsing and spasming.

I was just conscious enough to know that, were I to relax my arms then I would collapse like a dead weight onto her, so as well as I could, I grasped her to me and we rolled over, somehow maintaining unity. I pulled a pillow across for her to rest her head upon.

Sometime later -- I have no way of knowing how much later, I awoke, reached out and turned the bedside light off, squirmed my other arm beneath her to allow it a bit of blood flow and went back to sleep.

She gave notice on her bed-sit and moved in with me.

A couple of weeks later two letters arrived from the clinic, one for each of us. They were both similar letters of apology. It seemed that their electronics technicians had noticed a problem.

'The implants have to be made with a unique electronic identifier, so that they can only communicate with their own control unit. We believe that in a few cases these identifiers have been duplicated. In the unlikely event... bla bla bla.'

'Please could you make an appointment to visit the clinic so that we can ensure that your implant identifiers are not one of the duplicates.'

We ignored the invitation.

*

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Personally, I hope you enjoy them!

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