Hitting the Bottom Ch. 03

"This chair is not safe for you over the next few days or so, Dan. Do you have any other chairs you could use in this office? Anything that wouldn't slide around when you try to get in or out of it? Anything with handles you could use to stabilize yourself while sitting yourself or getting up?"

I snort in my impatience, stare at her, my disbelief written all over my face. "Seriously, Sandra? You don't think I can fucking sit myself at my desk?!"

Sandra looks skywards for a moment as she takes a deep breath and I suddenly realize she's counting to ten. Slowly. I can see her lips moving as she does. Seeing her inner struggle reminds me again of the circumstances between us and I feel my frustration seep away.

"Fuck, I - Sandra, I'm sorry. I should not have talked to you like that. You're doing your job, I get it." I heave a breath and blow it out to rid myself of the last lingering annoyance before adding quietly: "No, I don't have another chair unfortunately. I don't have a dining table or chairs; I eat my meals at the coffee table in the living room. Does that mean I can't sit at my desk for now?"

Sandra's shoulders relax and she unfolds her hands from their drill-sergeant position across her chest. Instead one hand goes back to rub absently at her nape in a gesture that hints to achy muscles, and I find myself wanting to massage them for her, alleviate the little pains, drive away the discomfort.

I want to make her feel good.

"I guess we could try the single padded chair from the living room. It may be a tad too low to be very comfortable to work on for long stretches of time, but it's sturdy and it's got good solid armrests so would definitely be preferable to the one you have over here."

I blink, my mind still lingering on my thoughts of making Sandra feel good, but then with a small, dry laugh I nod and agree.

"Yeah, sure. Sounds like a good idea. Let me get it..."

"Absolutely not, Dan. Carrying furniture around? With a concussion? Are you nuts?!"

My eyes widen in astonishment hearing her words and a moment later she realizes what she just said and a shocked gasp escapes her mouth, her hand flying up to cover it as if belatedly trying to keep those words from slipping out.

It's so ridiculous - both the situation and her stricken expression - that I feel uncontrollable laughter bubbling deep in my gut, and in another moment it rises up and spills over, shaking my whole body in its wake. My ribs protest painfully with every sharp squeeze of my esophagus but even that is not enough to stop my laughter. I alternate pained groans between my belly-deep chuckles.

And then I see Sandra's shoulders start trembling as well and the next thing I know we're both laughing so hard we're tearing up and can barely stand up straight. I try to somehow soften the sharp inhales by clenching my teeth, hiss the air in and huff it out, but the laughter is stronger than me. In some part of my mind I know I'm probably going to pay for this carefree merriment with prolonged achiness in my torso but right at this moment I couldn't care less. They say laughter heals... Anyways it feels so good I just don't want to fight it. I'll take my chances.

It takes forever for us both to calm down and finally I am coherent enough to mumble in between chuckles -

"Yeah, I'm afraid I am quite nuts... But please don't tell anybody, all right?"

Her giggles die out and she looks at me with her head tilted to one side, her face softening.

"Maybe you are, Dan. But I like you anyways. And your secret is safe with me, I promise."

I don't know what to say to that. We just stare at each other until I remember it's my turn to speak and prevent this silence from becoming uncomfortable once more.

"I - thanks. Thank you. Now, shall we continue with the grand tour?"

"Sec, just let me bring that chair over. Wait here."

Sandra leaves me there and in another moment I hear the muted shuffle of my single chair across the hardwood floors. Apparently she doesn't even try to pick it up - it is quite heavy - and instead slips a kitchen towel under its two back legs and tilts it back to take most of its weight in her hands. The smooth, newly-waxed floors make pulling it backwards easy enough and I hear no worrisome scraping sounds.

Sandra turns the corner into the hall and throws a look behind her back to make sure she's in the right direction, and continues walking back slowly pulling the chair after her towards the office.

My mouth grows dry.

Her slow steps and slightly bent-over position make her white cotton dress pull enticingly across her delicious, swinging ass and hips. It also makes the lower hem of her dress pull up a couple of inches to expose the tender curves at the back of her knees as they turn into smooth-looking thighs before disappearing behind the thin white fabric.

Fuck. I wanna kiss that spot.

I never even knew I had a thing for that part of the woman's body until this very moment. Now it takes immense control to ignore this all-encompassing urge to walk over to her, wrap my arms around her hips, go down to my knees and let my lips and tongue explore the light-gold swathe of silken skin.

The annoying twitch in my groin returns. Fuck, fuck, fuck!

When she reaches the doorway to my office Sandra stops and pauses, straightening up and then arching back a bit to release the tension in her back. I move to the side to let her pass, and also to keep a safe distance between us. She bends down to grab the chair's arms again and pulls it all the way over to my desk, rolling the 'unsafe' wheeled office chair out of the way.

"There. Much better. Shall we continue with the tour?"

I clear my throat. "Ahm, yes, sure. Let's go. Not much else to see, might as well get it all covered."

She smiles and follows me along the short hall to my bedroom. She takes in the clean floors, the crisply made-up bed, the closet, and looks back at me.

"All looks good in here. I must admit this place looks way better-kept than any bachelor pad I'd ever seen. I'm impressed, Dan."

Argh.

"I wish I could take the credit on that, Sandra, but I gotta admit I had nothing to do with it. What you see here - the clean floors, the neat order, the food in the fridge - that's all Jon and the gang. Truth is it was a dump; I probably hadn't cleaned in months... I was dreading coming back to it from the hospital. But Jon and the other guys - they worked their asses off yesterday to get this place habitable for me. I still can't quite believe all the effort they put in... It's kinda mind-blowing."

"Wow." Sandra looks around her in renewed appreciation. "I never would have suspected it, looking at it now. Sounds like they really like you, these friends of yours."

"Yeah."

Emotions threaten to swamp me again - feelings of unreservedness and humility and gratitude and resentment all mixed up together - and I don't want to deal with them right now. I turn and walk out of the room and open the next door down the hall to show Sandra the bathroom. After a moment's hesitation she follows my lead and walks into the small room, looking around with a critical eye.

"You were released right after the rounds today, right? That means you haven't had your shower yet?"

My nod of acknowledgement ends in a desperate groan when her meaning sinks in.

"Oh no... no way, no how. You are NOT going to make me go through that again. I am perfectly capable of washing myself, thank you very much!"

Sandra looks unimpressed by my declaration of independence and replies lightly, if a bit impatiently:

"It's my job to help you get well while here at home, and that includes preventing you from doing dumb stuff like falling in the shower because you're too damn macho to get help. Now I see your shower head is positioned over your bathtub. That's a problem - getting in and out of the tub and standing up under the shower on this slippery bottom, is as risky as it gets."

Damn. I can see her point but still, no way am I letting her wash me again. Once was humiliating enough.

"Look, Sandra, it's not like I've been working at the mines over the last couple of days. I can go a day or two longer without a shower." God knows I've gone longer several times in the last few months. But I'm not going to admit to that.

Sandra seems to consider this, and eventually relents. "Well, I guess we can mitigate some of the risk here. It would be best if you had support bars installed for you to grab onto when you climb in and out of the tab. Until you have those in place it would be best if I helped you with that. And you must sit in the tub rather than stand up when you wash, or risk a nasty fall. Other than that you can have your privacy; I'll just be out in the living room so that you can call me in when you need my help."

Gulp. "So you're saying I should take a shower now, and I must get your help getting in and out of the tub, but other than that I can wash myself without you being in the room with me?"

"Yeap. You got it. Any objections?"

Only about a million.

"I - argh. All right. I guess I can live with that. Fine." I sound grumpy. I don't fucking care.

Sandra chuckles. "That's the spirit! But first I'd like to go grocery shopping, and I need you to promise me you won't try getting into the tub while I'm out. All right? I passed the supermarket on my way here so I know where it is - only a couple of blocks away. It'll be quick - about a half-hour or so. Okay?"

"Umm... shouldn't I come with you?"

"Er... you mean walk down the stairs, across two block, up and down the aisles of the supermarket, back to the building, and up three flights of stairs again? You think you're up for that?"

I shrug and mumble under my breath - "I guess not..."

"All right, it's settled then. And don't worry about the cost of food - I'll just add it to my invoice. I promise to only buy the essentials. See you in a half-hour or so."

"Ah - all right, yeah. Sure. See ya."

And just like that she's out the door and I am left staring at it long after it's closed behind her back, wondering how I'm going to survive this arrangement for a whole week.

Damn. It's not gonna be easy.

*

"Okay - I'm all done with the food so it's time for your bath and then I'll change the bandages on your head before I go. I'm afraid I'll need to leave in 30 minutes or so, so you'll need to make it a quick one alright?"

Back from the supermarket, Sandra went straight to the kitchen to put everything in its place, and now she's back in the living room standing in front of me with her hands on her hips taking easy command of my living room. Even with her cheeks flushed and her forehead gleaming with sweat that she worked up walking briskly to and from the store in the scorching heat, she looks beautiful.

Focus, Dan.

"So - you want me to take a shower now?" I'm pleased with how calmly I manage to ask that.

"Yes. I suggest you get in and get the water going, then sit down on the toilet seat and undress. Please do not try to undress standing up - the chances of your losing your balance are still very real at this point. When you're ready to get in the tub call me and I'll come in to help, and then I'll leave you alone so that you can wash yourself in private. Once you're done call me and I'll help you out. All right?"

I nod. "Yeah alright".

"Good. And one more thing: Please make sure you have everything you need - soap, shampoo, washcloth, a towel, a clean change of clothes - ready and within arm's reach so that you don't have to fumble around to get it. Okay?"

"Yes, that makes sense. I'll do that. Thanks Sandra."

"Cool. I'll wait for your call then."

I turn and walk into the bathroom, shutting the door behind me. Just before I do, however, I see Sandra out of the corner of my eye, setting up the medical supplies she'd pulled out of her backpack and placing them in neat order on my coffee table.

She's here to do a job, Dan. That's all there is to it, and you'd better remember that.

*

I am sorely tempted to get into the tub without Sandra's help. The water's ready and I'm sitting naked on the toilet, the pile of haphazardly folded clothes resting on the edge of the sink waiting to be put back on after my bath; having worn them for less than a day I don't see a reason to change into another set.

I look at the tub next to me. It's only a step away and I've been feeling so much stronger and steadier - what's the fucking big deal?! I'm sure I can get into the water without stumbling over.

And then again, for some strange reason, thinking about Sandra's annoyance and disappointment when she realizes I have ignored her explicit request stops me from moving. I realize I prefer enduring the humiliation of her helping my naked butt into the water than face her displeasure if I do it myself.

Fuck it all.

"Hey Sandra, you there? I'm all ready to get into the water."

"Hang on, I'm coming!"

I hear her answer along with her quick steps drawing closer to the bathroom door, and then it opens and closes behind her and I feel as self-conscious as I'd ever been, painfully aware of how lame I look sitting there with my bandaged head and sutured face and bruised ribs, my hands resting on my lap trying not to be too obvious about covering up my privates.

To Sandra's credit she never misses a step as she comes over to crouch at my right side, slipping her hand around my back to grab me under my left armpit and taking my right arm, resting it around her shoulders.

"All right Dan, this is the same as we did at the hospital moving you from the bed to the chair and back, only this time we'll get you into the tub. Ready?"

Fuck. I can swear her naked arm is going to leave its brand against my bare back. Her body heat is going to melt my side. Her sweet body smell, clean and a little sweaty, drifts and swirls around me in the tiny space of my bathroom, making me long to bury my nose in the graceful arch of her neck and take a deep, satisfying sniff.

Dammit. Down, boy!

"Dan? You ready?"

She turns her face to watch mine closely and her lips are only a couple of inches away from mine. My whole body is shaking with tension and I know she can feel it. I need to get into the tub and get her out of the room as soon as possible or I am going to humiliate myself even further.

"Yeah, I'm ready. Let's do this."

I lean forward to get my weight onto my feet as Sandra moves with me, and then push up to a stand. I notice she's not really helping me so much as simply making herself available for me to stabilize myself; I also can't ignore the fact that my dick is already at half-mast and I need to move quickly if I have any hope of disguising my involuntary response from the pretty nurse at my side.

We take the one step over to the side of the tub together, and then she waits for me to get in, one leg at a time. She crouches down again, dropping one knee to the floor and bending over the rim of the tub taking much more of my weight as I lower myself to a full sitting position inside the warm water. There's no way she could miss my obvious state of arousal, but again she gives no indication of noticing it. Instead she releases me and leans back, holding on to the side of the tub while still sitting with her haunches on her elevated heels.

"Good! That went well. You comfortable in there? Got everything you need for when you finish?"

"Yeah, I got it all within reach." I gesture towards the toiletries tucked at the corner where the tub meets the walls, and to the towel hanging from the hook on the wall.

"Great, then I'll leave you to it. As I said I'd need you to be quick about it so that I have enough time to re-do your bandages before I leave for my shift at the hospital. You think you can be done within ten minutes?"

I chuckle at that and answer dryly: "Lady, I don't know what your standards are but ten minutes is probably as long I'd ever spent alone in the bathtub."

An amused smile spreads on Sandra's face and there's a twinkle of mischief in her eyes when she answers lightly: "Hmm... and here I was thinking boys liked to enjoy their private time in the shower... "

She winks at me before turning her back and striding out while finishing her thought. "Just be warned that in ten minutes I'll be back to get you out of the water, so whatever you do - make it quick!" - and then the door clicks shut behind her, leaving me stunned and staring open-mouthed at the empty room.

I can't believe she just said that.

But she did, and her none-too-subtle innuendo is more than enough to get my already-charged dick into full attention, my erection growing hot and heavy and jutting straight up in the water, the head peeking out above the surface, mocking me with its single-eyed wink.

Oh but the joke is most definitely on me.

I had not masturbated in ages. And it wasn't from any self-imposed celibacy, either - I simply had not felt the need. My sex drive seemed to have vanished when my marriage ended. The divorce from Naomi was hell, not because of her, but because I couldn't live with myself, with the dissonance of betraying my wife and sub for the sake of other family obligations... my father's wishes.

I had rationalized it to myself as having chosen the lesser of two evils. But my failure to stand up for my wife translated into a simple statement of fact that kept repeating in my head ever since our separation: I am a pathetic loser. I had lost my self-esteem, my belief in myself as a man and as a husband. I'd most certainly lost my Dom. I was no longer worthy of topping anybody when I'd failed my sub in such a fundamental way.

For a while I'd tried keeping her close, tried to still provide for her in some way so that I could still keep face, if only for myself in the mirror. I offered that she stay at our home, no rent, indefinitely. She flat-out declined and instead took a job on the other side of the world, leaving me a note saying she trusted me to transfer her half of the proceedings from selling the house and the furniture to her new bank account. I did, of course, but it was a tremendous shock to my system. It was as if she never needed me. As if she never belonged to me. As if she never loved me.

I knew, in my head, that it wasn't like that at all. I knew she was acting in self-preservation. I admired her for her resilience and for her guts, uprooting her life and relocating to another country, another culture - a single woman in her late thirties, with nothing and nobody to lean on but herself and her talent. But it all just served to deepen my self-loathing and regret. Losing interest in sex was... yet another disappointment, almost insignificant in comparison to the big stuff. Sex ceased to matter.

And now - right after I'd hit my bottom, mere days after I'd lost my head and tried to force Naomi back to me and then tried to end my life - all of a sudden here I am, painfully lusting after Sandra. Getting a raging hard-on just from being near a woman who likes to boss me around. A woman who had put me through the most humiliating experience of my life. A woman who had, despite all that, confessed to being sexually submissive and needing someone to dominate her in the bedroom.

Fuck!

I can feel my heartbeat throbbing in my engorged member and without thinking I reach down and wrap my fingers around the shaft and squeeze firmly, trying to relieve the achiness. It only serves to stoke the fire further, and my hand starts stroking slowly up and down while my breath catches in my chest and then releases in a low moan.