Isolated Together Ch. 02

This is part two of "Isolated Together". It picks up about three months after the first part, just as the summer of the COVID-19 pandemic is getting under way. If you haven't read the first part, I suggest you go read that one first. If you are looking for a quick stroke, this is probably not the right story for you.

Shannon works for the Department of Transportation and was sent into a work-at-home status due to the pandemic. Hank is his neighbour who lives in the apartment across the landing. She is a CRNA and works the midnight shift in the ER. They met during COVID and are trying to figure out where their relationship goes next.

I hope you and your families are safe and healthy.

***************

29 June 2020

Shannon rolled out of bed and went into his home office. He put his ID card into the slot on his laptop and started the login process.

After firing up the Keurig, he heard Hank's door open and close.

He went back to his workstation to begin his morning. Work was slow. There was a morning team meeting via teleconference.

His phone buzzed at noon.

busy?

just lunch. i'm doing training in half hour he replied, surprised that Hank was awake. She usually slept until mid-afternoon.

They had settled into something of a routine.

Shannon's life was mostly unremarkable and decidedly regular. He switched his schedule to Monday through Friday, from 6 AM to 2:30 PM. With gyms and fitness centers closed, he picked up running again and bought a Bowflex which took up half of his home office.

Hank still worked overnight shifts; from 7 PM to 7 AM on a Pittman schedule, with seven shifts spread over two weeks in two or three day blocs. They spent time together when they could.

As the months wore on, and doctors and scientists learned more about COVID, Shannon grew less fearful of contracting the virus, knowing that Hank was doing everything she could to mitigate her own exposure and the possibility of infecting him if she were to pick it up again.

Immediately after returning home from work, she stripped down and put her clothes in the washing machine. Then she showered before going to sleep while Shannon worked. Usually by the time she woke up, he was just finishing his work day. They had some time together if they wanted, and then she went back to work.

Shannon also altered some of his own behaviours. They were swimming in hand sanitizer. They wore masks with filter pockets in them using KN95 inserts when they could get them or washable filters if they needed. They got take-out dinner if they didn't cook for themselves.

Curbside delivery became standard, and they got their money's worth out of the "free" delivery from that company which shares its name with a rain forest, even though Shannon loathed the idea of enriching Jeff Bezos any more than he had to. Shannon went out of his way to tip extra when he could, and always in cash.

Their social lives migrated to an almost exclusively online presence, either through Zoom, Facebook Messenger, Instagram or Skype.

Her parents called every night around dinner time and welcomed Shannon into their lives, accepting him as fact.

They never pressed Shannon about his relationship with their daughter, but Hank told him her mother was especially giddy that she was dating someone. For real, and not just through a Match.com account that seemed to be overrun with random bot accounts and men her father's age who were having their mid-life crisis.

One night, they called his mother. Margaret-Ann warmly received the news that her son was seeing someone who not only had a good job, but wasn't an "uptight, self-righteous shrew" as his ex-wife was described. She seemed to hit it off right with Hank.

Fifteen minutes before the afternoon training was to begin, Shannon logged into the Skype meeting, set up the presentation, checked his microphone, and uploaded some documents to use as examples.

Since the volume of work was low, the director decided that training was in order. There was some complaining from the usual suspects in the office, but once they were told the alternative was furloughs, the bitching stopped; if the alternatives were being laid off or death by PowerPoint, everyone preferred to get paid.

He started promptly at 12:30. Shannon tried not to be that trainer who read every slide word for word and has several examples ready to show and a demonstration case from his regular work. His audience was fairly quiet; it was right after lunch and the subject was remedial for anyone who had been with the agency for more than a couple of years.

After about fifteen minutes, he heard the door to his apartment open. He glanced over to see Hank wearing a bathrobe and carrying a pillow, her still-wet hair pulled back into a sloppy bun.

Trying to keep his attention on the lesson, he watched out of the corner of his eye as Hank stopped in the door to his office and dropped her bathrobe.

She was bare underneath.

It was all Shannon could do to finish a complete sentence about the slide on the screen. He hurriedly checked to make sure the Post-It note was covering the camera built into his laptop.

It wasn't on for the Skype meeting and was angled so it didn't show the door, but he had a moment of panic anyway.

Hank smiled wickedly and blew him a kiss.

Her breasts were perky. The nipples distended. Her neatly shaved pussy glistened for him.

But it was her smile. Her wicked, charming smile. It captivated him. His heart skipped a beat.

Then she turned around, spread her legs and bent over enough to show him the faux-ruby on the jeweled end of the buttplug which was lodged up her shapely backside.

His first instinct was to drop his headphones and rush over to take her, but Shannon liked his job. And he needed the paycheck.

As he continued to talk, Hank set the pillow on the floor in the doorway and lay back, her legs spread for him to see.

Her pert breasts fell only slightly to the sides.

She indulgently cupped her breasts, drawing the nipples into sharp little points.

Shannon had to will himself not to rush through the last seven slides.

Out of the corner of his eye, he was acutely aware of Hank touching herself as he droned on and on about purchasing regulations and procedures.

Her eyes shining with lust, she circled her clit with her fingers, parting the folds of her labia, just to show off for Shannon. Her other hand cupped one of her breasts.

She pinched the rock-hard nipple just to tease him some more.

Silently, Hank brought herself to orgasm, writhing in ecstasy just feet away from Shannon, taunting him as he worked.

"Does anyone have any questions about anything I've talked about today?" he asked, trying not to use his "Everyone-needs-to-shut-the-fuck-up-and-leave-me-alone" voice.

Of course there was someone with a question. One of the dumber people in the office, who never paid attention and wondered why he was always passed over when selection for promotions came around.

It was all Shannon could do not to tell this person he was a goddamn idiot (something he did a couple of years previously, and for which he was given a verbal reprimand, although the assistant director made it clear he wished he could have told this person the same thing in as many words) and went back to the slide which showed the answer to the question in stark black and white.

Still laying on the floor, Hank suppressed a laugh as Shannon tried to rush to end the training without making it obvious he was rushing to end the training.

Just to be mean, Hank crawled across the room, her breasts swaying beneath her.

Shannon put up token resistance as she tugged at his waistband. He lifted himself off the chair enough for her to pull his shorts and boxers down.

It did not take much effort for her skillful hands to bring him to full mast.

"Thank you for your time," He barely managed to mute his microphone just as Hank sucked nearly the length of his cock into her mouth. "Jesus Christ!"

He gathered himself as she continued her oral assault and un-muted the microphone. "There is an assessment to fill out. Have a good afternoon."

Logging out of the meeting, he reached over and shut the lid on the laptop just to make sure no one saw or heard him getting a blowjob from his girlfriend while still on the clock.

Hank bobbed up and down on his lap. Shannon's eyes rolled back into his head as he sank into his chair.

She edged him for what seemed like an eternity.

Her lips ran up and down the length of his shaft.

Her hands cupped his balls firmly but gently.

Her mouth never left his tumescent sex.

Shannon gripped the armrest on his chair as he fought the urge to push her head down on him, his knuckles turning white.

When it seemed like the fiftieth time that she had him almost to the point of orgasm, but backed off once again, Hank stood and leaned over to give Shannon a kiss. Her hand never left his cock, stroking him gently.

"You won't be working for the rest of the day, sweetheart," she blew in his ear.

His eyes were hooded over with pleasure. Barely coherent, he watched her saunter out of the room, pausing only to turn seductively in the doorway and blow him a kiss, before heading to his bedroom.

In record speed, he opened up his computer and fired off a quick message to his boss.

Hank was waiting in the bed, splayed out in all of her naked glory.

When she went to work that night, her battered pussy was full of cum. Shannon slept contentedly, dreaming of his insatiable girlfriend.

****************

Shannon sat uncomfortably on the sofa behind Hank and her roommate, Sumeeta. Both girls were crying.

The livestream of the memorial service was handled very well for what it was. Only immediate family was gathered in the church. The pastor said all the right things. Recorded music played.

The nurses, doctors and staff from the hospital watched as passive participants as they celebrated the life and mourned the death of one of the ER nurses who had caught COVID and passed very quickly.

The service ended, and Hank logged out of the computer and gave her friend a long, consoling hug.

Three months into COVID in the United States, they lived in a small bubble.

Sumeeta worked essentially by herself in the hospital lab. Shannon only went out to pick up curbside delivered groceries or to run through a drive-through for fast food. Most of the table service restaurants in town had closed down or were running limited menus for pick-up or delivery. They cooked dinner on a rotating schedule.

Hank had the most interactions with people outside of their bubble.

"I can still carry coronavirus and I could infect you with it," she told him late one night after another person in the hospital contracted COVID.

"Are you trying to break up with me?" Shannon asked with a frown.

"No . . . it's not that," she looked away. "I don't know if I could live with myself if I gave this thing to you and you got sick or died."

"How often are you tested?" he asked. They had this conversation before, and would have it again.

"Once a week."

"And you have masks and faceshields?"

"Yes, we have a pretty steady supply now."

"And everyone who comes into the ER is given a mask when they arrive?"

"Yes."

"I believe we are doing everything we can to stay safe," Shannon said gently. "Yes, there is risk, but we're doing everything we can, right?"

She nodded.

"You've already had coronavirus, so you should have the antibodies, and I can make an informed choice over this, honey," he took her shaking hands in his. "We are not being careless, and we're doing everything the CDC says we should, unlike the cov-idiots and maskholes out there."

"I know," she whispered and cuddled up to him. "I don't want to lose you . . . but I don't want to go back to being lonely again."

Shannon held her tight and kissed her forehead lovingly.

Some variation of that conversation happened every time someone around them caught COVID. Thankfully, only a couple of their close friends and acquaintances became seriously ill or died, but that was still too many.

Sumeeta's phone buzzed. Then Hank's, too. She tapped out a quick text message which turned into ten.

After a few minutes, she got up and went to the kitchen and began rummaging through the liquor cabinet. "Zoom meeting in 5 minutes."

Hank went to her iPad and logged into the video conference. A dozen of the nurses and doctors from the ER were already gathered, their portraits filling the screen as more people joined in.

Shots of tequila were passed around.

Someone Shannon didn't know began to speak of their colleague. He stayed quiet, not knowing anyone other than the two roommates across the hall.

The impromptu gathering ended after twenty or so minutes and four drinks.

Shannon left the girls alone for a few minutes and went back to his apartment to make a light lunch.

They ate solemnly and quietly.

Hank would be leaving for work after having a couple of hours to sober up. As Shannon was cleaning the remnants of lunch, Hank stopped by his apartment, already dressed in her scrubs for work.

"Sumeeta is thinking of leaving the hospital," she said quietly.

The pair sat there in silence as they absorbed the implications.

"Our lease doesn't expire for another eight months," Hank shifted uncomfortably.

"Can you afford to live by yourself?" Shannon asked curiously.

"Yes," she replied. "But I've been thinking about moving, too."

Shannon's jaw dropped.

"Not out of state or anything . . . I'm thinking of buying a house," Hank said quickly. "I know this isn't the greatest time to drop this on you, but I'd like to know . . ."

Her voice trailed off and she looked away. It took a moment for her to gather her thoughts. Shannon thought he knew where this was going, but didn't want to jump the gun.

Hank gathered herself and looked into Shannon's eyes. It was like she was staring right into his soul. "Would you like to move in with me?"

The words hung over them. She forced an awkward smile. "I haven't even started looking--"

"Yes," he said quietly. "Yes, I'd like that."

She breathed a sigh of relief, which turned into a surprised yelp! when Shannon scooped her up in his arms.

"I have to leave in five minutes!" she gave a half-hearted resistance as he carried her back to his bedroom.

Right before he went to bed, he got a short text message. i'm still leaking cum

****************

Hank curled up in Shannon's arms on the loveseat on the back deck. The sky was streaked with reds and yellows as the sun set behind them. Waves crashed against the shore, just over the dunes.

The small beach house was a bargain on Airbnb. It was only two bedrooms and was showing its age, but was on a secluded, but good-sized beachfront lot.

They made the short drive up the coast on one of Hank's long weekends. She had Friday, Saturday and Sunday off, and wouldn't have to be back at work until Monday night at 7 PM. Shannon didn't have any problems taking a couple of days off, since the office was still operating under liberal leave guidelines.

"Your mom sent me a nice birthday message," she yawned. It was not the thirtieth birthday she had envisioned for herself, but it was what they could tolerate in terms of risk to themselves and other people. She had received a flurry of text messages, Facetime calls and well-wishes on Facebook and her Instagram.

Shannon looked down and saw her eyes flutter. A few minutes later, her body jerked a couple of times and her breathing became soft and regular.

He kissed the top of her head and savoured the feel of her against him. Hank was working a lot. The hospital was overloaded with COVID patients, including the ICU.

All elective procedures were canceled. Everyone was screened when they came in. Virtually no visitors were allowed inside. Nurses, doctors and staff were contracting COVID at staggering rates, just as happened to Hank.

Some fell seriously ill. Most had mild symptoms. A few died. A handful of people had serious long-term complications.

Everyone was working to the point of exhaustion.

The only way Shannon was able to convince Hank to take a long weekend away was pointing out that she had worked for nine days straight and he had already paid for the beach house and her birthday weekend.

The testing kits were made widely available, and the shortages of personal protective equipment was getting better. Hank was tested regularly, Shannon less so, but he still went by the health department for a brain scrape every couple of weeks just to check.

Sumeeta left the hospital lab and found a job closer to home with her parents the month before. She agreed to pay her half of the rent until the lease expired or Hank found a house, although she didn't pay on the utilities anymore.

Shannon offered to help, too, since Hank was basically living with him, but she refused to take his money.

When the sun fell low in the sky, Shannon took his lover in his arms and carried her back to the bedroom. He slipped her shoes and belt off, then tucked her under the covers.

She looked so peaceful. He kissed her lips gently, then slipped under the covers with her. She snuggled up to him, and Shannon drifted off not long afterwards.

The warm sensation around his cock roused him from his slumber. Somehow his boxer shorts had disappeared, as had her t-shirt and leggings.

Through the haze that marked the fine line between sleep and consciousness, Shannon felt Hank's light weight on top of him. Her hands pushed his t-shirt up, exposing his bare chest.

Ever so slowly, she lowered herself down the length of his cock. Her pussy contracted around him.

Once she settled down, Shannon heard a contented sigh.

Soft light shone through the blinds, bathing her in an ethereal light. Her eyes were closed.

"Hank--"

"Shhhhhh," she admonished him quietly. "Let me."

Ever so slowly, she rocked her hips back and forth, pressing her clit against him.

Her hair fell over her face. She bit her lip to keep from crying out.

Shannon reached up and cupped her breasts. The nipples hardened at his touch.

Leaning forward into his steady grasp, Hank moved a little faster.

A little harder.

She built a steady rhythm, engulfing Shannon's tumescent sex. She was slick with excitement.

Hank grasped Shannon's hands, intertwined over her breasts.

"Oh!" she gasped as Shannon began to trust up into her, in perfect rhythm with her gyrations. "Just like that!"

They began to move faster, in perfect synchronicity.

Her eyes were closed. Her jaw clenched.

She threw her head back and let out a rapturous scream.

"I'm cumming!" Hank wailed. "Fuck me! . . . Fuck my little pussy!"

Shannon continued just as he had before, meeting his hips meeting hers. He did not vary his pace or stroke, wanting only to watch her face contort with ecstasy as her orgasm enveloped her.

Still clutching his hands in hers, Hank fell into his arms as the cum subsided. She nuzzled up to his neck. Her hair was a sweaty, glorious mess.

"Stay inside me," she whispered, straightening her legs, so she lay atop him, their bodies pressed together.

He brushed her hair out of their faces and hunted around for the top sheet. Now covered, they lay together, coupled in pure bliss.

"I love you," she said so softly he could barely hear her.

Shannon brought her hand to his lips and kissed her fingertips tenderly. "I love you, too."

****************

"What do you think about this one?" They curled up on the couch to get out of the light--but persistent--mid-afternoon rainstorm.

"The kitchen is too small," Hank replied, thumbing through the listings on Zillow on her own iPad. "And the backyard has that weird slope on the one side."