My Angel of Mercy

"Back-to-front? What?..." I asked. "Do you mean like, anal?..." Obviously, my brain had short-circuited there for a moment and I missed the obvious.

"No, Kayla, back-to-front as in, fucking is usually one of the last things you do," he explained. "The kissing was a wonderful start. It pisses me off that I can't pet you with my hands, because sharing that kind of exploration, slowly and deliberately, would probably be next. We'd take our time, finding each other's sensitive spots and what kind of stimulation each of us liked. And we might get into oral... me finding out how you liked to be eaten, you finding out how I liked to be blown. Then we might move on to fucking, when we were filled with the excitement of each other."

"Of course, you've already got experience masturbating and fellating me. And I'll tell you, you feel so good fucking me I'm about ready to blow, and that hasn't happened to me this quickly in decades. I, unfortunately, have no idea how you like to be eaten or fingered... right now, you're the one with all the experience. And the ability, since I can't use my hands."

He was right. I suddenly realized what I'd been doing was all about taking care of him. Until the fucking, of course. That was for both of us. I also realized I could fix that. I came up off his cock, ignoring his moan of protest, turned around in the bed into a sixty-nine position and went back down on him, lowering my pussy so he could easily reach me with his mouth.

"Oh, my God, you are incredible!" he exclaimed. "Come on down a little farther."

I did. And damn near went right back up off of him, post haste. He'd licked my nether lips and sucked on my clit. I though the shock wave of pleasure was going to launch me off the bed.

"Come on back," he chided me. "Sit on my face and leave it there until one of the alarms goes off."

I was squirming like crazy, but I did it. I managed to keep my pussy in his face so he could lick me, and suck me, and probe inside with his warm, wet, very pliable tongue. And he didn't need very long to drive me over the edge of my first orgasm. Of the night, anyway. I moaned, but tried to keep it down. I wasn't muffled and I didn't want it carrying.

He didn't let up, though. He kept on licking and sucking and probing until I was about to go over again, and he had me so distracted, I wasn't doing a very good job going down on him. Then he stuck his tongue in my butt and that was it. I cried out on that one. I couldn't help it. I came so hard it surprised the hell out of me. And then, he used his nose to tickle my anus while he tongued my pussy some more.

He was turning me into jelly, and without the use of his burned arms. I started laughing.

"What's funny?" he managed to ask, using his forehead to lift me so he could talk.

"Look, ma! No hands!" I told him, and he started laughing, too. And when someone is bumping up against your pussy with their head while they're laughing, it feels really, really strange. I got him to stop laughing by trying to deepthroat him. I'd done it when he was a lot more swollen, I figured I could easily do it now. Well, maybe not so easy...

I guess maybe my throat had a reset button or something. It took a couple of tries before I figured out how to get past my gag reflex, but I did. I'm nothing, if not persistent. Alex wasn't even trying to be subtle in his moaning. He kept saying, "Oh, God, Kayla! Oh, fuck!" over and over. I knew I had him close when he pulled the pillow over with his arm, though. That's when I stopped.

His groan when I stopped could've melted Pharaoh's Heart, it was so pitiable.

"Oh, God, Kayla, no!..." he whimpered. "Don't stop! Oh, God, please don't stop!"

"Nnn-nnn," I disagreed. "Something better." I straddled him again, lined him up and sheathed him. And damn near came, myself, just from feeling him fill me up. But I was on a mission. I leaned way forward so I could dangle my tits in his face. He got the idea right away.

He was as good at suckling me as he was at everything else. Not that I had anything to judge by, but his mouth sent little shivers all through me as he lapped at my rock-hard nipples, then sucked them deep in his mouth, only to let them go and swirl his tongue around them, driving me absolutely out of my mind.

Finally I started rocking on him, a slow, gentle fucking that was building me up pretty quickly, but more importantly, was building him up just as fast. I knew I wasn't going to last and I felt him pull up, ready to cum, so I pulled my tits away from his face and replaced them with my mouth.

I think they call it a "soul kiss." The kind where you just get completely lost in the other person. Where you feel like you've become one, that they own you body, mind and spirit. And that's when we went over, both of us, together. We were both moaning and mewling and grunting and groaning, and the only intelligible words had something to do with God and fuck and cum. I felt like I imploded on his hard, throbbing shaft as I felt him pulse his semen into my aching, yearning cunt.

I came so hard, I passed out. Little twinkly lights, velvet curtain, and out.

* * * * *

I came to, barely, to find Kayla still sprawled across me, her warm, luscious body melted into mine, and realized someone had put a sheet over us. That was about it for coherent thought as I drifted back out, feeling immensely self-satisfied and an incredibly warm, loving glow for this little girl who had worked such a huge miracle.

I woke up again to the sound of Nurse Barbara waking Kayla.

"Kayla, honey, it's time to get up," she was telling her. It was dark in the room, except for the lighted dials on the equipment, so I figured she was trying to avoid waking me.

"C'mon, baby," I told Kayla, lifting her slightly with my shoulder and kissing the side of her face. "Your boss says you need to wakey-wakey." I saw Nurse Barbara freeze when I started to talk, but quickly resumed helping a disoriented Kayla sit up. "It's okay, ma'am, I told her. I'm awake, and I'm only a little sore, and I would appreciate it if you could look after this Angel on Earth for me. She is amazing."

"We agree, Mr. Foster," she smiled slightly. "Come on, Kayla. You need to get dressed and get some coffee in you before the morning shift starts to arrive."

"Sure..." Kayla mumbled, but did manage to get out of the bed and into her uniform, with a little help from Barbara.

"Um, Nurse, ma'am?" I asked Barbara. "I could use one of those cups of coffee, too, if you would."

"Actually, I'd suggest not, Mr. Foster," she told me. "If I were you, I'd use the bathroom, then try to get some more sleep. Doctor Carlton will be in later this morning to check on you, and he is going to be very interested in your miraculous recovery. I suspect a series of tests and a rather tiring day will be in order. You'll want to be rested."

"Yeah, about that..." I decided I needed to exert whatever influence I had. "Could you please see that Kayla doesn't get in any trouble because of me?" I paused for a moment before adding, "the Reluctant Hero?"

"I will do what I can, Mr. Foster," she told me. "Let's get you squared away first."

They did. The two did their routine and helped get me and my IV to the toilet, then cleaned up and back to the bed when I was done. Kayla was tucking me in when she asked Barbara if she could have a minute with me, alone. Nurse Barbara didn't even bat an eye.

"I'll be at the Nurses' Station when you're done," she told Kayla. "Rest easy, Mr. Foster," she turned to me. "I'll probably see you next weekend, if you're still on our Ward."

I thanked her and she left, leaving Kayla standing beside the bed, looking down at me. I thought she might be on the edge of crying.

"I'm off tomorrow and Tuesday, Alex," she told me. "Dr. Carlton and the others will decide your fate before I get back. But it is important to me that you know just how very much you are loved, and I will pray that you keep healing as fast and as well as you have already. You will always be a very special man to me, Alex. I don't know if our paths will cross in the future or not. But please know this, in your heart of hearts... you will always have a place in mine, and in my life if that's how it works out."

"I will never regret you being my first in so many ways. It is a blessing I will take to my grave." Then she leaned down and kissed me. Long and slow and sensuous... and final. It felt very final.

"Kayla, I'm not joking about you being an angel," I told her when we broke the kiss. "You, too, will have a place in my heart, forever. Just so it gets said... I love you. That is for always." She kissed me again and this time I could see the tears starting to leak out.

"Rest well, Mr. Foster," she smiled through her tears. Then she turned and walked out. I lay back with a lump in my throat I'm not used to feeling.

I lay in the dark and listened to the muted sounds of the machinery hooked up to me. The soft beeping that tracked my pulse and the gentle hiss of the oxygen being fed to my nasal cannula. The almost imperceptible drip, drip, drip of the IV. And the pain I was feeling had nothing to do with a throbbing erection.

Dr. Carlton did check on me. And as predicted, he did go somewhat ballistic. Louise was back instead of Rat-shit, to my great relief. Nobody was giving the good doctor any satisfactory answers - I'd characterize it as avoidance behavior - but he didn't let that stop him. After a thorough examination, he ordered a bunch of diagnostic tests and congratulated me on my great good fortune. He and another fellow, a Dr. Oslo who was a burn specialist, would be back to see me after they got the results of the tests.

I endured the poking and prodding and irradiating by thinking about Kayla and what a sweet girl she was, and how it was really out of line for us to have fallen in love. But I was also starting to think in terms of "so what?" Other people had dealt with similar situations successfully. We could. I just had to figure out how. I would ask her what she thought when I saw her Wednesday night. Or if they'd moved me, I'd leave a message, asking her to come find me so we could talk.

Tuesday afternoon I was informed that they were going to move me on Thursday to the Burn Unit and soon thereafter get me started with Rehab. They had taken the bandages off and redressed the burns as part of my examination and I have to admit, I didn't look very good. The skin looked all raw and inflamed, with little white streaks running through it. They had some kind of medication on it which I presumed was part antibiotic and part moisturizer. My arms and hands didn't throb so much and I got the impression I was healing, and from the doctors' comments I guess quickly and fairly well.

Wednesday afternoon I got a visit from Stephen Schneider, the man whose family I had allegedly saved.

Above and beyond his profuse gratitude for saving his family, he wanted to let me know that if there was ever anything I needed in the way of a favor, not to hesitate. He made sure I had his personal cell number and that of his wife, Natalie. He wanted to know what made me decide to be a hero. I told him I wasn't a hero. But the thing that got me in that skiff and heading towards the fire was the children. To me, children should never have to suffer that kind of terror, and all too often, do.

He accepted that with appreciation and invited me, and anyone I'd like to bring, out to his for dinner, whenever I got out of the hospital. I told him I'd take him up on it, at some point. As he was getting ready to leave, he paused and turned back to me.

"You know, Mr. Foster," he smiled slightly. "I believe you are the only man I am glad called me an asshole." I just snorted a little and shook my head while he turned and left.

Wednesday night, there was no Kayla. When I asked Nurse Rita where she was, I was told she'd taken some personal leave and wasn't currently reachable. When I asked why, Rita simply told me it was "something personal." I was a really grumpy, dejected jerk the rest of that night. And the next day when they moved me. And that night. In fact, I was just generally grumpy.

I had to get used to life without Kayla, though, and I had to concentrate on getting well enough to leave the hospital if I wanted any chance of finding her. I had to fight to keep down the nightmares about all the reasons she might have left. Most of them featured me and I was not happy about it.

I did it in record time. Nine days on the Burn Unit, thirteen in Rehab, twenty-two total from the day they moved me out of Med/Surge. My hair had grown back in, I had minor scarring on my arms, nothing on my hands, my back had healed up beautifully, and thanks to the Rehab people, I'd gotten myself into better shape than I was when I headed for that yacht. On the day they discharged me, I went to the Med/Surge ward and found Nurse Louise, and asked her for Kayla's address and phone number.

Neither of which she would give me. Hospital confidentiality policy. Which, unfortunately, I could understand. So the next thing I did was call Schneider. Then I went back to the hotel where I'd been staying. They surprised me.

First, they'd seen what happened on the news, so they packed up all my belongings and put them in the hotel storage. Second, they stopped charging me for the room. Third, they were holding my bill and not closing it out, pending my return. I asked them for a room back, they gave it to me and soon thereafter I had all my stuff back where it had been, including my laptop and a few other essentials. Whoever packed up my room must have understood "government contractor" because they didn't mess with any of it.

Settled in, I contacted my superiors, got righteous with them, then sat back and waited for Schneider. It took three days.

* * * * *

Mamma did want to know all about my boyfriend trouble back on St. Thomas. She knew I was avoiding talking about it, and that just made her nosier. Poppa was just happy to see me home. He knew I was "hiding out" from my problems, but he also knew to just let me stew through them and when I wanted his opinion, I'd ask.

I wasn't sleeping well at night. I wasn't sleeping well at all. I kept seeing Alex's smile, hearing his laugh, feeling his skin and the awesome sex... I just couldn't let it go. That should have been a warning to me right there, that I wasn't doing the right thing. Truthfully, I didn't know what I was doing.

Marisol and Marcus had been more than happy to help me out, and I promised them that I'd let them know what I was doing once I'd gotten to my parents' and had a chance to think. Marcus basically moved off his boat and into my townhome so I didn't have to do anything with pets or my stuff right away. I'd grabbed a flight from St. Thomas to San Juan and rented a car. It would be cheaper than a taxi, and I could turn it in after I'd connected with my parents.

After a couple of days of stewing, and starting to go back, and then deciding to stay, and then not deciding anything at all, which is a decision in itself, I finally went and checked at Hospital General Menonita de Aibonito to see if they had any openings, knowing full well that everywhere in Puerto Rico they were hard pressed for professional medical staff, from doctors to nurses.

I had an offer before the ink was dry on my application. I told them I needed a day or two to think about it, but the reality was, I was going to take it. I could help out my parents in exchange for a place to stay and it would help keep me grounded while I sorted out what to do about Alex. I called Barbara a couple of times, just to find out how he was doing. It was good news when he was moved to the Burns Unit and even better news when they moved him to Rehab. The closer he got to being discharged, though, the worse my jitters got. I didn't feel like self-medicating with rum, so I sought out our old family doctor and leveled with her about what I was going through.

Dr. Ramiro is an absolute treasure. She's not only a very competent physician in Internal Medicine, she listens well. And had very sage advice. She agreed to give me a limited prescription for Lorazepam on my promise to work through my anxiety, preferably with a professional. When I told her I didn't know who I could be comfortable with, given my breach of professional ethics that started the whole mess, she recommended a Dr. Sanchez, a PhD psychologist and also a good listener.

Julia - Dr. Sanchez - pointed out that lasting relationships aren't generally fallen into, but grown into. That being said, it was also obvious that Alex and I had developed a very strong emotional bond in a very short period of time. She helped me see that it was time and experience that would let me know if it were really love and not just infatuation. Hiding from him wouldn't give me the chance to find out. It would only afford me an opportunity to obsess on him, possibly to imagine a "him" that wasn't real.

I admitted to being afraid, especially of what he must think when he found out I'd bolted. And I was afraid I couldn't handle the rejection when he figured out I was just a scared little kid in awe of a hero. Julia pointed out that I was already off and running in the imaginings department. Not about being afraid - that was real enough - but about him rejecting me, and me being the scared little kid.

I told her how he kept calling me his Angel, and I think he meant it. I was afraid of what would happen when he found out I wasn't, that I had just treated him with kindness and respect. She asked if that was like his refusing to take on the mantle of Hero, because he was just a guy doing what was right?

That brought me up short. In my eyes, he was a hero. He'd risked his life to save others, and then gently helped me transition to what I considered womanhood. There wasn't a selfish bone in his body.

"Maybe that's how he sees you," Julia suggested. "Maybe you're one of the few selfless people he's known. You said he was some kind of government agent or something. Maybe his circle of friends aren't friends at all. Just associates. To him, you would seem untainted... angelic."

I was mulling that one over when she hit me with the giant-killer. "Kayla, do you want a family?" she asked. "Children?"

"You had to ask that one, didn't you?" I mumbled, then took a few moments before I answered her. I had lucked out with my reckless behavior and gotten my period right on time. But I did catch myself wondering if I'd really rather have been pregnant.

"Honestly, I think yes," I told her. "There are the obvious drawbacks of having a man in his sixties father children. But if I were going to have kids, I think I'd want him to be the father."

"Would you remarry when he dies?"

What the fuck kind of question was that? Well, a practical one if I was being honest with myself.

"I don't know."

"Kayla, I think that should go on the list of things for you to talk about with him," Julia gently suggested.

"Doc, I don't even know if he wants to ever see me again!" I could almost hear the plaintive wail in my voice. "He's the one that was pointing out how May-December relationships didn't often work..."

"Then call him," she smiled. "The worst he can do is hang up on you. Do you have his number?"

"No," I admitted. "But I know how to get ahold of him. And hanging up isn't the worst thing he could do." Julia raised an eyebrow at that, but didn't say anything.

"He could tell me he doesn't love me," I told her and I am certain that the world's entire store of pitiable dejection was in that sentence.

"As kind as you've made him out to be," she told me gently, "I doubt he would ever say that. But I'll tell you what... we need to wrap up today, so how about you just take some time to think about it without letting your emotions grab the reins? Some realistic introspection might do you some good and we can talk about it next week."