Hitting the Bottom Ch. 04

"What just happened?"

Her voice is low and strained. I shake my head to clear the last of the cobwebs away before I answer.

"According to Dr. Pappas, that would be one of the symptoms associated with my PTSD. Which I'd just recently learned isn't limited exclusively to victims. Apparently we bad guys can get them, too. Poetic justice, huh?"

Sandra doesn't join my ironic, twisted sneer. There's a hint of sadness in her eyes though I get the feeling she's trying to hide it because she knows I'd reject it. Save your pity to those who deserve it, lady. Instead she reaches out to cup my injured left jaw softly in her warm palm. I feel myself clench inside at the gentle, ultra-feminine touch. For all its softness I know the feeling would be branded into my skin.. She seems to sense my discomfort because she draws back, and my jaw clenches at the loss of her touch.

"What you just told me you did, Dan... I don't know what exactly to make of it just yet. I'll need to think about it." I nod my head, not meeting her eyes. She hates me now. I should be thankful; she'd keep a safe distance. But then her fingers wrap around mine, squeezing, making me look at her.

"But here's what I know so far: I know that facing what you did drove you to attempt suicide. I know you're now in treatment. I know you get panic attacks just thinking of what you did. And I know you stopped us from taking things any further tonight because right here, right now, you're responsible and caring enough to do the right thing; because - as you told me yourself - you don't want to hurt me."

She pauses, her expression softening, a ghost of a smile showing briefly before it disappears again. "I told you back at the hospital that maybe you're not as bad as you think you are, Dan. I still feel that way. I think maybe that's why it's such a trauma for you."

She gets up and turns away, effectively preventing me from answering her, instead making her words echo in my ears, giving them a fighting chance against me inner demons. She picks up her backpack from behind the single chair and swings it over her shoulder, then turns and looks at me again.

"I like you, Dan. I really do. I don't know what it was exactly that drew me to you even back at the hospital, but maybe I sensed there was more in common between us than met the eye. And as for you not trusting yourself not to hurt me - I hope that at least you give yourself some major credit points for tonight. I know I do."

I just stare at her, not ready to acknowledge her words in any way. Sandra smiles faintly and turns towards the door. I wish there was something I could say to make her stay a little longer. Once she's out that door she'd be gone from my life. The thought slices my gut but I keep my mouth resolutely shut.

And then she stops as if remembering something else and turns to look at me, a renewed spark in her eyes.

"Hey, how about that new business of yours? Have you started on any projects yet?"

"I - what? Er, no, no I haven't started anything. Did some more planning but nothing beyond that. W-why?" Damn but she caught me off-guard again.

"Well, I actually have quite a long backlog of odd stuff that needs to be taken care of. Would you help me with it?"

I stare at her for a moment. "You serious, Sandra?" Why isn't she running out that door, dammit?

She turns back to face me fully. "Yeah, I'm serious. When can you swing by?"

I grimace, feeling a bit dizzy again, fighting to not sound like I've just got out of an emotional tornado. "As you can imagine I'm pretty much open these days... Wh - what kind of stuff do you need fixing? I - I need to make sure I've got all the tools I need."

Sandra ignores my stuttering and gives me a quick list. It's all pretty standard, and listening to her calms my nerves and allows me to gather my wits about me. I nod slowly as I contemplate the logistics.

"Yeah the workstation setup in your study and hanging the shelves in the bedroom is not a problem. Cleaning the solar panel should probably wait another week or two until I'm completely stable on my feet, and I can check the gutters at the same time if you'd like, too. As for the possible leak in the kitchen I can certainly take a look but if anything major needs doing I'd need to stock up on my plumbing equipment, so depending on the situation you may want to just call a plumber to fix it sooner rather than later."

Sandra smiles brightly at me. "Awesome! So, could you swing by tomorrow, say - 1pm or so?"

"I -"

Tomorrow?! Panic rises in my chest along with a disproportionate joy at the thought of seeing Sandra again, and so soon. Ignoring both I answer in what I hope is a friendly professional manner.

"Er, sure, ahm, tomorrow 1pm sounds good. Wanna give me your address?"

The unabashed excitement on her face is humbling. "Sure, I'll text it to you. Thanks Dan, you're a lifesaver! I'll see you tomorrow. Have a great night!"

She turns to leave and I scramble up to my feet, realizing belatedly that I should probably walk her to the door, when she stops again and smacks her forehead with her palm. "Gosh, where are my manners? My mother would be appalled if she ever heard." In a couple of strides she's back in front of me and a small smile hovers on her lips. She looks up into my apprehensive face as if measuring me up and then slowly, deliberately, reaches up with her fingers to hold on to my shoulders, their tips grazing the back of my neck. In a motion so reminiscent of earlier in the evening it feels like the craziest déjà vu she gets up to her tiptoes to place a soft kiss on my good cheek. "Thank you for a lovely dinner, Dan. I truly enjoyed all of it - the food, the company - everything. Thank you."

I smile back down at her, my palms once again resting at the sweet dip of her waist. I'm going to fantasize about this curve tonight. "It was entirely my pleasure, Sandra. Thank you for sharing it with me. And thank you for not freaking out... and for giving me much more credit that I honestly deserve." I should let go but I don't, and neither does Sandra.

We stand there for a long moment together, her hands resting atop my chest, mine curved around her back. There's low-key tension humming between us and I swear I can look straight into her soul through the wide-open windows of her eyes seeing every emotion shining through: her compassion and her generosity, her need and her courage.

You mean her naivety and recklessness, for not running as fast and as far as she can from you. Right Dan?

"Sandra, I -"

"Shhh... no. Enough talk for tonight. I'll see you tomorrow, Dan. Thank you again for dinner. Good night."

She turns and walks out the door, closing it quietly behind her shapely back, leaving me staring behind her long after she's gone.

Trust and hope. Is that really such a good mantra to live by?

~~~~~~~~

"...All right. I think it should be good now. It was just a compression joint that had worked slightly loose and needed tightening. Give it a day or two and then check for any wetness; if everything's still dry under here you're all good."

My voice sounds funny coming out from the cavern under Sandra's kitchen sink. I crawl backwards until my head clears the sink and then straighten slowly, still mindful of too-quick movements. Instead of getting up I sit back on my haunches, wiping my sweaty brow on the sleeve of my once-black T-shirt.

Still looking at the plumbing I can sense movement at the corner of my eye. My gaze shifts to focus on Sandra's bare feet coming to stand close to me, the bright pink nail polish twinkling as it reflects the overhead light. I never thought I had a foot fetish before, but now I am forced to reconsider. Sandra's feet look nimble, soft and feminine just like the rest of her, and those little toes, tipped with that ridiculous shiny hue, have real sass. Little toes with a freakin' attitude. Sexy, cheeky and overwhelmingly tempting. Fuck. Down, boy.

With effort I pull my gaze up, up the long shapely columns of pale-golden skin, over the edge where her legs disappear into the soft, well-worn cutoff jeans, further up to the V where they meet with her body. Upwards still along the brass zipper to the button that holds the denim waistline, hugging her belly in a way that makes me jealous. My eyes pause and focus for a moment on the tiny, shadowed gap between her top and her midsection, where I know the heat and the scent of her skin would be captured. I want to bury my face there, inhale her essence into my lungs. Rub my cheek against her...

An uncomfortable twinge inside my own short khakis jerks me out of my daydream and my eyes fly all the way up to clash with Sanrda's amused ones. Her face is flushed - obviously from noticing my very close scrutiny of her gorgeous body - but instead of chiding me she brings her weight forward and bends down over one leg towards me, offering her hand.

With a self-mocking grimace I accept and grasp her wrist, feeling her fingers close around mine in a solid hold as she leans her weight back. I lift up to kneel on one knee and nod my readiness to her.

Sandra leans back just a bit further and I realize she's not really going to pull me up so much as give me that minimal assistance I need to get back on my own two feet. I push myself slowly until I am upright again and she lets me bear my own weight throughout, our firmly grasped hands serving as no more than reassurance that she wouldn't let me fall.

"Thanks."

My fingers are still wrapped around her wrist and I can clearly feel her pulse fluttering against my palm. Back off, Dan. Reluctantly I release my hold and she does the same, our hands falling to our sides as we face each other in her tiny, brightly-lit kitchen. Sandra takes a small step to lean back against the counter, nodding towards the small table tucked to the wall.

"Wanna have a seat? I'll make us some coffee. Or maybe lemonade? Crushed-ice and mint-flavored?"

"You know, right now that sounds perfect. Yes please, I'd love to have that crushed-iced mint lemonade."

The smoldering heat of the mid-summer afternoon pours through her open kitchen window and it will be a couple of hours before the evening breeze starts. I take my seat and lean back, rolling my neck and shoulders a bit to release the kinks, and watch Sandra getting busy at the countertop. She reaches out to the wide window seal where a large strainer bowl sits, heaped high with fresh fruit. Picking out two plump, juicy-looking lemons she surprises me by starting to peel them.

What's she doing?

When the lemons are both peeled she puts them down on a wooden cutting board, and then uses her paring knife to quarter them lengthwise and discard all the seeds. When the fruit is ready she drops it into a waiting blender next to the sink.

Ahh... I get it. Yum.

She adds the ice cubes and a handful of mint leaves, hand-picked right in front of my amazed eyes from a small planter sitting next to the strainer on her sunlit window seal. A generous dash of sugar melted in a quarter-cup of boiling hot water completes the list of ingredients.

Within two minutes, I am slurping away the absolute best freakin' lemonade I've ever had.

"Hmm. This is really great, Sandra. Just what the doctor ordered in this heat!"

Sandra smiles her pleasure at my enjoyment. "Glad you like it, Dan. Just be careful not to take too-large gulps, I don't want you getting a brain-freeze."

I nod - she's got a point there - and slow down a bit.

"You know that's not even my best recipe." Sandra's smiling wide and I notice a faint dimple on her right cheek. I didn't know I had a thing for dimples, either.

I bite, because she so very obviously wants me to. "Oh? And what could possibly top this fine, fine iced mint-lemonade?"

Sandra chuckles. "I could have you guess, but I'll take pity on you. Let me show you instead." Getting up from her spot across the small, bare wooden table she opens her fridge and brings out a thick, semi-translucent glass bottle. Closing the fridge door with her naked heel she saunters back to me with an exaggerated swing of her hips and places the bottle on the table in front of me.

"Everything's better with a drop of Ouzo. And this one is the best."

I look at the bottle, then back at Sandra leaning casually back against the wall.

"I -" I move uncomfortably in my chair. "You sure, Sandra? It's not even 4pm..."Fuck. I sound like an old stuck-up. I half-grin apologetically at her. The truth is I think I can see where this is going. Consciously or not, Sandra wants us both to loosen up, while I, on the other hand, can't trust myself to keep my distance even with a straight head. Drinking would not help bolster my resolve.

Sandra tilts her head to the side, looking at me questioningly, and then shrugs and says lightly: "It's Saturday, Dan. You're done with your work for today and I only need to get to the hospital at 11pm tonight, so I intend to get a few good hours of sleep later this evening. But hey, you do whatever suits you. Me, I like my frozen Ouzo lemonade on a hot Saturday afternoon."

With that she reaches for the bottle again and pours a small shot into her tall glass, swirls it lightly in one hand and re-caps the liquor with the other, and then raises her glass in a tiny gesture. "Yamas!" she murmurs and takes a long, deep pull from her straw. Watching her lips wrap and tighten around it and her cheeks hollow as she sucks in the icy drink is a unique kind of torture. I reach for my own, still-virgin drink and take a hasty gulp, almost getting that wicked brain-freeze that she warned me of in the process.

The icy liquid sliding down my throat does nothing to chill my runaway imagination and I feel heat engulf me inside and out. I bunch the soft cotton of my T-shirt in my fingers and pull it away from my torso, futilely trying to fan myself. It does nothing but stick it even worse to the sweaty patches on my back.

"It's hot today, isn't it? And you've been working hard, too. Feel free to take off that T-shirt, Dan. I can even wash it for you real quick if you'd like. Quick cycle and air-dry will take no more than 45 minutes in this weather."

Man but it's tempting. "Nah, that's all right. I really should get going, Sandra. Thank you for the lemonade -"

Sandra stops me from rising to my feet by covering my fingers with her own on top of the table.

"No! I'm - I'm sorry, Dan. I didn't mean to scare you away. Please, stay." Her eyes, so clear and light just moments ago, now look deep-blue and troubled. Her small, white teeth worry her full lower lip, the small bite making it redden and swell. Fuck.

Without fully intending to I find myself holding her fingers in my own, my thumb caressing her knuckles lightly, marveling at the gentle strength in them. I don't get it. Don't get her. It doesn't make any sense at all. Finally I decide to stop second-guessing her and simply ask.

"Why, Sandra? You know who I am. You know what I am. Why seek out my company?"

Her chin sticks out in a silent challenge. "And what exactly are you, Dan?"

A pathetic loser, that's what I am. My hand leaves hers, balling in my lap instead. "I'm an abuser, Sandra. I told you what I did."

"Hmm." Sandra leans back in her chair as well, arms now crossed in annoyance. "And you're telling me that once an abuser, always an abuser? That from now on this is how you're going to treat every woman in your life?"

"I - what?! No, of course not!"

She quirks an eyebrow silently at me.

I stare right back at her, furious at first, then exasperated, and finally with resolved conviction. This one I've been thinking about, long and hard. When I speak again my voice is low, steady and clear. "I'm never going to hurt a woman again, Sandra. That's exactly why I'm keeping my distance. I'm not going to put myself in a situation where it might happen."

Sandra is taken aback at first but immediately leans forward, disbelief written all over her pretty face.

"Let me get this straight. You're telling me you're never going to have sex again? Like... ever? That's..." Crazy. I can hear her thoughts. But instead she says: "... quite extreme, don't you think?"

I answer the only way I can. "Yeah, it is extreme, but also effective. My other option was suicide... you got other suggestions?"

She shakes her head slowly, still not fully accepting my words. "So you're going to be celibate? That's your plan? I mean, what about your... needs?"

I lean forward, resting my forearms on the table top, lacing my fingers together to keep from fidgeting. Embarrassing as this may be, it somehow feels right to be talking to Sandra about it. She'd already seen me at my absolute worse. She already knows my darkest secrets. She should hear this, too. I lift my eyes to look into hers.

"Well, to be honest I was thinking of going online. Keeping it completely anonymous and without any physical contact should be safe enough."

Sandra's mouth falls open with a gasp; she simply gapes at me in utter shock. A moment later she snaps her mouth shut, swallows hard, and clears her throat before speaking.

"Well, I - I guess that makes sense in many ways. I just - what about the physical part? In the end of the day it's not all in your head, right?"

I'm shocked to feel a half-smile twisting my face, even if it's only dry sarcasm. "To be honest, Sandra, I think it pretty much is... all in my head, that is. Of course a great mind fuck would ultimately culminate with some other body parts involved, but that much I can take care of by myself, you know."

I take a quick sip from my lemonade to soothe my desert-dry throat and almost choke on it when I hear her mumbled "yeah, I know" just barely audible above her breath.

"Wh - what did you say?"

Heat rises in Sandra's cheeks but she meets my gaze squarely and repeats in a stronger, steadier voice: "I know you can take care of those other body parts by yourself. I heard you doing it every night in the bathtub for the past few days."

All the air leaves my lungs in a big puff and I can't seem to suck in another breath to replace it. Ffffuck! How pathetic she must think I am. The buzzing in my ears makes me almost miss her next words.

"Truth is, I kinda liked it... I thought it was hot."

"You - wait, what?!" My tongue feels heavy in my mouth and I can barely get any words out.

Sandra slides out of her chair and walks over to me, slipping along the edge of the table to stand right in front of me, her bare legs grazing my thighs, her pelvis inside its enticingly short denim package way too close to my face for me to be able to think of anything.

"Yeah, I did. I hoped you were thinking of me..." Sandra wraps her arms lightly around my neck and moves to straddle over me, then slides slowly down until her sweet ass presses between my slightly-parted knees. I keep my own hands flat on the table. I know if I move them even an inch they're going to bury themselves in the silky tresses of her hair and hold her there immobile... No. I cannot do that. My palms fist over that darned table behind Sandra's back, knuckles turning white.

Tracing my newly-cut hairline with a feather-light touch Sandra speaks to me in a hesitant voice that bellies her bold moves.

"What if... what if I did have another suggestion?"

I stare up at her flushed, nervous face, and I think I've never seen anyone so beautiful in my entire life. I wait.

"What if we took it one small step at a time?"

I swallow hard again. "Wh-what do you mean?"

I think she can hear my heartbeat pounding in my chest. I know I can see hers, pulsing quickly in that little dip at the center of her collarbone, just above the deep valley peeking from her scooped top. My eyes become glued to a clear drop of sweat that starts rolling southwards into that valley. I wonder if it's caused by the stifling heat or by her nerves. Both, probably. Her fingers shake slightly when they come to rest against my jaw. I lift my eyes to hers again.