Finding the One

This is the sixth chapter of an eight chapter story. I recommend starting with chapter one.

My thanks go to Joffa for providing his spelling and grammar expertise. His help is highly appreciated. If any errors remain, I'm sure they happened after his editing.

Please vote and/or leave comments. It is your feedback which fuels my motivation.

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Ch. 06: Climbing out

I was surprisingly relieved to see her. I hadn't expected that after the way I had treated her.

"Helen hired me to nurse you back to full health."

"But you're a vet."

"I'm a student and I need to earn some money for the last year. This is the perfect opportunity to earn some money and have time at hand to study."

"How much can you earn in two weeks? You'd be better off working as a waitress."

"I can see that my presence is not necessary," Andrea commented with a wide grin on her face. "I'm leaving. Marc, be nice to Melissa and do as you're told. Melissa, don't let him bullshit you."

"Bye," both Melissa and I answered.

"So..." I began before being interrupted by Melissa.

"I have lunch ready. I suggest we sit down to eat and discuss how we spend the next two weeks."

She didn't seem to bear a grudge despite my bad behaviour since we met at Sandra's barbeque. The prescribed diet had obviously already been sent to Melissa as she served me a vegetable dish. We sat in an uncomfortable silence for the first few minutes. Both took attempts to start speaking but we seemed unable to find the right words. In the end, it was me who breached the silence.

"I owe you an apology."

"No, you don't. But I would appreciate an explanation. What did I do wrong?"

"Nothing. I know it's a stereotype but it's not you, it's me."

"I lost count of how often I used that very sentence. We both know it is bullshit."

"In this case, it's not."

"Then please tell me."

"It's nothing I can explain."

"You understand that I have two weeks to get you to talk to me about it? You can either make it easy for yourself by telling me now or you can make it hard for yourself by telling me later," she smiled at me to convey the fact that she wasn't serious about making life hard for me.

"Later in the evening. Ok? I'd like to enjoy the meal and take a nap afterwards as the short trip here from the hospital took it out of me a bit. But I do accept that I owe you an explanation."

She accepted that offer and we continued to chat, mostly about her studies. After lunch, I started to help Melissa clean the table which caused an almost violent reaction from her.

"No! Sit down. You are not allowed to do any work for the next two weeks. That includes everything from grocery shopping, to cooking, doing the dishes, cleaning the house, washing clothes and tending the garden."

"Two weeks? I would assume that I can at the very least gradually take care of things myself."

"The instructions were clear," she said with a face splitting grin on her face. "I still ponder whether I let you use the bathroom without help."

"Very funny."

"Who says it's a joke?" she blinked with one eye. "But, seriously, go and take a nap. I will decide on a day by day basis how much you are allowed to help. For the first few days though, you will do nothing but rest, read, watch TV or play games."

"Does taking a shower count as resting?" I asked as I left the kitchen.

"Just. Maybe I come up and help you soap up."

She didn't, of course. After several days of sweating and sponge baths, I enjoyed taking a long hot shower. After towelling myself mostly dry I wrapped the towel around my waist and went to my bedroom for a nap but was stopped by Melissa who had been waiting outside the bathroom.

"Your hair is still wet."

"Melissa! I'm not dressed. Get out!"

"You will not go to bed with wet hair," she totally ignored my complaint. "Either you dry it or I do it."

"Ok, ok. I'll do it. But don't sneak up on me again while I'm naked."

"With the dryer. I'll check it afterwards. If I'm not satisfied, I'll redo it."

I re-entered the bathroom, pulled the hair-dryer from the cabinet and plugged it in. I had not yet had the chance to start when Melissa came in with a stool I usually kept in my walk-in closet which she placed right behind me.

"I have decided that this activity is too strenuous for you," she said while she softly pushed on my shoulders to sit me down. As soon as I sat she pulled another towel from the cupboard and covered my shoulders and upper body with it.

"Is the kind of arbitrary decision I have to expect for the next two weeks?" I questioned her with a lifted eyebrow.

"Yes," she replied dryly as she took the dryer, stood behind me and started it. She thoroughly dried my hair. I would lie if I said I didn't enjoy it. She started blowing the hot air on top while sensuously combing through my hair with her fingers. After a short time she moved to the temples, first the left, then the right, and then moved on to the neck. During the entire process, she tenderly combed and arranged my hair with her fingers.

I savoured her delicate and caressing touches and there was more than one unintentional, contented moan escaping my throat. I felt energy bolts run down from the top of the spine all the way down to buttocks and from there straight into the spongy bodies of my penis. My hair had been long dry when Melissa finally laid the dryer away. It took me a moment to regain my composure to be able to stand up. When I did Melissa embraced me around my upper body trapping my arms from behind laying her head on my back.

"I got really scared when I heard what had happened. I don't know why and I had no right to feel so but the thought to have lost you without having spoken to you again left me desperate."

I could hear how much she willed her voice not to give her feelings away but I still heard that she was on the brink of crying. But before I could come up with a suitable reply she let go of me and pushed me towards the door.

"Dress in pyjamas or anything and take a nap. We'll talk later. I'll wake you in two hours."

I turned around to look at her.

"No, don't. Go."

I could hear her trying hard not to cry but did as she demanded. I was confused myself. This was different from everything I had ever experienced. I dressed in a t-shirt and some boxer shorts and laid down on my bed reflecting on what had just happened.

I had not come far yet when Melissa came out of the bathroom, presenting a cheerful appearance again, "You are doing this on purpose so that I can pamper you, don't you? Of course, you have to lie under the sheets. The instructions state clearly that you are to be kept warm."

Complaining half-heartedly I let her help me get under the covers. She pulled the curtains and pressed the button to lower the blinds on her way out.

"Sleep well, L... Marc."

I didn't think I could fall asleep because there was so much to think about. But my still recovering body betrayed me and even before I heard Melissa reach the ground floor I was gone. The next thing I remember was Melissa sitting next to me on the bed softly stroking some strand of hair out of my forehead.

"Hi, Marc. I don't think you should sleep too long or you will have trouble sleeping at night."

She accompanied me downstairs and we sat down in front of the TV. We sat down on either side of the couch. She handed me the remote and waited for me to turn the TV on but I understood that she wanted to know why I hadn't called her after the barbeque.

How to tell her? How to explain that I was afraid of being hurt again? That I felt she had the potential to metaphorically wound me mortally?

"I have had nothing but bad luck with relationships. Since I was a teen and started dating I haven't been able to make a relationship work for more than a month or two. It's not that I haven't tried but somehow women don't see me as boyfriend material."

"And what's the problem?"

"If only I knew..."

"And what has this got to do with me?"

"I'm tired of getting hurt. The moment I looked into your eyes that very first night at the club I knew that you had the potential to hurt me worse than anybody before."

"I wouldn't do anything to hurt you!"

"How can you know? You can't know how long it takes for you to tire of me."

"Maybe I don't."

"Unlikely. All have. Sooner rather than later."

"What has happened to you to leave you so bitter?"

"My life. Lucky at work, unlucky in love to abuse a proverb."

It took her a minute to absorb that before she whispered, "Tell me."

"Since my earliest dating attempts my romantic life has been a total disaster; a mixture of cheaters, egomaniacs, gold-diggers and narcissists. All kinds of women who were interested in the things I could offer but not in me: tutoring during High School and University, money and glamour after I started the company. My last 'encounter' was disastrous even for my standards. My best friend let me run knowingly into helping a woman cheat on her partner. That was two or maybe three months ago.

I am thirty years old. In the past fifteen years, I have experienced nothing but disappointments when trying to engage in a relationship. And I'm tired of it. That's why I didn't call you after the barbeque. I asked myself which would hurt less: not trying to start a relationship with you or fail after a month or two. The answer is 'not trying'."

"So you pass on a chance for success because of past failures?"

"No."

"Then why?"

"Because when I look into your beautiful and expressive eyes I can see the entire universe lying in front of me and I don't know if I can cope to lose that."

"So you're refusing to give us a chance because you fear we could not last?"

I almost laughed out loud. It was close but I just managed to turn it into a chuckle.

"What's so funny about that?" she asked, showing signs of anger on her beautiful face.

"You have missed my point. From my point of view, the question is not if we are together in two weeks, the question is if we still are together in two weeks."

"Of course we would. You have absolutely no clue. Care to hear my side?"

"Sure."

"That evening in the club, when you were there with Pat, was the third time I had seen you. You were with your friend, Paul I think, the previous two times. The first time I saw you I was on my way home from work when I spotted you and Paul walk up to the bouncer to get in. From that one glimpse, I just knew I had to get to know you. I entered the club shortly after you and tried to get your attention by dancing close and bumping into you regularly but you didn't notice me at all.

From that day on I would regularly go to that club hoping I would get another chance to meet you. About a month later you were there again but you just sat with him at a table and it didn't give me an opportunity to approach you. But I spoke to the bouncer and he confirmed that you were a regular guest. So I knew that as long as I went there, I would get another chance.

Then came that day where you were there with Pat. I had just come in when I saw you standing next to the bar, drinking water from a bottle and looking genuinely bored. It took me several minutes to come up with the courage to address you and you fended me off like an annoying insect. That should have been the end of it. But I couldn't get you out of my mind. Then, only a few days later, you came to the restaurant and I had the chance to give you my number and I felt so sure you would call during the week but you didn't. I was devastated. So when I got invited to go out, I agreed just to take my mind off you.

Then suddenly you showed up and I didn't have the quick-wittedness to end my date and join you. And later I saw you pick up an Asian chick.

However, soon after I ended the date. Richard didn't get lucky that night. I went home and buried myself in my studies. Not a day passed when I didn't scold myself for missing out on you. Then Sandra invited me to the barbeque, mainly to get me out of my bad mood. The moment I saw you I almost cried because of the luck. I had to muster all the composure I could find to not jump your bones right then and there. When you didn't call and didn't reply to my calls I was devastated. When Sandra told me that you were in the hospital, potentially dying, I decided that I would not give up.

So if you think I will let you slip through my fingers again, you are utterly mistaken. The way I see it, I have approximately two weeks to convince you that I'm different than all those dumb chicks you have run into so far."

"I hope you are."

"Then I have just one remaining question."

"Go ahead."

"If you agree with me that we will get together sooner rather than later, why don't we cut it short and hook up right now?"

I smiled, turned towards her and spread my arms wide, inviting her into my embrace, "Just remember, you're handling damaged goods. And when it's time to break up, please make it quick. Don't go behind my back."

"I have never before felt as sure about something as I do with you. I will not break up, I will not cheat on you and I will not exploit you."

With these words she cuddled up against my side, pushing one arm behind my back, laying the other over my chest and squeezed me as hard as she could. This caused me to start coughing. She jumped up, alarmed, and apologised.

"I'm sorry, I was careless. You are still the patient and I'm the nurse."

"It was just a cough."

"Only a few days ago you were on the brink of death. For the time being, I will treat you as if you were made of the most delicate glass. Let me get you something to drink?"

I asked for a coffee. Melissa left and, when she came back, I immediately noticed that she had also changed clothes. She had gone upstairs and changed her tight-fitting, good-looking jeans for a short-cut pair of tracksuit pants while the blouse she had been wearing had been replaced by a loose shirt which had been cut off just under her boobs. She had also obviously shed her bra.

She looked absolutely stunning. Five feet, eight inches tall, estimated one hundred and forty pounds, C-cup breasts sitting high and firm on her chest, flat stomach and long, slender legs.

"Seriously? That's how you intend to sit next to me? Are you planning on giving me a heart attack?"

"Don't get your hopes up. No strenuous activities," she replied with a devious smile on her beautiful face. "But I was told that a high body temperature would support you getting back to full health."

She sat down on the far side of the couch and patted her lap, "Come here, lay down."

"I'm not a child. I can sit on my own. And I can't drink my coffee when lying."

"Doctor's orders. In fact, the orders I received were to keep you in bed for the next few days so when I let you into the living room, I insist on you lying on the couch. Not sitting, not slouching. Lying. Under a cover. And if I want to join you on the couch either your feet or your head will be in my lap."

Reaching for the coffee I let out an exaggerated sigh, "If it makes you happy I sacrifice myself to be cuddled by you. But this is tea, not coffee!"

"Tea is better for you right now," she stated with an assertiveness which left no room for contradiction. Before I lay down with my head on her lap, I handed her the remote control and while she zapped through the channels she played with the hairs on my temple. I closed my eyes and basked in the sensations of her caresses. At one point I noticed that she had settled on a rom-com, not that I really cared as her ministrations made it impossible for me to follow the story. It felt so wonderful. For the first time ever I got a glimpse of what a caring, loving relationship might be like, to be regarded as a person with own needs that want fulfilment, to be perceived as something more than just a means to an end.

When the movie had ended with its obligatory happy end, she left me alone in front of the TV to make dinner, a rich chicken soup with cheese and noodles. We had our first little fight over the question whether or not I would have a coffee after dinner. I won, but I had to exchange the coffee after a meal for a promise to follow her other instructions without much fuss.

After dinner, we settled back in front of the TV and watched another movie. After my promise to follow her instructions I was soon back lying on her lap, enjoying the same treatment as before. After having a good yawn I was wondering what our sleeping arrangement would be. While we had agreed that we would give us a try, I was not sure if I wanted to be sharing the bed just yet. As was rapidly becoming usual between us, Melissa seemed to have read my mind.

"Time to sleep. I hope you don't mind but I will stay in one of the smaller bedrooms for the first few days. As much as I want to snuggle up to you, it is, for several reasons, not a good idea. First and most important, you are still convalescent and need rest and recuperation. I would most likely disturb you. And second, I can feel that you have not yet come to terms of being in a relationship. That's not surprising considering what has happened in the last week."

Nevertheless, she accompanied me to my bedroom and waited while I brushed my teeth and changed into my pyjamas. She wouldn't accept that I slept nude as I usually did. After I had lain down under the covers she tucked me in and sat on the edge of the bed.

"You know it's getting ridiculous and this is only the first evening. I'm really not a small, helpless child. I can go to bed on my own."

She replied with a warm smile while tracing the lines of my jaw softly with her hand, "Doctor's orders. And you agreed to not complain and follow my instructions."

She bent down towards me, approaching my face. She let her own face hover above mine for an eternally long second before she softly brushed her lips over mine. As I pulled my arms out from the covers to pull her closer she held onto them, stopping me and instead lasciviously continued to tease my lips, to fan my desire.

"Holy shit," I moaned as she broke the kiss, collecting herself with closed eyes for a moment, before getting up.

"Sleep well."

"Are you fucking serious? You kiss me like that and then you leave?"

"That's just a promise of what is to come. I promise it will be worth the wait."

She left and pulled the door almost closed. I took some deep breaths which caused some coughing. Within seconds Melissa stormed back into my room, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I just tried to calm my pulse rate by taking some deep breaths. Seriously, Melissa, you don't have to treat me like a porcelain doll. Just relax and go to bed."

She did so, but only after providing me with a glass of water on my night stand. I still took me a few minutes to suppress the fire in my loins, which wasn't easy because I kept thinking about Melissa. It felt different with her than it had with anyone before. I felt safe, I felt respected, I felt treated as a human being. What was even more surprising is what I didn't feel: I didn't feel like a means to an end.

I finally fell asleep contended that I had reached a clear conclusion. Not only would I give a relationship with Melissa a try, I would pursue it.

To be continued...