Not Again

My breathing was ragged as yet another climax erupted from both my rectum and vagina. I could hear the drips hitting the tarp from the flood of my fluids that oozed out of my pussy. With Marva slowly reducing the intensity of the vibrations, I basked in the afterglow, and shuddered when the balls were pulled out, leaving me empty -- for the moment.

More water, then another coat of the warming oil was applied, mixing with my sweat and cum. I giggled when Audrey tickled my ribs and sang "You ain't seen nothin' yet!" Hanging limply from my bindings, they let me rest for a few minutes before starting the next wave of my Play Day.

A loud knock on my door woke me up. Damn, I guess I fell asleep after all. That had always been one of my best recurring dreams, too, and I was sad that it wasn't allowed to finish! Just so you have an idea, the rest of my Play Day had involved (light) spankings, feathers, vibrating dildoes, chocolate syrup and whipped cream, among other delights.

Julia poked her head in, said good morning, and came in. It was about 7:30, a half hour before her shift began, and she wanted to stop in and check on me. I told her I actually felt pretty good, just a mild sore throat (and my newest disability, dead fingers). She smiled, and said "Shit, Jer, as well as you adapted to losing your foot, this should be a piece of cake." I told her "Yeah, but I'm running out of body parts to fuck up!" (It's very unprofessional when a nurse blows snot out of her nose from laughing, don't you think?)

We talked for a few minutes, then she had to leave for her day. I slipped my foot on, and went to use the bathroom, washing my face and finger-combing my hair as best I could. I did run a soapy washcloth over my armpits, pussy, and butt, but I still stunk. My mouth felt like a trainload of hoboes had shit in it, but all I had was that little bottle of hospital mouthwash to tide me over. At least, I was able to order 'real' food for breakfast, and got scrambled eggs, toast, and dishwater they called coffee.

I called 'Nique at home, and she said she was about to shower and get ready to come spring me from captivity. She said she'd be here after calling in to work and putting out any fires that needed her attention ('Nique is the President of the division for design and development at the company she works for). I begged her to please, please, bring me some good coffee when she came.

One of the day nurses came in to check my vitals one last time, then a candy-striper came in with a plastic pan with a comb, toothbrush, and disgusting toothpaste. She offered to give me a sponge bath, but I passed on that -- hopefully, I'll be able to take a real shower before long, to get rid of this funky odor I'm starting to notice. Tired of laying on the bed, I just sat in the chair in my room, watching TV and waiting.

'Nique got to the room a few minutes after 9:00. We kissed good-morning, and I kissed her again when she gave me the large cup of coffee she'd brought. She'd wrinkled her nose when we kissed, and said "Baby, I don't want to hurt your feelings, but you reek!" I laughed, and told her I knew it, and couldn't wait until I got home and could shower or at least take a bath. While we waited for Dr. Sanderson, and freedom, she'd also brought me my toothbrush and some good toothpaste, and a brush for my hair. I was able to freshen my breath and make myself somewhat presentable, despite smelling like a goat farm.

The doctor showed up around 10:30 AM. After having me do some tests (squeezing his fingers, trying to push and pull his forearms apart and together, and pushing down and up on his closed fists), he said there was still a little weakness, but that was normal. The numbness, tingling, and bloated feeling was still there, and he warned me again that it may be permanent, but there was no way to tell this soon after surgery.

Dr, Sanderson said "Jeri, I'm going to go ahead and release you. I know you probably want to go home and clean up, but I'd advise you to take a shower instead of a bath. Obviously, don't scrub the incision, and just make sure you rinse thoroughly, dry the incision carefully, and put a fresh bandage on. Then, young lady, I want you off your feet, resting." I smiled, and gave him a salute, saying "Whatever it takes to get out of here, sir!"

While he arranged with the charge nurse for my release, I changed into the clean panties, linen drawstring pants, and T shirt that 'Nique had brought. Putting my stuff in the canvas tote that 'Nique brought, we sat and waited. Surprisingly, it only took about 30 minutes, then I was turned loose. I didn't have to wait for a 'wheelchair ride' like they used to do in the hospital, and we rode the elevator down to outside and freedom.

8

'Nique stopped on the way home at our favorite burger joint, and we got some juicy cheeseburgers, fries, and cokes. I was salivating in the car, and demolished the meal once we got in the house. Aahh, real food at last!

I went in the master bathroom and stripped, taking off my foot and hopping in the shower. I have a special stool that I use to stand on, with a dimple where I can rest my stump while I shower. 'Nique got naked and joined me, and carefully scrubbed my body and shampooed my hair. We dried off, then she re-dressed my wound. Putting the foot back on (I've been wearing it for 16 years, so I'm very comfortable with it), I put on a thin cotton robe and plopped my butt in one of the soft leather recliners we have in the living room.

'Nique asked me if I'd be okay this afternoon, because she wanted to run into work for a few hours to clear up anything needing to be done before the weekend. I told her I'd be fine, and that I was going to probably go outside and sit on the deck in the sun for a while, and call Brad and Rhonda. She dressed in jeans and a nice blouse (it's Casual Friday), and took off, kissing me and promising to bring back something good for dinner.

Taking my phone, I went out on the deck by the pool, and sat in a lounge chair. The sun felt great, and I could take my robe off and soak it up for a while. I know the neighbors are all at work, and we have an 8' privacy fence around our yard anyway, so being naked is not a big deal! After an hour or so of sunning, I sat up to start making my calls.

I called Brad, the General Manager at work, who is technically my boss. He and I have been good friends all the years I've been with our company -- in fact, Brad was the one who recommended me for Service Manager after his promotion to General Manager left the slot open. After some good-natured banter, I told him I was going to take a week of my vacation next week, to recover. Brad said it would be no problem, and that he and Russell (my Asst. Service Manager) could keep things going. Chuckling, Brad said "Don't tell Russell, but he's actually pretty damn sharp, when he's forced to be!"

I told him about the surgery, and he said "Aw, hell, Jer, if the doctor wants you to rest, you might as well come in to work. You just sit on your ass all day now as it is, looking at lesbo porn or playing games anyway!" He said he could take my foot away, so that I had to follow doctor's orders instead of running around the shop like I tend to do.

Laughing, I said "Yeah, Brad, I'd like to see you try. And if I did come in, it would just be to inspect you every day to make sure you're dressed properly?" I tease him mercilessly about his dress since the day he came in wearing mismatched socks and a baby-puke yellow sweater that was the ugliest thing I've ever seen. And on his 6'3" frame, that was a lot of yellow to look at! With a laugh, Brad said "Okay, damnit, Gimp, the gloves are off now!" I shot back "Good, because they probably don't match anyway!"

After we finished jabbing at each other, I ended the call and called Rhonda. I told her what happened, and she said "Ohmygod, Jeri! Are you okay?" After assuring her I was, I told her that my recurring dreams had returned, and she said "Well, I would imagine so! Listen, my afternoon's free, so can I come over? As your friend and shrink, I think we ought to talk." I said that's what I was hoping, and told her I'd make us some iced tea.

I went in, put on some shorts and a T-shirt, and made the tea. Rhonda's office is only about 10 minutes away, so she got here pretty quick. After hugs and kisses when she came in, I poured some tea and we settled on the couch.

Rhonda and I met when I was 21, just after my wreck and losing my foot. I'd just started my physical therapy, and was lying in my hospital bed after a really grueling session. She came in, introduced herself, and said she was a psychologist who would help me adjust to the trauma of losing a limb. I was still in a foul mood from the accident, and I snapped something about how the hell could she know what I was going through.

Sitting in a chair by my bed, Rhonda grinned and said "My dear, I think I have a good idea. You might say I have a leg up on knowing what you're going through!" With that, she swung her right leg up on the bed...the prosthesis clearly outlined under her pants leg. Her leg from below the knee had been amputated due to, you guessed it, a car wreck.

My respect for her shot through the roof! She's been a godsend, helping me get through the shock and adjustment of losing my foot. I learned that humor was a great tool, both for myself and to help others who are always kind of awkward when they first realize I'm an amputee. She proved that point when she brought me a present one day. When I unwrapped it, I nearly fell out of the bed laughing. It was a pair of those old-time wood rulers we used as kids, and the card simply read "Now, you have 2 feet again!" The old saying 'Laughter is the best medicine' is really true! Those rulers are framed in our home, a constant reminder for me that, no matter what, it could be worse.

Rhonda helped me understand the recurring dreams, and why they usually only happened when I was in a stressful situation. She was there with me as I learned to use my prosthesis, giving little tips along the way. We've remained friends ever since, for 16 years. And, she put me in touch with the personal injury lawyer, who took my case pro bono against the freight company that owned Angry Van. That in itself evolved into a strange creature.

It turned out the driver of Angry Van had been fleeing the police. He was part of a 'gang' of 7 or 8 thugs who'd been hired by a corrupt hiring manager, and they had their own little enterprise going, selling drugs out of the delivery vans! This was a very large freight delivery company, and they wanted to keep the scandal down as much as they could, so they were quite willing to make a settlement, instead of going to trial. I'm prohibited by an NDA (non-disclosure agreement) from discussing it, but let's just say, even after paying the lawyer's exorbitant fee, I received compensation well in the 7-figure range.

Anyway, as Rhonda and I drank tea, I told her about the ACDF surgery. She was staring at me intently as I told the story, then, in her psychologist mode, she said "Now, Jeri, tell me the rest. The elephant in the room wants to know." I had to think a second about what she meant, then I broke out in the hugest grin my face could hold. I said "Rhonda, until just now, when you mentioned it, I truthfully haven't thought one goddamn bit about drinking!" She smiled, and reached across the couch to give me a big hug.

Sitting back, Rhonda said "Jeri, I am so proud of you. What's it now, 16 years since you kicked that demon's ass?" I nodded yes, and thought back to 'The Wreck'. I was drinking a lot then. Even though it never affected my work, I was definitely on my way to Lushville, being able to polish off a fifth a day with no problem. Being a psychologist, Rhonda had gotten this confession out of me, and acted kind of like a second conscience for me if I ever thought about drinking again.

What was funny, though, after 'drying out' while in the hospital after the amputation, it's like the switch was turned off, and I quit drinking. I've thought about it from time to time, but know if I ever touch it again, liquor will jump right in and finish off the job it started...leading me to the grave. Besides, I don't need any outside stimuli to make my life full, not since I met my 'Nique.

Rhonda said I'd probably have the recurring dreams for a little while, but that it shouldn't be nearly as long as when I'd had them after my last spinal surgery at 30. The talk shifted to more mundane things, and Rhonda got up to leave after an hour or so, saying she needed to get home so she could take their son to his Little League baseball game. We hugged and kissed at the door, and I thanked her for coming over to see her favorite little crazy patient. I laid back in one of the recliners when she left -- plenty of time for a nap before 'Nique gets home.

9

Monique Adderley. I couldn't get the name, or the face, out of my mind. The woman haunted my thoughts, even though we've only been on a few dates so far. At 5'9", she's taller than 'normal', but her stature is perfect for her 36C-25-35 body, framed with dirty blonde hair cut in a shaggy bob style. Her hazel eyes and full lips seemed to be watching me, even though she wasn't here with me.

We'd met a few weeks ago at a trade show in our city. I went with Brad, who was the Service Manager at the printer/computer repair business we worked at, and 'Nique (she said she didn't like her full name) was a junior VP with one of the large printer manufacturers that we distributed for and were a warranty repair center for. She and I fell into an easy conversation, and she invited me to coffee during a break at the show.

Brad (who knew I was single, alone, and gay) had winked and told me to go on, and happy hunting! He held up two fingers, sticking his tongue between them. Crazy bastard! We had coffee, and found we both had a lot in common, both in our likes and dislikes. I was being cautious, but my heart leapt when she bluntly said she thought I was adorable, and asked me out to dinner that weekend. She said "Jeri, I want you to know right from the start, I'm a lesbian. I don't know if it's the fabled 'gaydar' or what, but I get the same kind of vibe from you. If I'm wrong, and you don't want to go out with me, I'll understand, but I just think you're interesting, and I'd like to get to know you better."

I couldn't wipe the grin off my face when I took her hand and said I was a lesbian, too, unattached, and that I'd love to go out with her. I'd been living alone in the condo I had at the time, and was craving going out with another girl. Ever since my wreck, though, I've been a little gun-shy. What would she think when she found out I was missing a body part? Would she still find me 'adorable', or turn up her nose in disgust? Thousands of 'what-ifs' ran through my head as I anxiously counted down the two days before our date.

Our first date was a fantasy come true. I'd worn nice slacks (to hide my prosthesis) and a silky blouse, with 2" heels. She had on a flowing cotton dress that showed off her gorgeous figure, with 1" heel flats, and we turned several heads when we walked into the Italian restaurant, holding hands. She said she didn't wear high heels much, because of her height. I told her it didn't matter to me, that she'd be beautiful even if she was 6'6" tall, or a 3' tall little person! Blushing, she thanked me, and we proceeded to have a lovely dinner.

I found out she'd been born in Florida, but her parents were currently in Hungary, where her father was an emissary in Budapest. She'd been living with her aunt for several years, since she and her folks had agreed that she needed to be educated here in the United States. After graduating from college, she'd gotten a job with the company where she still works, and had relocated to the city where we both live now. She said she'd found out early that she liked females, and had several brief affairs during the years, but still hadn't found anyone she wanted to be with long-term.

I told her about my disastrous year at college, where the only good thing I'd discovered was that I was a lesbian. She patted my hand in sympathy when I told her about being disowned by my family. Then, biting the bullet, I said "One thing you need to know, 'Nique, is that when I was 21, I was in a horrendous wreck, and I had to have my left foot amputated." I raised the leg of my pants to show her my prosthesis, and she seemed fascinated instead of being turned off when I told her about the physical and mental therapy I'd had to go through.

'Nique listened with rapt attention while I described my two childhood operations, and the hepatitis bout. She was holding my hand, her thumb stroking the back of my hand when I told her about my first spinal surgery at 18. I looked in her eyes, and raised one of my eyebrows, saying "But tonight, sweetie, maybe my luck has changed for the better. This has been one of the best nights I've had in a very long time." I smiled, turned her hand over and softly kissed her palm, thanking her for listening and not freaking out.

When she took me home, 'Nique walked me to the door, held my face in her hands and gave me a kiss that ignited my whole body. (When I was younger, I'd accidentally backed into an electrified cattle fence -- bzzzzt - that's the feeling I had after her kiss!) I asked her if she wanted to come in, but she said "Jeri, I like you...a lot. Baby, let's take it slow. I've been in enough 'wham, bam, thank you ma'am' things, and I want to know Jeri Kincaid first, before we jump in bed together. Call me old-fashioned, but I want a relationship, not just a quick romp."

She kissed me again, and left. Going inside, I just leaned back against the door for a minute, trying to understand this feeling I had inside. Wow, I've never felt this way before, and all we did was kiss!

We had several dates before we did go to bed together, and while we'd slowly been getting there, that night cemented the fact that we were in love with each other. There was no fucking for fucking's sake -- we made love to each other, gentle and caring. Not long after that, we decided to move in together, and I used some of my settlement money to buy us our present home, a brick 3-bedroom ranch in the suburbs.

The garage door opening roused me from this fantastic dream. I got up, greeting 'Nique with a kiss when she came in. Aroma from one of my favorites, Mongolian Stir-Fry and fried rice, filled the air. While I got dishes and drinks ready, she went and changed into shorts and a T-shirt.

While we ate, I told her about calling Brad, and Rhonda coming over. She smiled warmly when I told her about my nap, and the dream of our first date and our continuing relationship. Leaning over to kiss me, she said "You know, honey, it's hard to believe that was 14 years ago, and I still love you as much or more than I did when we had that first kiss." I got up and straddled her in her chair, then we kissed each other deeply for a few minutes before I got up and we cleaned up the remnants of our dinner.

Moving outside to sit on the deck by the pool, 'Nique decided she was going for a dip. Not hearing any noises from the neighbors, she just stripped and dove in naked. I was stuck on the sidelines for now, but it was still delightful to watch her body glide through the water. We stay in shape with running and swimming (I have special feet for each), and even at 39 years old, 'Nique's body is smooth and tight.