This is the story of love lost, love explored, and love found in a place least expected. It is also a mystery that involves power, money, greed, and lust. While not as graphic as most here at Literotica I hope you find it an entertaining read. I apologize for the state of the work. It still needs proofing. Please vote and comment.
JPMMURPHY
Chapter 9
Michael was propped up in bed, a nurse sitting beside him, spooning a very weak broth into his mouth.
The sensation was heaven. The warmth of the broth as it slid down his throat, the occasional metallic click of the spoon on his teeth, the smell of the nurse sitting next to him. He reveled in such small things, taken for granted, looked at, and discarded by most.
His sight had improved greatly but was faded, not quite the vivid colors he recalled. All limbs were responding, if not exactly as directed. The background noise had faded a little and the sun was low enough to be a faded, light yellow ball, thirty minutes away from the ocean.
Bits and pieces of thoughts and ideas came to him like a collage of photographs flashed on a screen too quickly, only long enough to know they were familiar. The doctor had come and gone and promised a lengthy talk tomorrow, when he was stronger. The only thing Michael knew right now was that he'd been in a coma for a year, almost to the day.
No television was provided, explanation being sensory overload so soon after such a traumatic experience. That was fine with him. He thought the sunset was more than enough entertainment for the moment.
At some point he wondered about the lack of a mirror in the bathroom but new sensations overcame him and the thought was lost.
The nurse left with his meal tray and Michael sat watching the white hot ball get closer to the green, cool pool below. Something seemed so important about the sun and the ocean but he just couldn't put his finger on it.
"Hello, I'm, Theodora Miller."
Michael reluctantly turned away from the window to discover a wrinkled old woman in a wheelchair at his bedside.
"Hi, I'm, Michael, or so they tell me," he responded as he studied the stooped bag of bones clutching a joystick on the arm of the wheelchair.
"Very nice to meet you, Michael," she said as she jerked the joystick and rolled a little closer. Michael watched her lean up, her head shaking a little as a bright green eye seemed to study him closely.
"You are a handsome one," she cooed from her perch.
Michael laughed a little and smiled down at the grandmotherly woman paying complements to him.
"What happened to you, Michael?"
"They say I've been in a coma for a long time. They haven't told me much else yet," he responded, pausing before continuing, "And what are you here for?"
"Oh, Michael, don't worry about me. My days are few, but I've been blessed with more life than you can imagine." She sat a few minutes inspecting Michael as he returned the favor, taking note of the contrasting beauty of the one green eye to the rest of the old woman's body.
"But one thing, Michael," the old woman finally ventured.
"What would that be ma'am?"
"My great great granddaughter will be here in a few days," she started weaving her tale, "and she's a beauty, Michael. I want you to take care of her for me, well, in case I don't make it."
Michael regarded the old woman with warmth and sadness. He saw no harm in placating what might be one of her last wishes. "You can count on it ma'am, especially if she's as beautiful as you are."
"I mean it Michael," she insisted, "I'm someone that's seen more of life than you can imagine and I have a feeling about you two. She'll fall in love with you as soon as she sees you. You listen to an old woman, Michael; I know what I'm talking about."
Michael laughed and it felt good. Just to be happy and talking to someone felt wonderful. "I promise ma'am," Michael answered.
With that, the old woman pulled and pushed on her joystick, slowly maneuvering out the door to Michael's room.
*****
"Why doesn't he remember," she asked interrogating the doctor.
"Remember, Theodora, this is our first full transfer," he explained patiently, "The memories are all there, the brain just has to connect all the dots. That may take some time."
"Will that happen to me?"
"Honestly, I don't know for sure. Maybe the same at first but we're putting the same information back into the same brain," he explained, "Your mind should connect the dots very quickly. Maybe immediately."
"For Michael it's like putting someone else's shoes on," the doctor continued, "They don't seem to fit just yet. We need to give him time to break them in."
Theda sat rocking slightly in her wheelchair.
"Let's hope so my good doctor," she said ominously, "Rudolph has his instructions."
The doctor smiled broadly as she maneuvered her electric chariot out the door. He wasn't worried in the least. Success was only a day away, he was sure of it.
*****
Bob felt filthy as he stood in front of the pimply faced girl behind the check-in counter. His money disappeared and a small, plastic key was slid across the smooth top. She pulled her hand back before he had a chance to accidentally brush against her.
In the room he threw the small duffle bag on the bed and pulled out his cell phone.
"Did you do as I said?" was the first thing he heard.
"Yes, Mistress, I did," was his compliant response.
"Are you filthy, Robert," she inquired.
Bob walked to a mirror over a low dresser decorated with cigarette burns along the edge and ventured a look. His eyes were black holes and a thick growth of stubble covered his face. Something was crusted in his growth of beard and up in his hair. The same off-white stains could be seen on the lapels of his jacked and dark blue tie.
His mistress had commented, that first time, how fastidious he seemed to be about his appearance. His collar stiff and white, the crease in his slacks ran perfectly from the top of his highly polished shoes. '
I will set you free, Robert,
' she'd promised.
"Yes I am, Mistress," was his quiet reply.
"Good. You've started paying for your sins."
Bob cleared his throat and almost gagged on the taste that came up.
"Where are you?" his mistress inquired over his cell phone.
"Somewhere in Nebraska," he responded, his voice a monotone.
"Good. Okay, you have some homework to do before you sleep."
Bob waited, obediently for his Mistresses instructions.
"You must go out and find a place, Robert," she instructed, "You'll know the place when you find it. You must take a cup and beg on the corner until someone asks for something in return," her sinister chuckle told him what was coming, "And you will give it to them, Robert, and you must not clean yourself."
The phone went dead in his ear and Bob looked around the room for a paper cup.
Glancing at the duffle bag he opened it and pulled his latest acquisition out, its weight in his hand a comfort as he thought how long and slender Tammy's fingers were. He grinned recalling the pruning shears had been on sale.
*****
Michael shuffled down the hall propped on the arm of his nurse. His knees wobbled and his breath was slightly labored, but he felt like a new man.
Noticing the other patient rooms along the hall were closed he asked, "Am I the only one on this floor?"
"Actually, we only have two patients right now," the nurse replied smoothly, following the script she'd learned, "You and Mrs. Miller. I understand her great great grand granddaughter will be joining us, maybe tomorrow."
"How can that be," inquired Michael, incredulously. Another thought lurked but he was unable to pluck it from its hiding place.
Sticking to the script, the nurse continued, "Well, we're a very specialized hospital that only takes life and death cases, cases with no other hope. You are actually our first real case."
Turning back Michael was tired and somewhat disappointed when he noted it was only twenty feet back to his room.
With the help of his nurse, he swung his feet back into the bed. A mild sedative sent Michael on a dreamland journey that was filled with places and faces he seemed to recognize. A sunset that lingered, burning the back of his mind.
*****
Theodora dreamed of her small flower garden in Mexico, of Jacarandas in bloom and shaved ice in the town square where they walked, arm in arm together, listening to
boleros
played by a trio that walked from eatery to eatery, a song for a small gratuity.
The call to evening mass at the town's main cathedral still rung clear as a small gathering of people made their way through the big wooden doors that were the entrance. Someplace they could visit but neither felt comfortable in.
Later that evening, a blanket of darkness hid their secret as they'd sipped margaritas and snuggled on a balcony above one of the town's many narrow streets.
Her gnarled frame was suddenly free of the crippling arthritis that kept her in her wheelchair as she flew in her father's arms, dancing a rumba.
In her dream she was suddenly beside a younger man, a younger version of her father. More importantly, she was younger; she was twenty again as they walked through the small town, arm in arm, a trio of musicians at hand playing a song for them and well wishers lining their path. They were headed for the church. They were finally welcomed, even celebrated as they stood before a priest and made their promises.
She watched as Michael turned, raised her veil, tilted her chin and leaned down to kiss her. A stolen moment from her past she had vowed to re-live. Something she now believed they could share together through a living eternity.
Yes, father, we have done it.
