The Friend Across the Hall

"Hello, Chris," I heard a sultry voice whisper. I still had an oxygen mask covering my nose and mouth and my jaws partially wired shut, so the best I could do was an acknowledging grunt. "I won't ask you how you're feeling, I can see." I could hear her crying. I tried to reach to her; she saw the movement and took my hand in hers. "I'm so sorry this happened to you. It's so unfair. I heard all about what happened, what you did." The way information got passed back and forth between the Girlfriends and Sly was still a mystery, but it appeared she had gotten the rundown. "Coming to help Sly and getting into a brawl - that was brave, if maybe a little foolish. But you saved the girl who got pushed into the street. That was straight up badass." She laughed a little through the tears and I made a noise somewhere between a giggle and a gurgle.

My eyes started to focus in the dim light. The unmistakable red hair was framed by the fluorescent light in the hall - like a bronze halo. I couldn't see her face, but she was dressed casually, not her typical rendezvous attire. That made sense; this wasn't a place to attract attention. I was frustrated that I couldn't speak. I had so many questions. None would get answered tonight.

"You need to rest. I'll come back again soon." She gently lifted the mask off my face and even more gently kissed me on the mouth. She passed her thumb over my lips like she always did - I doubted she had left any lipstick behind; it was just part of her ritual. I loved it. "Thank you, Chris. For helping Sly. For helping all of us." I faded off to sleep with a tingle on my lips.

The next two days were an object lesson in patience and fighting panic. Unable to speak and limited in my ability to move, I basically was a prisoner in my hospital bed, with no control over my own body or personal space. The parade of nurses and orderlies did their best to make me comfortable while doing their jobs with practiced efficiency. A doctor stopped in three times per day; nodded, made bad jokes, and told me we'll reassess again tomorrow. Sly would visit for an hour or two.

And Kelly, would spend hours per day, sitting vigil. She'd talk about mundane stuff, read the news to me, tell me (frequently) how much she owed me, and she'd never forget it, and blah, blah, blah. I don't know if she felt guilty about me being alone in the hospital, but she was certainly convincing in her appreciation.

On my fourth day in the hospital, I got moved out of ICU to a regular room. I lucked out in that the kid who was in the other bed in the room got discharged a few hours after I moved in, so I had the place to myself. I was still restricted to liquid food but the wires were removed from my jaw so I could talk a little; it hurt, but it was better than grunting and hissing to make myself understood.

Sly stopped by, with another man. I recognized him as the guy who was getting bullied during the dust-up. "Hey, you up for visitors?" I said yes. "Actual words - nice. You'll be graduating to full sentences in no time." I flipped him the bird. "Chris, this is Trent." He looked rather nervous to see me. I guess if I was visiting someone in the hospital who I didn't know who had gotten himself busted up in a fight defending me, I'd be hesitant, too.

"Hi, Chris. Sly tells me you're feeling a little better." I could tell by the look on his face he was thinking, if this is better what'd he look like before? I would have laughed if it didn't hurt. "Look, there is nothing I can ever say or do to repay what you and Sly did for me that day. As soon as those assholes started hassling me, Sly stepped in and tried to break it up. When they pushed, he pushed back. Then you came along. The two of you, I don't know what would have happened if ..." Trent reached out and took Sly's hand; Sly leaned into him. My eyes grew wide, and Sly immediately noticed.

Sly kissed Trent's hand and said, "Can you give us a minute?" Trent nodded and walked out. When we were alone, Sly sat down and said, "So, that."

"Right, what WAS that?" I asked, trying not to sound too astounded.

"That, whatever it is, happened in the emergency room while we were waiting for news about you."

"Are you two ...?

"Too early to tell. But we seem to like each other a lot. I feel comfortable with him."

"Yeah, but ..." I didn't know how to phrase my question without sounding like a complete dick. For example: Yeah, but aren't you so pathologically afraid of openly being in a relationship with a gay man that you literally created multiple personalities to let you have sex and feel wanted? Nothing offensive or judgmental there.

Fortunately, he decoded the question without me having to say anything. "I'm as amazed as you are. The only explanation I can come up with is that I saw someone else getting abused. If it had been me they were bullying, I'd probably have folded up and passed out. But they didn't know me, didn't know I was gay. But, somehow, they knew Trent. He told me they'd shouted insults at him before, but they never got more aggressive than that. We think they were drinking or high on something when they came after him. Anyway, I recognized the look on his face. I'd seen it in the mirror time and time again. And something snapped. I had never been able to defend myself, but I couldn't stand by and let someone else endure that."

We were both silent, letting it all sink in. "Wow."

He shrugged. "I'm as surprised as you are."

"Now what?"

"I don't know. After we left you for the night at the ER, Trent, Alex, Kelly and I gave statements to the police, and then we all needed a drink. Afterwards I walked him home, right through town. No one could tell if we were two straight friends, gay friends, or lovers. But, it should have scared me to death, and it didn't. Having someone to stand up for gave me more courage than I could ever muster for myself. How's that for some fucked-up self-esteem issues?" I laughed. Ow. "We went to lunch the next day, then met with Kelly at the Police Station to identify the three assholes. Security cams got their license plate when they fled. He and I had a drink, then dinner."

"And then?" I leered.

"Typical guy." He whacked my arm and instantly regretted it. Ow. "Shit. Sorry. I'm an idiot."

"No argument. And then?"

"And then, nothing. Yet. We'll see. Honestly, I'm walking around on egg shells, waiting to see if I freak out."

"Does he know?

"Sort of." He looked away. "I told him about my past abuse and my panic attacks. Not about ... you know."

"The Girlfriends?" He laughed at the term.

"I wouldn't even no how to explain it. He'd probably turn around and run. To another state. Or country."

I saw his point. I almost ran away, and the only reason I didn't was there was a gorgeous redhead - Sylvia - explaining the situation to me at the time.

"I see no reason to tell him. At least not now," I said. Sly nodded. I wondered what impact this would have on the Girlfriends. I'd been very happy to see Sylvia the night before. This was new territory. I was going to ask Sly what he thought, but Kelly chose that exact moment to bustle in.

"Hi Sly. Hi Chris"

"Hi," we said in unison.

"You're talking, that's great."

No, it's not, I thought. At least when I was unable to speak I didn't have to hide my anxiety. Now, I was going to look like a panicky mess. Sly instantly sized up my predicament.

"Hey, I know you just got here, but Chris is really beat. He was going to try and sleep," Sly explained. Total fabrication but I could probably fake sleep, now that I wasn't on a heart rate and blood pressure monitor.

"That's OK. I have lots of work to do," she said, producing a laptop from her bag. "I'll just keep watch for a while." You have to respect her commitment and concern, even if she was inadvertently doing more harm than good. Sly looked at me; his expression said, I don't know what to do, I tried. I nodded. He tried, and I appreciated it.

"Rest up, man. We'll stop by later." No mistaking it - he said "We'll" not "I'll." Good for him. I gave my best fake yawn and closed my eyes, hoping to discourage Kelly. No such luck. I did eventually doze off, and was awakened, rather rudely, by the sound of a tray of food and a collection of pill bottles clattering to the ground. I flinched, which hurt a variety of places that I hadn't previously known were injured. Nice.

I saw Kelly and the nurse rummaging around on the floor, picking up silverware and plates and bit of food. And pill bottles. I looked in horror as Kelly picked up several bottles. In fairness, I don't think she was looking on purpose. Sometimes, you see something in your line of sight and it registers even if you weren't actively paying attention. Kelly's expression changed quickly when she saw the labels. She caught herself and tried to not look shocked, but it was too late. And she knew it.

She hastily placed the pill bottles on my night stand, said a quick, "Oh, god, I'm sorry, I didn't ..." and then ran out of the room. I went from anxious about being in a room alone with a woman to mortified that she now understood the kind of person she was baby-sitting. She probably thought "freak show" and bolted. That was unfair - maybe she was more understanding than that. But she did get out of there in a hurry. At least she was gone.

The nurse brought another tray, I ate some bland pureed food, and then let the pain meds - which they'd started really skimping on, much to my dismay - lull me to sleep.

When I awoke, it was nighttime again. Sylvia was sitting at my bedside. I really hoped I wasn't dreaming. "Hi, sleepyhead," she said, with that familiar warm smile. "How are we doing tonight?"

"Mixed," I replied. "I feel like crap, and you look amazing." She did. Even when she wasn't all glammed up she was breathtaking. She laughed at my hackneyed joke.

"Thank you. You're always so sweet to me." She leaned over and kissed me tentatively. When I didn't wince, she kissed me a little harder. She broke the kiss, ran her tongue around my lips once, then sat back. "I'm glad you're feeling better."

"Much better now," I answered honestly. Seeing Sylvia was doing wonders for my state of mind. "How are you?"

"Great question. I don't know." She looked away. "I'm not sure how to explain how I feel."

"Is something wrong?"

"No. Just the opposite. That's what's odd. I feel great."

"What's wrong with that?"

"Because I don't usually feel this good until after I've seen ... you." The pause meant she omitted "... or someone else." Felicia made it clear that the Girlfriends might have other playmates. Sylvia and I never talked about it. I wasn't going to start now.

"I don't see the problem."

"I don't know if it is a problem. It's just different. Usually when I or one of the other sluts ..." she smiled, I laughed (hoarsely). "... comes out to play, it's to scratch an itch. We want to feel needed, attractive, sexy." She leaned in, with her delicious lips next to my ear. "Fulfilled." That got things stirring I hadn't felt in a while. "That hasn't changed, but it's like ... I don't know ... like I am feeling fulfilled before I even go out. When I feel Sly nearby, it's like I am getting a contact high from him."

I flashed back to how Sly described it when he was near any of the Girlfriends. He called it a mental waiting room, and when he felt one of them pass by after they had been out in the world, it usually felt good. Not like firsthand experience but satisfying in a selfless way. What Sylvia was describing seemed to be the same thing Sly experiences, but in this case, she's getting the secondhand rush from Sly.

I wanted to tread lightly. "Do you know anything about what's going on with Sly these days?"

She laughed softly. "Well, I assumed he was feeling good about himself, since he was putting off some good vibes. And now, since your asked if I knew 'what's going on' that tells me that something is going on. Spill it."

"It's not for me to say."

"C'mon, please?" It was very hard to resist when Sylvia wanted something, but I had no idea what might happen if I broke Sly's confidence. Plus, other than knowing that he liked this guy Trent, I had no other details.

"I really don't have anything to tell you."

She leaned in and licked my ear, which formed an instant bulge that tented the bed sheet. "I'll make you feel really good if you tell me." She started massaging my balls through the thin sheet. God, that felt good. But, Sly deserved his privacy, even from his own sub-conscious passengers. As alluring and sexy as they might be. Which they were. Very.

"Sylvia, no. I can't. If Sly wants you to know, I'm sure he'll find a way to let you know."

She faux pouted for a second, then took her hand off my balls. The bulge remained. Then she said, "I figured you wouldn't break. If you're going to wade into a fist fight with three yahoos and throw yourself in front of a bus to save a damsel in distress, you're totally strong enough to refuse an epic, very grateful, totally heartfelt blowjob, that would probably drain weeks and weeks of pent-up frustration." She licked her lips. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I was trying to be a good friend, but Sylvia was really testing my limits. Then she leaned in close again and whispered in my ear. "Can I tell you a secret?" I nodded. "I was going to blow you pretty much no matter what you said. I just wanted to see if I could get you to spill the gossip. I guess I'll have to get you to spill something else." She licked my ear again and snaked her hand beneath the bedsheet. "But I won't be spilling a drop."

Saying I had a raging hard-on at that moment would not do justice to just how badly I needed to be touched and just how turned on Sylvia was getting me. She rubbed my balls for a good five minutes, kissing me gently, teasing me with her tongue. I think she was trying to determine exactly what she could do without causing me any physical pain. Other than the epic ache she was causing between my legs, that is.

"Be right back," she whispered. She went to the door and closed it. There were no locks, so we were risking someone walking in on us. It was worth it. "Now you be quiet," she warned. "I don't want any interruptions." She flipped the little desklight on the night stand on. She wanted me to see her face. She slowly lifted the bedsheet away, and I was lying there, in a hospital gown. She gently, raised the hem of the gown to release my throbbing cock.

And then she inhaled sharply and put her hand to her mouth. She started to cry. It took me a moment to catch up. She saw the bruising and bandages all up and down my torso from where I was thrown across the pavement by the bus. "Oh god," she gasped between her tears, "you poor thing. I am so sorry this happened. I can only imagine ..." Her voice cracked. "I can only imagine what would have happened to us if you hadn't been there." The line of reality and self-awareness that Sly and the Girlfriends walked was mysterious and difficult to map, but it was pretty clear that Sylvia knew at some level that if Sly had been injured, she would share the injuries. Sly may have been able to keep them in the waiting room, so to speak, to spare them any firsthand experience with any injuries he might have sustained. But who knows? All I knew at that moment was that what Sylvia saw on me she could easily have imagined on Sly and it horrified her. Her tears were dampening my stomach.

She kissed a huge bruise on my side, ever so gently. It hurt a tiny bit, but the warmth of her lips was worth it. I sighed, which she took as a signal to continue. She spent the next five minutes walking around the bed, leaning in and kissing various bruises and cuts. It was more therapeutic than any nursing I'd ever had. Sure, it was exciting, but it was also soothing. She was so careful; each kiss was soft enough not to hurt but carried such feeling to communicate her gratitude.

After she had bravely inspected as much of me as she could without rolling me over or moving anything that shouldn't be moved, she fluffed up a pillow behind my head, walked to the bottom of the bed, spread my legs and crawled between them. She lay with her elbows beneath her, her legs dangling over the edge, heels in the air. "Do not move a muscle. Just relax. I am going to take you someplace you never knew existed. I ask only one thing." The look on her face was serious and sexy all at once. "You keep your eyes open and on me. I want you to see and feel every moment of this."

If I had exploded right then and there, it would still have been the most wonderful and satisfying sexual experience in my life. Fortunately, I didn't. And more fortunately, I was under the care of a virtuoso of giving pleasure. This was her whole reason for being and, although my experience was limited, I could not imagine anyone could ever be better at it.

She began with a sensuous tongue bath. She cradled my balls in her hands, her long sexy nails softly tickling my perineum, and lavished my sac with her wet swirling tongue. It was heavenly. The whole time she never broke eye contact. She had a wicked smile on her luscious lips as she bathed my balls. She knew how good this felt and she loved that she was doing it to me. As instructed, I remained completely motionless. Whatever was going to happen, she was going to do it. I was a passive participant, reaping the benefit of this woman's incredible talent and fabulous imagination.

When my balls were completely soaked, she began licking up and down my shaft. I was twitching and throbbing, my cock pulsing up and down with my heartbeat. She took one hand from under my balls and held the base of the shaft to steady it, while her tongue glided up and down, top, bottom, and sides. She was careful to never let her lips touch me. That would come later; this was the prelude. Designed to heat me up. It was working.

My penis was glistening in the dim light. Slick, wet, and hard as a rock. She looked up at me and said, "Now you'll have to excuse me for just a moment. I am going to make-out with the head of your cock like it was a teenage boy on a first date." That was a perfect description of what she was about to do. She tilted the shaft to her lips and she kissed. And again. And again. She parted her lips and swirled her tongue around the head closing them around me for a moment, then opening again so her tongue could explore. She wrapped her lips around the tip and plunged her tongue into the peehole. Over and over, she probed and licked and pushed her tongue into me. I'm sure I barely dilated but it began to feel like she was pushing her way in and it felt incredible.

At last, her frenzied make-out session slowed down. My penis was sopping wet and tingling. I felt like my cock and balls were suspended in warm honey - not that I know what that feels like but that's what I imagined. I wanted to throw my head back in pleasure and agony. I had never been this worked up in my life, and Sylvia was just getting warmed up.

"Watch this, hon," she purred. She opened her lips and wrapped them around my cockhead, clamped firmly but not uncomfortably so. She inhaled, and I felt a rush of air pass the tip of my cock. And then it began. Without ever loosening her grip, her lips pushed slowly and inexorably down the length of my shaft. Inch after inch slowly disappeared into Sylvia's mouth, and I felt her lips caressing every bit of it. When she reached the bottom, her tongue slithered out and swished my already sopping balls. She seemed in a trance. She was repeating her tongue bath - as much as her tongue could reach - while I was savoring the warm wetness of her magical mouth. She held me there for at least twenty seconds, then without ever breaking the seal of her lips she released my cock little by little until only the tip was still held. And then she did it again. And again. I lost track of how many times I watched spellbound as my dick vanished into Sylvia's gorgeous face. Each time, when I thought I could no longer stand the heat of her mouth, she eased off, and then took me deep again. It was a sensuous slow-motion blowjob epic poem. It was far more intense than anything I'd ever experienced.