Date: Thu, 9 Oct 2003 00:32:36 -0700 (PDT)
From: Michael Garrison <mng1114@yahoo.com>
Subject: Two Lives - Two Loves: Chapter 13

This story is a work of fiction.  Any resemblance to actual
events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely
coincidental.  This story also deals with love and
consensual sexual activities between men.  If you are not of
legal age, reside in an area where viewing such material is
illegal, or are offended by such themes, do not read further
and leave this site now.

The author retains all rights to this story.  Reproductions
or links to other sites are not allowed without the
permission of the author.


Two Lives - Two Loves


Chapter 13


Ron Warner had dressed simply, and I mean that somewhat
facetiously, for the day, a rumpled, white tee, a beaten up
pair of jeans, some equally beaten up no-name sneakers,
along with an old gym bag.  I assumed it was his change of
clothes for the pool.  For a split second, I didn't know
whether to greet him or hand him some change because he
looked for all the world like an old time drifter that just
went around doing odd jobs to get by.  I guarantee you,
though, that no drifter had ever looked this good, rumpled
or not.  I tried very hard not to eye him up and down, but I
saw that he had no problem doing it to me, even though he
was trying to not be obvious about it.  In all fairness, it
might have been a little imagination on my part; it might
have just been surprise.  I mean, how often have you gone to
visit someone and had them meet you at the door half wet and
half naked?

"Hey, Brad!  How's it going?" Ron asked in that upbeat way
of his.

"Doin' great, Ron!  How 'bout you?" I said, reaching out to
shake his extended hand.
"Glad to see you found the place okay."

"Oh, hey, it was no problem.  Everybody knows this place,"
he said.

"They do?" I asked, my eyebrows furrowing in puzzlement.

"Oh yeah.  When I was a kid we used to call it the Haunted
Mansion...you know, like that place in Disney World," he
continued.  "Hey, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to get you out of
the shower," he said, finally commenting on my state of
undress.  "Should I come back?" he asked sheepishly.

"No, no," I said, smiling, trying to put him at ease.  "I
was just finishing some laps in the pool when you drove up.
It's no prob, man.  C'mon in," I said, stepping aside to let
him in.  "I've got everything set up."

"Cool," he said, picking up the small bag he was carrying.
He stepped into the entry, looked around and whistled a
long, fading note as his eyes took in the restoration, the
antiques and the artwork, of which the entry held only a
small fraction.  He let out with a drawn out, almost
overwhelmed, "Duuuuuuuuuuude."  The sound of it made me
laugh; I thought Jon was the only one who talked like that.
Oh, well, I thought; now I had a pair of bookends.

"Let me get some dry shorts on and I'll give you the tour,"
I said.  "Make yourself at home."

"Thanks," he replied, setting his bag down and shoving his
hands in his pockets and hunching his shoulders in that way
that people have when they feel a little out of their
element.  He just kind of shuffled around, taking it all in.

I wrapped my towel around my neck and headed up.  I began to
have one of those feelings of mine again and it was
definitely giving me the strong sense that Ron wasn't too
interested in the antiques.  After pulling on a shirt and
changing into some fresh shorts, I wrapped my wet trunks in
the towel to drain some of the excess water.  I went back
downstairs to find that Ron had hardly moved a muscle.  He
really felt nervous to me.  The only thing missing was the
shaking and the cold sweats.  He was trying to put up a good
front but it wasn't getting past my radar.

I beamed my best smile at him as I came down, which he
returned automatically.  I was glad to see that his bod came
equipped with a really nice smile.  I was a little amazed at
how different he looked in the light of day.  Normally we'd
seen him in the dim lights of the restaurant.  I don't know
how to describe it, exactly.  I guess the difference was
that the daylight brought clarity to his features, the
variations in light and shadow playing over him in a way
that just didn't happen in the restaurant.  Don't get me
wrong; he looked good there, but he looked better here.

I smiled again and looked at him quizzically.  "Loosen up,
Cool, you're among friends," I said as I clapped him on the
back.  He smiled nervously and looked reflexively down at
the floor then back up at me.

"Thanks," he began.  "...it's just," he trailed off.

"What?" I asked, genuinely a little concerned.

"Nothin'...it's...," he stammered a little.  "I just wanted to
thank you guys again for having me over..."

"Hey, no problem," I said, trying to put him at ease.  "Jon
and I wanted to get to know some other people around town
while we're here; you're kinda the first."  He was really
nervous and ill at ease.  I don't know, maybe he was more
intimidated by these surroundings than I thought.

"...it's just that...," he started up again.  "Oh, don't pay any
attention to me," he said, changing his mind in mid-thought,
quickly straightening his back and throwing out that smile
again.  "Hey, where's Jon, by the way?"

Something was eating at him but now was not the time to ask.
I was just glad to see him smile again.  He was starting to
make me a little nervous.  "He went out to run some
errands," I replied.  "I'm not sure when he'll be back but
he left his gear for you to use, so we don't have to wait."

"Excellent," Ron said.  "How's about that tour?"

"Absolutely," I said, pointing to the left towards the Front
parlor.  We walked around the downstairs in kind of a slow
clockwise circle.  Jon's uncle had interconnected all the
spaces so that there were no longer any real dead-ends in
the house.  I pointed out all of the highly dustable artwork
and furnishings that I knew absolutely nothing about and
about which Jon knew only marginally more.  I only knew that
we had to be careful walking around the place.

"Yeah, I can see why," Ron said, still a little in awe of
the place.

I pointed out what had been the old Study, knowing what it
was from my dreams, which then connected to a small sitting
room and a couple of other spaces, which really had no
particular function except to display antiques, at the back
of the Main Entry that then led into the huge kitchen with
its adjacent entertainment area.

"Now THAT'S what I'm talkin' about!" Ron said, pointing at
the entertainment setup.

"Yeah," I drawled as I smiled back at him.  "We spend a lot
of time in here.  It's the only TV in the place."

"That's kinda weird, don't you think," he asked.

"I guess TV's mess up the ambience of the rest of this art
gallery," I noted.

I pointed out the back yard and pool area and Ron's mouth
almost dropped to the floor.  "Tell me that's where we're
going," he begged.

"That's the place," I assured him, pointing out that I had
the dive gear already set up and waiting for him.

"Duuuuuuude!" he replied again poking me on the shoulder as
I smiled at his expansive vocabulary.  I had the feeling he
was one of those people who liked poking at you for emphasis
when they were excited about something.  I hoped not.  Some
of my friends down home and some people I'd met from the
southwest did it, but guys I knew from the north didn't seem
to have that habit.  Maybe it was a regional thing.  I
didn't care for it too much, but I didn't make a big thing
out of it.  That was just his way, I figured.  He seemed
happy, so I figured "what-the-hell".

While he gaped at the pool, I left his side for a moment to
open the refrigerator with our still copious supply of beer.
"And this is for after your lesson," I said, getting his
attention.

"Oh, my God!" he whispered, walking slowly up to the fridge
as if he were approaching some kind of altar.  "Tell me I'm
not dreaming," he asked.

"Nope," I smiled smugly.  "It's real...and highly drinkable,
too, I might add."

Ron took down one of the bottles for closer inspection and
was obviously pleased, slowly shaking his head in disbelief.
"You guys got this all to yourselves?"

"Yep," I said, with a twinge of pride.  Of course, it wasn't
as though I had anything to do with it.  I was just the
grateful benefactor.

"You take in borders?" he asked hopefully.

I couldn't help but laugh.  "We'll see!  Lemme show you the
rest and we can get started."

From there we went around through a Butler's Pantry into the
formal Dining Room, in the middle of which sat a huge old
mahogany table with matching chairs enough for 14 people,
flanked by an equally huge sideboard with all of the
accompanying dining room sort of bric-a-brac.  I explained
that we didn't use the room.  It was way too stuffy for our
tastes.  We were half afraid to even walk though it for fear
of knocking something over or scratching something.  We'd
have to dust it all eventually but, generally, we left the
room alone.

Finding ourselves back in the Entry Hall, I then gave him a
quick tour of the upstairs.  It kind of felt like he was
wondering which one or ones of the bedrooms we used and I
tried not to smile as I felt that coming off of him.
Finally, there wasn't much more to see unless he was
interested in the linen closets.

"Well, that's pretty much it," I said, clapping my hands in
front of me as sort of a finale.  "Some place, huh?"

"You ain't kiddin'," he said.  "This place doesn't look
anything like what I imagined.  My friend's really gonna
love this!  She's all into antiques 'n stuff, too."

"That's your friend the psychic, right?" I asked.  "Wha'd
you say her name was?"

"I'm not sure I did, but it's Alicia," he said.  "Alicia
Cunningham."

"Cunningham," I murmured, barely audible.  "I know that name
from somewhere...where was it?  Oh, well; it'll come to me," I
thought, shrugging my shoulders.  We were in one of the
spare bedrooms already, so I told Ron that if he wanted to
change into his swim trunks that here was as good a place as
any to do it.  "I'm gonna go change and meet you back."

"Excellent," he said as I left him.

I went back to Jon's and my bathroom, stripped off my
clothes and pulled my trunks out of the towel I'd wrapped
them in.  Believe me, there's nothing quite as cold as a
pair of wet trunks that've been lying around for a while,
but I got used to it again after a few minutes.  I grabbed a
couple of fresh, oversized towels from the rack and headed
out, meeting Ron in the hallway and tossing him one.

He looked very smooth, very lean and very tight but not
overly developed.  His shoulders had a natural broadness to
them that I attributed more to good genes than to working
out.  They tapered down to a trim waist that was crowned by
a set of nicely defined abs.  And then there were those
legs...also very lean, with crisp, natural definition, and
somewhat long in proportion to the rest of him.  It gave the
illusion of him being taller than his six feet, which I'm
sure he didn't mind a bit.  From the floor, those legs led
all the way up to a trim little ass that I could sort of
make out underneath of the tattered, cut-off jeans he was
wearing.  Strewn with holes, through which his white briefs
peeked, they looked like a leftover from when the shredded
look was in, now getting a second life as swim trunks. In
all, it was a nice composition that I didn't mind letting my
eyes linger over for a second or two.  I hoped I wasn't
being obvious but I thought saw Ron smile for half a second,
so I guess I wasn't as subtle as I'd hoped.

"Thanks," he said, snatching the towel from the air.  "I
forgot to bring one."

"No prob," I said.  "Say, where do you work out?  Jon and I
were looking for a place," I asked.  It was a complete lie
but I wanted to give a plausible excuse for staring and to
see how much water I could get from the well.

"Oh, I can't afford a gym," he said.  "I just run a lot and
watch what I eat...which isn't much on a waiter's take-home."

A runner; I knew it.  It also sounded like he was poor as a
church mouse.  Jon and I tended to take money for granted,
never having been without it.  That's not to say that we
were spendthrifts, we just didn't worry about it.  Ron,
apparently, was at the other end of the spectrum, barely
getting by only on what he earned.  I admired that.

"Oh, well...I guess we'll have to look around.  C'mon, let's
get wet!" I said, clapping him on the shoulder.

                         *  *  *  *

Ron listened attentively as I explained the SCUBA gear to
him and gave him the list of do's and don'ts, mostly don'ts.
Then we were ready to hit the water.  As with Jon, I told
him to just do everything that I did, inflated my BC and
rolled forward into the water.  He followed but forgot to
hold onto his mask, which got shoved down to his neck.

He hadn't quite finished the cartwheel he was turning as he
entered when the water shot up his nose and the surprise of
the mask being forced down made him drop his regulator.  His
arms were starting to flail as he tried to get his
orientation back, but he wasn't having much luck, it looked
like.  His BC was partially inflated and would right him in
a few seconds, but until that point in the very near future
Ron gave every indication that he was going to freak.  I
could hear a couple of sharp but garbled cries as I kicked
hard to get to him fast and get him to the surface before he
started inhaling water.  I yanked the emergency cord on his
BC, twisting to my side and out of his way as he immediately
popped to the surface like a cork, coughing and sputtering.
I followed quickly after him and put a hand on each
shoulder, trying to calm him down from the panic I knew he'd
probably be in.

"You're okay, Ron...you're okay," I said, trying to be as
calm and even mannered as possible.  "You just took a little
water, that's all...happens to everyone.  You wouldn't be
normal if you didn't fuck up at least once," I said, trying
to get him to laugh.  He coughed again and rested his hands
on my arms.  I could feel him shaking a little and what I
could see of his body was covered in goose bumps.  He didn't
say anything but I could hear his breathing slowing as he
pulled back quickly from the edge of panic.  I placed a
reassuring hand around the back of his neck.  "You okay,
now?" I asked quietly.

"Yeah," he finally said, nodding.  "Sorry 'bout that.  That
was stupid."

"Don't be sorry," I corrected him, giving his shoulder a
playful shake.  "...could'a happened to anybody.  What we need
to do is get you back on the horse right now."

He knew I was right and I could tell that he wanted to
continue, despite his less than auspicious start, just to
show he wasn't a wuss.  He pulled his mask back on and I
showed him how to clear it properly.  Then I told him to
hold on to my straps while I bled the air out of our BC's so
we'd submerge together.  I wanted to be as reassuring as I
could since he was still a little jittery.  Slowly, we sank
to the bottom of the diving well and came to rest on our
knees.  I held out my hands in a 'Ta-Da' sort of gesture and
he gave me a double thumbs-up in reply, then patted me on
the shoulder as a silent thanks for nursemaiding him along.

I checked him out and he started getting the hang of it.
His breathing was good and he seemed to be taking to it.  We
paddled around for a while and I laughed as he turned a
cartwheel in his new, weightless environment.  I knew he was
back to normal then.  I brought us back to the surface now
and then only to give him some new instructions.  We kind of
made a game out of retrieving lost masks.  Then I showed him
how to make an emergency ascent...the right way, this time.
After that, we buddy breathed for a while.

It was then that we heard the cacophonous splash and saw the
thick cloud of bubbles shooting halfway to the bottom
slightly to our right.  From his tucked position inside the
cannonball, emerged Jon.  "What an entrance," I thought.
Jon was really starting to become a ham.  "Oh, whatever
happened to the shy, unassuming, self-deprecating jock I
used to know?" I laughed to myself.

Ron flinched, a little startled at first, but relaxed when
he saw what was going on, waving as Jon swam down to us.
Waving back at the blurry images in front of him, Jon held
on to one of my straps as I offered him my secondary
regulator, which he gratefully took.  Jon stuck his hand out
and Ron readily accepted it.

Unlike myself, Jon apparently wasn't at all worried about
being low-key in front of Ron, at least initially, having
opted for his favorite royal blue Speedos that he'd teased
me with on our first day at the house.  Ron, just as
apparently, didn't seem at all worried about inspecting my
boyfriend.  "That's okay, though," I thought; nothing wrong
with a little window shopping...just mind you don't touch the
merchandise.

Jon really amazed me sometimes.  Just this morning, he'd
been worrying about the world-at-large knowing he was gay
and then here he comes with this larger than life entrance,
dressed in those Speedos.  I don't know; I guess he had an
exhibitionist streak in him, too.  I knew from experience
that once he got used to people and felt comfortable around
them he'd come out of that shell he wore a lot...but this was
a bit much.

After they finished shaking hands, Jon looked at me and
pointed to himself.  Pointing to the surface then to his
watch, which he'd soon find out was NOT waterproof, he
spread his fingers twice and made an eating motion with his
hands.  I figured he was going to go get lunch ready.  I
gave him the OK sign and let my hand trail over his leg as
he headed topside.  I pointed to my watch and indicated to
Ron that we had about ten minutes, which worked out okay
since we only had about five minutes of air left between us.
After we paddled around a little more I pointed to the
surface, got a thumbs up in reply and watched for a second
or two as that nice ass powered those legs upward.

When we got topside, we saw Jon's Speedo lying on the lounge
chair.  I really hoped he was putting some clothes on.

"So how'd you like your first time?" I asked, a little
tongue-in-cheek, as I started to unstrap my gear, helping
Ron with his.

"That was just so incredibly awesome!" he said.  "I've never
felt anything so cool in my life!"

"Excellent!" I replied, starting to pick up on his energy.
"I knew you'd like it once you got past that little blip at
the beginning."

"Yeah, that wasn't too cool, was it?  Thanks for shepherding
me along," he said.

"Hey, don't worry about it," I said, swinging the tank off
of Ron's shoulders, setting it on the pool deck.  "Coulda
happened to anyone," I told him again, trying to be
conciliatory and reassuring.

"I've never felt that good before!  It was just too totally
cool!" he repeated with great animation.  "Can we do it
again?" asking in the excited manner of a small child after
its first rollercoaster ride.

"Sure," I said, flashing my pearly whites.  "...if the weather
holds."  The clear blue sky was starting to get increasingly
infiltrated by the all too familiar rain clouds.  At the
rate they were coming on, it might start raining before the
afternoon was over, if not sooner.

"Hmm," Ron said, studying the sky.  "Maybe we'll luck out
long enough."

"...hope so," I said.  "Whadda ya say we go get showered and
changed and see what's doin' for lunch," I suggested.

"Cool," Ron replied.  "I'm starved."

"Yeah, we worked up an appetite, for sure."

                         *  *  *  *

"Oh, God, I've done it now," I thought to myself as I stayed
motionless under the steamy water, leaning against the
sweaty marble wall as I let the hot needles shoot against my
lower back.  Have you ever picked something up or moved a
certain way and at the time you did it, you just knew it was
wrong and you were going to pay for it later?  Well, now it
was payback time for me but I couldn't quite figure out what
I'd done.  The fingers of torment from a lacrosse injury
were starting to dig their nails into my lower back and they
usually stuck around for awhile when they visited.  When I
was in High School, I'd stupidly dived for a ball and
twisted just the wrong way somehow as I hit the ground.
Personally, I don't for the life of me understand how
something that didn't feel like much at the time could be so
damn troublesome but backs are peculiar things and since
then it comes back to haunt..."haunt," I snorted, "There's a
choice word for ya."...every now and then when I forget
myself.  After that, I just stuck with swimming.  And yes, I
knew I should put ice on it first but the water felt just
too damn good to pass up.  And yes, I knew I'll probably pay
for THAT later, too, but at the moment, I didn't care.

It must've happened in the pool when I'd hurried over to
yank Ron's emergency cord when he got in that bit of
trouble.  Maybe my reaction to his predicament was a little
over the top but it felt like the right thing to do at the
time.  "Yep, that was it," I thought as my back spasmed
slightly as if in confirmation.  I must've twisted just the
wrong way yet again with that tank on my back and it must've
been just enough to pull something really good even though I
didn't feel it at the time.  It was going to fucking hurt
like hell later on; I knew it.  Damn, I hated when that
happened.  I was hoping the weather would cooperate long
enough for me to get back in the pool for a little bit.  The
cooler water and some easy swimming around sometimes helped
alleviate the pain.

I'd been under the spray long enough.  I knew the guys were
probably downstairs starving to death waiting for me so I
shut it off and snagged the towel outside the glass door.
After quaffing a couple of Advil from my travel case, I
pulled on some shorts, a Polo, ran a brush through my hair
and sat down to put on my Nike's.  Oh, I shouldn't have done
that so quickly.  I felt a tear form at the edge of my eye
as I finished tying them up, letting my foot drop to the
floor and slowly, very slowly, standing up, trying to make
sure I didn't give my back a chance to bitch and moan for
not treating it right, because I knew that if I didn't, I
was the one who was going to be bitching and moaning.  And
if Jon could be a little whiny sometimes, you ain't heard
nothin' yet.  I'm like the proverbial lion with the thorn in
its paw.  I'm an awful patient...real high maintenance.
Jon'd love that, I'm sure.

Jon and Ron...sounds like a comedy team, doesn't it?...were
already dressed and in the kitchen, waiting for me.  Jon was
standing in his favorite commanding spot behind the island
with Ron sitting comfortably on the other side and the
kitchen was fragrant with the smell of onions and peppers
from some huge subs that Jon had picked up while he was out.
They were both a half a beer ahead of me.  Jon noticed me
walking a little slower and more stiffly than normal and I
saw both their eyes furrow with a bit of concern.

"Dude," Jon started.  "S'up with you?"

"Yeah, man," Ron chimed in, "You okay."

"Well, no, actually," I said calmly.  "I think I pulled
something in my back."

"Oh, damn," Ron said.

"Oooo, that's gotta hurt, I know," Jon said.  "What
happened?"

I eased myself onto the stool next to Ron and accepted the
beer that Jon held out.  "I think I zigged when I shoulda
zagged when Ron 'n I were horsin' around in the pool."

"Oh, man," Ron half gasped.  "It's my fault.  I am so sorry
for that thing that happened, man!"

"Noooo, don't," I replied.  "It's not your...,"  and I
grimaced from the immediate and sharp pain in my lower back
as I started to raise a hand to dispel Ron's guilt.  "Oh,
GOD," I cried out, immediately retracting my hand, hoping
the pain would go away.  It didn't.  I jumped up from the
stool, arching my back in agony and gritting my teeth as I
growled from frustration with the pain and with the pain
itself.  I felt the tears forming at the corners of my
eyelids as I squeezed them tight.

To his credit, Ron was there immediately, as much to make
amends for his imagined transgression as just to help, and I
felt his hands start slowly massaging the muscles in my
back, digging his thumbs in slightly and working them in
circles near my spine.  It felt really good and seemed to
help alleviate the stabbing pain.  The warmth of his hands
felt wonderful.  To HIS credit, Jon pulled the sofa back
from its spot a few feet and arranged the cushions on the
floor.

"Ron, bring him around over here and lay him down flat," he
said.  Ron put a hand on my arm and started to help guide me
over.

"Hey, guys..." I started.

"Hey, nothin'," Jon said.  "Don't argue with your medical
staff."

"Like he said," Ron agreed, cocking his thumb at Jon.

"Yeah, okay," I conceded.  I didn't feel like arguing about
it.  Particularly when the medical staff was so cute.   "Oh,
God, this hurts," I said, easing down onto the cushions.

"Jon," Ron started, "Do you have any rubbing alcohol or
something like that lying around anywhere?"

"Dunno," Jon replied.  "I'll go see if my uncle's got
anything," he said as he turned to rush upstairs to forage
in the medicine cabinet.

Turning his attention back to me, Ron said, "C'mon, guy;
let's get that shirt off so I can work on your back right."

"You really don't have to do this, Ron," I said in my most
polite drawl.  As you can imagine, my statement was the
furthest thing from the truth at that point in time, but I
was definitely in the mood to be fawned over a little just
then.

"C'mon, tough guy," he said a bit more sternly.  "...off
with it," he said commandingly as he began to push the tee
up over my body.

"Yes, sir," I said with a half-fake sigh and what I thought
was just the right note of acquiescence in my voice.

My acting was rewarded by more slight but sharp stabs as Ron
gingerly eased the shirt first off of one arm and then the
other... "Oooww...Eeeee," I cried a little as I sucked in air
through gritted teeth.

"Sorry, man."

"Don't worrEEEeeee...," I cried again as he finally pulled
the shirt away as gently as he could, then pulling my arms
back slowly and lay them at my sides.  I sighed from the
pain as I just tried to stay still.  It felt good, though,
when he knelt next to me and laid his palms on my back.

"Oh, man," he said.  "Your lower back feels like a furnace
in high gear.  You are definitely torqued."

"Tell me all about it, babe," I said with just a hair of
friendly condescension but trying to push the verbal
envelope out just a millimeter or so further.  We heard the
sound of Jon's feet pounding the stairs and rushing though
the Dining Room.

"There's nothing up there," he reported, a little winded.
"I never saw a medicine cabinet so empty."  He snatched his
keys from the counter.  "I'm gonna haveta make a drugstore
run," he said, the words tripping over each other as they
spilled out of his mouth.  "Whadda we need?" he asked Ron.

"Doesn't matter," he said.  "Liniment, massage oil, rubbing
alcohol...whatever they got...ask the druggist, too."

"I'm on it," Jon said, nodding as he bounded out the door.

"Guess we're gonna have to make due for now," Ron said.

"He's gonna be a while," I noted.  "I'm not even sure he
knows where a drugstore is nearby."

"Actually, there's one about a mile up the road," Ron
offered.  "You must pass it on your way to the mall.  I
don't think he'll be too long."

"Yeah, if he kept his eyes open better than I obviously
did," I remarked, wincing a little from a slight jab of
pain.

I tried to relax but it wasn't easy.  It was one of those
times like we've probably all had at least once when if you
stay very still and don't breath too much, the pain is
somewhat bearable.  I say that only half kiddingly.  The
cool, nubby clothed cushions did feel good against my skin,
though.  I was thankful for that.  Even with my eyes closed,
I could feel Ron move from his kneeling position next to me
to a kneeling position astride me, his knees on either side
of my hips, digging into the cushions.  I didn't protest,
especially when I felt his palms press lightly against my
lower back, transmitting their warmth to me, slowly and
gently soothing the nagging ache.

"Ron, I'm sorry for being a burden on your day off," I said,
this time with genuine concern.  "I didn't expect...," I
started but stopped in mid-sentence by another hot, sharp
stab in my lower back.

"Ssssssssssssshhhhhhhhhhhhhhh," came his soft, slow reply.
"Right now I just want you to relaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaax," he
continued in one of the softest, silkiest voices I'd ever
heard as I felt his thumbs begin to work in slow, small
circles.

"mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm," was the only thing I could manage to
say as I closed my eyes and burrowed my head into the
cushion.

                          *  *  *  *
                       To Be Continued

                          *  *  *  *