The Occupational Therapist

All of my writing is fiction and the characters are products of my imagination. All characters in this story are 18 years of age or older.

The writing here about septic shock is from personal experience, and the therapists described in the story were greatly inspired by the therapists that cared for me.

I hope you enjoy the story and thanks for taking the time to read it. Ratings and comments are greatly appreciated.

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"How far you going tonight?" Zac asked, stuffing two squares of his Hershey bar into his mouth.

"Eight miles, I think," Sim answered, shaking his head.

"What?"

"The Hershey bar."

"Yeah, they were out of the ones with almonds, so I had to settle." He waved the half-bar remaining at Sim. "They're good calories."

"You mean they taste good, right?"

"That too," Zac laughed. "Did you enter the Lawson Lake run?"

"Yep, and it's some kind of charity thing, so the entry fee was thirty bucks."

"You think you've got a shot?"

"It's up by the university, and I'm betting they'll have the whole cross country team running. I'll be happy with top five. Legs are starting to feel the results of too many hard races."

"You're allowed to take time off and rest, you know."

Zac got a stern look after saying that.

"Yeah, that won't happen, will it?"

"Not likely; it's not in my character."

"You gonna throw in a fall marathon?"

"I hate marathons; you know that."

"You've mentioned it, but you still do them."

"Only when I've forgotten what the last one was like." Sim laughed when he said that--he wasn't there yet, thank God.

"Have a good run; I'm heading home for dinner."

"Hope you have the chocolate gone before you get there."

"If I don't, Jean will help out."

"Tell her hello."

"See ya, man." Zac headed for his car, peeling away the wrapper on the last of the chocolate bar.

"Don't toss that wrapper on my driveway," he called after Zac, who extended a middle finger in Sim's direction.

Simeon Mcfarland went inside his house and took the stairs two at a time, his usual method of getting to the second floor, even at bedtime. He hated to waste a chance for a little extra conditioning. He undressed, then pulled on his running gear, carefully double-knotting his shoelaces. He was planning a moderate eight miles today, probably around six-thirty per mile, in anticipation of Saturday's race.

The run completed, Sim was in the kitchen chugging ice water when he heard a car pull into the driveway. Glancing out the window, he smiled. It was almost always a good day when Melissa stopped by to see him. One of these days, he planned to propose to her. She'd been divorced for ten years now, long enough to be single, he'd decided, and he was ready to take the big step for the first time. Thirty-eight years was long enough for him to be single.

"Hey, babe," he said as she came through the front door.

"Looks like you just finished a run."

"Eight miles."

"I'd give you a hug, but you're kind of disgusting."

Sim tried to watch her face when she said that, never quite sure whether she was kidding him or was serious. He knew that his running wasn't one of her favorite things, and she occasionally let him know that.

"How about a kiss, then."

Melissa puckered up, so much pucker that her lips extended well past the end of her nose. No chance of any sweat being transferred. Sim matched her and received a very brief and unsatisfying kiss.

"How was work?"

"Normal. People are idiots."

"Normal idiots?" Sim asked, laughing.

"Yeah. They say, 'What? You expect me to work eight hours every day and start at six-thirty? What if I need to do something else?' No sense of responsibility or reliability. And the managers yelling that I'm not sending them good people. If I could find them, I'd send them."

Sim decided he'd asked a simple question but the wrong question. He knew when Melissa was even slightly riled, things didn't go well. He might have to tiptoe a bit.

"How about you?"

"Two customers asking for explanations, which I had, and then plowing through lots of statistics. Sounds exciting, huh?"

A snide chuckle. "Not very exciting, but I know what will be exciting; going to the Italian festival on Saturday. I can hardly wait." Her face had broken out into a huge smile.

But, a chill raced down Sim's spine. This wasn't going to be good.

Melissa noticed the lack of a matching smile on Sim's face. Hers disappeared. "What?" she snapped.

"I'm running the Lawson Lake race on Saturday."

"The festival starts at three and goes into the evening. Your run's in the morning, isn't it?"

"Not this one. It's at three."

"Shit," Melissa said under her breath, looking away from Sim. She knew there was no chance of his canceling--his running was <>way too important for that. "Go take your shower," she said coldly. "I have some shopping I need to do." She spun around and was out the door, no kiss and not even a goodbye.

Sim shrugged, resigned to a shower and a lonely evening...and probably a lonely couple of days before the weekend.

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Melissa slammed the door, started the car, and backed out of Sim's driveway, resisting the urge to spin the tires. She'd let him know how upset she was. It wasn't the first time his running had caused problems in their relationship, and she was getting fed up with it. Maybe shopping would help.

At the mall, she parked and went to Macy's. She found a colorful blouse she liked and went to the dressing rooms to try it on. Her large breasts made that necessary, as she didn't usually like to display an excess of cleavage. She checked the mirror and could see the edges of her bra, which, for some reason, piqued her curiosity. Off came the blouse and the bra.

She rebuttoned the blouse and checked the mirror.

"You're a sexy thing, Melissa. Eat your heart out, Sim," she said, checking the bit of cleavage showing. She was feeling rebellious and debated wearing it for the rest of her shopping. A little wary of doing that at a crowded mall and among strangers, she discarded that idea, paid for the blouse, and headed for the food court. Not the best place for dinner, but there was one Chinese booth whose food she'd had before and enjoyed. She ordered, paid, and found a vacant table. She'd taken about two bites when she heard a familiar voice.

"Hey, Melissa. I don't picture you as a food court diner."

She chuckled. "Hi, Wayne. This stuff isn't bad." She took another bite. "What's up with you?"

She and Wayne had a couple of dates about five years ago, but nothing serious. He was a pleasant guy to be around, so she didn't mind his dropping in on her dinner. He followed her lead and picked up some of what she was eating, then joined her.

"This is pretty good," he said, sounding a little surprised.

"It's what I always get, always being not very often," she giggled. "But I do like it."

"So, what did you buy? I see your little bag there."

"Just a new blouse. I needed to buy something."

"Needed? That sounds serious."

She laughed. "Not that serious, I guess."

They ate for a moment. Business brought them together occasionally, so, despite the lapse of time since they'd dated, they occasionally saw each other and kept up with what was going on.

"Going to the Italian Festival Saturday?" Wayne watched the expression on Melissa's face change. He could tell he'd struck a nerve.

She huffed. "I was going to go with Sim, but he's off somewhere for a stupid run."

"Sim?" Wayne asked as innocent;y as possible.

"My boyfriend."

"And what's the running thing?"

"Oh, he's a really good road racer, wins races all the time, but," she paused and looked at Wayne, "sometimes it's a pain in the butt, like now. He's racing Saturday and can't take me to the festival." Her face wrinkled in a frown.

"I'm going."

"Lucky you."

Wayne shrugged. Why not? "I'll meet you there, and we can hang out and have some fun."

Now it was Melissa's turn. How pissed was she? Enough she decided, and Sim needed to learn.

"Yeah, sure. At three o'clock then?"

"Perfect."

They finished their food, Melissa's conversation being very animated now that she was going to the festival.

Wayne couldn't believe he was sitting in the food court talking with the very pretty and very well-built Melissa. He remembered the day she'd turned him down when he asked her for, what was it, a third date, the refusal giving him a hint not to pursue her any longer. It hadn't been a good day. He had no visions of a new relationship developing--It would just be fun to be seen with her and to be with her.

Melissa knew that Sim was aware of how upset she was with his choosing to run the race rather than taking her to the festival. Plus, it wasn't the first time that something similar had happened. She answered his first text with busy and his second with can't talk. He seemed to get the hint since there were no more texts.

On Saturday morning, she relented slightly, texting him wishes for good luck in his race. She gloated a little, knowing he'd be wondering if she was sincere or being sarcastic.

She decided to wear her new blouse, remembering the hint of bra that it exposed. Two choices--no bra, something she'd never done, or the tiny bra she hadn't worn for a few years. She found the bra in the back of a drawer and decided to try it on. When she tried to snap it together, the elastic tore. Her heart began to beat a little harder. She either went with no bra or put the blouse back in the drawer. Inherently stubborn, the decision was simple. She bent, twisted, and checked. There was no real exposure, just some hints. She'd do it.

She decided to text Wayne. She still had his number in her phone.

No sense in both of us driving and paying for parking. Pick me up, and I'll treat you to some pizza.

You sure? It's fine with me.

As long as you know it's not a date - haha

That I do know he replied reluctantly.

See you at 2:45

Wayne pulled up in front of Melissa's apartment right on time, and she was ready and waiting, hurrying out and jumping into his car.

"Been looking forward to this festival for a month. It's my chance to splurge on my eating and drink some good Lambrusco. I love that stuff."

"You're allowed to drink Lambrusco at your place, you know," Wayne said, laughing.

"It's more fun there, and since you drove, I can overdo it." Her turn to laugh.

Wayne was smiling as Melissa seemed to be in a good mood, and if she really loaded up on the wine, he wondered what she might be like. He chastised himself a little since nothing was going to happen except some fun at the festival.

They parked and walked to where the food stand and booths, the games, and the paraphernalia tents were set up. He noticed the colorful blouse Melissa was wearing and the somewhat tight shorts as well. She'd never had trouble attracting attention, and today was no exception.

True to what she'd said, she headed straight for a booth where they served both pizza and wine. Also, true to what she'd said, she paid for the large pepperoni pizza and the two glasses of wine. They ate, drank, and laughed before heading out to see what other fun was available.

They checked out a few food stands where everything looked delicious, and then Melissa looked at some of the clothing for sale.

They rested for a few moments at another booth that served wine, and Melissa, giggling now, finished her second glass.

"You do like that stuff, don't you?" Wayne teased.

"I could be a Lambrusco lush if I allowed myself to do it. This is my one big day of the year. Sim doesn't drink much, so..."

More walking, and Melissa stopped in front of a game booth, taking hold of Wayne's arm.

"Okay," she said, "your chance to show off and win a teddy bear for me."

Wayne smiled. He'd been a pretty good pitcher in high school, and if he was going to win a teddy bear, this was probably his best chance. Three balls and the stacked heavy bottles were his challenge, but he was ready. One ball was all it took, along with a joyful squeal from Melissa. She had her bear, a green one, since that was all the vendor had available.

They walked some more until Melissa spotted a tent with more Lambrusco. She offered to buy again, but Wayne refused. She was halfway through her glass of wine when the bear slipped off the table...and she bent to retrieve it. Wayne's eyes widened as lots of pale skin was suddenly visible.

"Bad bear," she said, giggling as she drained her glass. "Let's look around some more." Wayne thought he heard a hint of slurring in her words.

"There's live music over there," she said, pointing, at the same time stopping at a colorful tent.

"You like lemon ricot...ricotta cake...with almonds?"

"Never had it," Wayne replied.

"My treat," she said, waving a hand at Wayne's shaking head. "You want a glass of wine to go with it?"

He considered. It would be his second, her fourth. He could handle two and drive but wondered what she'd be like after four. He also suspected she'd want another for the ride home.

"Okay, but I'll buy the wine."

Melissa giggled. "Okay." She stumbled her way through ordering, and they paid.

The music venue was just a few yards away, and they sat near the back, enjoying the music but enjoying the cake even more. Wayne decided it was delicious, glad that Melissa had suggested it. She had finished her cake and most of her wine when the music stopped.

"What next?" Wayne asked, noticing that it had gotten dark.

She stood and stumbled, Wayne, catching her before she fell.

"Maybe I'm weddy to go home, but I need one more grass of wine before I do."

"How about this? Do you have wine at your place?"

"Of course." She was having trouble focusing on Wayne's face.

"I'll get a glass for you when we get there."

"Okay," she replied, a goofy grin on her face.

His arm was around her waist, supporting her all the way to the car, the blouse gapping each time she bent forward. He didn't hesitate to look.

Melissa alternately sang and giggled all the way to her apartment.

Once inside, he reluctantly poured a glass of wine, being encouraged to "fill it full." One for himself as well since the drive home wouldn't be long or complicated. By the time her glass was empty, Melissa's eyes were wandering aimlessly.

"Are you gonna tuck me in, hon?"

Hon? Where did that come from, Wayne wondered as she extended her arms toward him?

"You better help me. Not sure I can walk." Another long giggle session.

Wayne walked to her chair, and when she stood, she collapsed into his arms.

"Don't think I can walk." She put her arms around his neck, ready to be picked up. So, he picked her up and headed for the hallway, mixed feelings racing through his body and brain. He found the bedroom and awkwardly flipped the light switch.

"I sleep naked, you know."

"Melissa, are you sure?" Somehow it didn't seem like this should be happening.

"You've seen me naked before, hon, and more than that," she added, giggling once more.

Maybe "hon" had seen her naked, but Wayne never had...until tonight, perhaps. Pictures were filling his head.

"I'm sleepy," she mumbled, her two words making the decision for him.

He carefully laid her on the bed and began unbuttoning the colorful blouse. He could barely breathe as he slipped it off her shoulders, those large and perfect breasts now bare and right in front of his face. He pulled off her shoes and went to work on her shorts, breathing heavily as he tugged them off. Her panties followed; Melissa was naked.

But she was naked on top of the covers.

He rolled her onto her side, pulled the covers back, pulled her back, and began covering her.

"Aren't you going to climb in with me?" she asked, a pouty look on her face. "Please, hon," she added, struggling to make a place for him, exposing her naked body again. "Please."

It must have been the third glass of wine that washed away the last bit of decency that had been restraining Wayne. He stripped off his shirt and pants and slid under the covers, cuddling her against him, caressing and squeezing one breast. Once he did that, he was over the top and racing downhill, nearly out of control. Melissa turned her head and kissed him.

It was easy and simple. He lifted her leg very gently and slid his now-raging erection inside her. He heard a moan as he began moving in and out.

"Oh, Simie, that feels good," she murmured.

It was too late for conscience now, and he was quickly spasming, filling her with his seed.

"Was it good, Simie?" she whispered sleepily.

"It was," he whispered back. He stood and pulled on his clothing. She was sound asleep.

His afternoon and evening hadn't gone anywhere near where he'd thought it would. He'd had twenty or thirty minutes of total bliss...and wondered if he'd eventually pay the price for it.

*****

At about noon, Sim's phone rang. The screen showed it was Melissa.

"Hey," he answered, not sure what was in store for him, unaware that she was satisfied that he had been punished enough and other things as well.

"How was the race? Did you win?"

She sounded interested, surprising him once more.

"Naw, I was twelfth."

"What happened?" Melissa looked shocked.

"Just ran out of energy about halfway through. Not sure what that's about."

"Maybe you just need a rest."

"I suppose. Anyway, "Come on over. We'll figure out something to do."

"I'll be there in an hour."

"See you then. Love you," he added.

"Love you too."

He was just as happy to have an hour since he'd just had another of those miserable stomach aches, the third one he'd had. If they continued, he'd have to see a doctor, something, just by his nature, he was reluctant to do. But, by the time Melissa arrived, he was feeling fine.

When Melissa came through the front door, she was greeted with an "hello there" kiss.

"So, how are you feeling now? You don't look too chipper."

"A little better. Had another of those stomach aches, and after yesterday, I still feel kind of run-down, you know?"

"Well, despite how you act and think, you're not indestructible, you know."

"I suppose."

She chuckled. "So, did you sneak over to my place late last night?"

Sim looked a little puzzled. "I was in the dog house and wasn't going to leave it until someone unlocked the door."

"So, you didn't come over then?"

"No, why?"

Was it just a dream then? Melissa wondered. Was I so drunk that I can't remember what happened. It seemed so real. And this morning. Yes, this morning, the wet spot in the middle of the bed. And, if it wasn't Sim, who was it? There was only one answer to that question, and she wasn't sure she could face that answer...and certainly not share it. She was having trouble getting her breath.

"Are you okay," Sim asked, now concerned about the sudden change in Melissa's look and demeanor.

She wasn't sure what to do or say, and standing there facing Sim was out of the question.

"I suddenly don't feel very good. I think I'd better head home."

"Are you sure? Is there anything I can do?"

"I'll just go home and climb into bed. Rest should take care of it. You can take care of yourself here. I'll call," she finished, sure that wouldn't happen until she'd sorted through everything that had happened.

She turned and was out the door. Sim watched her almost rush to her car, climb in hurriedly, and zoom away.

That was weird, he thought. No hug, no kiss, no nothing, just a quick retreat. And what was that about me sneaking over to see her last night? I sure wasn't there. But if she thought I was there...and I wasn't, then who was? Is that pushing things too far? That look on her face when she asked if it was me. Shy and teasing, like something had happened. Something between the two of us. Or...something between the two of whoever it was. I bet she went to the festival, got drunk like she always does, and... She couldn't have. But why did she just rush out like that, looking and acting guilty as hell? If she wanted to "punish me," that would be a way of doing it. She was fucking around with someone, and she can't even remember who.