Chapter Forty Four
Cassie was not needed during Ged's first night home, and on Friday morning they both slept late and awoke groggy, with a dawning sense of giddiness that they were truly back together. Ged's erection became obvious as her hands wandered over his body, and he muttered, "I have to go to the..." was enough to make her spring out of bed and accompany him to the bathroom.
He bent forward to allow her to aim his wilting penis into the bowl, and, having finished and being wiped by her now expert hand, turned and sat on the bowl.
"Put the extractor on," he said, "I'll call when i've finished. Sorry."
It was the moment he dreaded. Somehow having a nurse wipe his bottom was professional business and he felt only minor embarrassment, but now this was the woman he loved having to do this distasteful service for him.
However, there was nothing he could do about it, and having completed the action he called her. She entered, gave no indication of disgust or discomfort, but cleaned him up and flushed for him.
"Thanks," he said, "I wish you didn't have to do that."
"I don't
have
to," she said, as she thoroughly washed her hands. "I love you and I'm glad to do it."
"It's not pleasant."
"It's necessary. Now come down for breakfast, or do you want to shower and dress first?" she said with a laugh. She was still naked and so was he, and both were happy to be so.
"Shower?" he asked. "I can't shower," he waved his bandaged and plastered hands at her.
She produced two large freezer bags and two thick elastic bands. "I think you can with these," she said, fitting them over his dressings and securing them with the elastic bands.
"You need to keep your hands upwards so the water can run off," she advised, turning to run the water and get it at the right temperature. "Ready?" she asked with a grin.
"Yeah," he said, "This will be luxury!"
"You bet it will, with a maid to wash you all over!"
They laughed as they walked into the huge shower.
She washed Ged first, getting an immediate response from his cock as she made sure that area was clean after the night before. Then she washed herself, while he stood and watched, his cock coming to full mast, as he held his hands upwards.
She dried him and then herself, and instructed him to keep his hands upwards while she dried then removed the plastic bags and dried his forearms.
Then she dressed him and herself, and they went for breakfast, some of which he fed himself, balancing the spoon of cereal on his bandage and hooking his finger over the spoon to hold it in place. It was a slow business but Cassie made no move to help him until he put the spoon down with a sigh, and she took over without a word.
He was grateful and impressed that she was giving him every chance to do things for himself, and only intervening without comment when it was obvious he could not manage.
She was acutely aware that his normal practice after breakfast always had been to deal with his emails and check his banks and cards. It seemed a long time ago she had witnessed this, though it was only two years. So much had happened and none of it good. Her guilt came back with a vengeance.
He saw her face fall.
"What's the matter?" he asked. He was still so euphoric after their activities the previous night and their expressions of love and recommitment, to say nothing of their intimacy in the morning, that he wondered whether she had had second thoughts.
"It's all my fault," she said, her eyes filling with tears. "Your beautiful hands. If I'd trusted you as I promised, this would never have happened."
"Cassie," he reproved her, "you've got to stop thinking like this. We can't see into the future. If that louse at school hadn't used you and made you have the abortion, we probably would never have met. Your life would have been different, and so would mine.
"If I'd not agreed to the tour, I'd probably be a director of some company by now and have two hands and have composed no songs. Please put it behind you. Look what you're doing for me. I'm so happy we're back together again. We'll get through this together. No recriminations."
She leant against him and kissed his cheek. "Thanks, you're too good to me," she said. "Now! Time for you to do your chores. Come on!"
He wondered what she meant, since he was capable of so little, but followed her dutifully into his office.
"Do you mind me seeing your accounts and emails, you know, they may be personal?" she asked as she pulled another chair over to the computer desk and sat him down beside her.
"No," he said. "No secrets between us. You get to see it all."
There was a mountain of emails, most of which were to be deleted, and none required an early answer. Then his current account, and the account into which fed the royalties for his songs and recordings. She gasped when she saw it, and the steady stream of money that came into it from all over the world.
He laughed and directed her to another account that he called his savings account.
"This is a joke, right?" she said looking at the seven figure balance.
"Well, it makes
me
cheerful," chuckled Ged. "You realise that there are investments and various tax free savings - all legal," he said. "I have stocks and shares as well, but they aren't doing too well since the crash."
Then he became more pensive, as he looked around at his guitars, keyboard and piano. There was the mixing desk and another, dedicated computer for his music. He could play none of it, nor compose anything.
Cassie saw his gaze and his expression. She got up and went to the piano, sat down, and played. She played 'Connie', then a number of his other compositions. Then she produced a book of Beethoven Sonatas, and played all three movements of the 'Moonlight', cursing over her mistakes, then another book and from it some Chopin.
He was dumbstruck. She had never played in his presence in all the time they were together, and he could see that her technical ability and even her style and interpretation far outclassed his own, even though he had the higher qualification.
"Ged, my love," she said. "I can be your hands until you're better. You'll just have to get used to telling me what to do."
He was overcome, and broke down in tears. It was partly his disability, partly her generosity, sensitivity and skill, and his heart was full. She immediately left the piano and came to him, enveloping him in her arms, his head against her breast, kissing his forehead.
"Why didn't I know how well you play?" he haltingly asked when he was more under control. "You can play far better than I can!"
"I don't know," she replied. "I felt shy I think. I used to play when you weren't at home."
'You can play as often as you like, you're so talented!" He grinned at her, and she flushed with embarrassment at his praise.
As usual, while she thought he ought to go for a walk to build up his strength, she merely suggested it might be a good idea, and again he appreciated her delicacy in allowing him his autonomy. So they went walking in the sunny morning, returning in time for lunch, a cheese salad which she fed to him.
Once again he rested in the early afternoon, and she undressed and dressed him as before. She prepared a beef stew, and once in the oven, she looked for him in the living room, and found he was missing. She found him at the computer, laboriously typing with his left index finger.
She stood for a minute enjoying the sight of him totally absorbed in his task, and then he noticed her, and looked unaccountably guilty.
She smiled. "Glad to see you're managing," she said. "You will say if you want me to do anything won't you?"
