Chapter Three
Saturday, May 23, 2020
The next morning, Rig awoke to cool wetness being gently rubbed across his body. He was hot, so hot that he felt like he would catch on fire if he didn't get some relief soon. He groaned and opened his eyes to see Jasmine wiping his body down with a wet washcloth in one hand. Her other hand was wrapped around his rigid cock, stroking it softly. Seriously!? Even sick, he had this big of a hard-on!?!? If it hadn't been for him feeling like utter fucking roadkill, her ministrations on his shaft would feel amazing. As it was, however, it just felt like a pleasing side effect of what he knew had to be a fever.
"What--" he started, but Jasmine cut him off.
"Shhhh," she said as she placed a finger on his lips. "You're burning up, Master. You have a temperature of one oh two point two. I called the hospital, and they're expecting you. In the meantime, they told me to wipe you down with a cool, wet rag until I could get you up there. Do you think you can stand?" Concern painted her beautiful face.
"I--" he started to say. He looked down at her hand, slowly jacking him off. "Not like this," he grumbled out an uncomfortable chuckle. He could barely keep his eyes open; he felt so bad. He felt her move down between his legs, and then cool wetness enveloped his cock. He peeked out of one eye to see her head bobbing up and down on his shaft, her hand moving up and down in a matching rhythm.
He moaned at the sensations. Pleasure and pain battled for his attention as her mouth worked him. It was an interesting twist. On the one hand, he knew that her mouth should have been warm. Yet, it was cool. The fever was indeed high, then. She suckled on the head, her tongue rolling around the rim, causing him to jerk slightly in pained pleasure as her hand twisted up and down on his shaft.
On the other hand, though, he felt like utter dog shit wrapped in a paper bag and lit on fire. Although, as inexperienced at sex as she was, she was an absolute master...mistress??...whatever, it didn't matter at this point...at sucking cock and soon had him blowing his load in her mouth. She sucked him dry, swallowing every drop of his cum. He started to pull her towards him.
"Your turn," he said, not feeling like it, but it was only fair she get pleasured as well.
She pulled away from him and shook her head. "I don't need one," she giggled, winking at him, and climbed off the bed to get him some clothes. "Besides, you're too sick for it to be pleasurable for me anyway. I might not even get off because I'll be too concerned about you."
He didn't have the strength to argue with her. Not that he would have, anyway. He did feel a bit better after his orgasm. She returned and helped him to the side of the bed as she started dressing him.
"Gotta call Sal," he said, sitting up and sneaking a grope for her pussy. "She'll know what to do." She looked at him, confused, for a moment. "She's one of my brokers and gets loads for my drivers. I trust her to take control of my company whenever I'm indisposed." He wavered slightly, and she grabbed him by the arms, holding him steady. He nodded. "Will you get my cell for me?" She went to grab it and, returning, handed it to him. He placed the call.
"Rig!" Sally answered. "Are you ok? You never call me from your cell unless something's wrong. What do you need?"
Rig chuckled to himself. Ever the intuitive one, Sal. "Sal, I've got a pretty high fever and am headed to the hospital. I assume they will test me for the virus, and I may be out of commission for a while. Can you take over for a couple of weeks until I can get back on my feet?"
"Is the ambulance there yet? You're not driving, are you?" she worried.
Rig looked at Jasmine and pointed to her, then the phone. She nodded. "No, Sal. I've got a new, er, roommate, and she's driving me."
"She, huh?" Sal asked mischievously. Always quick on the uptake, Sal was nobody's fool.
"Yeah, Sal," Rig answered. He put it on speaker and pointed it to Jasmine.
"Hi, Miss Sally. I'm Jasmine," she introduced herself. "Nice to meet you."
"Miss Sally!!" Sal tittered. "Oh, honey, keep that up, and we're gonna get along just fine! You take care of my boyfriend dearie, you hear?" she asked playfully.
"Yes, Ma'am," Jasmine answered, playing along. "I'll keep you updated as I get information."
Sal got serious. "Okay, sweetie. And don't worry about a thing, Rig, baby. I'll take care of everything while you're down."
"You're a gem, Sal, as always," Rig replied. "Let everybody know to go through you before coming to me this time, will ya? I'll make sure you're duly compensated, as usual."
"Oh, honey, we'll work out all the details later," Sally answered. "You just concentrate on getting better."
"Will do, Sal," Rig said. "What would I ever do without you, babe?" he asked playfully.
"Work yourself into the grave, maybe," Sal answered, playing right back. "Take care, sweetie. And Jasmine, I'll be looking for your call when you know what's going on with our man here."
"Yes, ma'am," Jasmine replied, smiling. "As soon as I know something, you'll know something."
They said their goodbyes, and Rig ended the call. "Okay," he stated, "let's see if we can get me up and walking." She helped him stand, and he swayed on his feet momentarily before righting himself. He made it outside with Jasmine's help, and he folded himself in her itty bitty car. "Jeez, how do you fit in this thing?" Rig asked.
She shrugged. "It may be small, but it's just my size." She winked at him as she pulled out of the drive and took off down the road.
They got to the hospital and saw a wheelchair waiting for them. They donned their masks, and Jasmine helped peel Rig out of her passenger's seat and got him in the wheelchair. They got into the foyer of the ER and signaled they needed assistance. A nurse promptly came out and got Rig checked in. Then, they were allowed into the waiting room.
A few minutes later, he heard his name. "Rig Johnson?" the nurse called. Jasmine stood up and started to wheel him back when the nurse stopped them. "I'm sorry, ma'am," she apologized. "But you'll have to wait out here."
Rig spoke up immediately. "The hell she is. She's coming with me."
"Sir," the nurse began, "your daughter will have to stay in the waiting area until you're finished. It's hospital policy during the pandemic. No one is allowed in back except spouses and significant others."
"Well, then, let's get going," Rig said, a bit more haughtily than he intended. He was feeling like shit, and he was quickly losing his patience. "She's my girlfriend, not my daughter." Rig noticed Jasmine's eyes widen, and she blushed at his proclamation, but she didn't say anything.
The nurse's eyebrows rose visibly before she composed herself. "This way, please."
She started walking towards the back, stealing glances of disapproval now and again at the couple behind her. They arrived in a room, and after taking his vitals and verifying why he was there, the nurse put his ID wristband on his wrist and left the room. Rig laid down on the bed and closed his eyes while Jasmine sat next to him, holding his hand.
He ripped off his mask and threw it across the room. "I hate these goddamned things," he complained. "Can't breath in them." Jasmine pulled her mask off and, after picking Rig's mask up off of the floor and putting them in her pocket, returned to her place beside his bed just as someone knocked on the door.
The doctor came in and pulled up short just inside the door, taking a deep breath through her nose. Jasmine noticed her cheeks flush before she sat down on the little rolling stool in the room and cleared her throat.
"Rig Johnson?" she asked, voice a bit husky. Rig could only nod. "I'm sorry. I know you're not feeling well, but can you verify your birthday for me?" She scanned the wristband the nurse gave him as he answered her. Jasmine, meanwhile, also couldn't miss the fact that her breathing had quickened, and she was squirming slightly in her seat. "I'm Dr. Shannon Wilson."
Rig opened his eyes and took in the doctor, then smiled. She was good-looking. Gorgeous, even. With short, platinum blonde hair styled in a pixie cut over an oval face with high cheekbones, a well-defined jawline, and thin lips that Rig just wanted to bite. She had long eyelashes hovering over bright, opal-blue irises that made his heart skip a beat, even in his ill state. She had a long neck that sat atop a torso that would make a model turn green with envy. He couldn't see much of her torso's definition because of her lab coat, but he could tell that her breasts were big, but not so big as to be overly disproportionate to her body. She wore a thigh-length navy blue skirt that wrapped around her wide hips, perfectly displaying her impossibly long, shapely legs.
He looked down at her feet. Stilettos? Seriously? She must not have planned on being here very long. He looked back at her face to see that she was blushing while looking down at his chart. She looked up at him, and his heart stopped beating for a second again. He laid his head back on the pillow. [The fuck is wrong with me!?] he chastised himself. [Jasmine is sitting right fucking there!!]
"Okay," the doctor said. "We're ordering a virus test for both of you. After that, I'll be able to decide how best to proceed, but either way, I'm ordering bed rest through the weekend and plenty of fluids. Push as many as you're able to." She pointedly looked at Jasmine. Jasmine nodded. "The nurse will be in to administer the test shortly." Rig noticed the doctor seemed a bit flushed as she got up, and while trying to be calm about leaving, she failed miserably as she all but bolted out of the room.
"Well, that was weird," Rig said.
