Charlie and Mindy Bk. 02 Ch. 07

"If you say so, Doctor," I said, unhappily.

"I do say so, Charlie. I know it will be a pain, and it's going to be even worse than you're thinking right now. Someone will be waking you up every two hours or so through those five nights, so that we can be absolutely sure that you haven't lapsed into coma during your sleep."

"Yes, sir," I said, even more glumly; there didn't seem to be anything else to say, and I didn't feel like saying it any other way.

"I'm very serious about this," he went on. "Here's how serious. You're to show up at the campus hospital by nine-thirty every evening, after tonight, through Tuesday. If you don't, both campus security and the city police will come looking for you. Same tonight, if you don't get there within a half-hour of leaving here. Have you got that?"

"I've got it. I wasn't planning to play hooky, though. I understand why you want me there—even if I don't like it."

He smiled at me. "I know this is inconvenient. But it isn't nearly as inconvenient as what could happen if we don't watch you carefully.

"And I was right here, too, when Andy described your…ummm, adventure. This won't be anything compared to what you went through with that dog.

"How are you going to get to the college infirmary tonight? Do we need to find you a ride?"

"I can afford a cab, and that's what I'll do. I'll stop by my house and get what I need for the night.

"What about Mindy?" I changed the subject.

"She's going to be in surgery for a few hours. She has some torn muscle tissue we need to repair. And she has a couple of nasty little bleeds from small arteries that got damaged; we need to tie those off. She appears to be fortunate because no tendons or ligaments seem to be involved; they take a long time to heal. She'll be on crutches for a while, but she'll be fine before very long.

"And we have an excellent plastic surgeon on call tonight. He'll be doing some of his finest needlework. If she's really unlucky, she'll be the only person in the world who'll be able to see scars. But I'm betting that even she won't be able to see them.

"She'll spend the night here. If everything goes as it should, we can release her in the morning."

"Okay, I'll come by in the morning to see how she is," I said. "If you've let her go, I'll take her back to her dorm."

"That will work," he said. "But you'll need to bring her some clothes. The ones she was wearing are ruined. Even if we hadn't had to cut her jeans off, they were ruined by bloodstains."

"I'll do that," I said. "Thanks—I wouldn't have thought of it. But can I ask you one more thing, Doctor?"

"Sure."

"If it had been Mindy who had the head injury, would you be worried about her having a SHE-matoma?"

A stricken look appeared on his face, and he said, "Get out of my emergency room before I reconsider and decide that you need a full body cast for the next eight months!"

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

I got up at about seven the next morning. I didn't really have much choice, because the staff was bustling around making plenty of noise. I'd gotten to Merrill Hall, which was the official name of the college infirmary, a little before eleven and gone immediately to bed.

As promised, someone had made me talk to them every two hours to make sure that I wasn't trying to leave the planet for good. So, while it hadn't exactly been a short night, I wasn't in an altogether pleasant mood when seven o'clock arrived. My outlook improved somewhat when I found out that breakfast was included in the deal. It was no better than the food the dorms served, but it wasn't any worse either.

I wanted more than anything to see Mindy, to find out how she was doing, and to get her side of the story. So as soon as I'd eaten, I went to Bussey Hall to get some clothes for her to wear home.

From her roommate, Carol, I learned that news of the incident had made it all over the campus. The word was that The Doberman had finally broken through its fence and had attacked Mindy and me. Then a fleet of ambulances had allegedly carted us off to the hospital—or possibly the morgue. I was reputed to have been more dead than alive when last seen, and Mindy was said to have been bleeding to death. The good news, so to speak, had been that The Doberman was deservedly dead—having died in a hail of police bullets as he was doing his best to gut Mindy.

I had to admit that the story Carol had heard was a damned good one, even if—possibly because—it stretched a point or two. The "fleet of ambulances" was an especially nice touch, I thought, suggesting as it did that at least one of us had left the scene in several pieces.

And she did seem mildly disappointed to learn that the rumors were a bit exaggerated—she seemed really reluctant to give up the part about the hail of police bullets. But I had to give her some credit: She wasn't the least bit disappointed to learn that Mindy and I were going to survive without permanent damage.

I got to the hospital in another cab at about half past eight, to find that they had released Mindy. They knew I was coming for her, so she was sitting in a wheelchair near the main entrance when I walked in. She was wearing a hospital bathrobe over one of those hospital gowns that always leave your ass hanging out. There were patches and bandages all over her legs—especially her left one. And a pair of crutches leaned against one side of the wheelchair.

I'd never been happier to see her; at my first sight of her, I ran to her. She was just as happy to see me; she rose carefully out of the wheelchair on her right foot to greet me. Somehow, she hopped, one-footed, into my enveloping arms—wrapping her own little arms around me and placing her head on my left shoulder.

"Oh, God, Charlie! I was so afraid! You fell and you didn't get up! And that awful dog attacked you on the ground! You weren't moving! I was so afraid for you…"

She was crying. I held her close, trying to comfort her—and myself.

For I realized that I was crying, too. Right there in public, and to Hell with the Fundamental Code—this was worth a good cry. My little sister, my lover, was going to be fine—even though I hadn't been able to protect her the way I'd thought I should have.

She pulled back to look at me, and I saw that in spite of the tears, she was laughing. And so, I knew, was I. For the first time for either of us, we were laughing and crying at the same time—and the two of us were doing that together.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

I took Mindy back to her dorm in the cab—which I'd had wait for me. On the way, we talked about the restrictions the medical people had imposed on us. Hers were less severe than mine. She was to keep her weight off of her left leg for a few days, and she was to see Dr. Baire if there were any signs of infection. (The antibiotic she was taking should prevent that, she'd been told—but they wanted to be sure.)

I would have carried her up the front steps to the door of the building, but I wasn't allowed to exert myself, and all I could do was be sure that she stayed upright as she crutched her way up. She sensed my discomfort, figured out the reason for it, and stuck her tongue out at me. I'm strong, too!

I grinned at her: I've never doubted it; I just like doing things for you!

Her tongue disappeared, and she returned my grin: I know!

We called Mom and Dad, collect, from the desk phone in the lobby. Dr. Baire had extorted a promise from me that we would do so—the alternative being that she would do it. I reckoned they deserved to hear, from us instead of from someone they didn't know, what had happened and that we were doing fine.

Naturally, they wanted to get on the first plane and come nurse us back to health. With some difficulty, we talked them out of it. It helped that the two of us were there, talking to them, instead of some third party—Dr. Baire had been right to make us do this.

Mom cried some, and Dad harrumphed a bit. But, eventually, they agreed that we were (nearly) grownups, that the medical people seemed to think we were going to be fine, and that missing work could be a royal pain in the ass.

What finally sealed it was our promise to call immediately if anything at all unexpected developed. After that, they finally agreed that they, the parents, needed to be with us more than we, the kids, needed them. Once they'd admitted that, they also had to agree that they were grownup enough to let us handle our healing on our own together—just as we had handled the emergency itself on our own together.

We ended the phone call, amidst mutual assurances of love, with promises that Mindy or I (or both) would call every day until we'd returned to normal.

When we'd finished, Mindy allowed that she was hurting pretty good and thought she'd like to go to her room, take one of the pain pills they'd supplied her with, and take a nap. I could see that she didn't want to separate any more than I did, but that she needed both the pain pill and the sleep.

Figuring that no one would think it strange after what we'd been through, I took her into my arms and gave her a good squeeze, while whispering into her ear, "I love you so much."

"I love you even more," came back her own whisper as she tried, ineffectively, to return the hug while hanging onto her crutches.

By then, Mindy's friends in the dorm were gathering around her, clucking and making other motherly noises. Seeing that she would be looked after, I gave her a brotherly peck on the cheek, and walked back to my house.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The worst part of the few days following our adventure had turned out to be that Mindy and I had very little time alone together. Not being able to make love was disappointing, but even worse was the fact that we couldn't even arrange the privacy we needed in order to talk to each other about what had happened and how we felt about it. On crutches, Mindy hadn't been able to get all the way down to the house, and we'd done our studying together in the library or in the student union—surrounded by crowds.

I made it without incident through my sentence of five nights in Merrill Hall. Dr. Baire said that it was still possible that I had a bleed in my head, but that the chances were now vanishingly small. She cautioned me again about vomiting, dizziness, headaches, etc.—the same things that Dr. Morrow had mentioned—and said that unless I began to have such symptoms I could consider myself a healthy nineteen-year-old man again and return to my normal activities. I saw no point in mentioning it to her, but there was one particular activity, which I'd come to regard as normal during the last three months, that I very much wanted to return to.

Mindy, too, was healing well. She'd met me at Merrill on Tuesday morning at eight, and I'd waited for her while she'd had her stitches removed. That same morning, she asked the doctor if she could discard one of her crutches, saying that her left leg felt a lot better and she wanted to start putting weight on it. Dr. Baire said that as long as pain didn't make her want to use two crutches, it was fine to use only one—or even none when it felt reasonable to do so.

Mindy met me at Merrill again on Wednesday morning. She had only one crutch, and I could see by the glint in her eyes that her SSDD had ensured that she hadn't forgotten what would no longer be a forbidden activity for me. And I'd awakened with a magnificent morning boner that had reminded me that I was now suffering the pangs of DSB. But I made damned sure that I didn't act sick—not even a tiny bit—when I saw Mindy. And every bit of the climber's webbing in the house had been hidden—well hidden—for weeks…

When we left Merrill Hall, Mindy handed me her crutch and tried walking a bit without it, but we'd gone only thirty yards when she said her left leg still hurt too much. She did fine with just the one crutch, though. By the time we got to my house, it was nearly nine, and George had left for his organic chemistry class. We knew that he would be gone until after the two of us had to be in our classes.

Once we were inside the front door, I lifted her little body into my arms, and I began climbing the stairs. She pulled herself up to whisper into my ear. "I call a foul! Manhandling a woman—again!" And she nibbled lightly on my neck.

"If you think this is foul—" I began, intending to describe other, fouler, things I was about to perpetrate upon her lovely little body.

"But I do like it when this man handles me," she continued, interrupting me. "And the fouler, the better."

"Then you are going to be very happy, very soon," I whispered back, "because I plan to put my man handle where it'll do the most good."

"Not," she whispered, smiling wickedly, "Before I handle your man handle."

We were rounding the corner from the stairs into the second-floor hall. My man handle was tenting my jeans.

"I call a foul!" I said, smiling wickedly back at her as I carried her into my room. "Threatening to woman-handle a man's man handle."

"Mmmm-hmmm," she hummed happily. "And after I woman-handle it, I'm going to woman-mouthle my man's man handle."

I turned to my left, bringing her within reach of the light-switch. "Lean the crutch there," I said, "And turn on the light."

She did both and brought her arm up around my neck. She pulled me down into a long, deep kiss as we stood there, just inside the doorway to the room.

"Damn!" she said, when we ended the kiss. "I've missed your man handle these past few days."

"SSDD?" I asked, moving toward the side of the bed so that her head would be at the upper end of the bed when I laid her down. The last use my bed had seen had been for our afternoon delight the previous Friday afternoon, and it stood just as we'd left it—unmade, as required by the Fundamental Code.

She was nibbling on my neck again. "Mmm-hmm," she hummed as she nibbled. She removed her mouth from my neck just long enough to ask "DSB?"

"Like you wouldn't believe," I said, bending over to deposit her, on her back, in the middle of the bed. She sat up immediately and reached for my belt buckle, as I reached for her shirt buttons. I kicked off my shoes as I unbuttoned her.

She returned the favor, and before long, we were naked—and our clothes were scattered on the floor near the bed. I reached with both hands for her amazing tits—the tits that I so adored and so loved to touch. Keeping her promise, she began to woman-handle my cock, stroking it and tickling it.

Her nipples had already hardened, and I felt their stiffness against the palms of my hands as I cupped her tits. Eyes closed, she raised her face to me, her mouth open, seeking and finding my own. Our tongues met again, savored each other, thrust in and out of each other's mouths.

I broke the kiss as I lay down beside her. She rose to her knees and pushed me over onto my back. Bending down, and, taking my cock into her little right hand, she guided it into her mouth. Her lips encircled me and slid all the way to the base of my shaft. The heat and the moisture of her mouth were exquisite, and I moaned my delight. I remained almost catatonic as my little sister held me, deep-throated, for half a minute.

When she came up for air, I reached down and pulled her toward me, saying, "C'm'ere, you!"

She came, and lay on her side with an arm around my chest, stretching her lean, firm, naked little body out against me. She put her head on my shoulder, and I thrilled again to the touch of her little boobs against my side, the tickle of her little bush against my hip. She folded her leg up over my thighs, and the hot wetness of her pussy kissed the juncture of my thigh with my hip.

"You feel so wonderful, naked against me," I whispered to her.

She reached up with her right hand and caressed my cheek, raising her head to look at me as she did so.

"I do feel wonderful, naked against your naked body. It feels like where I belong," she whispered back.

She scooched up a little bit, to where her lips could reach mine, and bent down to kiss me. The slippery heat of her pussy stroked me as she moved. Our tongues intertwined again, and I held her little body, so different from my own yet so much the same, tightly to me. My cock—which had stiffened the instant I lifted her to bring her up the stairs—throbbed with desire and anticipation.

She backed away from our kiss, propped herself up on her elbow, and looked into my eyes—and her own deep blue eyes captivated me. Shaking off their spell, I rose to kiss her on the neck, and felt her raise her head to clear my target.

At first, I nibbled with my lips, and then, slowly, I brought my teeth and my tongue into play as I moved toward her throat and down toward the center of her chest. Gently, I rolled her over onto her back, and as I did so, my lips, teeth, and tongue climbed the mound of a tit, nibbling and kissing as they did so. When they achieved the peak, I sucked her nipple into my hungry mouth, where my tongue swirled around it, caressing it and flicking it.

She moaned at that touch, and thrust her chest toward me, demanding that I take her nipple deeper into my mouth. I sucked harder, flicked my tongue harder, brought my teeth into play—but gently, gently. She sighed, and I felt her hips begin to rotate.

"Uuuhhh!" she groaned. "That feels so good, Big Brother!"

I moved to her other nipple, and gave it similar treatment. Now her desire had become almost tangible.

I was up on my own knees, now, and I kissed my way down into the valley between her boobs—using lips and tongue—and onward down to her bellybutton. She giggled a bit as I swirled my tongue in it.

"That tickles!" she complained.

Onward I continued, down the center of her abdomen, heading for the Promised Land—the scent, the marvelous scent, of which now filled my nostrils. My mouth trailed through her little bush, my lips sometimes tugging at the wiry little curls, my tongue sometimes penetrating to the underlying skin. I felt her breath quicken as she anticipated the touch that was soon to come. Her hips rocked in expectation.

I was still on my knees beside her, and the long axis of my body now made almost a right angle with hers. The line of my lips was parallel to the line of her labia when I reached them, and so it was natural that I should kiss her cleft just as I had earlier kissed her mouth. I raised my head for a moment, in order to get a good look at one of my favorite views. I pressed my mouth against her, my lips puckered. And, just as when I kissed her mouth, my lips opened and my tongue entered her in the ultimate deep kiss.

At that touch, she stiffened and expelled her breath in a sound that combined moan and muted shriek. Her hands converged on my head and softly, gently, clasped me.

Slowly, I wiggled my tongue, tickling her, savoring the taste and the feel of my little sister's most intimate place. The aroma of her most profoundly female part now had me almost in a trance—unable to think of anything but this most enchanting part of her enchanting little body.

Under me, her hips began to roll a little. Short, mewling sounds escaped from her mouth. Still her hands held me to herself, pleading without ordering, asking without demanding.

How long that kiss lasted, I don't know. It seemed to last forever, and yet take no time at all. At last, I withdrew my tongue and slid it, still extended, upward along her cleft—toward her waiting clit. Finding her little button, I circled it, teased it, tweaked it the way I knew she liked so much.

"Oh, God, Charlie! That feels so wonderful. Make me come! Lick my clit, and make me come!"