Date: Fri, 31 Aug 2012 14:08:03 -0700
From: Phil R <171.r99@gmail.com>
Subject: The Window Washer Chapter 1

The Window Washer

Chapter 1

Please make a donation to Nifty so they can continue to post these
stories. http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html

If it is illegal for you to read about consensual sex between two adult
males stop now.  If you have any comments please email me at
171.r99@gmail.com.  Thanks for reading.



Monday morning.  Steve, the sales manager, shot into my office and said,
"Listen, Jerry, you're gonna have that report ready by tomorrow, right?"

"Yes, Steve, it's almost done.  And, Steve, when have I ever been late with
your report?"

"You're the MAN, Jerry!" and then he disappeared as fast as he'd arrived.

There would be no problem getting the report done.  There never was a
problem getting any report done.  I'd lost track of how many reports I'd
prepared in the last five years.  I could do Steve's damned report with my
eyes closed and one hand tied behind my back!

There was no need to rush.  I'd finish the report in an hour.  Plenty of
time left.

I got up, stretched and headed toward the men's room for a piss.  After
that I took the elevator down five floors to the lobby to grab a vente from
Starbucks.  I always got a kick out of the woman who worked there.  I think
she was Russian and she always flirted with me.  She'd say something like,
"Ah, Mister Hardwick!  You come to rescue me from a life of drudgery!  You
ask.  I go with you!  You take me to a tropical island, yes?"

I'd laugh and respond with something like, "One of these days, Lana, one
these days...."

It was our little routine and it always brightened my day.

I put cream in my coffee and grabbed a stool at the little bar by the
window.  There was no rush to get back to my office and I always a enjoyed
a few minutes at this spot.  It had a great view of the busy sidewalk and
street.  I looked out.  It was a sunny day.  I always marvelled at the
frantic maelstrom out there.  Busses, cars, trucks, taxis, all swirling
along to some important destination.  There was an Acme Maintenance van
parked in the loading zone in front.  There were guys walking along the
sidewalk.  Lots of guys.  Tall guys, short guys.  Slim guys, fat guys.
Guys in suits, guys in jeans.  Guys with great asses.  Guys with intriguing
packages.  I thought of the Gerri Halliwell song It's Raining Men.  Many of
the men I was looking at were hot.  Smoking hot.  I was getting a little
horny.  I thought ruefully, "Looks like I've got another date with Mr. Hand
tonight."

Sadly, Mr. Hand was the only date I'd had now for several weeks.

My current boyfriend, Sven, an engineer, had recently left on an assignment
in Asia.  Before he left we'd had a long and heartfelt conversation about
our commitment to each other.  We thought that we had a good shot at a
future together but that this break would give us a chance to think it
through.  After all, doesn't absence make the heart grow fonder?

Unfortunately that wasn't the case.  I was becoming more ambivalent about
the relationship as the weeks rolled by.  Sure, it was a comfortable
alliance.  He was a great guy.  Good looking and charming.  But for me
there was something missing.  There just wasn't that "spark" that I thought
should be in a good partnership.

Perhaps it was time to move on....

I checked my watch.  Whoops!  Time to get back to work.

As I entered the office Janice, our receptionist, waved a pink message slip
at me.

I arched my eyebrow telegraphing the question, "Who?"

"Mr. Cohen," she told me.

"Ah, yes, the banker."  Reminding me about our meeting tomorrow, right?  I
must remember to wear a suit."

I sat at my desk and concentrated on banging out the report for Steve.  I
was focussed pretty intently on my computer, just crossing the t's and
dotting the i's, when I heard a light tap on my door.  Janice stuck her
head in and told me she was going to lunch (lunch time already?).  She
kindly asked me if I'd like her to bring me back a sandwich.  I gratefully
accepted her offer.  Before she turned to leave she handed me three more
message slips.

Two were routine business calls.  I'd return them after lunch.

The third message made me smile.  It was from my old high school buddy,
Jennifer.  She had been my friend, my confident and my saviour during those
painful, confusing years. The years when I guy could get teased mercilessly
for having a last name like Hardwick.  I loved her dearly.

I picked up the phone and called her right away.  She knew it was me from
her call display and answered with an enthusiastic, "Hi stranger!"

"Hi Florence Nightingale," I responded (alluding to the fact that she was
now a nurse) then added, "What's up?"  I knew she hadn't called just to
chat.

"Well," she said in a low, conspiratorial tone, "Paul is away on his annual
retreat with John this week, Ryan's in pre-school, and I need some pleasant
company.  I'm wondering if you've got time for lunch with your old friend
sometime in the next day few days."

Paul was her hunky cop husband and John, a fireman, was her twin sister's
husband--also a bit of a hunk as I recalled.  Ryan was her 3 year old son.

Something about the way she emphasized the word "retreat" made me wonder.
My mind drifted.  For some reason I conjured a porno image of a cop and
fireman.  Hmmm, more material for my date with Mr. Hand...

Jennifer's voice pulled me back to reality, "Earth to Jerry.  Yes or no?
Can you do lunch or not?"

 "Jennifer, you know I never pass up a chance to have lunch with you!  How
about Thursday?"

"Perfect," she replied.  "Gino's at 12:30.  And, Jerry, I want to hear all
about your love life!"

"Then we're not gonna have much to talk about, Jennifer."

"I don't believe you.  Bye.  See you Thursday."

"Bye, Jennifer, and thanks for calling."

Janice returned with my sandwich.  Swiss cheese, avocado and alfalfa
sprouts with mayo.  My favourite.  I grabbed a bottle of water from the
fridge and ate at my desk.  It was shaping up to be a busy afternoon.
Besides what I had on my schedule there were always unexpected fires to
deal with.  I was technically our company's Chief Financial Officer, but I
thought my title should be The Guy Who Does Everything That Nobody Else
Wants to Do.  Sometimes my job was tedious and repetitive, but I really had
little to complain about.  I'd been extremely lucky to get in on the ground
floor of a software start-up that did well.  I made good money for my age
and the bonuses were generous.  If the company was ever sold, or merged
with a larger firm, the shares I owned would provide me with a nice nest
egg.

So I started on what I expected to be a fairly routine afternoon.  The
hours evaporated.  By 4 o'clock I need to stretch and have another pee.  I
got up and headed for the can.  I stopped in the coffee room on the way
back and grabbed a diet coke to take back to my office.  I was deep in
thought about a work issue.  Walking along without really watching where I
was going.  As I entered my office I was looking down at the tab on the
coke can, getting ready to open it.  Suddenly in my peripheral vision I
sensed a movement.  I looked up, startled.  Something was at my window.  I
froze mid step--one foot suspended above the floor.  I stopped like I'd
run into a brick wall.  It was as if I'd seen Medusa and been turned to
stone.  Only what I was looking at was no gorgon.  No, that was the wrong
analogy entirely....

I was looking at God.

Well, not THE God, more like a Greek god.  Zeus? Apollo?

A being so beautiful I could hardly breathe.

Suspended on a flimsy rope on the other side of my window....

 I regained enough of my senses to realize it was a window washer.  A very
hunky, very attractive window washer.  So beautiful that he had stopped me
dead in my tracks.

I became aware that, he too, had become motionless.  His squeegee stopped
mid-stroke on the window.

We stared at each other.  I swear sparks flew between our eyes.  There was
absolutely no doubt that a big time mutual attraction thing was going on.

Finally I remembered to breath.  He smiled at me.  I smiled back.  My foot
touched the floor again and I stepped closer to the window.  We held each
other's gaze.

He was the first one to make a move.  Surprisingly, he spread the fingers
of his free hand and put them to his face pantomiming talking on the phone.
I realized he wanted me to phone him.  I nodded yes enthusiastically and
smiled even more.  I wondered how we could exchange phone numbers.  I
doubted we could hear each other through the thick glass of the window.

Obviously a problem solver he spread some soap film on the window with his
squeegee.  Then with his index finger he started to write in it. He formed
the letters backwards so I could read them.  The letters were blocky and
child like.

He wrote, R O B.  Rob!  His name was Rob.  I nodded understanding and
continued grinning like a fool.

He then began writing numbers.  I scrabbled to my desk for a pen and paper
to write them down.

Slowly he wrote, 8 0 5 5 5 5 1 2 .......

I looked down to copy the first few numbers on a piece of paper.  I looked
up to get the last of them.

He wasn't there!  He was gone! Down!  His finger had left a little trail in
the film after the 2.  I saw loose rope snaking down behind him.

The realization hit me like an axe to the gut.  Right in front of my eyes
he'd fallen to his death!

I instinctively grabbed my phone pressed 9-1-1 for help.

"Fire, police or ambulance?"  the dispatcher asked.

"Ambulance!"

After what seemed like an eternity the ambulance dispatcher came on the
line.

"The window washer!" I exclaimed.  "He just fell five stories down to the
street!"  I was panting like I'd come back from a long run.
Hyperventilating.

"Sir, can I confirm your address and phone number?"  The dispatcher's calm
detachment helped to calm my jangled nerves just enough to take a proper
breath and coherently recite my office phone number and the building's
street address.

Then he said, "Sir, we're getting other calls about this.  Can you stay on
the line for moment while I put you on hold?"

"Yes!  Of course!"  I told myself to breathe deeply and slowly....

After a few moments he came back on the line and told me that an ambulance
had been dispatched.  He asked for my name in case any follow up was needed
and then ended the call.

I slammed down the phone and raced for the elevator.  I startled Janice and
she shot me a questioning look.  I ignored her.  I briefly debated taking
the stairs but realized they exited the building on the wrong side.  I
needed the front side.  I needed to take the elevator.  I stabbed the
button impatiently.  Finally after what seemed like an hour's wait (in
reality it was only about a minute) the damn elevator arrived.  I jumped in
and stabbed the button for the ground floor.  As the elevator slowly
descended I began to shake from all the adrenaline in my system.

The elevator stopped and the doors opened.  I hurried toward the building's
main door.  As I did I could see through the plate glass windows that he
(Rob, my Rob) was lying crumpled in a heap on the sidewalk.  I reached the
door just as the ambulance pulled up, lights blazing and siren blaring.

The paramedics reached Rob just as I did.  They told me to stand away.  I
backed off a couple of paces and stood there dumbfounded watching them do
their work.  They checked him over.  Looked in his eyes.  Listened for a
heartbeat.

I could see blood on his head.  I said a silent prayer that he was alive.

I heard him groan and saw him move his head slightly.  He was alive!  I
nearly fainted from relief.

Quickly another paramedic brought a board-like device and they gently
rolled him onto it and strapped him down.

They put him on a stretcher and began wheeling it to the ambulance.

As they were loading him in I yelled, "Where are you taking him?"

The paramedic said, "St. Paul's," then slammed the ambulance doors closed.

The ambulance sped away.  I stood and watched it disappear in the direction
of the hospital.  The siren noise gradually faded to nothing.  Then there
was just the background noise of a busy city.  A white noise that somehow
seemed surreal and eerily silent in the circumstances.  I felt empty and
lost.  I felt somehow responsible for Rob's fall.  I felt guilty.

The small crowd that had gathered slowly started to disburse.  My eyes
darted around.  I looked at where Rob had been on the sidewalk.  I looked
up at my office window.  Then I noticed the sloped glass canopy running
along the front of the building.  Rob had been lying just in front of that.
He must have hit the canopy on the way down.  It had probably broken his
fall enough to save his life.  At least I hoped it had.

I then saw two cops talking to a guy over by the Acme Maintenance van.  The
cops were taking notes.  I realized that Acme must be the company
contracted to wash the windows.

There was another guy near the van wearing a harness like Rob's.  Another
window washer.  He was smoking a cigarette and watching the other guy being
interviewed by the cops.

I approached him and blurted out, "He was washing my window when he fell!"

That got the guy's attention in a hurry.  He said, "Fuck man, bummer."

"Yeah," I said, and then added, "You wouldn't know his name would you?"

"Yeah, sure, his name is Rob."

"Do you know his last name?"

"Jeez, he just started a couple of days ago.  Let me think.  Some "M" name.
Oh yeah, Mitchell.  His last name is Mitchell.  Like a first name for a
last name."

Good!  I had the information I needed.  I thanked him and headed back to my
office.

The office was abuzz with the news about the guy who had fallen.  There was
a little knot of talkers around Janice's desk.  I've never been much into
office gossip so I headed straight for the privacy of my own office to
avoid being drawn into an unwanted conversation.  I certainly didn't want
to admit to having witnessed the fall.

I stepped into my office.  Fuck!  Jesus!  I could still see his name and
number written faintly in the dried film on the window.  I quickly pulled
down my venetian blind and angled it so the lettering couldn't be seen.

I sat wearily at my desk and wondered what to do.  One thing was for
certain.  I was in no shape to tackle any more work today.  I needed to
clear my head.  I decided the best course of action was to head home and go
for a good run.

I'm lucky to live near where I work, so a twenty minute walk later I was
entering the door of my apartment.  I grabbed a glass of water to hydrate
myself, threw on my running gear and headed out to the seawall.

After a few minutes I was pounding along pretty good and began to feel a
better.  I tried to conjure an image of Rob as I'd seen him in front of my
window.  Nothing definite came into focus.  Only adjectives: Beautiful.
Stunning.  Hunk.  If you'd asked me to describe him in detail I wouldn't
have been able to.  His hair was fairly short.  He had a well proportioned
face, although I couldn't tell you what colour of his eyes were or what
shape his nose was.  I remember the way he sat in the harness emphasised an
impressive bulge.  I had an image of fairly muscular legs.

I wondered how I could follow up and find out what had happened to him.
But I knew if I just called the hospital they wouldn't tell me anything.  I
wasn't a relative.  They'd cite confidentiality.

Then I got an idea.  Jennifer, my friend, was a nurse.  Maybe she could use
her contacts to find out something.  At least I had a name to start, and I
knew what hospital he was at.

As soon as I got home and my breathing slowed to normal I called Jennifer.
I explained what had happened, that I somehow felt responsible, and that I
felt duty bound to at least follow up.  She told me not to be silly then
cautioned me that Rob could be in very bad shape.  A fall like that could
mean brain damage or a severed spinal cord.  Jennifer wasn't exactly
cheering me up, but she did promise me she'd put out some feelers and find
out what she could.  Professional ethics prevented her from accessing any
health records but she said she had a friend at St. Paul's who might be
able to help.  She promised to call me as soon as she had some information.
She explained that he was likely in acute care right now and wouldn't be in
a regular hospital bed until tomorrow at the earliest.  She figured he
could end up either in Intensive Care or Orthopaedics.  I thanked her
profusely.  She didn't ask me any probing questions right then, but I knew
she'd wring me dry when we had lunch on Thursday.

I took a quick shower then checked the fridge for food.  I had no energy to
prepare a decent dinner for myself and not much of an appetite.  I found
some cold chicken and managed to cobble together a salad which I ate
distractedly.

My mind seemed to be on an endless Rob loop as I the events ran through my
mind.  The surprise and thrill of seeing a gorgeous man at my window.  Rob
writing in the soap film.  Rob disappearing.  Rob injured on the sidewalk.
Rob being taken away in an ambulance.  Over and over, like watching one of
those instant replays of a hockey goal.

My body and mind craved action.  It was all I could do not to jump in my
car and head for the hospital.  But I knew that would be a useless
endeavour.  Like Jennifer said, Rob was probably receiving treatment and
the hospital wouldn't give any information to a non-relative anyway.

I hoped he was getting good treatment.  I hoped he wouldn't die.  I hoped
he wasn't paralyzed.  I hoped he hadn't suffered a brain injury.  In other
words, I was worried sick about him.  I told myself I was being completely
illogical.  I didn't know this guy.  I knew nothing about him except his
name.  He could be a serial killer for God's sake!  But I knew he wasn't.
I don't know why, but I knew with all my heart that he was a good man.

Had the hospital contacted his parents?  If so, were they were rushing to
the hospital?  I realized that my concern for Rob must be a fraction of
what they were experiencing.  My heart went out to them.

Normally a run would bring me physical and mental peace.  This one,
unfortunately, hadn't calmed me down as usual.

What could I do to take my mind off Rob?  I picked up a novel I'd been
reading.  Put it down.  Turned on the TV.  Turned it off.  Fired up my
laptop.  Checked my l email.  Clicked on some bookmarks.  Read the posts on
news sites.  Opened my favourite man-photo blogs.  Skimmed through a couple
of new stories on Nifty.  Checked out a gay porn site--watched two hot
muscle bears fucking like their life depended on it.  That got me going.  A
few strokes later I shot a good load.  I felt physical relief but it did
little to dispel the longing I felt for this window washer guy, who (and
please pardon the pun) had just dropped into my life.

************

I didn't sleep well that night.  I remembered to wear a suit the next day,
but I arrived at work that morning feeling groggy and frustrated.  The
whole building seemed to be talking about Rob's fall.  Speculation and
rumours ran wild.  It was all nonsense.  I refused to be drawn into any
discussions.  I knew Jennifer would eventually call with some "real" news.
I just had to be patient and wait.

When I got to my office I peeked through the blinds on my window.  The
writing was still faintly there.  Seeing it made me a little sick.  I hoped
it would rain soon and wash the writing away, along with my guilt.

Luckily my work day kept my mind occupied.  The meeting with the banker
took up most of the morning.  After that there was a steady stream of the
usual daily crises to attend to.  But the Rob loop kept playing in my mind;
the worry butterflies danced in my stomach hour after hour.

Finally, at about 3 o'clock my caller ID showed "Jennifer."  With my heart
in my throat I pressed answer and asked, "What's the news?"

"Well, hello to you too," Jennifer replied sarcastically.

"Sorry Jennifer, I'm just really worried about this guy."

"I know, sweetie.  Okay, here's the news.  I wasn't able to find out much,
but near as I can tell it's not too bad.  He's in 10D which is the
orthopaedic ward.  That tells me he's probably got broken bones.  If he'd
had a serious head or other injury he'd still be in the ICU."

I slumped with relief.  "Do you think I'd be able to visit him?"

"Well, give the hospital a call.  The nurses on 10D will tell you whether
he can have visitors or not.  Jerry, you have a lot of explaining to do on
Thursday."

Once again Jennifer had come through for me.  I thanked her profusely and
promised I'd be there for our lunch date on Thursday.

I immediately called St. Paul's Hospital and was connected to the nursing
station on ward 10D.  To my relief I was given the news that Rob could have
visitors.

I grabbed my suit jacket off its hook and headed out the door.  On the way
out I told Janice that I had an emergency to attend to and would be gone
for the rest of the day.  In her usual kind way she asked if there was
anything she could do to help.  I shook my head no and told her I'd be in
as usual tomorrow.

I quick marched the several blocks to the hospital and headed for the
elevators.  As I passed the gift shop on the first floor I thought that it
might be a good idea to grab something to take to him.  I went in and
looked around.  There didn't seem much that I could take to a man.  There
were flowers and teddy bears and lots of stuff for new babies.  Finally I
spotted a floral arrangement set in a tiny red bucket.  It somehow seemed
like a good choice.  I was glad to have something to offer when I arrived
at his bedside.

I took the elevator to the 10th floor and found the corridor for the D
ward.  At the nurses' station I asked for directions to Rob Mitchell's
room.  They pointed to the third door down the hall.

Suddenly I got cold feet about seeing Rob.  I really had no right to be
there.  He didn't know me--didn't even know my name.  For the first time
since the accident I realized my "connection" to Rob was tenuous at best.
Would he even recognize me?  If his family was with him how could I explain
my sudden appearance?

My desire to see him won out over my trepidation.  I arrived at his room.
I took a deep breath and crossed the threshold.

What I saw was shocking.  Luckily he was asleep and didn't see me recoil.

His left leg was in a cast and suspended from by some sort of pulley
contraption.  His left arm was in a cast and sling.  The left side of his
face was purple with bruising.  His hair was dishevelled.  He had an IV in
his right arm.  The un-bruised side of his face looked pale and waxy.

But he was still so beautiful it took my breath away.  I stood there
staring at him, sick with a longing desire.  Then I chided myself for
having unsavoury thoughts.  It was completely inappropriate.  He was
obviously in very rough shape and here I was perving on him.  His recovery
would be long and arduous.  He didn't need some drooling stranger to
complicate his life.

I stood there undecided, wondering what to do.  He was asleep and, to be
honest, I was disappointed, because I would have liked to at least
introduce myself.  I felt like an idiot just standing there looking at him
clutching that goofy floral arrangement.

I was saved by the arrival of a nurse.  He seemed surprised to see me there
but greeted me warmly.  He introduced himself as Andy and said, "I'm glad
he has a visitor, I think he could use a bit of company.  No one else has
been here yet.  Are you a relative?

"No, I replied, "Just a friend."  Then, the nurse's family question
registered in my brain and out of curiosity I asked, "What about his
family?"

"I think his relatives are in California.  We're expecting them to arrive
any time now."

"I really don't want to bother him," I said.  "I'll just drop of these
flowers and be on my way.  I'll come back when he's awake and in better
shape."

"No, it's okay," Andy said, "I'm just about to check his vitals so I'll
wake him up anyway.  And, it will be good for him to be awake for a bit.
Believe it or not some stimulation will help him with his healing.  He'll
be a little dopy from the pain medication and he's got a bit of short-term
amnesia.  But as I said, a little awake time won't hurt him.  Just don't
stay too long.  By the way, we're calling him our miracle boy for surviving
that fall with just a few broken bones.  He was very lucky."

With that he walked to Rob's bedside and touched his right shoulder gently.
"Rob, Rob, wake up, you have a visitor."

I watched Rob's face as his eyes fluttered open.  He saw the nurse and gave
him a little smile.  He blinked a few times, obviously trying to shake off
the grogginess.

Andy said again, "Look, Rob, you have a visitor."

Gradually Rob woke up, and then he slowly turned his head and focussed his
gaze on me.  He looked me up and down.  There was no recognition in his
expression, only puzzlement.  Then he knitted his brows into a frown, and
to my surprise the first thing he said was, "Are you a lawyer?"

"A lawyer?"  And then I realized that I must look like a lawyer standing
there in my suit.  He thought I was an ambulance chaser!  I realized that I
needed to explain my presence at his bedside.

 "No, no, not a lawyer.  My name is Jerome.  Jerome Hardwick.  Um, you
probably don't remember me but we met yesterday, just before...."  And I
realized I couldn't say "your accident" or "your fall" so I just said,
"Well, just before...." and let the implication sink in.

Rob said, "Oh, really?  Well, you look sort of familiar, but I can't place
you...."

Andy interrupted and said he needed to check Rob's vitals, which he then
proceeded to do.  He quizzed Rob on his paid level, which seemed to be okay
at that time.  He said he'd be back with another paid pill in a little
while.  He explained that it was better to treat the pain before it got
bad.  Then he cheerfully complimented Rob on how well he was doing.  After
he finished he looked from Rob to me, then back to Rob and said, "Well,
I'll just leave you two to sort things out.  Don't stay too long, Jerome."
As he was leaving he gave me a knowing wink (thank God for gaydar) and
pointed to a shelf where I could put the flowers.  I told Rob the flowers
were for him (as if it wasn't obvious!) and put them down.

Rob watched me for a few seconds.  Again his gaze traveled over me from top
to bottom.  Then he smiled and thanked me for the flowers and asked, "How
did we meet?"

I was concerned that if I told him the details of our "meeting" that it
would upset him so I just said, "At my office."

"You mean at the building where I was working?"

"Yes, there."

"Sorry, Jerome, my memory of yesterday is a bit fuzzy right now.  You're
going to have to fill in the details for me."

Shit!  He was forcing details out of me.  I thought for a second and
decided honesty was the best policy and said, "I was inside my office.  You
were outside washing my window.  I think we had a bit of a connection and
you gave me your name and phone number.  You wrote them on the glass."
There!  It was out in the open.

"Yes!  I think I remember now.  He knitted his brow in thought for a moment
then grinned and said, "I can see why I'd want you to have my phone number,
you're awfully good looking."  Then his expressions turned to puzzlement
again and he said, "I remember writing on the glass but I don't remember
anything after that...."

I was delighted at his positive response but decided that a change of
subject was called for so I asked him if there was anything I could do for
him.  He said he'd like some water.  I moved near the bed and picked up the
glass that was on his bedside table.  I held it out to him.  He gingerly
moved his right arm (the one with the IV in it) to take the glass.  As his
fingers gripped the glass they overlapped mine.  It was an intentional move
on his part; he was putting a lot of pressure on the contact.  I felt the
heat of his fingers.

I looked into his eyes.  He returned the look.  He pulled the glass toward
his lips.  I took the straw with my free hand and placed it in his lips.
My fingers brushed his lips.  I felt the contact through my whole body--I
was on fire.

Jesus!  This guy and I were practically having sex in his hospital bed.  I
was getting hard.  I looked down and saw a definite bulge developing under
his blanket too.

My heart was beating so hard I thought I would have a heart attack.

All I could think of saying was, "Wow!"

He said, "Yeah, me too.  Jerome, would you be offended if I asked you to
kiss me?"

It was a rhetorical question, so I put the water glass back on the bedside
table and leaned over him.  He turned his face to mine.  We kissed gently
and tentatively.

When I pulled away my mind was racing as fast as my heart.  What was I
doing?  Not only were my actions immoral, I was setting myself up to get
hurt.  That's what I was doing.  This guy was bombed on pain killers.  He
was so stoned he was mistaking friendship and maybe gratitude for love.  He
was in no position--mental or physical--to make rational choices.
Besides, I knew next to nothing about him.  I knew only two things for
certain.  That he was gorgeous and that he worked as a window washer.  From
what the nurse said I could guess he was from California.  Other than that,
zip, nada.

I smiled ruefully and said to him, "Rob, this isn't right.  You're hurt,
you're probably bombed on pain killers and I'm violating your trust by
coming on to you.  I'm really sorry.  I should go."

"Sorry for what, Jerome?  Sorry that you're good looking?  Sorry that
you're a nice guy?  You have nothing to be sorry for.  I'm the one acting
like a slut.  I just put the moves on you, in case you hadn't noticed.
Please don't go.  You said yourself we had a connection.  Stay with me
until I get my next pain pill.  It will knock me out after a few minutes.
I'd like you to be with me until then.  There's something about you that
makes me feel safe."

"Okay, Rob.  I'll stay.  But we have to take it slow, okay?"

"Okay, good, now hold my hand.  No strings attached.  It will help keep my
mind of this..."  He gestured to his plastered arm and leg.

So I lightly held his hand and we sat in silence for a few minutes holding
each other's gaze and smiling tentatively.  I felt closer to him by the
second.  It was like we were communicating telepathically.  A beautiful,
tender, romantic few moments....

Then, without warning a woman careened into the room.  She stopped at the
foot of his bed, tears welled in her eyes, and she exclaimed, "Oh Robert!"

Then she noticed me.  She looked at our entwined hands.  She looked at Rob,
then at me again.  Clearly at a loss for words.  Confused.

Rob said, "Hi mom, this is Jerome.  Jerome, this is my mom, Mary Mitchell."

I said, "Hello."

She said, "Hello....Are you a lawyer?  Thank God!  We should sue the pants
off that company!"

Rob and I giggled a bit at that remark, and I once again explained that I
was only a friend.  It was nonetheless a rather awkward moment--getting
caught holding hands like that.  We chatted about general things, such as
how her trip went, for a few minutes but it was obvious that Mrs. Mitchell
wanted her son to herself, so I chose to take my leave.  I went through all
the polite goodbyes, gave Rob my card, and told him I would see him
tomorrow.

As I left the room I reflected on the amazing couple of days I'd had.
Little did I know the excitement was only starting....