Category: erotica

Another Life – Chapter 15

I was supposed to meet Ron and Laurie at the Lion. My cousin wasn’t there yet. On the plus side, that gave me a chance to talk to Laurie. I started by apologizing again for Sam’s latest gaffes.

She had started phoning the apartment repeatedly, trying to reach me. Unfortunately, nine times out of ten, I wasn’t there – and one of my roommates had to answer the phone. Rose was assiduous about taking a message for me. She would leave a little note on my desk.

Laurie was 50/50. She would scribble me a message, if there was any paper handy, and she could find a pencil. Twice she left me cryptic messages on the wall. If not, she might remember three days later. Ronnie would chat with Sam, but couldn’t be bothered to let me know that she had called.

– “Why does he always ask about Tanya?” Sam wanted to know.

I told her my schedule – school and work – but she got impatient, and called even though she knew I wasn’t home. I apologized to Rose, and to Laurie.

– “Don’t worry about it.” she said.

– “I do worry about it.” I admitted. “I like Sam, and … there are lots of good things about her.”

– “Great sex?” Laurie wasn’t shy; that much I already knew.

– “Yeah. But … she’s completely different when it’s just the two of us, you know? Not so goofy, and she doesn’t do that annoying giggle …”

– “That’s messed up.” said Laurie. “Even when she’s at home?”

– “It’s worse when her sisters are around.”

– “I dunno, Joe. Not sure you can fix that one.”

– “What do you mean?”

– “Men’s fatal delusion. Guys think they can fix things. You’re a mechanic, right? Men think that if there’s a problem, you just get the right tool, and you fix it. But people aren’t like cars, or toilets. Well, some people are like toilets, I suppose …”

– “They deserve to be shit on?” I guessed.

– “Right. You’ve got a wounded bird, there, Joe. I don’t mean a mother bird, dragging her wing to lure you away from her nest. I mean an injured bird, with a broken wing, or something.”

– “I’m listening.”

– “Women think they can change their man. He cheated on his last girlfriend, but he won’t cheat on me. He hit me – but if I love him enough, I can change him.”

“Guys figure they can fix things. She has issues? I’ll be there for her, and we’ll turn this thing around.”

– “I don’t know, Laurie. That doesn’t sound like -”

– “Do you feel guilty, Joe? Like you should be doing something to make everything better?”

I couldn’t answer that. It was a little too close to where my head was at lately.

– “You’re a nice guy, Joe.” said Laurie. “Unlike that cousin of yours, who’s 45 minutes late. And Sam seems nice – when she’s not … you know, saying something bizarre.”

We ordered a second round.

“Do you know my sister? Jen?” asked Laurie.

– “I think I met her at the Christmas party. Last year’s.”

– “That’s right. Well, Jen’s got … issues. She keeps them under wraps pretty well. She’ll find a guy, fuck him, and get him hooked. Once he’s committed – that’s when she dumps all of her phobias and anxieties on him.”

“She makes the guy feel guilty if he doesn’t cater to her, and try to help her out.”

– “The guy doesn’t dump her?”

– “Once or twice. Jen’s pretty good at picking out the nice guys. You’d be surprised how often they stick around – and for how long.”

– “That doesn’t sound like Sam.” I said. “But I appreciate you worrying about me.” Laurie was just guessing, and trying to warn me to be careful. She was wide of the mark, though.

Except that … Sam had said that I was nicer to her than anybody else had ever been.

Laurie changed the subject – sort of.

– “So did you talk about this with your friend Eli?” I had told my roommates about Eli, and his uncompromising approach to the truth. They hadn’t met him yet, but they all found my stories about him incredibly funny.

– “Not really – none of the details. Three guesses what he said.”

– “Oh man.” laughed Laurie. “Tell the truth? How’s that working out for him?”

– “He’s still single, if that’s what you mean. And he has a mean bruise on the side of his face.”

Laurie and I had a few laughs. Ronnie never did show up that night.

 

https://lapetitemort17.wordpress.com/?p=397

 

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Murder Mystery Weekend – Chapter 16

We both laughed. I had spent almost all of my freshman year with a mad crush on Sheila. She resolutely kept me at arm’s length, despite the obvious attraction between us. Well, obvious to me, at least. Once I accepted her decision, we became solid friends. We could flirt, and laugh at ourselves.

“You’re good.” I said.

– “C’mon: tell me one secret. I’ll tell you one in return.”

– “Deal.” I said. This is exactly how these games work. You have to trade information to gain information. But which clue to give her? “How about this: there was a plot afoot, to rescue Redbeard.”

Sheila made a face. “Already knew that. Were you a member of Redbeard’s crew?” she asked, suddenly.

Shit – could she be the Falcon? I didn’t know whether to trust her or not. So I answered a question with a question with a question. “Are you?”

– “I asked you first. Oh, c’mon. Give me something, Colin.”

– “I know one of the letters in the code for the treasure map.” I said.

– “So do I.” she admitted. “But I’m not sure if I’m ready to trade that.”

– “OK.” I told her. “Here you go: The Falcon is aboard. One of Redbeard’s old lieutenants.”

Sheila mulled that over for a moment. “That’s fair. Are you the Falcon?”

– “No. Are you?”

– “No.” she laughed. “All right, you actually gave me something. Not much, but something. You can have this in return: the Scar is also aboard.”

I decided to play dumb. “Who is the Scar?”

– “You don’t know? The Scar is another of Redbeard’s lieutenants.” she said.

– “Oh. So we have a ship full of his former crew. Are you the Scar?” I asked.

– “That’s a separate question.” she replied, with a grin. “What will give me for the answer?”

– “A kiss?” What the hell; it was worth a shot.

Sheila laughed. “Nice try. You can get me a drink, though.” She held up her empty wine glass.

– “Am I allowed to go upstairs yet? I don’t think it’s been half an hour yet.”

– “So crack open another bottle.” she said. “They’re right behind you.”

We drank some more, and she fenced with me, alternating between flirty and coy. We also discussed the other players, and aired our suspicions of who was the most likely murderer. After a while, I decided to gamble. I showed her the pirate recognition signal.

– “What is that for?” she asked, intrigued.

– “The recognition signal for Redbeard’s crew. It’s how they’ll know each other.”

– “So you’re one of them?” said Sheila.

– “Craig showed it to me earlier, and told me what it was.” I answered. This way, Sheila could not be sure: she might think that I was not a pirate. But I could tell that she was very pleased with that piece of information. For one thing, she asked me to show her the signal again.

– “Alright, then. I’ll give you something in exchange.” she said. “If you’re looking for the treasure, there are twelve letters to find.”

That was very useful. I had assumed that since I had one letter, that everyone else had one, too. Eleven of us. So there was an extra letter.

– “You still don’t want to trade letters.” I asked.

– “Not yet, Colin. I still don’t know whose side you’re on. But if I want to trade, I’ll find you.”

Both of us were caught by surprise when we heard the bell ring. Four times.

– “That was an hour?” I said.

– “An hour well spent.” said Sheila. She gave me a kiss on the cheek. Then we went off to our next stations. I was supposed to be in the crow’s nest – the deck outside the kitchen, overlooking the patio.

 

https://lapetitemort17.wordpress.com/?p=288

 

 

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Sun Stories: Kita – Chapter 6 – Oh My God – Part 2

I direct her to her free time interests. Food is always an easy one. All people like to eat. Kita says she loves all kids of food but hates mushrooms. Me too. She says she likes the smell of pickles but can’t eat them. I tell her I love the smell but hate them equally unless they are sliced incredibly thin and buried under a delicious juicy burger.

Kita says he like cucumbers, I don’t answer. I like them but they always repeat on me because I am a carnivore through and through. My beloved daughter Lorelei is a hardcore vegan but my generation wants to kill stuff and eat steak.

“What food do you love?”

“Seared salmon and green beans. But I can’t get that because I’m a poor student at Drexel.”

“Last night I was at this great Italian restaurant, Gran Caffe L’Aquila. I have the hookup with the bartender and the owner. I was there with my buddy Church and I had three chardonnay’s and he had a gelato cup and a coffee and our bill was only $13.

“Oh my god that is amazing. I live on  ramen noodles.”

“Do you want to get a gig cause I could hook you up.”

“My parents put me on an allowance and don’t want me to get a job so I can focus on my studies.”

At this point my dear readers I’m setting the snare but it’s not like that. It’s a future phicklephilly fail but I will grace the time I get to spend time with this delicious baby, because I am about to close.

I ve been in sales my entire life. But I’ve never been predatory. I’ve never been closing the deal. I’m more about opening a relationship with a client. I’ve always been that way with a girl.

“What kind of food do you like Kita?”

“I love salmon and green beans. I miss that. My mom makes me so much good food!”

“Sounds simple and amazing!. I want to tell you a place I went to last night.”

“Where? I never go anywhere.”

“Gran Caffe L’Aqilla.”

“My man Church and I went there last night. I had three Chardonnay and my buddy had amazing two scoop gelato and coffee… $13.

“Oh my God.”

“I get the hookup and I know where to go.”

“I wish.”

I pull up their menu on the salon’s computer.

“Check the out. Pan seared salmon with vegetables, All you want Kita.”

“Oh that looks amazing!”

When I was young and in a band, the girls just rolled to me. That was easy an after all of my torture in middle school I figured I deserved that. But I have three sisters and I grew up with women and grew to understand them. (That and you can never get in the bathroom)

Why am I having ideas about Kita?  She’s really sweet and apparently likes to hang at the salon. I am embracing classic phicklephilly love for her. This child. She’s so beautiful and fits into a fantasy caricature of things that turn me on. She doesn’t know that but I’m at an age were I’m just honored to be seen in public with such and exquisite gem. But when I think of anther other outcome this encounter if it actually happens I would just be happy to sit across the table from Kita and lay some incredible gelato on her.

“Lets go there and get you some salmon.”

“Yes.”

“Really? I can get the hookup and a flight of gelato that you’ll love.”

“Let’s do that.”

“What does your Wednesday look like?”

“I have classes until noon but free after that.”

I think I’m going in for the close as usual. Born sales guy.

Baby seal on the rocks jumps in the water to cool off from current life stress , Great white shark devours seal.

“So lunch or dinner”

“Dinner works for me.”

“Around 5pm?”

“I’ll make the reservation, send you a calendar invite and text you the day before to confirm.”

‘Yes. Let’s do it.”

I confirm her cell and tell her I’ll send her my contact info. (Now we’re connected) I’ll send her and email invite after I make the reservation and I’ll confirm the day before so she can bullshit bail on me with some lame excuse.

I don’t really care. If she bails I’ll be doing wine and noodles at Dan Dan with my  friend Francesca and loving life.

But I will feel the loss of Kita. (Praying she’s lonely and has nothing going on and needs guidance through her lost relationship with JR. (Worth dinner with this lovely baby)

We chit-chat some more but baby has to go study. I am feeling the trembling excitement of the opportunity to share a meal with this exquisite beauty that has become my number 1 in a space of weeks.

I have a girlfriend that will rock my world this weekend, but I only get to see her probably once a month. I adore her and she is an incredible match.

But I’m still going to do this stuff because I can’t get off the drug of lust, beauty and sex.

I just hope to god she doesn’t mention our little dinner to new guy. Because if she does, you know that young insecure little cunt is going to put the kabosh on my dinner with princess of the restaurant. That could happen, and it will only mean that Kita is easily controlled by inferior loser dudes.

I just want to look across the table at her and learn more about who she is.

I pray this will happen because I am so taken by her, but only time will tell.

We’ll see.

 

Just so you know what I’m so enamoured of her I’ll give you this….

How can phicklephilly resist?

(Kita – Now)

That’s why I’m losing my shit…

 

 

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Cherie – Chapter 49 – Better to Give… Part 2

I draw the blue translucent curtains shut. Because tonight will carry us both into tomorrow.

I’ve lived a charmed life. It’s been good. I’ve had opportunity because of my skin, intelligence and wit. I’ve succeeded because of my dedication and hard work. I’m an overachiever.  A relentless sales guy that gets off on the kill. But I have natural ability in everything I do. You either kill it or get lazy the first chance you get because everything once you get it comes so easy to you because of your deadly abilities.

You only have that power because of your wiring and your upbringing. If you beat down a bright sensitive, odd child he will either become a CEO, a serial killer, or an artist. I’m sure there are a few other characters in there but I think you get it. (I’m the artist!)

That’s me. Here I am in my bed with a beautiful young woman again. It’s like I keep getting free passes from God to just keep going on the fun ride again and again! I don’t really know why. No one else I know gets these sort of splendors.

But fortune favors the bold.

And this frightened, anxiety ridden mess has run from his fears but then paused. I turned and slowly walked towards them and conquered them all. Without drugs. The drugs just fuck you up more. Surround yourself with good people and march forward toward your fears.

 

Cherie tells me we’ve talked enough but she wants to be naked.  She’s wearing the classic criss cross black body suit without a bra. (See: Cherie – Chapter 4 – Ribbons) Hot as shit. I love seeing the swing and curve over her breasts through that mesh top. She’s telling me some story about her and her sister in a store where they’re laughing and I reach my fingers through that criss cross lace.

She pauses and closes her eyes. I feel the soft supple swell of her breast. I go just a bit further and greet her stiffened nipple between my index and middle finger.

“Go on with your story.”

“I forget.” (smiles) “Wait I remember!”

I withdraw my hand but hold her close.

“My sister always threatens me that she’s going to steal my car and take it out.”

“What do you do?”

“I tell her that if she ever fucking takes my keys and steals my Saab I will call 911.”

“Oh my gosh!”

“Yea. I tell her that I will tell the cops that a black woman has stolen my Saab and I am a white woman and she has a gun!”

“Are you trying to get your sister killed?’

“No, Silly! It’s just a bit we do between each other because we know that’s how it is in this country. They’d pop a cap in my sister’s ass and kill her if that ever happened.”

Cherie giggles. I love comedy. Especially edgy next level borderline comedy, but there’s a dark truth in her humor.

“Well I’m tired of talking to you and I want to get naked.”

“No complaints here, dear.”

“But I’ve been at the hospital and school all day so I’m going to rinse off.”

“Okay bayba.”

Cherie gets up, kicks off her boots and pulls down her jeans.  Now she’s down to the one piece criss cross delish and a pair of purple panties.

She’s looking gorgeous and I can’t resist. I leap from the bed and go to her. We kiss and I hold her in my arms. I reach between her brown thighs and curl my finger between the two snaps holding the body suit together at the crotch.

I reach behind her because I don’t want to rip her little garment. I love this outfit. I have to be careful. I hold the back of the outfit that is basically a thong that is a cotton bridge between her delicious ass cheeks.

Cherie has a glorious but proportionate posterior. Not Kardashian, but athletic standard black girl butt.

It’s lovely.

I kiss her. She kisses me back. We miss each other. I’m happy and feel her love and heat in my arms. Out of everyone in the world, this is my girlfriend. I can’t believe at my age I’m still able to get a girlfriend half my age this pretty.

Well I kinda do.

Apparently, game goes a long way, baby.

“Can you close the drapes? Because you’re about to strip me naked.”

“Oh course my dear.”

I draw the blue translucent curtains shut. Because tonight will carry us both into tomorrow.

I hold my love close and the snaps at the bottom of her outfit yield to my force and open with the sound that is their name.

I gently pull the body suit over her body and from her head. (You never want to mess up a black woman’s hair…EVER)

Now she’s nude in front of me and I turn her around to the full length mirror in the corner of my bedroom. Given to me by former girlfriend, Michelle! (See: Michelle – A Brand New Day)

I’m still fully dressed but Cherie is completely nude and vulnerable. I like the idea that she can see herself in the mirror and I’m behind her. Clutching her breasts and kissing her neck. My right hand leaves her firm breast and caresses her belly down to the moist junction between her lovely thighs.

I touch her there and she jumps. Her softest spot and her most durable. I remove my hand and continue to kiss her neck.

“I’ve been at school and at the hospital all day. I need to rinse off.”

I regain some composure. I have to. I know what’s about to happen in the next 30 minutes.

I release my lady.

 

Living here on a weekly basis with my daughter Lorelei, it almost seems alien being alone here with a beautiful young woman and making mad love to her when she gets here.

Lorelei is great with telling me when she’ll be here and when she won’t. She’s off at Electric Halloween with her boyfriend this weekend. But she ALWAYS tells me when she’ll be rolling in and out of here. I love that because I never have to worry she’ll come upon some sort of “We were just working out doing nude yoga together in my bedroom scenario.”

Cherie heads to the shower.

 

Later, Cherie gets to her knees and is digging through her bag for whatever sundries she needs for this delayed mission. I’m standing next to her and I am lit up with blood lust.

This is how cool Cherie is: She is digging through her bag looking for her skin cream for after her shower and she gently places her hand on my crotch. It’s obvious I’m chubbing and firing up the Millennium Falcon to go, but that hand is an immediate soothe.

“I feel you… I’ll be right back, honey.”

Cherie hops in the shower. (I would have done love dirty. I don’t care) I’m pacing the bedroom like the cat that I am and putting on ‘ Music for Lovers’ on Pandora. (Hey I know it’s cheese but I like the stuff they play on there. Check it out!)

She comes out of the bathroom and gets in the bed and hops under the covers.

“I’m chilly!”

“You’re beautiful.”

“I love you honey.”

“I love you too…Guess what?”

“What, dear?”

“Take me…Now.”

 

I’m going to leave it to the beloved band Queen to describe the events of our night together.

 

 

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Murder Mystery Weekend – Chapter 14

Just then I saw Lena come out onto the patio. She looked around rather hesitantly. Mindful of Teresa’s request, I decided to be polite.

– “Your costume is wonderful.” I said. “You look very exotic.” From the expression on her face, I don’t think she understood me. Keep it simple, stupid, I reminded myself. There was no internet service at the cottage, or I might have tried to find an online English-Slovenian dictionary. Lena was smiling at me tentatively, a drink in one hand, and a piece of paper in the other.

– “Why do you have a paper?” I asked her.

– “Ah. My instructions.” she said.

– “Really? You must be the only one who still has them. Did Teresa forget to take them from you?”

Lena shook her head. “No. Teresa give them to me.” She showed me the paper. I needn’t have worried about sneaking a peek at her secrets; they were written in Slovenian. I think.

– “What does your language sound like, Lena? Can you say something for me?”

– “What I should say?” she asked.

– “Anything. Read me your instructions – I won’t understand anything, anyway.”

Lena smiled, and started reading. It was quite funny, really. Lena read slowly, and enunciated very clearly, as if there was a chance that I might understand. I did catch ‘piratsko’ more than once – but that was about it. She did have a lovely voice, though. And while I watched her, I decided that her face was quite beautiful. But she was so damned tall!

I excused myself a few minutes later, and went inside to get a couple of beers. I ran into Craig coming up the stairs, with a beer in each hand. On impulse, I gave him the pirate recognition signal. His face lit up. Craig tucked one of the beer bottles under his arm, and placed three fingers against his earlobe. Only then did he look around to see if anyone was observing us.

– “You too?” he asked. Then he lowered his voice to a whisper. “You here to rescue Redbeard?”

I wasn’t expecting that, but I responded fairly quickly. “Depends. Nice to know I’m not alone. But we’ll need some weapons to pull it off.”

– “You’re right.” he agreed. “I’ll let you know if I come across any. You’ll do the same?”

– “Absolutely.” I said. Nice to know. Unless Craig was a far more accomplished liar than he appeared to be, he had just told me that he didn’t have a weapon.

I returned to the patio and handed Leo a beer. Teresa was there.

– “Colin, could you do me a favor?” she asked. “Would you go downstairs for me? There’s a red cooler down there, next to the pool table. Could you fill it with beer, and some of those vodka drinks? There are a couple of bags of ice in the freezer. It’ll be more convenient to have some of the drinks up here.”

– “As you wish.”

I picked up the cooler and headed back in. I was just beginning to go down the stairs when Eliza appeared at the foot of the staircase, with a bottle of wine in each hand.. I backed up, and told her to come ahead. There was no way I was going to be able to pass her on the stairs with this cooler.

I will admit that I looked down her blouse as she came up. Mother of Mercy … I was going to need to put some of the ice in my pants, to reduce the swelling.

We ate a great meal out on the patio, and admired each other’s costumes. The conversation and the booze flowed freely. Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves. When we were finished eating, Teresa assigned galley duty to Ben, Sheila, Eric and Claire – they had to clean up and do the dishes. We would all get a turn or two, so no one complained.

 

https://lapetitemort17.wordpress.com/?p=276

 

Thank you for reading my blog. Please read, like, comment, and most of all follow Phicklephilly. I publish every day at 8am & 12pm EST.

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The Beach House – Chapter 5

I stood in the hallway, looking at the door for a few moments. I was secretly hoping it would open again, the doctor deciding to return. It didn’t. I was a fish out of water. People take care of me; I don’t take care of other people. I moved slowly down the hallway toward my bedroom. I figured the longer it took to get there, the sooner this would be over. I stood outside the door, not wanting to go in. I could hear a quiet moan, which made it worse. Without warning, I heard her violently vomit. I remembered the doctors warning and ran in to make sure she wasn’t on her back. I really didn’t want to go in.

I gagged as the smell hit me in the face. I was never good when others threw up. I started breathing through my mouth as I took in the scene. Mia was naked on the right side of the bed, and the left side had a puddle of vomit. The covers were pooled at the foot of the bed, and Mia was shivering. I had never seen anything like this. I didn’t know where to start. Luckily she was on her side in an almost fetal position. I moved to the right side of the bed, trying to keep my eyes off the remnants of her last meal.

“Mia, my name is Dale.” It sounded feeble considering the situation. “I’m the guy you saved a couple of nights ago.” My hands kept making aborted attempts to touch her. I wasn’t at all sure how to help her.

“Oh God, I can’t do this!” She was weeping and shivering. “I thought I could, but I can’t.” I saw that some of her long black hair had found its way to the puddle. I knew I wouldn’t like my hair to be there, so I reached over her body and retracted the errant hair. The ends were covered in puke, so I squeezed them dry between my fingers and pulled them back over her head. I looked at my hand and saw that some stomach chunks had adhered to my fingers. I retched and ran to the bathroom. I barely made it to the toilet before I empty the contents of my stomach. My heaving was echoed by another round from Mia. This sympathetic barfing had to stop. I knew I needed to clean up the discharge if we were going to get through the day. I waited till my stomach settled, then washed my hands.

I entered the bedroom and almost lost it again. Mia had covered herself in the last round of puking. She was now outwardly crying. Fuck, this was bad! The sheets had to be cleaned up, and I was the only one there. The smell was horrendous. I shut off my nostrils and grabbed the sheet that was bunched up at the end of the bed. I moved next to Mia again and began wiping the vomit off her face and pushing it toward the other side of the bed. She was rolling back and forth making it more difficult to clean her up. “Mia, stop moving for minute. I got to get this shit off you.” I was desperately trying to control my gag reflex and didn’t know how long I could hold off. My stomach was empty so I knew the next round would hurt like hell.

“Please don’t make me do this.” She was still crying, and her shivering became more noticeable. I was hesitant to start cleaning off her chest. Some morality wall needed to be breached.

“I have to clean off the rest of you. I’m sorry.” I gave her all the warning I could and began to wipe off her breasts. She had gotten the bulk of the discharge in the valley between them. I had to use two hands, one to lift and one to clean. This was the first pair of breasts I had ever touched in my life that I hadn’t paid to touch. Strangely, puke had a way of making the whole experience very clinical. I wasn’t the least bit aroused. I rolled her toward me and cleaned off her arm and shoulder. I placed the cleanest part of the sheet along her side and rolled her back over it. This allowed me to undo the bottom sheet and roll her back to the bare mattress. I wadded up the dirty sheets and ran them to the laundry room.

I kept praying that she wouldn’t puke again while I was grabbing new sheets. I reversed the process and covered the bed with clean sheets. I let my nostrils open, and, as expected, the smell was greatly reduced. Mia, I don’t think, cared. She was still weeping and still had a film of vomit on her.

I went to the kitchen and grabbed the bucket under the sink. I tried one of the sponges, but they were too coarse for her skin. I went and grabbed a new bath towel from the bathroom closet and filled the bucket with warm water. I brought it all back to Mia. I dipped the corner of the towel into the water and started at Mia’s head. I tenderly pushed her long black hair out of the way as I began wiping her face clean.

“Please don’t make me do this.” She pleaded again. Her brown bloodshot eyes were searching for mine.

“Shhh, I have to.” I whispered, trying to calm her down. “I can’t lose Monica,” I admitted. I don’t know why I added that. I guess I felt she needed a reason for me to ignore her wishes. I wiped her forehead and around her eyes. I noticed that there were tiny wrinkles beginning to form at the outside of her eyes. She looked a lot younger from afar; closer, she looked to be in her thirties. “I’m just going to get you cleaned up.” I suddenly felt and sounded like my grandmother. It wasn’t a bad feeling.

She shivered as I continued cleaning her cheeks and chin. Her lips were turning a bit blue. “I’m so damn cold.” Her accent was becoming more pronounced, and I was afraid she might slip into Spanish. I didn’t know Spanish at all. Washing her chest was a lot more pleasant this time. I knew how sick she was, but the goose bumps on her breasts were adorable. I hid my thoughts and continued to wipe her down. I stopped at her belly, thinking that going farther would be an invasion. I forced myself not to look between her legs. I didn’t even know if she was even conscious of her nakedness. “So cold…” She was really shivering now. I guess the air on her wet skin was aggravating the situation. I dried her as best I could with the other side of the towel. At the foot of the bed, I pulled up the blankets that had dropped there and tucked her in.

Her lips went another shade bluer, and her shivering increased. I could almost hear her teeth chatter. I went to the closet for another blanket and added it to the bed, but it didn’t seem to help much. She looked miserable. I did the only other thing I could think of. I stripped to my boxers and climbed into bed with her. I wrapped my arm around and pulled her into me. She sank her butt into my groin and I warmed her back with my chest. Still shaking, “Better,” was all she said. I held her twitching body hoping another round of puking wasn’t on its way. In time, I feel asleep.

 

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