UNARMED

One

“You can’t leave without doctor’s permission,” the clerk said, for what felt like the hundredth time.

“We’ve been through this,” Allie said, playing her own broken record in reply. “I’m leaving. You have my credit card details so there’s no fear that I’m skipping off without paying. All I want from you is the prescription for painkillers that I’m told is here for me.”

“You cannot be officially released from the hospital until the doctor says so,” the clerk said, varying her lyrics marginally. The line-up of people behind Allie shuffled and sighed.

“Then it appears that I’ll be leaving without an official release,” Allie said. She flicked her dark hair out of her eyes and shifted in an effort to find a more comfortable way to lean on the counter – not easy with two broken arms. The plaster that covered her from knuckles to elbows was heavy and her shoulders were already aching from it. And she still wasn’t out of this place with its ugly paint and antiseptic smells.

“You can’t!” the woman said. Her manner had progressed from amused through smug to indignant. Now, she was looking horrified.

“Then call a guard,” Allie said. “Because with or without the prescription, I am going now.” She turned away, and the old man behind her went to step forward, his moment to bask in the attention of the surly clerk now at hand.

“You stay right there,” the clerk ordered. “I’ll get my supervisor.”

“Please make it fast,” Allie replied, sending an apologetic look at the man behind her, who’d stepped back again. “I’m sorry,” she said. “Who’d have thought it would be this difficult to check yourself out of hospital? Perhaps I should just make a run for it?”
”Best not to,” the old man said. “You’d probably trip and do yourself some more harm.” Allie smiled ruefully and looked at her encased arms.

“How’d you do it?” he asked. Someone behind him sighed heavily.

“Bicycle accident,” Allie replied. “A car hit me from behind and I went over the handlebars and landed on my hands. All of the bones in my wrists were broken.”
”Ouch,” the man said sympathetically. “When was this?”
”Monday,” Allie said. “I was operated on two days ago.”
”You should be in bed then,” he said. She shook her head.

“I’ve had enough of being in bed,” she said. “I want to go home, but they seem oddly reluctant to part with me.”
”You should listen to the doctor,” a woman further down the queue said. She looked disapproving.
”I might, if one would show up,” Allie responded tartly. “I’ve been waiting for more than a day to see one. I’m not actually sure there IS one in this hospital any more.” Motion at the desk caught her eye and she turned back to the counter.

“What seems to be the problem?” asked a trim, business-like woman wearing a white uniform and a harried expression.

“No problem,” Allie assured her. “I’ve decided that I’m going home. As I’ve explained, the doctor has not shown up to see me today, so I have not been able to ask his or her opinion, but I have a flatmate who is a nurse and she will take care of me at home. All I want is the prescription that I was told would be waiting for me here. A prescription for painkillers.”
”Doctor has left no instructions that you were to be discharged,” the woman said. If she could have moved her arms, even her fingers, Allie may have given in to the temptation to reach across the desk, grab the woman by her starched collar and shake her. She took a deep, steadying breath instead.

“No, I’m aware of that,” she said. “But I’m going anyway. Now, is there a prescription for painkillers here or not?”
”I cannot give you any prescriptions until doctor authorises you to leave,” the supervisor said.

“Fine, I’ll do without,” Allie said, and turned away. “Sorry for the wait,” she said to the people behind her.

“Miss Halston, you cannot leave until you sign this release form,” the supervisor said sharply, her voice higher and louder. “It is a legal requirement.” Allie exhaled loudly, blowing the air out through pursed lips. Her normally calm, serene face was creased into a frown as she turned back yet again. The supervisor was brandishing a form.

“I can’t sign anything,” she pointed out, managing to lift her arms up slightly.
”Then you can’t leave,” the supervisor said triumphantly. “In fact, legally, we can prevent you from leaving until you sign these forms.” Allie could feel the hot, tight burn of impending tears in the back of her throat. Tears of anger and frustration and desperation. And then the supervisor made a mistake. She smiled.

“So, if you’d just return to your ward…”
”Do you have a pen?” Allie asked the old man behind her.

“Yes,” he said, fumbling at his pocket and pulling it out. “But you shouldn’t be using your hands, surely?”
”I can’t,” she said. “Would you mind terribly putting it in my mouth for me?” The man looked momentarily startled. Then he smiled.

“Not at all,” he said. He put the pen between her lips, letting go only as her even white teeth clamped down on it. Then he watched appreciatively as she bent down to the desk, her straight dark hair swinging down around her face to just below her shoulders. Before the affronted gaze of the clerk and the supervisor, she moved the pen, managing to press it down and shift it just enough to approximate her usual signature. Ignoring the two women behind the desk, she straightened up and turned back to the man.

“Fankoo,” she said around the pen, which he took back.

“My pleasure,” he said. As she moved away, the supervisor mouthing wordlessly in annoyance, he stepped to the head of the queue and looked into the annoyed face of the clerk who was about to serve him. At that point, he began to wonder if he’d made a serious tactical error in helping the pretty woman with the broken arms.

……………

Getting a taxi wasn’t difficult. There were plenty outside the busy hospital, and Allie managed to crawl into one as someone else was getting out. The woman even shut the door for her. Allie let her shoulder bag slide down onto the seat beside her as she gave the driver her address. Then she leaned back against her seat, relieved. Her wrists ached dreadfully, but at least she was out of that horrible place.

“What’d you do to your arms?” the driver asked.

“Bicycle accident,” she responded shortly, hoping to dissuade further discussion.

“You’re going to need some looking after,” he said, not dissuaded.

“I am,” she conceded, her voice tired. “My flatmate is a nurse, or at least she used to be. She’ll help me out.” In fact, Fiona was a freelance writer. But she had once trained for six months to be a nurse before throwing it in.
”Good,” he said. “Nothing worse than being helpless.” Yes there was, Allie thought to herself. It was being helpless and naked in a big shower with a door that didn’t lock, a male nurse cleaning every inch of her with a washcloth while conversing with a male orderly standing at the door, casually looking at her body. She shuddered, then wished she hadn’t as the movement transmitted itself to her poor arms.

She glanced down at the plaster. She had pins in both arms now, and a plate on one of the bones in her right wrist. It was going to take weeks for them to heal, which meant that all of her work was going to have to go to someone else now. Her employer was going to give her sick leave and even keep paying her, given that she’d been riding home from work when the accident happened, but none of her clients were going to sit on their hands for a couple of months while their architect got the use in her fingers back. Damn. She’d worked hard for those contracts. It was difficult to think of them going to someone else. Particularly Glenn. She hated that thought. She tried to put it out of her head, and to think of something else. Her flat, her lovely, homey flat with her own bed and her own bathroom, and her clothes. Not that she hadn’t appreciated Fiona bringing the sweatshirt and leggings up to the hospital for her, but she’d been in them for more than a day now, and she wanted some new clothes.

“Here we are then,” the driver said. Allie looked up, surprised. She’d been in such a daze, thinking about the pleasures of home that she hadn’t even realised they were close.

“Thanks,” she said. “Umm…you might have to get the money out of my handbag.” Just another of the indignities that came with not being able to use her hands.
”Not a problem, love,” he said. “Stay where you are. I’ll come round and let you out.” Which was just as well. Allie hadn’t even thought about that. He turned the engine off, walked around and opened the door for her. She waited while he opened her shoulder bag, took out her purse and counted out the exact money.

‘Please take an extra couple of dollars,” she said. He shook his head.

“No need,” he said. He pulled a bundle of keys out. “One of these your front door key?” he asked.

“The blue one,” she said, a bit warily.
”Come on then,” he said. “I’ll help you inside.” He carried the handbag, its long strap folded up in one hand.

The contrast between his attitude and that of the hospital administrative staff almost undid her, and she had to choke back tears again. She told herself that it was a reaction to the medication, or to the general anaesthetic from the operation. Or to the pain. She followed him up the path, her slip-on scuffs slapping on the concrete.

No-one came to the door when he opened it, and he looked concerned.

“Are you sure there’s going to be someone here to look after you?” he asked. Allie nodded confidently.

“Fiona won’t be far away,” she said. “She’s probably gone up to the hospital to visit me and she’s going to be furious with me for leaving before she got there. But she’ll be back as soon as she knows I’m here.”
”You’re sure?” he asked again. He put the keys and her handbag down on the kitchen bench, just inside the flat. Allie nodded again.

“I’m sure,” she said. “Please, take another ten dollars from my wallet. You’ve been so helpful.”
He shook his head and smiled, showing gaps where a couple of teeth were missing.

“I don’t need to be paid for a good deed,” he said. “You look after yourself now, Miss.”

“I wish I could!” Allie looked down at her arms and managed a smile. “But thanks anyway.”

………….

As soon as the door closed behind her, she sank into a chair, relieved beyond measure to be in her own space. She looked around, smiled at the familiar surroundings. Her unit. Well, hers and the bank’s, but with the rent payments from Fiona, she was steadily gaining ground on the bank. In three years, it would be hers. A prime piece of real estate in a good area, it was going to make her a very tidy profit when she sold it.

She looked longingly over at the kitchen, at the coffee machine. What she wouldn’t give for a cup of that now. A real cup of coffee. Nothing like the muck they served in the hospital. Another painful shudder. She tried to put memories of the hospital out of her head. Bedpans and needles and sponge-baths and that horrible shower room where she’d stood with her arms held out to keep the plaster dry. Even though the nurse had put plastic coverings over them, he’d told her to do that.

”It’ll keep it dry and make it easier for me to get at you,” he’d said cheerfully. He’d looked about twenty, almost ten years younger than her, and she’d found that almost harder to forgive than his gender. He’d undressed her briskly, turned on the taps without even asking her how hot she wanted the water, and just set about using that washer and soap on her as if he were washing a dog rather than a person. And then the door had opened… Allie cringed and forced the memory away. She was not going to think about that, about standing spread-eagled, her breasts bouncing as he slathered the washer over them, the soap sliding over her belly into her pubic hair and down her legs while the orderly watched and people passed by in the hallway behind him. She screwed her eyes up tight, willing the memory away.

She opened them again and looked up at the sound of a key in the door. At last. Fiona. And coffee. She knew that she was in for a lecture from Fiona, and that it was a dreadful imposition to ask her flatmate to look after her like this. She put a sad, pathetic look on her face, realising that it wasn’t far different to how she was feeling anyway, and turned to face the door.

The expression dropped away and changed to confusion.

“Callum?” she said. Her upstairs neighbour almost dropped the keys in shock.

“Allie!” he said. “What are you doing here?”

“I believe that’s my line,” she responded, bending forward in an effort to get out of the deep, soft armchair she was in. “And why do you have Fiona’s spare keys?” She’d recognised the small fluffy teddy-bear that hung off the keychain.

“She gave them to me,” he said. “And asked me to pick up some clothes to take to you in the hospital this afternoon. Why aren’t you there?”

“Why did she ask you to do that?” Allie asked, her heart sinking from her chest into her stomach, where it lodged uncomfortably. She rocked forward again to find her feet, to get up. Everything was that much harder without the use of her arms.

“Because she didn’t have time to get there,” Callum replied. ‘Why are you here, Allie?” He threw the keys onto the bench, where they slid until they bumped against her handbag.
”Because I hated it there,” she said simply. “So I came home. I know that Fiona will look after me at least as well as they did there.” Callum looked steadily at her as she made one more attempt to get up.

“Stay down,” he said. He walked over to her, bent and kissed her cheek. “You’re pale and you look like a decent wind would blow you over. You’re so skinny you always do, but it’s even worse than normal at the moment. How do your arms feel?”
”Sore in some places and numb in others,” Allie admitted. “Where’s Fiona?”
”You must be feeling bad,” Callum smiled sympathetically as he backed up to the wall and leaned comfortably against it. “You didn’t even try to bite my head off for saying that you’re thin.”

It was a running argument between them. Allie was small in stature and very slim, although she had curves in all the places where curves were expected – not spectacular ones, but more than enough to fill out her clothes nicely and to get her more attention than she wanted from her male work colleagues. With her small face, big eyes, long, slender neck, and graceful movements, she looked like a ballerina whose development had not been halted at puberty.

Callum, who was just on six feet tall, was also slim, but it was a fit, athletic, sort of slim, and his shoulders were more than broad enough to give his suit jackets something to hang off. He had shaggy golden hair, an angular, animated face and a casual, fun manner. Fiona and Allie had agreed long ago that he was one of the best-looking men they knew, and that it was a pity he was such a good friend. And that he was an accountant, of all things. He kept fit with jogging and gym work, but not all the exercise in the world had the power to make him look any older than twenty-four. With the senior job he held and owning his own apartment, they knew he had to be older than that, but once they’d started calling him “kid”, he’d refused to tell them how old he was. They’d started treating him like a younger brother as soon as he’d moved in, over two years before, and the arrangement suited all of them.

Fiona had told him on several occasions that she intended to lay a trap for him when he grew up. It always made him laugh and ask for specific timeframes. Allie was the only one who knew that Fiona was quite serious. And since Fiona was like a pit bull when she decided to go after someone, Allie had no doubt her flatmate would get him if she decided that she wanted him at some time in the future. Even if she had to wrestle him to the floor to do it. Poor Callum. Men were never the same when Fiona had finished with him, and Allie felt very protective about Callum.

“I’m not thin,” she managed a token resistance now. Callum shook his head.

“Don’t bother arguing, Al. Your heart’s not in it,” he said, still smiling. “Look at you. You’ve got circles under those big brown eyes that make you look like you’ve been beaten up. Have you got some painkillers?”
”No,” she said quietly.

“No?”

“No,” she repeated. “I checked myself out and the fascists at the desk wouldn’t give me the prescription for painkillers.”
”What?” Callum asked, horrified.

“They wouldn’t give me the prescription.” she repeated, glad of his sympathy. And he looked like a college kid with his baby blue eyes wide open like that.

“You checked yourself out?” he interrupted. She nodded.

“Yes, I said that before,” she reminded him. He thought about it.

“No you didn’t,” he said. “You said you didn’t like it there, so you came home. But I thought it was with the doctor’s agreement. Although why I would think that, I don’t know. You can’t use your hands, you goose!”

“I’m not a goose,” Allie reacted strongly that time. “And Fiona will look after me.” This was becoming a refrain. Fiona would look after her. She had to.

“Fiona’s not here,” Callum said. He leaned back against the wall, crossed his arms. “So you’re just going to have to go right back to that hospital.”
”What do you mean, not here?” she asked. Her heart slid even lower. It was now in her belly, resting uncomfortably on her intestines or her spleen, or whatever else was in there.

“Her mother had another heart attack,” he said. “She had to fly home. That’s why she asked me to get your clothes and take them up to the hospital for you. She’s going to be gone for at least two weeks and – are you okay, Allie?”
”No,” she said simply. This time she couldn’t stop them. Tears welled in her dark eyes. She sniffed, hating her weakness. Callum immediately looked uncomfortable.

“Don’t do that,” he said, uncrossing his arms and starting forward, then stopping. What was he going to do? “Ummm… would you like a cup of coffee?”
”Yes,” Allie said. “Please.”
”All right, I’ll make you a coffee and then I’ll take you back to the hospital.”
”No,” she said, turning her head to wipe her eyes against the upper arm of her sweatshirt. Her wrist throbbed as she lifted it.

“What?” Callum asked. He’d been about to walk past her to the kitchen, but he stopped in front of her.

“I’m not going back there,” she said stubbornly. Callum sighed, a lock of blonde hair lifting off his forehead as he did. He crouched down in front of her, put his hands on the armrests of her chair.

“Allie, you don’t have any pain medication, you can’t look after yourself, Fiona is not here and you need nursing. You have to go back to the hospital.” Put like that, it was quite clear and reasonable. And she wasn’t having a bar of it.
”I’m not going back,” she said. Callum rolled his eyes.

“I’ll make the coffee,” he said. “And then you ARE going back. If I have to carry you, you’re going back, Al.” That made her smile. Callum Webster wasn’t the sort of man you associated with being carried off. He was probably big enough, but he was too…well, “young” was the only word she could think of.

The next problem presented itself with the coffee. The horrible, acrid stuff that had masqueraded as coffee in the hospital had been served to her tepid, in polystyrene cups with straws. The coffee Callum held out to her was hot, smelled heavenly, and was impossible for her to hold.

“Oh, for heavens sake,” Callum sighed. He dragged a chair over to beside hers and held the cup to her lips. “You can’t even drink a cup of coffee, woman. How the hell do you think you could look after yourself?”
”I’ll manage,” she said, trying to maintain some force in her voice, despite the fact that she was weak with gratitude to him for bringing her this hot ambrosia. The coffee soothed and slithered its way down her gullet, tingling her nerve endings and warming everything en route.

”You won’t manage,” he said firmly, holding the cup to her lips again. She looked at him over the rim, at the high cheekbones, the straight nose, the mouth that was normally curved in a teasing smile but was currently tight with…what? Annoyance? Concern? She drank deeply again, letting the coffee seduce her teeth, her tongue, her tonsils.

“Oh, that’s good,” she said. “Hospital coffee is awful.”

“That’s why you came home?” he asked. “Because the coffee was awful?”
”No,” she said, leaning towards the cup.

“Then why?” he asked, holding the cup back deliberately. She looked at him, betrayal in her huge, jersey cow-eyes. He relented, put it back so she could drink some more. Her black hair swung forward as she leaned into the cup. It wasn’t quite as lustrous as normal, he noted. Normally it shone like silk, but it was looking lifeless now. Like the rest of her. He’s always been fascinated by how her curvy little body and disproportionately long legs were in a state of constant motion. Even when sitting still, Allie normally looked as if she was doing something. A t the moment, she looked as if someone had found her “off” switch and flicked it.

“I don’t want to talk about why,” she said, inhaling coffee fumes with relish.
”We’ll come back to that then,” he said. “Give me the details on “how” instead. How did you get home?”
”Taxi,” she said. “The driver was nice. He brought me up here and opened the door for me and everything.” Callum closed his eyes and shook his head.

“A stranger brought you up here and opened the door for you?” he said. She nodded.

“Tell me he didn’t know that no-one else was here?”

“It was obvious that no-one was else was here,” Allie pointed out, leaning in and sipping again from the cup. Callum moved it back.

“I swear, you have the self-preservation instincts of a rabbit on a freeway,” he said in disbelief. “You were alone in this unit with a strange man, unable to use your hands, unable to…. oh damn it, Allie. You’ve got more sense than that!”

”I didn’t have any choice,” she said, knowing that what he said was correct. The taxi driver could have been a thief, a rapist or a murderer. But he hadn’t been. He’d just been a nice man. “I had to get out of the hospital,” she added. “And I’m not going back. Even if you somehow manage to make me go back, I’ll just leave again.”

“Why?” he asked. “No, don’t bother leaning towards the coffee. You’re not getting any more until you tell me.”
”I don’t want to,” she said, sounding and feeling like a six year old. A six year old with aching arms.

“That’s bad luck,” Callum said. He shifted to be more comfortable in his seat, the coffee cup shifting with him. Allie’s eyes followed the cup like a golden retriever watching a piece of steak. “Tell me,” he insisted.

Allie leaned back in her seat, longing for the coffee. She normally lived on the stuff, at least one cup an hour, and she’d gone without it for days. She licked her lips…then gave in.

“It’s dehumanising and humiliating,” she said. “You’re just a condition to them, just a nuisance. Half of the time they talk around you as if you’re not there, and the other half, they’re poking you and prodding you and doing undignified things to you with bedpans and taking your clothes off in front of everyone and…”

“…and waking you up to give you sleeping pills, I know,” Callum smiled. “I was in hospital for a week after a bout of peritonitis. I remember all of that. And you forgot the horrible food, too. And the robes that open at the back and show your butt to everyone.”

“And the noise from the other patients in the ward,” she was warming to the theme. “And the bossy nurses, especially the male ones who arrive to shower you even though you especially asked for a female one, and…” Her voice trailed off and her head went down. She hated being weak and weepy like this. She was not a weak and weepy female.

Callum bent down to look into her face.

“Allie?” he asked. She looked up through the curtains of hair framing her face. “They’re all nurses, it doesn’t matter whether they’re male or female.” Yes, that’s exactly what the male nurse had said.
”It matters to me,” she said. “Can I please have some coffee now?” She managed to get just a tinge of sarcasm into that last sentence and was immensely proud of herself. It gave her a lift.
”All right,” he said, holding it to her lips again. In her eagerness for it, she drank too fast and spilled some of it over the rim and onto her right leg. Instinctively, she reached to rub the heat away with her fingers and winced. Callum reached down quickly and pinched the material of the leggings away from her skin.

“Not burnt?” he asked, concerned. She shook her head.

“When did the shower thing happen?” he asked. She snuck another sip of the coffee before he moved the mug away.

“This morning,” she said. “It was awful. The door didn’t lock and there was an orderly, and people walking past in the hallway and…I don’t want to talk about it.”
”An orderly came to the door while you were being showered by the male nurse?” Callum asked. Allie nodded.
”It’s a hospital, Al, they’re so used to bodies there that they probably don’t even think twice about it,” he said. She shook her head.

“That orderly was thinking twice,” she insisted. “He kept looking at me. The nurse had me standing there with my arms out to the sides and I didn’t have anything on and…I don’t want to talk about it.” Callum tried to get that image out of his mind and failed. He talked despite it.

“I’m sure it was embarrassing,” he said. “But the fact remains that you need full time care and you need medication and you can’t get either of them here, so you have to go back to hospital.”

The words “I won’t!” sprang to Allie’s lips, but she subdued them, not wanting to sound like a child again. She had to be reasonable. She thought through her options. There were no other friends she could call on. Her college friends lived in different cities, her elderly parents had both died within the last two years, and her work took up too much of her time to allow her a social life. Fiona was it. Despite working all the hours available, she didn’t have the money to pay for a nurse either. Every cent of her savings had gone into the deposit for this unit and most of her salary went into its payments. She was only about a year away from a sizable pay rise, but she didn’t have it yet. No, a nurse was out of the question. But so was going back to that hospital.

“I’ll manage here,” she said firmly. Callum turned away, exasperated.

“You can’t,” he said. “And you know it.”
”I’ll manage,” she insisted.

“Fine,” he said. He took put the cup of coffee down on the floor. “You want your coffee? You get it.” Allie looked down at it, at the thin curls of steam working their way up from it. She wanted it. She wanted to drain every last drop from that cup and then lick the inside of it to get the last traces. She wanted every last molecule of caffeine, every last trace of coffee bean…

“I’d had enough anyway,” she said. Callum just looked at her.

“How are you going to go the bathroom?” he asked.

“Nothing you have to worry about,” Allie said calmly, trying to work it out for herself. Her fingers and thumbs were useless, and would continue to be so for at least another seven days. It wasn’t just that it hurt like hell if she tried to use them, they wouldn’t move properly at all until the swelling from the operations went down.

“Show me,” Callum said, standing up. He reached down, put his hands on Allie’s shoulders and pulled her up out of the chair with surprising ease. Her knees nearly gave and her arms hurt, but he gave her no choice, holding her steady until she took her own weight.

“Show you what?” she asked.

“Hook your thumbs in the waistband of those leggings and pull them down a bit,” he said. “Just a little. I’m not looking for a show here, Al. Just prove to me that you can do it.”
”I don’t want to,” she said, knowing she couldn’t.

“Then I’ll just get the keys and take you back to hospital,” he said, stepping away.

“Wait!” she said. She gritted her teeth, lifted her aching arms and rested her hands on her hips, trying to push the sweatshirt up so she could try to get hold of the leggings. A pain stabbed through her right wrist and she gasped.

“Right, that’s it,” Callum said. “Come on, Allie. I’m taking you down to the car. I’ll get you some clothes first, but then we’re going back and…oh, don’t DO that!” Because Allie had sunk back down into her chair and burst into tears. It was hard to say who was more mortified, Callum, because he had no idea what to do to fix things, or Allie, who was not a cryer and never had been.

“I can’t help it,” she sobbed. “I won’t go back to the hospital. I hate it there. I won’t go.” Callum turned away, spun away on his heel, buried his hands in his jeans pockets and strode over to the kitchen. He stopped at the counter, looked up at the ceiling and cursed fate for putting him in this position. Then he looked back at her, listened wordlessly to the soft sobs she was trying to control, and made up his mind. He walked over to the wall-mounted telephone and dialled. Allie closed her eyes; sure he was calling the hospital.

“Hello Marcie? Yes, it’s Callum. Look, I’m going to have to take a week or so off work. Can you let the others know? It’s a bit of a crisis. A friend has had an accident and needs some help. I’ll keep going with the cases I have on my laptop, but I’ll drop off some other files today. Can you redistribute them? Thanks. You’re an angel. Yes, it’ll be soon. I have to go out and get some pain medications for the friend, so I’ll call in then. Thanks again.” He hung up. Allie had turned around as much as she could, was looking at him in disbelief.

“What?” he asked, his expression daring her to say something.
”You’re taking time off to look after me?” she asked, incredulous.

‘Well someone has to, don’t they?” he responded, his exasperation coming through in every syllable. “Now let’s get you into bed and then I’ll call your doctor and get you some painkillers.”

………….

Her bed felt wonderful, particularly once he’d put a pillow on either side of her and propped her arms on them. They still hurt terribly, but at least they felt supported.

“You’re sure you’re comfortable in those clothes?” he asked. “You don’t want me to take the leggings off for you?”
”No, thanks all the same,” she said, stirring a quick grin from him. She didn’t want him taking anything off. “I’m fine. Thank you.” Realisation was sinking in that Callum, her neighbour and friend, was going to be nursing her, with all that entailed. It was not something she wanted to think about. But it was better than the hospital. She kept telling herself that.

“Okay. I’ll call your doctor and get the painkillers, drop my files off at work and then come back and make you some lunch. You should get some sleep.” He looked down at her lying there, her dark hair spread all over the white pillowcase, her face pale and drawn.

“I’ll sleep,” she agreed. “There’s nothing else I can do, after all. And Callum - thank you. I mean it.” He nodded.

“Allie, you know that if I’m going to look after you, I’m going to be doing all of the same things that they would be doing to you in hospital. Only not as professionally or efficiently?” She refused to meet his eyes, but she nodded.

“I still think you should go back to the hospital,” he said. Her full lips, paler than their usual pink, tightened.

He shook his head at her and left the bedroom.

………..

Allie woke up when he walked back into the room. She blinked to clear her vision and looked at him as he approached, young and male and incongruous in her pretty pastel bedroom.

“The doctor’s number is programmed into the phone,” she said. He smiled and held up a glass of water.
”I know,” he said. “I’ve got your pills here. And don’t think I had an easy time talking your doctor into giving me a prescription, either. If I hadn’t met him that time he went out on a date with Fiona, I don’t think I’d have convinced him, even though the hospital verified that you’d left. He wants to come out and see you tomorrow.”
”A house call?” Allie was surprised. She was also surprised that Callum had apparently been out. It felt like about two minutes since she’d shut her eyes. Callum nodded.

“Unbelievable though it seems, a house call,” he verified. “Now wriggle up and swallow these tablets down like a good girl. He thinks you’d be better off with painkiller injections, but he said he’ll decide on that when he sees you tomorrow.”

“Don’t call me a good girl,” Allie objected as she sat up, with difficulty. “I’m not a dog.”
”You’re certainly not,” he agreed. He sat on the edge of the bed, put each tablet into her mouth and held the glass to her lips so she could drink. She drank more of the water, not having realised how thirsty she was.
”So, what would madam like to eat now?” he asked. “A sandwich? A salad?”

“A roast dinner with all the trimmings,” she suggested. He grinned.

“Dream on,” he said. “You know me. If it comes in a packet or tin and can be cooked in the microwave or a toaster, you have a chance. So…a sandwich?”

”A sandwich sounds fine,” Allie managed to smile. The pain in her arms had reached unpleasant proportions and she was willing those painkillers to kick in fast. Callum reached out and brushed his hand over her forehead. His fingers felt cool and soothing.

“You’re hot,” he observed. “In pain?” She nodded. His face creased in sympathy.

“Those pills are supposed to work quickly,” he said. “They’ll knock you out, too, so I’d better make the sandwich fast.” He stood up and walked away from the bed. Allie swallowed, then forced herself to speak. If she didn’t, things were going to become unpleasant rather than merely embarrassing.

“Callum, I need to go the bathroom,” she said. She watched as his shoulders tensed for an instant, then he turned back.

“Well, in the absence of a bedpan, we’d better get you there then,” he said, pulling the covers back from her. “Can you get up?” She nodded, swinging her legs over the side and placing her feet onto the carpet. He hung back as she walked slowly around the bed, cradling her arms against the front of her body, heading for the bathroom that opened off her room. She stopped at the closed door and waited while he opened it, dreading what had to happen next.

He made it easier than it could have been.

“That sweatshirt’s nice and long,” he commented as he bent, slid his hands up under it and tugged her leggings down. He caught her panties along the way and took them too. Allie winced as she remembered that she’d been wearing these clothes for twenty-four hours.

“Did I hurt you?” he looked up quickly, concerned. She shook her head.

“My clothes are dirty,” she said. “I haven’t had any to change into since yesterday.” He nodded.

“Fiona had to drop everything and run,” he said. “If I’d known earlier, I’d have visited you last night. We might as well take these right off then, and put some clean ones on you.” He pulled the clothes down her legs and held them steady as she stepped out of them. The sweatshirt was long, but not long enough to give her any real privacy as she sat down on the toilet seat. It rode up at the back and it pulled up at the front as well. She positioned her arms to cover the tops of her thighs.

“I’ll just leave you for a minute,” Callum said, backing out tactfully, making a point of not looking at her. Allie let her head fall forward, still weary, and dreadfully embarrassed about the situation she found herself in. Still, if it was a choice of this or the hospital…

“Finished?” Callum asked from the doorway after a while.

“Yes,” she said.

“All right then,” he said, coming back in. Matter-of-factly, he reached for the toilet roll, ripped off a good few squares and met her red-faced gaze.

“I won’t look,” he assured her, and he didn’t. He reached down as she parted her legs, dried her off with only the paper touching her, and then helped her stand up, stretching round her to flush the toilet. Then he stood back to let her go out of the room, tugging the hem of her sweatshirt down over her bare bottom as she went past him.

“I’ll just get you some fresh clothes,” he said, busying himself as she walked to the bed, those legs stretching all the way from the ground to her and distracting him, particularly since the sweatshirt had ridden up again and was exposing more of those sweet, pale curves with every step she took.

“Don’t get under the covers yet,” he said, but his warning wasn’t necessary. There was no way Allie was planning to swing her legs up onto the bed while wearing a sweatshirt and nothing from the hips down. He opened a few drawers in her wardrobe and dug around until he found a pair of white silk panties.

“These do?” he asked. She nodded without even looking. She didn’t like having Callum going through her underwear and she wanted him out of there fast. She supposed she was going to have to get used to it.

“The leggings are in the bottom drawer,” she said. He shook his head.

“Doesn’t make any sense to put them on,” he said. “You’re going to be in bed for the next few days and you’ll probably be running a bit of a fever, so I think we’ll just keep you in a t-shirt and knickers.”
”But, I…” She wanted to protest, to say that she wanted more covering than that, but he was right, and she knew it. He was looking at her. She sat down on the bed and positioned her arms at her crotch again. She nodded.

“You’re right,” she said. “That makes sense.” He smiled.

“Now I know you’re sick,” he said. “You never agree with me. Let’s get these on you before you change your mind.” He approached, bent down and stretched the panties over her feet, sliding them up her legs as far as her knees. “You’ll have to stand up,” he pointed out. She did, and he pulled them the rest of the way, again not looking as his hands went under the sweatshirt.

“Well that was the easy bit,” he said. “Now, for the top half.” Alarmed, Allie looked down at the sweatshirt.
”Why don’t I leave this on?” she suggested. “For now.” He shook his head.

“You’ve had it on for a day,” he said. “Time to change it. This t-shirt okay?” He held up a cream cotton tee with a university emblem on front. She nodded.

“Right, well…” He put the t-shirt on the bed, took hold of the sweatshirt and carefully pulled it up over her head. Ignoring the blush on her face and the sight of her breasts nestling inside a white cotton bra, he slowly, gently, peeled the sleeves off her arms. Then he reached round her and undid the bra.

“No, Callum, that can stay,” Allie protested. His boyish face close to hers…too close, he smiled at her.

“No, Allie, it can’t,” he said. “You’re going to be lying down in bed and you need to be as comfortable as possible. It’s no big deal. You see boobs on the beach all the time. They’re everywhere.” He’d drawn the bra off her shoulders as he spoke, and was now moving it down her arms too, the straps catching on her plaster. Unable to cover herself, all she could do was look pointedly at a spot on the wall in front of her as she was bared. In turn, Callum tried to look anywhere except at her full, white, pink-tipped breasts. Obviously these hadn’t been on display at any beach at any time. He blinked and looked away, realising that he was, in fact, staring straight at them. He reached across her for the t-shirt, shook it out and pulled it over her head.

“We’ll just get your arms in here…slowly, let me do it, Al…and there we go. Comfy?” She nodded, too mortified to speak.

“Good. I’ll go make that sandwich now. I have some chicken upstairs. Is that okay?” She nodded again.

“Any part of the chicken in particular? Leg…brea…white meat?” He stopped himself before he finished the second option, but not soon enough. Allie smiled despite herself.

“Chicken breast would be lovely thanks, Callum,” she said, making him grin in return. She wished the heat would fade from her face.

“Coming right up,” he said. As it turned out, the sandwich went into her refrigerator, because by the time he came back, the painkillers had worked their magic and she was sound asleep.

………………..

He looked after her gently and discreetly, managing to feed her and help her without causing her too much discomfort, but he couldn’t make everything easier. Allie knew she needed a good clean-up. The wait at the counter at the hospital, the trip home in the taxi and the clothes she’d worn for too long had all ensured that she wasn’t her usual fragrantly clean self. Knowing this did not make it easier to reconcile herself to having Callum help her shower, however.

She had just finished a micro-waved tv dinner he’d brought to her and fed to her in small bites and was looking forward to her next dose of painkillers when she moved her arm and caught a whiff of her own body. Horrified, she looked up and realised he was smiling at her.

“We can’t put it off any longer, can we?” he asked.

“Yes we can,” she said, not pretending not to understand him. “Perhaps you could just wash under my arms for me?” He shook his head. “You could!”

“I could,” he said. “But it’d just be postponing the inevitable. No, you might as well get clean all over now.” She could see he’d made up his mind, and even though she recoiled from the thought, she knew he was right. Again. This was getting to be a habit with him, and it wasn’t endearing as far as she was concerned.

“So what’s it to be?” he asked. “A sponge bath?” Just the thought of him pulling the covers back, taking her clothes off and sponging her all over made Allie shudder. He grinned.

“Not a sponge bath, then,” he said. “Well, a shower is out of the question until we get some proper covers for your plaster, so I’ll go run a bath for you. Don’t run away, all right?”

“Very amusing,” she said, lying back on her pillows. “Don’t hurry.” He grinned again and looked back at her as he walked into the bathroom. She heard the taps go on. Then he appeared at the door.

“Which one of these do you use?” he asked, holding up two bottles of bubble bath.

“Either,” she said. “The purple one makes more bubbles.”
”Then the purple one it is,” he said, disappearing again. The taps were turned off with a thud and Allie looked up as he walked out towards her.

“Up you get,” he said. “Let’s get this over with.” It was all very well for him. He wasn’t the one who was about to get naked. It was easy for him to be so philosophical about it. He pulled the covers back, but when she went to stand up, he put his hand on her shoulder.

“Probably better to take them off here,” he said.

“Why?” she asked, protest in her voice.

“When you’re sitting down, it’s easier for me to be careful with your arms,” he said. “And if we whip your knickers off while you’re standing up, you might fall over.” She narrowed her eyes at him, not agreeing with his logic. He grinned mischievously.

“And I get to see you naked for longer this way, too,” he said. She stood up.

“In the bathroom,” she said firmly. He followed her, smiling and silently appreciating the sway of her hips under the t-shirt.

The bath was two-thirds full, with a mass of bubbles all through it. Allie looked at it, smelt the perfume of it. And then she slowly turned to face him.

“Ready?” Callum asked. She nodded, even though she wasn’t.

“Good,” he said. He took hold of the hem of the t-shirt and drew it up slowly, not to prolong it, but to make sure he could take care with her arms. As the material passed over her face, she closed her eyes. He’d already seen her breasts. This wasn’t a big deal, as he’d said earlier. She could handle this. She wasn’t going to be embarrassed by this. Her t-shirt came free over her head and she felt the heat in her face belying all of her good intentions. He eased the garment over her arms.

“One down,” he said, looking into her face. He grinned again. “It’s okay, Al,” he said. “Hang in there.”
”Bad choice of words,” she said. He laughed.

“They don’t hang,” he said. “They sit up nice and proud.”
”I can’t tell you how happy I am that you noticed,” she said, still blushing to beat the band, but trying to cover it with her words.

“A man would have to be blind not to,” he said. He put his fingers in the elastic sides of her panties and, without fanfare, slid them down her legs, holding them as she stepped out. She wanted to swing her arms forward to cover those dark curls down there, but the plaster made things awkward. She ineffectually moved one arm over, knowing it wasn’t doing the job.

“Right,” he said, trying to sound cheery and offhand. “The easiest way to get you in there is this.” Without warning, he picked her up, cradling her gently against him as he bent and lowered her into the big bath tub. The water and the bubbles closed over her like a warm kiss. She was still recovering from how easily he’d picked her up. She hadn’t expected that. But then she looked at his shoulders and at the muscles in his arms, and she realised that she was going to have to re-evaluate young Callum.

“Just keep your arms up on the sides,” he ordered. “Damn, I should have put plastics bags over them. The steam might do some damage. I’ll be right back.” He was as good as his word, almost running back into the room with two shopping bags and a roll of electrical tape. He managed the arm nearest to him with little difficulty, but in order to get at the other one, he had to get her to roll towards him, which meant that one of her breasts was completely out of the water and the bubbles. He didn’t seem to notice, focusing as he was on covering up the arm.

“There,” he said, sinking down onto his heels beside the bathtub. “That’s better. Now you can soak for a while if you want to.” She was back down in the water, only her arms, her knees and her face above the water. He smiled.

“You look like a little kid,” he said. She directed a glare at him, but that only made his smile broaden.

“All that’s missing is the rubber ducky,” he said.

“Go away and let me soak in peace, child,” she commanded, trying to get him back into the compartment where he belonged – honorary little brother. He shook his head.
”Sorry,” he said. “But I’m not prepared to run the risk of you falling asleep in there and sliding down and drowning yourself. I’m staying right here.”

“I can’t relax when you’re there,” Allie complained. Callum raised his eyebrows.

“I’m a very relaxing person,” he said. She would have rolled her eyes if she could have found the energy. He got the drift anyway.

“Honestly,” he assured her. “If I started talking profit and loss statements to you, or if I told you about an interesting little audit I did last week, I can guarantee that you’d nod off to sleep in minutes.” There was a smile playing at the corner of her mouth, but her eyes did look heavy. He didn’t really want her to fall asleep in there – she’d be too difficult to get out again. He played dirty.

“…and you’d forget all about the fact that you’re lying there naked and that you have to come out of that bath some time soon.” Her eyes opened wide again, and he grinned. “Not to mention that I’m about to start washing you,” he added, to finish her off. And then, just because he was enjoying himself, he kept going. “It’s amazing how that blush goes all the way down to the bubbles.”

There was a full-on glare going now.

“Sure you wouldn’t rather be back at the hospital?” he asked, picking up a bar of soap from the dish on the side of the bathtub.

“It’s beginning to look more attractive,” Allie said tightly. He ruined it by laughing.

“You’ve always been able to take teasing, Al,” he said.
”That’s when I’m dressed,” she pointed out.

“There is that,” he said. “Lean forward, now.” She leaned, and he dipped the soap in the water, lathered it up and began washing her back with his hand, smooth, long strokes all the way down to her bottom and back up. “Mind you,” he added. “I thought you were supposed to be able to tell the value of a woman by what happened when you put her in hot water.” Allie groaned.

“All right, bad pun,” he conceded with a smile. “Lean back.” He guided her back, his hand on her shoulder. As he lathered up the soap again, he tried to think of more flippant remarks to keep the tone light. But inspiration deserted him, and it was in silence that his hand travelled under each of her arms in turn and down over her breasts, washing her, his hand sliding slippery over her bare skin.

“Cold?” he asked as his palm skimmed the hard points of her breasts.

“No,” she said.

“Damn,” he said. She looked up at him at that, having been looking everywhere but at his too-young face previously.

“Why damn?” she asked.

“You could have lied,” he pointed out. “If you’d pretended you were cold, I wouldn’t have had to think about what other reason there could be for your nipples being so hard.”

“Embarrassment,” she said shortly.

“Yes, well that’s one reason,” he agreed, lathering up again before moving lower, over her ribs and belly and down. “But I was thinking excitement, sexual tension, arousal.”
”I’m sure you were,” Allie said, trying to sound bored as his long fingers brushed over her hips, soaped low on her belly.

“Just move your legs apart a little,” he said, still in the same chatty tone. She inched them apart, then jumped as his fingers travelled immediately between them.

“Embarrassment again?” he asked.

“Obviously,” she countered.

“Not excitement, sexual tension or arousal?” he persisted as he washed her thoroughly there, then moved down to the inside of her thighs.

“Not in this lifetime,” Allie responded. He laughed softly.

“My, those bubbles melt fast, don’t they?” he commented. She glanced down and was shocked to see that he was right. Her breasts were almost in plain view. She slid a little lower, just as he’d intended her to.

“That’s it,” Callum encouraged. “Now lift your feet up out of the water so I can get at them without getting completely drenched.”

Despite her tiredness, the pain in her arms and the awkwardness of her position, there was no way she could resist that. Just as he leaned across to wash the foot furthest from him, she dipped it in the water and splashed him, soaking his face, his hair and his shirt. He turned slowly to look at her, water dripping off his nose. He looked about nineteen now.

“I suppose that was completely necessary?” he asked. She nodded, smiling sweetly. He washed the foot.

“Sometime soon, I’m going to find out whether these little feet are ticklish,” he promised her. Her smile faded immediately, and he turned away before she saw the grin on his face. “Not just now, because you might drown, but soon, Allie. Very, very soon. There. Your hair needs a wash, but we’ll do that tomorrow. For now, I just need you to kneel up so I can get at the backs of your legs and your butt. Here, I’ll help you.”

She didn’t want to be helped, but there was no way she could manoeuvre herself up when she couldn’t use her arms. She particularly didn’t want to kneel up, sideways to him, with only parts of her body covered by patches of bubbles which were rapidly surrendering to gravity. She felt the smooth touch of his palm run up the back of each leg, then the round strokes as he smoothed the lather over her bottom and then washed it off.

“Have I forgotten anything?” he asked. “Oh, your face!”

‘Not with that soap,” she protested immediately. “I use a cleanser on my face.” Callum looked at the perfectly good soap in his hand, then back at Allie, her face still pink with embarrassment at being nude in front of him. He sighed.

“Where is it?” he asked. She looked up at the shelf near the sink, moving her arms forward as she did to partially cover her breasts. They didn’t do a very good job, but it was something. Callum stood up and picked up a large bottle with a pale green fluid in it.

“This one?” he asked, turning round. He saw that she’d moved her arms, but didn’t say anything. Her rosy little nipples were still sticking out in front of the shield she’d tried to put up anyway.

“That one,” she nodded, setting her breasts jiggling. Callum resolutely dragged his gaze back to the bottle in his hand.

“Pour some into your hand,” she instructed, wishing that she was out of the bath with a towel around her. But he was already pouring, so it was too late.

“Not too much,” she said quickly. He stopped and showed her his palm. She nodded.

“Now you work it into a lather, and then you put it on my neck and face, rubbing away from the heart.” He met her eyes.

“Away from the heart?” he repeated, disbelieving. She nodded.

“It’s to do with circulation,” she said.

“It’s utter crap,” he said flatly in reply. “’Away from the heart’ indeed. Why don’t they just say ‘rub it upwards’…and why is it so important anyway?” She chose not to answer him. His fingertips rubbed it gently.

“Circular motion,” she said. “Anti-clockwise.” His fingers stilled.

“You’re making this up,” he accused. She shook her head, swaying a little as she did.

”You’re for real?” he asked. He’d noticed that sway and had decided to get her out of the bath and ready for sleep as soon as possible. “So now, can I just wash it off, or do I have to stand on my head and recite poetry while doing it?” He was rewarded with a laugh, the first one he’d coaxed from her in some time.

“You splash it off with clean, lukewarm water,” she said. She glanced down. “But soapy bathwater will do on this occasion.”
”Good thinking,” he said. “Shut your eyes.” He splashed it off, soaking her neck and breasts as well and getting her hair wet in the process.

“Alright, Al,” he said. “Let’s get you out of there. I’ll just put my arm around you to steady you and you can stand up…carefully…and step over the edge. There you go. Nothing to it.”

Allie shivered immediately, and he reached for a towel as soon as she was standing steady.

“Now they’re cold,” he commented, looking down at her breasts and up again quickly. Allie’s blush deepened again, and this time he didn’t bother hiding his grin as he began to dry her.

“You’re making this worse,” she accused as he rubbed her skin dry.
” I’m making it fun,” he corrected.

“For you, maybe,” she said. He flicked the end of her nose with the towel.

“It stops you from brooding,” he said. “You’re too busy being mad at me to get truly embarrassed.”
”I can do both,” she said. He was towelling her hips now, and across her belly and lower.

“Multi-skilled,” he commented. “What a talented woman you are. All that, and a body like this, too. It hardly seems fair.” He glanced up and laughed at the expression on her face. Then he wrapped the towel around her and tucked the loose end into her cleavage.

“Let’s clean your teeth,” he said. “Now, is there some strange female ritual for doing this that I don’t know about?”

“No,” she said tersely.
”You’re sure?” he asked. “I don’t have to brush them from left to right, or away from the kidneys, or while balancing on one foot?” She just looked at him. “I’ll take that as a no, shall I? All right. Open wide. This won’t hurt a bit.”

She was at the end of her energy reserves and he kept his arm tightly around her as he guided her back to her bed. By the time she was sitting back on the edge of it, Allie’s eyes were starting to close, and Callum gave her the painkillers before he dressed her again because he wasn’t sure she’d stay awake long enough to take them if he didn’t. He peeled the electrical tape and the plastic bags off her arms, which took some time because he did it carefully. Her eyes were shut when he dropped the second bag on the floor. By the time he had her t-shirt on, her head was resting against his neck, and he decided not to bother putting the panties on her when he heard a soft snore from the vicinity of his shoulder. He turned her, eased her down on the bed, tugged the towel away and pulled the covers up. He positioned her arms on the supporting pillows, turned her bedside lamp off and just stood quietly, looking down at her.

“What am I going to do with you?” he asked her. Then he picked the discarded plastic bags and tape up, turned her light off, went into Fiona’s room and set the alarm clock there so he would be on time with Allie’s next painkillers.

………..

He had barely dropped off into sleep when he heard her calling out, not his name, not any words as such, just a loud moaning that worked its way into his dreams for a while before his consciousness edged in and woke him. Blinking back sleep, he pushed the covers back on the bed and felt his way into her room in the dark, his hand running along the walls of the hallway until he felt her door frame. He fumbled in the unfamiliar room until he found the light switch. Allie protested, closing her eyes and turning her head into the pillow and Callum quickly got his bearings in the room, switched the light off again and walked over to turn her bedside lamp on instead.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, sitting down. “Pain?”

“Yes… no…well, not too bad,” she mumbled, only half awake.
”Here, have some water,” he said, pouring some into a glass from the covered jug he’d left on the flimsy little table beside her bed. She shook her head, her lips closed.

“Not thirsty,” she said. Callum brushed the dark hair out of her eyes with his fingers, judging the heat of her forehead as he did so. Not hot enough to worry him.

“Bad dreams?” he tried. She wriggled in the bed, almost squirmed.

“I’m itchy,” she moaned.

“Itchy?” Callum stood up and reached for the covers. “Where?”

“All over,” she said. “All down the front of me. And I can’t scratch it!” Her voice rose at the end, her frustration and discomfort making her loud.

“Shush now,” he soothed, drawing the covers down. “Let’s see if you have any rash or anything.” There was nothing on her legs, and since the t-shirt was up around her waist, he could see that the skin there was its usual unmarked ivory too. She had her legs pressed tightly together, only the narrow triangle of dark hair on show. He eased the t-shirt up, right up, over her breasts. No rash, no bites, no hives. He sighed in relief.

“Nothing there, Allie,” he said. “Maybe it’s just a reaction to the pain meds?” He met her eyes, and saw the exact instant that she realised that she was now lying stark naked on a bed under his gaze. But then she squirmed again.

“I’m so itchy,” she said again, embarrassed, but not enough to forget her main cause of concern at present. Callum nodded.

“Given that there’s no rash, I don’t think anti-itch cream is going to make a difference, even if either of us had any,” he said. “Does this help?” He ran his fingers over one of her thighs, scratching softly with his short, neat fingernails. Allie purred.

“Oh, yes,” she said. “Yes.”

“All right then,” he said, mustering his resources. “Well, if you want me to continue doing this, I might just turn the light off to make it a bit easier.” And to prevent her from seeing the automatic reaction of his body to the sight of hers, spread out soft and lovely and exposed. He was only wearing briefs and they weren’t hiding much. He reached out to the light, but changed his mind at the last instant.

“I’ll take this right off first, so I won’t risk hurt your arms dragging it off them in the dark,” he said, easing the t-shirt off her arms and over her head. Then he turned the light off and set about giving her some ease. She really was in a bad way, the poor thing, he was thinking. And he was commending himself for thinking that…focus on sympathy, his conscience was saying. Forget that you have a luscious, naked woman lying on a bed in front of you begging you to touch every inch of her. Just put that right out of your head.

Yeah, right.

Callum did some of her from where he was, but when it came to the rest, he had to shift position, getting up and walking round to the other side of the bed so he could stretch out beside her. Then he placed his fingertips on the hip nearest him and again began the light scratching that she was so grateful for.

“That is so good,” she said softly, her voice sending a ripple all the way down to his groin. He shifted on the bed.

“I’m pleased,” he made himself say, even more pleased that his voice didn’t sound as strangled as he felt.

Circling, scratching movements across her belly, into those soft, dark curls, through them lightly, then up, moving in zig-zags across her body. His fingers stilled on her ribs.

“Still awake?” he asked softly.
”Yes,” she said.

“Are your…are you itchy above here, too?” he asked. She hesitated, and he could almost feel the war she was waging with herself. What was more important? Embarrassment or discomfort? The comfort factor won.

“Yes,” she said.

“You poor girl,” he said, meaning it. Allie was obviously modest about her body, although he had a difficult time knowing why, having seen it. Even here, in the blanketing darkness, it must be hard for her to have to ask him to do this, to put his hands on her, to touch her intimately. But then, she’d already survived the bath, and he’d touched her all over then, too. He set about it, his fingertips scratching in soft circles up the curves of her breasts, around, all over them, between them, gently over her nipples and up further to her shoulders and her neck. He reached up higher and stroked her cheek.

“Is your back itchy too?” he asked. He felt her shake her head.

“But my nose is,” she admitted. He laughed softly as he scratched it. “And my right hip, and just above my knee on that leg, and around my belly button and my…” Already moving his hand down to her hip, he waited.

“And your…?” he encouraged. The pause told him it was somewhere private.

“Between your legs?” he suggested.

“No,” she said.

“Your breasts, then,” he said.

“Just my…oh, this is stupid. Just my nipples. They’re burning.” He abandoned her hip and reached up to brush his fingers over one of them. It was rock hard, and she jumped as he touched her.

“I don’t want to scratch too hard there,” he said, running his fingertip around and over the nub. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Scratch,” she ordered. He hesitated.

“No,” he said. “Sorry, but no. I’ll try this instead. Now don’t brain me with your plaster or anything, Al. Just remember that I’m trying to be helpful.” He moved his weight across the bed, bent down, and moved his face against her breast until his lips found one of the sources of her annoyance. Her indrawn breath as his mouth closed over her nipple sounded shocked. He paused and lifted his head.

“Is this all right?” he asked. She sighed.

“Yes,” she said. She sighed again as the warm dampness enveloped her, as his fingernails eased the discomfort lower down on her body at the same time. His hair fell soft against her skin as he gentled her with his tongue, as he moved from one damp point to the other.

If she let herself think about it, it was unbearably intimate, mind-blowingly embarrassing, but it felt so good. The itching faded and then disappeared, and she fell asleep to the gentle stroking of his fingertips and the soft ministrations of his mouth at her breast.

Callum heard her breathing change and deepen, and he lifted his face, leaning back down only to press a soft kiss on the wet place he’d just abandoned. He stroked her hair off her face again, then pulled the covers back up over her, noting as he stood up that it was another four hours until her painkillers were due. Time for some sleep.