Hitting the Bottom Ch. 02

"God, this is heaven."

Sandra practically beams at me and takes a hearty bite of her own cookie, nodding her head. "Hmm-hmm" and then adds before popping the rest of it into her mouth - "I must agree, even if I say so myself!"

I smile as we both continue to munch on our cookies and sip our teas. This time I'm quicker to identify the point where companionable silence becomes slightly awkward and giving myself a small mental kick I clean my throat and speak up:

"So, you said you were going to school, too?"

Sandra looks startled before remembering when she mentioned it earlier. "Yeah. I'm working towards my BSN." Seeing my baffled look she is quick to clarify: "I am already a licensed RN - Registered Nurse - but now I'm studying to get my Bachelor of Science in Nursing diploma."

"Hmm. May I ask - what for? I mean what would having a BSN diploma give you that you cannot already do with your RN license?"

Belatedly I realize it may have sounded condescending which is not at all the way I feel about it. I'm simply curious. But she takes it in stride and thinks about it for a moment before answering.

"For one, it is a full college degree which means a 'real' academic education as opposed to a professional license. For some reason that matters to me; maybe because my parents' less than enthusiastic reaction to my hands-on professional choice... they've always expected us kids to get a college degree, so finally at the ripe old age of 30 I'm actually going to do that." She shrugs and smiles faintly, her words colored with a slight ring of irony.

"Also, a BSN degree would allow me to specialize in different areas of expertise that aren't open for any RN, as well as advancement to management position if I ever wanted one."

"Ah. Interesting. I guess it's similar in a way to the way some other public servants must get their academic degrees to get to the higher-up positions within the ranks."

"Yeap." She nods but says nothing else, looking down at her hands.

"So your parents are still alive? Got siblings, too?"

She looks up and smiles, her eyes and voice growing soft when she thinks about her family. "Oh yes. My folks are both retired now and live right here in town, as do both my brother and sister and their families - both are married with kids, my brother's got three already, and my kid sister just had her first baby. I'm very lucky to have them all so close, even if it does get a touch suffocating at times..."

I'm intrigued. I have zero experience with that, being an only child myself. "How so?"

"Well, first of all we have these Saturday Family Lunches which are pretty much obligatory, and although I love these huge family gatherings around a table heaped with great food it's sometimes hard... especially with me being 30 and still single. They try not to be too obvious about it but man, my mom and dad wouldn't know 'subtle' if it hit them in the face!"

She chuckles at that but beneath the fondness I can hear some frustration in her voice, too.

"Hmm... well excuse my being maybe a touch too personal but I've gotta ask: How come you're still single?"

Her eyes widen and rise up to tangle with mine and for a moment she seems at a loss for words, and then the ironic little smile is back on her lips and she answers softly: "Maybe I'm not that big of a catch".

Now it's my turn to be startled at her words, and my voice comes out squeakily incredulous. "Are you fucking kidding me?! I mean, seriously... You're smart, and caring, and hard-working and you can dance and sing and bake some mean chocolate-chips cookies and you come in the sexiest little package I've seen in years..." I stop abruptly as I catch her shocked expression.

I feel my face heat up all the way to my ears. Man but I sound like a lovesick puppy. Hastily I try to back-peddle some of it by aiming for humor: "...and you sure can fish for compliments, can't you, young lady?!"

She bursts out laughing and I exhale my relief and join her laughter. "Oh man... I'll admit I was trying to get you to say something nice to me but I never expected THAT! Wow. Can I get this on record and play it back to my folks next Saturday? Pleeaaassse?" Her voice is teasingly pleading and she's batting her eyelashes at me exaggeratedly.

I'm at once glad and disappointed at her not taking my professed admiration seriously. But I take her cue and answer lightly: "Of course, ma'am. Glad to be of service anytime."

She laughs even harder at that. "Oh my GAWD just don't call me ma'am on tape! That would confirm their opinion that I'm in fact an old spinster!"

I half-grin widely. "So how would you have me call you then? Miss? Mademoiselle?"

She seems to give this question more than it's due thought and when she looks back straight at me there's a peculiar blush on her cheeks. She bites her lower lip before speaking a little hesitantly, but still holding my gaze steadily. "Well truth is I'm kind of partial to being called 'little girl' but not sure my folks would appreciate that... so maybe we should stick with 'young lady' for this audience."

Well, DAMN. So she likes being called a 'little girl', huh?!

I cannot help the images that rush to mind at her admission. The very graphic, very obscene images crowd my head, all featuring this very lovely woman in various degrees of undress from a classic slutty schoolgirl outfit, her hair in pigtails... Her baby-blue eyes looking up at me asking me if she's being a good little girl for me while lovingly kissing and licking the swollen head of my dick before taking it deep into her soft, wet mouth...

I feel my cock swell and rise from my groin and suddenly I am acutely aware of just how naked I really am under this ridiculously flimsy hospital gown. I'm sure there's an obvious tent in my lap at this point - I dare not look, but I know it's there nonetheless - and couldn't be more grateful for the corner of the table separating us.

I gulp a couple of times trying to get my suddenly very dry throat to work. My voice comes out half-choked when I finally manage to speak.

"Yeah. It's probably better we stick with that then..." Shit. Get a grip Dan. Keep the conversation going. "Ahm, seriously though, Sandra - how come you're still single? Was there no one to sweep you off your feet?"

She smiles brilliantly at me. "Thank you!"

I'm confused. "What for?"

"For assuming it wasn't because there was something wrong with me." Her smile fades away into exasperation as she says that. "It seems once I've turned 30 - or actually 25 if you ask my parents - I've lost the right to 'pick and choose', to use my mom's favorite phrase. I'm supposed to just be grateful if there's anyone who's still interested in me, and to do everything in my power to get hitched and start having babies as soon as possible, else I'd 'miss the boat completely'."

She's not looking at me anymore, rather her eyes are downcast, watching her own fingers wringing together nervously on top of the table. I'm not sure how to respond to that and after a heartbeat she continues, her eyes now meeting mine.

"It's not that I don't want it, you know? Of course I do. I want a husband and a family just like I imagine most women do. Like my folks and my brother and sister have. But..."

She stops short and shuts her mouth looking a bit scared. Instinctively I reach out and take her hand in mine, squeezing it in reassurance.

"C'mon, Sandra. But what? You can tell me. I promise not to judge. I'd just really like to know."

She looks at me closely, searching my eyes, and asks: "Why?"

I hesitate for a moment and then think what the heck and answer honestly:

"Because I kinda like you, too, remember? And because I like listening to your voice when you talk. And because you've been kind and caring towards me, and I'd really like to return the favor if I can. So if you think having someone listen to you - just listen, no judgement - could possibly help, then I'd really, really like to be that someone."

She's silent for a long moment and I'm pretty sure she's thinking of polite ways to say 'thanks, but no thanks' when she nods slowly and then takes a deep breath as if working up her courage before looking me in the eye and speaking with a slight tremor to her voice.

"Well... as I said, I do want a husband and children. But the things I'm looking for in a man... I just haven't found anyone yet who feels right. And I'm afraid it's because what I'm looking for is an impossibility. A contradiction in terms. I'm afraid there simply isn't anyone like that out there... ARGH!" Suddenly she bends down all the way to rest her forehead on top of the table, knocking it there gently several times in obvious frustration.

"Hey, hey! Stop that Sandra." She ignores my request and keeps banging her forehead against the table.

"Sandra, stop right now."

My voice is now soft but stern. It's my Dom voice, although I've switched to it purely out of instinct, not from any conscious decision. Nonetheless it has the desired impact - Sandra freezes for a moment and straightens up slowly until finally, reluctantly, she meets my eyes. She looks a little shocked - undoubtedly due of my swift change of demeanor - and at the same time remains still and silent while she waits for my next words.

"Tell me."

She opens her mouth but no words come out and after a couple of false starts gives up and closes it, focusing instead on her fingers fidgeting on the table. I reach out and take her hand in mine once more.

"Look at me, Sandra."

I gentle my tone a fraction, but still keep it an instruction rather than a request. At the same time I glide my thumb slowly and soothingly over her knuckles as if petting a scared kitten. Her skin is as soft as the baby animal's fur. Her eyes slide back up to lock with mine and I feel her fingers twitch in what I guess is her nervousness.

"Thank you." My acknowledgement of her obedience slips effortlessly out of my mouth. It's like getting back into the rhythm of an old, familiar dance, enjoyable and comforting. Sandra still sits passively before me, waiting for me to lead her. I oblige.

"Tell me what you're looking for, Sandra. Tell me why you think it's impossible to find."

I know she'll speak to me now. I can already see it in her eyes, in the way she leans forward a little towards me, and in the way her fingers burrow more deeply into my much bigger hand, seeking my warmth and my strength to give her courage. She starts talking in an almost inaudible voice and I lean forward so that our cheeks are almost touching. I can feel the heat emanating from her skin; I can smell her sweet hair. Resolutely, I focus my attention on her words, her hand still held securely in my palm.

"I... I'm looking for a man who - who would not only love me, but would appreciate and respect me. A man who would be my true life partner. I want - I want someone who'd always be on my side, someone I would be able to trust implicitly and without any reservations." She swallows hard as I nod, and then she continues.

"And at the same time... I need that man to -" another pause and then she plunges forward. "I need that man to dominate me, too. In the b-bedroom, I mean. I need someone who would unapologetically take charge."

She stops and sucks in her breath, holding it inside her chest, waiting for my response. I don't say anything, just keep holding her hand in mine and give her another small nod with my head, indicating that she should continue.

Her face has grown a fiery shade of pink but she doesn't back down. I admire her resolution as she composes herself enough to finish her little speech.

"And the problem is there don't seem to be any such men in reality. The good guys don't show any interest in dominating me sexually, and the few dominant guys I've had the misfortune of associating with... well it seems as if they're all just a big bunch of assholes, to be honest. Happy to spank me and fuck me but couldn't care less otherwise. ARGH!"

Sandra pulls her hands from mine and waves both in the air in front of her face, spreading her fingers wide and then balling them into tight fists as if she's ready to punch something. But a moment later the fight evaporates and her hands drop limply back to her lap, her shoulders slumped forward in defeat, her eyes downcast as she shakes her head slowly from side to side. It looks like she's about to cry.

While one part of my mind is swamped in a flash-flood of desire at her admission of needing a man who would sexually dominate her, another part is torn by her obvious emotional distress, and I feel an all-consuming urge to simply hug her and to take her pain away.

Without thinking I wheel myself over to her side, the back of my chair against the table. She raises her head in question and then gasps her surprise as I open my arms wide, wordlessly offering her the comfort she so obviously needs. She debates it in her mind for a quick moment before her whole body relaxes as she scoots forward in her chair and leans towards me, wrapping her arms around my neck and burrowing her face into the crook between my neck and my right shoulder.

My own arms come down to circle her back and I hold her snugly to me. She sighs and whimpers and presses closer. Her softness and her sweet smell surround me and I soak up her closeness, her womanliness in my arms. I fight myself to ignore the painful arousal in my loins and simply give her the comfort she needs at the moment, and am grateful for the armrest of my wheelchair which keeps the lower parts of our bodies well-separated.

After another minute, however, Sandra pulls back with a small wince. I let my arms drop to my sides as soon as I feel her straighten up though it takes everything in me to do so. I know it's going to get uncomfortable between us and start thinking of what to say to her, but before I can form any words Sandra speaks up, a small smile now hovering on her lips.

"So you're not grossed out?"

"What? No! Of course I'm not. Why would you say that?"

"Because you're a good guy. In my experience good guys get grossed out when they learn of my... kinks."

"Yeah well... goes to show you then, I'm not much of a good guy." I was smiling when I started saying it, but hearing my own words hits hard, and it ends up as a grim statement of a fact.

Sandra looks just as somberly back at me. "I think you're a much better guy than you give yourself credit for, Dan."

I shrug her words off, not wanting to go there right now. "I wish I were, Sandra."

"You are." She insists.

Oh Sandra. If only you knew.

My stomach churns painfully. I know the right thing to do is to tell her the truth, right here, right now. Use this opportunity to set the record straight, to tell her why I am not, in fact, one of the good guys. Why 'an asshole' doesn't even begin to describe what an utter lowlife I really am.

But I can't bring myself to do it.

It feels so good having someone - a woman - to speak to, to flirt with, to hold... to fantasize about, with that tiny hope that maybe, just maybe, these dreams could possibly come true. I know that if I tell her the truth of what drove me to attempt suicide, if I tell her about Naomi and how I attacked her, Sandra would do the right thing and run as fast and as far as she can away from me. She's a smart lady. She wouldn't stick around to find herself at the receiving end of that.

So I keep my mouth shut. Pathetic loser.

Sandra looks at me with her brows furrowed once more. "What's wrong, Dan?"

I need to get outta here.

"Nothing. I'm just tired all of a sudden. Thanks for the cookies, Sandra. Have a good night, all right?"

I start rolling away when her voice stops me.

"Er, Dan?"

I stop but don't turn around to look at her. "What?"

"You'll need my help to get into bed. And it's probably a good idea for you to go to the bathroom before you go to sleep, too." Her voice is neutrally professional again; not unfriendly exactly, but showing no trace of the warmth and intimacy we shared mere minutes ago. The loss tears at my gut.

"Fine." I hiss through gritted teeth.

Man, I can't wait to get outta here. Tomorrow couldn't come fast enough.

*

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