Valentine's Day Sucks!

She should be home by now I thought. She'll see what's going on and I hope it hurts her as much as what I'm feeling right now. I had loved Wanda for seven years and now felt I had wasted all of that time. Every happy memory over the last seven years yielded only pain now. Now there was only the pain of another loss, another betrayal. I prayed for oblivion that never came.

Instead, a little man in a white coat came into the room. He introduced himself as Dr. Vogel. He was a small thin man about five feet four inches or so. He informed me that I had a severe case of pneumonia accompanied by a high-grade fever. He asked for my next of kin. I said "None." He asked whom to contact in an emergency. I told him there was no one. He asked about Wanda and I informed him that I didn't know which of her seven different boyfriends she was with at the moment and that she was no longer my emergency contact. This set off a new round of coughing. He nodded sadly and noted my refusal to see her in my chart. He ordered some medication and I drifted off into a drugged dreamless sleep shortly after. I woke up to feel someone holding my hand. I recognized the feeling well after seven wasted years. I straighten my hand and tried to pull it free but I was too weak. I looked over to see Wanda sitting in the chair. I looked at her and took as deep a breath as I could and wheezed, "Get your hands off of me!" The look of shock on her face showed that she had not expected it. She dropped my hand. "Doctor Vogel called you?" She nodded "Call him in here now. Him and a nurse."

She got up and returned a moment later with the two in tow. The doctor looked at me smiling, "So how are we feeling today? Better?"

I looked at him a moment and asked "You called her?"

He said, "Yes, I…" that was as far as he got.

I said as loudly as I could, "You're fired! Do you understand nurse? This man is no longer in charge of my treatment nor is he to have anything to do with my treatment. I specifically gave instructions not to contact this woman. Yet she is here at his invitation." I sucked desperately for air and began another coughing jag. My rage helped steady me. "I want her and this quack gone now!" The nurse looked at me, took both of them by the arms, and escorted them out. I lay there gasping for breath seriously considering leaving the hospital immediately, but every time I tried to sit up waves of pain and nausea swept over me. I don't remember passing out again.

The next time I woke up I again felt someone taking my hand. I was prepared to scream bloody murder but as I opened my eyes, I found a welcome face, "Hi Ms. Timmons." She looked at me and said, "Hi Brock, you look like hell. And I've told you to call me Linda now. You're no longer my student."

I gave her a wan little smile and said "Ok Linda. It's good to know I look like I feel. I'd hate feel this bad and look like a GQ cover boy." She smiled at my weak joke.

"Why did you say you had no next of kin? Your mother is outside worried sick about you. Your father's flight arrives from Amsterdam later tonight. Why did you fire your doctor? Why did you throw Wanda out of here? What's going on Brock?"

I looked at her for a few minutes and asked her to look for my laptop in the closet. I was hoping it was there as I'd had it with me when I collapsed. It and the memory card were there. As I raised the head of my bed into a sitting position, she set up the laptop on the small feeding table and plugged it into the wall. After it booted up I inserted the card into the built-in reader and loaded the pictures and video clips I had taken. I turned the screen towards her I couldn't look at them again. It hurt too much seeing it happen.

I told her the whole story start to finish from the time we got here until I collapsed at the doctors office. Linda looked at them with a look of profound confusion on her face. "I love her more than anything, Linda but she obviously doesn't feel the same about me. Seven guys. At once. In our bed. Why?" I dissolved into tears and she sat on the edge of the bed and held me until I fell asleep. When I woke up again I just felt numb. No anger, no joy, no sadness. Just… empty.

My mother was dozing fitfully in a chair near the foot of my bed. I called for a nurse and asked her to bring a blanket for her and a glass of water for me. My mother woke when the nurse turned on the faucet. The nurse handed me my glass and muttered "Sorry." as she scuttled out.

"Hi mom." She came over, took my hand and held it to her face as she began to cry. I hadn't seen her or my father since the day I walked out of my father's house. She looked older. Still beautiful at forty-four she looked drawn and tired.

"Why didn't you call me? Why did I have to hear that you were sick from Wanda's parents? I'm your mother."

I took as deep a breath as I could, which in my condition was pretty shallow, and asked, "Why did I have to hear about your divorce from one of Wanda's friends? I wasn't a concern when I left and you haven't changed that in the three years I was gone. I told you when I left that if you wanted to be a part of my life all you had to do was ask."

The short speech left me gasping for air. It was hard to breathe and my chest felt tight. My mother asked, "How could I call? You made it clear that you didn't need me or your father."

I looked at her for a moment and said sadly, "If you're going to lie to yourself fine but don't lie to me. I was there mother, remember. I begged you not to send me to that school, not to spend that much money. I begged you both to spend the time on each other and you, you told me it was none of my concern! The matters of this family were none of my concern. You do realize that you and dad both signed off on the paperwork to create my trust accounts don't you? You signed permissions for the modifications to my room?" She looked shocked. "I came in and told you I needed you to sign forms for me. You glanced over to locate the line and signed it without ever reading them or asking me what they were for, Dad did the same thing the next morning. As long as my grades were up you and he both ignored me. In the last three years, I've heard nothing from you or dad. In the three years before that I heard only slightly more. I've wanted and needed my mother and father for the last six years but as you and he told me, you are none of my concern." As I spoke tears raced across my cheeks and a new coughing fit began. My mother left the room and went to find the nurse.

I looked and saw my clothes in the cubby that passed for a closet. I managed to pull myself upright and get to my clothes. Putting them on left me weak but I was determined. I looked into the hall and saw my mother fussing with the nurse. There was a wheelchair near the next door down the hall. I sat in it and used it to get me to the elevators. In moments, I was in a cab on my way to my apartment.

I arrived just before noon. There was no one home and I found myself relieved by that fact. I had the cab wait for me and packed my bag as quickly as I could. I nearly passed out from fatigue but my resolve let me get my things and get out. As I looked at what had been my home I took the keys from my ring and put them on the coffee table. I picked up my bag and closed the door behind me.

I entered the waiting cab and directed him to the bus station. He looked at me and asked if I shouldn't go back to the hospital. I just stared at him for a moment; he shrugged, turned around and drove me to the bus station.

Once in the terminal I used the ATM to draw a large advance on my credit card and then to transfer the money to cover it from my account. I now had three grand cash to take care of my needs. The bus from Columbia to Springfield took more than eight hours with the various stops. From there I purchased another ticket for the express to New York. It left fifteen minutes later without me. It would be thirty hours getting to New York and by that time, I would be lost to any pursuit.

I walked out to the newsstand and got a local listing paper for apartments. I didn't know the area at all so I picked a complex offering efficiency apartments. I hailed another cab and took it to the complex. Within an hour I had a new place. I locked the door and sat down in a corner and dozed off.

I woke up in another hospital. I was in ICU this time I could see them through the glass wall; my mother, Linda Timmons, my father, Harry and Wanda. As I watched even Wanda's parents came into view, pointed down the hall as they spoke and everyone walked out of sight. All except Wanda and my mother, they occupied the two chairs that were outside my room. I closed my eyes and I knew I was in hell. Linda was the only friendly out there and would most likely be the last one to see me. I drifted into oblivion.

Chapter 2

Wanda's Story

I sat there crying in the chair outside of Brock's room in the ICU in Springfield. How had things gotten to the point that he would believe that I would cheat on him? Things had been bad for a bit but not that bad surely. He was my Knight in Shining Armor, my savior, my hero, and most importantly, my love; he had to know that didn't he? How could he think that I didn't love him? As I sat there I began remembering all that we had been through.

~~~~~

When we first met I was being attacked. Teddy had torn my blouse and bra and was trying to get to my panties. I looked over his shoulder and saw Brock's five foot six inch frame running in our direction. Here came this small, thin, gawky looking kid I had seen in school and I thought, "God, he's going to help Teddy rape me." Then I saw a look of utter fury come over his face and to my utter amazement he knocked Teddy out with one good kick to the balls and a powerful punch to the back of his head. He looked at me with a care and concern on his face that I had never seen before. I thought he was going to cry because I had been attacked. I think I felt the first stirrings of love for him at that moment. Not because he had saved me, but because he felt true sorrow that it had happened at all.

I actually looked at him then and found that he was very handsome. My blouse and bra were torn off and instead of ogling me like most other boys would have; Brock took off his school jacket and gave it to me before turning away so I could cover up in relative privacy. I had called the police and when they arrived I found out that not only had he defended me, he had broken his hand in the process; he had hit Teddy so hard.

Teddy eventually went to jail and I had begun to have nightmares about the attack. My parents put me into therapy with a respected psychologist, Dr. Jameson. I saw her until the end of my senior year, and then Brock and I moved to Columbia, Missouri for college.

I didn't see Brock much the rest of that first year in high school as we had no classes together. I thanked him for his help every time I saw him. I made that happen as often as I could and I had all of my friends keeping tabs on him for me. I knew when he had the brace removed from his hand and sent him an anonymous congratulations card. I knew every move he made that year. My friend, Shelia, was working as a student aide in the office when they were putting together next year's class schedules and she got me a copy of Brock's schedule and his locker assignment.

I went to my guidance councilor and had her change my schedule to match Brock's. She didn't know that was why I wanted the changes made but as the classes were the same, just at different times, she had no problem with it. Shelia changed our locker assignments so that I had the one next to Brock and she had the one next to mine.

I was in therapy from the attack and I asked my therapist, Dr. Jameson, if she thought I had an unhealthy interest in Brock. We had talked about him many times that year and she assured me that she thought that I was fine and that my interest in Brock was a good thing. I think she was concerned that I might become a frigid man-hating lesbian bitch or something; I know my mother was absolutely terrified of that possibility.

The next year Brock answered my prayers again by falling in love with me. I was already in love with him. He had changed over that summer. He had added a lot of muscle and had grown more than four inches. His latest growth spurt had him standing at six feet and very well filled out. I had driven by his work site every day that summer just so I could see him. When he confronted me at school about the changes made in our schedules I was scared to death he was going to hate me. Instead he thought about it for a long minute and smiling said, "Good. I'll get to see my angel all day long then."

My heart leapt when he called me his Angel; I couldn't believe he had said those words. I broke all of the schools regulations about PDAs (Public Displays of Affection) by kissing him then and there. We spent a lot of time together and before long had gotten to know each other inside and out. My parents were far from thrilled about it so we spent a lot of time at the park, the library, or the malls. Anywhere we could be together was fine with me. Brock was such a sweetheart. He never once pushed me to go farther than I was ready for. He told me once that making love to me would be the highlight of his life, but only when I was ready. He knew that I still woke up most nights with nightmares of Teddy trying to rape me. That doesn't mean that we didn't experiment… a lot!

I remembered our first date. Brock took me to the Cultural Arts Festival on the Torrington College campus. We walked and saw the exhibits. We agreed that some of what they called art should have been burned before it was ever displayed. We also found quite a few excellent pieces that we liked. The best part of the whole day was that I got to hold Brock's hand the whole time we were there.

I remember giving my first blowjob to Brock, my first to anyone. We had been together as a couple about six months, we were in his room -- a suite really -- and had just finished watching 9½ Weeks with Kim Basinger and Mickey Rourke. I was lying on his bed using him as a body pillow and I moved my leg, rubbing my bare foot on his calf, when I felt the hard length of him in his shorts. It startled me for a moment and he started to apologize. I placed a finger on his lips as I looked up into his eyes and said, "I want to do something and I want you to let me."

He had a puzzled look on his face but nodded. I slid down rubbing my cheeks over the skin of his chest and abdomen -- he wasn't wearing a shirt -- until I was looking face to face, as it were, with his crotch. I rubbed my face across the bulge in his shorts and he let out a moan of pleasure. I curled my fingers in the fabric at his waist and began to tug his pants down. He raised his hips and let me remove the offending garment. As I started to move towards his tumescent cock he stopped me.

His hand cupped my cheek as I looked up in frustration and he asked, "Are you sure? You don't have to do this. I'm content to just hold you, always."

A tear trickled down my cheek, "I have never done this with anyone. I want to do this for you. I want to do more than just hold you; I want to love you and show you that I love only you, always."

He wiped the tear from my cheek with his thumb and sat back against the headboard of the bed as before. I had never seen a real cock before. I had read on the internet that they came in various sizes but that the average was between 6 and 6.5 inches in length and a little less than 5 inches in girth. I wasn't shocked that, like everything else about my love, he was extraordinary. His big beautiful cock I later learned was 8½ inches long and over 7 inches in girth. I was going to be a very happy girl once we figured out what we were doing!

"It's magnificent!" I exclaimed. I wrapped my small hand around as much of him as I could and marveled that I could feel his pulse through the silken shaft. It felt like silk or velvet over marble, hot and thick in my hand. I lowered my head and licked the head gently as I slowly pumped my hand up and down his shaft. I was rewarded for my efforts as a pearly drop of his pre cum bubbled from the tip of his cock. I again licked and this time savored the taste of him as I ran my tongue around the head of his cock, tasting him and loving his flavor.

I know I couldn't have been very good -- it was my first after all -- but I tried my best and used everything I could remember reading on the Internet about how to please a man this way. Brock seemed to enjoy it and after what felt like an hour -- but was probably only fifteen minutes -- Brock let me know he was ready to cum. He caressed my check and said, "Sweetie, I'm gonna cum if you don't stop!"

I redoubled my efforts and in a few moments he gushed in my mouth. I swallowed as quickly as I could and came to the conclusion that the stories the girls told in school about the bitter taste were wrong. It would never be my favorite taste but it wasn't bad. The texture was odd but that was all.

The look on his face was worth anything to me when he looked at me. I sat up and started to go rinse my mouth but Brock pulled me to him and tried to kiss me! "No, Brock! Let me go rinse first!" I was scared he would not like that I had swallowed.

"You gave me the gift of taking me in your mouth and swallowing my seed; the very least I can do is be willing to kiss you after. Now come here and let me tell you how good that made me feel and let me show you how much I love you!" With that he pulled me into his arms and spent what felt like hours kissing me and holding me. He made sure that I knew he didn't think me a slut for doing that and that he loved me no matter what.

He knew which fears I had and he spent the remainder of the afternoon reassuring me and laying those fears to rest. We were short on time as I soon had to return home. My mother was grateful for Brock having rescued me but she felt I should be seeing boys who had rich fathers. My father felt that I should be dating someone who would increase our market share, not someone whose parents couldn't afford a club membership.

Brock walked me home and waited on the corner until I was inside the house before going home. The next day after school we returned to Brock's house and he spent hours making me cum over and over again with just his mouth. He told me he had never gone down on anyone but like me, had read up on it. He spent the whole afternoon perfecting his technique on me. I lost count of the orgasms I had and passed out after the last one. He cleaned me up as if I were a baby in the bath. He stroked and caressed me to another glorious climax before escorting me home.

When I returned home that night my mother actually accused me of having given my virginity away. Her exact words were, "Who have you been fucking young lady? I know that look and you have been fucking someone!" The argument we had was quite loud and I ended up grounded for a week and having to see my gynecologist.

My mother was quite embarrassed when the doctor informed her that I was virgo intacta. I was in fact still a virgin and that my hymen was indeed untouched. I demanded an apology and stormed out of the doctor's office.

I didn't go to the junior prom because they wouldn't let me go with Brock. My father arranged for Warren Petrie, the son of one of his business associates, to be my date and my mother went out and bought a dress. I never wore it. Every girl in school knew that if you went out with Warren you had to put out, refusal wasn't an option. He didn't care if you were willing, either. I had talked to several girls who said he had drugged them. No way was I going to have anything to do with him!