Friends: Deleted Scenes - The Comatose Boyfriend
Author's Note: Once again, I find myself apologizing for the length of time since my last submission. Unfortunately, life has many demands. But I trust that this story, which is actually three scenes, will make up for the wait.
This story line was suggested by an anonymous reader. I hope that person sends me an e-mail, so I can give a note of personal thanks.
Please keep the suggestions and comments coming. I am working on more scenes to share, and your kind words keep me going.
Last, I'm certain there are good writers among those who read my stories. Especially given how long it's been taking me to finish each one, I'd like to encourage some of you to also write Friends fiction. It's really quite fun, and I know the rest of us would love to read your work!
----
The sandy-haired stranger lay in the hospital bed. The two women who were with him had unintentionally put him there. They had distracted him as he walked through an intersection, and they watched in horror as he was hit by an ambulance. Sad and ironic; yet for him, quite fortunate. His physical injuries were minimal, but he hadn't yet regained consciousness.
Monica, who sat next to the bed reading the paper, had been the direct cause with her enthusiastic, though very poorly timed, "Woo-woo!" Phoebe, who had goaded her friend into the Negligent Woo-wooing, stood at the end of the bed, arranging flowers.
"I wish there was something we could do for him," Monica said woefully, as she folded the newspaper.
"Yeah, me too..." Phoebe agreed, then exclaimed a moment later, "Oo! Maybe... maybe I could, ya know, massage him back to the Land of the Awake People!"
Monica gave her a dubious look. "You think massage will bring him out of a coma?"
"Well, it's not like Western Medicine has helped him. And, and maybe he just needs some positive energy flowing into his body," she explained with broad gestures.
Her friend laughed, gently. "Okay, Pheebs. Have at it."
Phoebe walked around to the other side of the bed. "Oh, but you keep reading to him. That way he, like, hears a friendly voice, and, and ya know, he walks toward it... y'know, back to his body."
"All right," Monica replied, slowly and skeptically. "Well... I've already read the Times... I just have my book with me."
"Oh. Well, read that, then," Phoebe encouraged.
"Okay," Monica said, more from an intent simply to humor Phoebe, rather than in agreement with her idea. She pulled out the paperback, and found her book-marked place. "Let's see... 'Chapter Six - Loving Your Vagina'..."
The two women locked eyes as the title sunk in.
"I, I guess that chapter is, um, must be about, you know, feeling comfortable with your sexuality," Monica explained, with a noticeable lack of comfort, then she rapidly went on. "Okay, Chapter SEVEN."
Looking up and down the man's body, Phoebe commented with a lustful tone, "Yeah, but I'd like to teach HIM how to love my vagina."
Monica ignored her. "Um, okay, this one is 'Exorcising Your Mother Inside You'..."
Phoebe began to ask, "What, are all the chapters-"
Her friend interrupted her. "Well, it's a, a women's self-help book, okay? Just gimme a second. There's got to be something in here to read to him..." She continued leafing through the pages. "Oh! How about this one? 'Chapter Ten - Breaking Through Your Man's Shell.'"
"Ooo, yeah... That's good! 'Cuz he's WAY deep in his, like, REALLY THICK shell," Phoebe said expressively.
As Monica began to read, the blonde masseuse picked up one of the man's hands and began to rub the muscles of his fingers and palm. She moved from his hand up his forearm and bicep, kneading the muscles to relax them, and silently noting how big his bicep was in her hands. Then she moved to his other arm, as the comforting tone of Monica's voice filled the room.
Gradually, Phoebe came to massage his temples, then moved down to his neck, and slowly, further down to his shoulders and chest. Her fingertips were treated to the feel of the man's muscular torso.
"Well, well, we do work out, don't we?" Phoebe asked the unconscious man, though not realizing she had said the words out loud.
Monica broke from her text, and paused. "Really?" she asked with a shy little smile.
"Oh hell, yeah! Here... touch his chest," Phoebe offered.
Monica hesitated. Certainly it might be fine for Phoebe, a masseuse, to touch the unknown, unconscious man. But for Monica to do it... it just seemed to violate a social boundary. "Um, no... no, thanks... I'll just, um, read," she replied.
"Suit yourself," the blonde said, as she continued rubbing the man's chest.
Monica kept reading, and Phoebe kept massaging. As her firm, feminine touch moved over the man's body, his arms and neck and chest and stomach, she was unaware of the slow, steady hardening of his penis. Then her therapeutic attention traveled downward to his thighs and her sight caught the obvious bulge in his crotch.
"Oh! Oh! He's waking up!" she said excitedly.
"He is?" Monica asked, jumping up from her seat, and searching his face for signs of awareness.
"Not up there," her friend chided. "Look! Down here."
Following this direction, Monica's eyes moved downward and she saw the now-quite-obvious tent in the bedclothes.
"See? He's coming out of the coma," the blonde proclaimed. "Quick! Go get the doctor."
Monica chuckled at the absurdity of the request. "Right. And what am I supposed to say? 'Um, Doctor? We think that guy is coming out of his coma. How do I know? Oh, well, my friend was massaging him... and well, he got a hard-on.'"
The blonde stared at her dispassionately, then spoke. "And your point is?"
