Guest Story: The Tragic Shoes - Part II

The Continuing story of a girl, the shoes she loves and the sadistic shoe peddler who gets in her way...

The Tragic Shoes – Part II of III

“Wakey, wakey.” Serafina’s fluttering eyelids remained sealed shut. She snorted and kicked her feet.

I don’t know about you, but I always find my captives so adorable whey they are bundled up tight in thick ropes and fighting against the tortured dreams of their drug-induced narcolepsy. With their mouths gagged and their hands bound tightly behind their back—they’re so cute.

 “Uaagh,” she moaned lightly.

Tickling her toes wasn’t doing the trick. Maybe I overdid it with the chloral hydrate? I should’ve studied my absorption rates better—ugh, but so much math to digest.

“Mmmm.” She was dozing off into another heavy slumber.

Exasperated, I doused her with a pitcher of cold water.

“Aaaah!” she screamed and awoke from her dream as if drowning at sea. “Hp!” The words weren’t forming yet. “Hep!” Getting closer. “Heeeelp!” Much better!

“Spare yourself. We’re in a basement of an abandoned farmhouse far away from the edges of town. Kinda cozy, doncha’ think?”

“I’m cold and wet,” she whined.

“Yeah, warm sand usually doesn’t bring people to.”

Her lovely brown toes, painted so poetically with bright emerald nail polish, were wiggling within the confines of her nylon stockings. “How did the bottoms of my jeans get shredded?”

“You put up a terrible fight as I was taking your spectacular Spanish leather boots off. The boots are completely unblemished, but I am afraid your tight-fitting jeans are totaled.” I pulled up a chair right next to her and sat down.

“Why does my face hurt so much? Am I bruised?”

 “I kinda dropped you down the staircase. Buttery fingers, but you’re sort of a slippery eel. No harm, no foul, right?”

Her bruised face turned red with rage. “You horrible witch! What do you want?”

“Really, Serafina.” I was deeply offended. “What makes you think I want something?”

“I won’t crack. I’ve been through worse than anything you can dish out.”

“It was the ropes, wasn’t it?”

“I’ve got a high threshold for pain and I’ll never betray my girls.” Serafina curled her toes and bit down on her lip as if to accentuate her point. “Torture me all you want. You won’t get an inch of our turf.”

“It’s the whole basement in a remote farmhouse thing, isn’t it? You know, so many people misinterpret my intentions whenever I do that.”

“And the Senoritas are well-connected, too.” Serafina was stern and just a tad hostile, in my opinion, given her present circumstances. “I have friends in other girl gangs. Lots of them. And boyfriends you don’t wanna mess with. Ex-cons, thugs, murderers…people who can mess you up!”

“Break both my ankles?”

“Worse than that.”

“Do tell. I feel inspired.”

Serafina clammed up. A tiny bead of sweat was running down the side of her pretty brown face. We’d been friends for a number of years. Robbed liquor stores together. Car-jacked Beemers for parts. Intimidated, haughty, law-abiding citizens. But when the times got tough, we separated into our own gangs. Every once in a while we would cross paths in the act of committing crimes. But it wasn’t until the downfall of the Khmer Rouge Girls that we found our territories butt-up against each other. That was when things got really ugly.

I scooted my chair in close beside her and rested my head on her shoulder. “You know, it doesn’t have to be like this, honey.”

She was puzzled. “What do you mean?”

“So adversarial. Always threatening, provoking…fighting. Remember when the Clowns with Frowns on Skates were all-powerful and they beat both our gangs to a pulp?”

“Yes,” she said wistfully.  “I remember.”

“The trauma ward was so crowded, they made us share a room together in Intensive Care. They’d given up trying to figure out who was in what gang. You were laid up with two broken legs and a broken neck. My whole upper body was encased in plaster. We shared some romantic nights together in recovery, didn’t we?”

“That was nice.”

“I’ll never forget it.” I got up from my chair and headed to the other room. “I thought rather than torturing you horribly,” I shouted from the far side of the basement, “…as good as I am at that, I’d make this a really special evening.”

I returned to the room and placed an elegant silver cake dome and tray on the Ottoman sitting in front of her.

“What is it?” She shook, terrified with fright.

“This, darling, is dessert.”

She looked at the covered dessert tray wide-eyed, half-expecting something to leap out and attack her. She looked back at me, wide-eyed.

“Will it hurt me?” she asked as she sniffed around the cake dome.

“No, of course not.” I tapped my booted foot impatiently. “Well, since you are being so timid, not to mention completely bound up, I guess I’m just going to have to do this myself.” I lifted the dome off of the cake tray. “Voila!”

Serafina squealed and nearly passed out from excitement. After several huffs and puffs to maintain consciousness, she said, “Is that what I think it is?”

“A 1986 Reynaldo Grimaldi scarlet Heartfire formal slip-on? Yes, you got it exactly right. Not only the world’s most elegant shoe, but also its most desired.”

“I can’t believe my eyes,” Serafina was nearly in tears. “If I wasn’t tied up, bruised and bleeding, I would think that I’m in heaven.”

“Better than heaven,” I chided as I used more rope to tie her feet around the Ottoman, so that she had no choice but to look at the world’s most gorgeous shoe. Walking in a pair of Grimaldies is like walking on an endless path of bare, powdered baby bottoms. They’re that comfortable.”

“Oh my God,” she sighed. “This just can’t be. The Heartfire was put out in a limited edition. They’re unbelievably rare, Alexis.”

“That’s right, Serafina. I love a girl who really knows her shoes. Grimaldi only manufactured 100 pairs before he brutally committed suicide by stabbing himself thirty-four times with a sharpened shoe horn.” I whispered, “Some people believe he was actually murdered.” I cleaned an imaginary smudge from the flawless shoe.  “You know, his rivals were green with jealousy. Or whatever color jealousy is. The Heartfire is the rarest and most sought after shoe ever created. People would absolutely kill for one of these. Probably, numerous people already died for the shoe you are drooling over right now.”

“Tell me more, Alexis! I must know more.”

“I love a girl who’s obsessed with shoes.” I got down close to the Grimaldi, so that our faces were only inches apart. “The Heartfire is euphemistically referred to as the “shoe that launched a thousand orgasms.” There are only thirteen surviving shoes and I happen to have a pair. This is the left one.”

“I must know…” she pleaded.

I held up my hand. “No, Serafina, I cannot reveal my sources or my methods. I can only tell you that I went to great personal expense to come by this pair of magnificent shoes. A girl has got to keep her secrets.”

Serafina cooed. “I must have them.” She reached out her tongue to lick at the glorious shoe, coming within a centimeter of sliming the lush leather soles. “This is like the ninth circle of heaven. The Heartfire is dangling in front of my face, just out of reach.” She whimpered. “You must let me try it on.”

“Try it on?” I arched one of my razor-thin eyebrows in surprise. “Why of course, I will let you try it on. What kind of savage beast would I be if I didn’t let you try on this most immortal of shoes? But first, let’s take a look at those footsies. We have to make sure you are a Heartfire kind of girl.”

I sat down in front of her splayed legs like a patient shoe store clerk and examined her nylon covered feet with my hands. I squeezed her plump big toes between my thumb and forefinger. “Nice composition and structure.” I proceeded to do a deep tissue message of her arches. Serafina moaned gently and softly before moaning full-throatedly. “Nice bonework. Let’s see how they taste.” I took a long, slow lick of her sole from bottom to top, thoroughly enjoying every millimeter of the journey. When I finished, Serafina giggled and kicked her feet.

“Mmmm. Strong hints of apricot, oaky aroma, smoky afterbite, chocolaty overtones with just a dash of black peppercorn at the end. Do you wear Dr. Scholls?”

In between bursts of tickle-inspired laughter, she shook her head-yes.

“Thought so.” I rubbed my chin and pondered her feet. “I’m afraid that we have a problem here.”

“A problem?” Concern gripped her face the way a virgin grips a whore’s nipple. “What kind of a problem?”

“You’re a size 7.”

“So?”

“The Heartfire is a size 5.”

“Uhhhh,” she gasped. “I must have those shoes. I’ll be the envy of the whole warehouse district.”

I grinned Devilish Grin #24. “Fortunately, there is a cure for your very disturbing problem.”

“There is?” Hope sparkled across her face. “Tell me the cure! I must have the cure!”

“Mmmm. Well, here it is…we modify your feet to the desired shoe size.”

“That sounds wonderful! You can do that?”

“Oh yes. Very easily.”

“What does it involve?”

“Not much at all. I’ve got everything we need here at the farmhouse.” I paused to think through the procedure. “Let’s see. Black felt marker…check. Soft cotton towel…check. Reinforced Ottoman…check. And most importantly…fifty-pound sledgehammer. Checkarooney! What do you say, honey? Do you or don’t you want dessert?”

Serafina’s mouth hung open. “I…I…I….”

Guest Story: The Tragic Shoes - Part I

This is the tragic romance story about a girl and her shoes. Serafina is a gangster girl with a lot territory under her control. Alexis is her rival who has very little territory but some pretty remarkable shoes. Only one hitch: the shoes are too small for Serafina's feet. What's a gangster girl to do?

The Tragic Shoes – Part I of III

“Try the pasta primavera. It’s delicioso!” I was hand-feeding Serafina, the leader of the Loco Mucho Loco Senoritas. We were tucked away in a dark back office of a romantic little hideaway on the edges of the warehouse district. To enhance the mood, and because the power had been suspended years ago, our comfy dining room was candlelit only. The flickering lights made our shadows dance across the walls while I presented sumptuous course after sumptuous course to my adversary.

Serafina closed her eyes and momentarily slipped into a dreamworld with each heavenly bite. “Where did you learn to cook so well, Alexis? This food is fantastic.”

In the middle of the third course, Serafina had commenced a serious game of aggressive footsy underneath the table. This kind of foreplay was quite common before the difficult negotiating began. Later in the evening we could get down to the drab details regarding the turf boundaries between the Senoritas and the Golema Goth Girls. I always find oral consumption and lovemaking to be essential prerequisites to any act of diplomacy.

“In my spare time, when I am healing from injuries, I like to watch the Cooking Channel. You would not believe how many ways you can use bacon. Like, in the pudding I made for dessert. I’ve got to confess, I’m a bit of an Iron Chef addict.”

“Mmmm,” she said. “Shovel some more of that Caramelized Gnocchi my way, Sister.”

I happily complied with Serafina’s wish, though it came across as more of an order. I have a very sensual way of hand-feeding a girl. Be very gentle with the fork. Let her slide the morsel off the edge of the utensil delicately. Follow-up by dabbing affectionately at her face with a white linen napkin. If the napkin fails to get every spot on the face, complete the cleanup with long strokes of the tongue.

“What were we talking about, again?” She asked as I caressed her chin with my lips.

“The wharves. We were going to talk about what we should do with the wharves.” Her errant left foot was casually running its way up my right thigh, coming dangerously near to my womanliness. I could feel her toes wiggling inside of her pantyhose as she inched her way ever closer.

“Yes, that’s right. Oooh, the wharves seem miles and miles away right now,” she said in her dreamy, semi-erotic condition.

“And yet, they are right outside our door.”

“More linguini, please. You know how I like it.”

I moved the white casserole dish of lamb linguini over to her side of the table and lifted the cover. Fragrant steam wafted out of the dish and intertwined with the candle smoke to create an enchanting haze.

“Try the wine,” I said, filling her tall crystal to near the top. I poured myself a much daintier serving. We made a toast to all the victims we had broken, especially the ones who hadn’t fully recovered, and tossed back our glasses of Domaine Clarendon ’98. I paused to relish the flavor, cavalierly putting my boots up on the table.

“Wanna see a cool trick?” I said.

 “Sure,” she said in a deep simmering voice brimming with glimmers of expectations yearning to be fulfilled.

I leaned over and very slow and salaciously began unzipping my boot. First the right one, using just my teeth and then the left one using only my toes. I kicked the boots to the floor, revealing my long, soft feet and exquisite, imported, Milanese nylon stockings. Serafina giggled with giddiness. Is it possible to have curvaceous feet? I think so.

“Wait, it gets better.” Using my big toe and index toe of my right foot, I picked up Serafina’s fork and spooled a bite-sized serving of linguini.

Serafina squealed with joy. “You’re so talented, Alexis. How do you do it?”

“I learned this trick while I was healing from a minor kerfuffle with the Banshee Biker Babes. Fantastic story that I will tragically abbreviate: They broke both my hands and legs. Good fortune being on my side, they managed nothing more than to break both of my ankles, leaving the rest of my gams undamaged.”

I maneuvered the forkful of linguini past Serafina’s plump, glistening lips. She clenched down lightly and erotically slurped the long noodles with orgasmic pleasure.

“During those brief months of rehabilitation, I became quite talented with my feet, even though both of them were encased in short, plaster leg casts. How else is a girl supposed to feed herself?” Serafina grinned devilishly. “If you’re good, I’ll show you what else I can do with my toes.”

“Oh, I’m good. I’m very, very good.”

Clutching the fork with my right foot, I grabbed a fresh linen napkin with my left foot, using it to wipe away the creamy garlic sauce that I had clumsily smeared all over Serafina’s lovely brown-toned face. “Did I mention that I am ambidextrous?”

“You have so many talents. I plan on discovering them all.”

She finished another toe-fed serving of linguini and I dutifully cleaned her face again. “More wine?” I offered.

“Please.” As I filled our crystals, Serafina paused for reflection. “You know, Alexis, I’ve learned so much about you tonight. Before I arrived here, I was certain you were planning something devious.”

“Devious?” I was overcome with incredulity as I lightly tipped the glass of wine to her lips, holding the stem between my toes. “Serafina,” I explained, “we’re two girl gangster generals. Equals in war, but equals in the playful, poppy fields of peace, as well. We’ve developed a bond of trust between us. A serious bond of trust.” I patted at the red wine that had dribbled down her chin. “You know, there are no secrets harbored between us. Everything is out on the table.”

“Lovely words to hear, Alexis. As I was positively certain, you sneaked something of a narcotic nature into the wine.”

I was stunned, and made no effort to hide my hurt feelings.

“Don’t feign surprise on me, lover. I didn’t rise to this dizzying station without a little dash of paranoia. Oh, I’m sure you wouldn’t use a fatal amount, and risk starting a war, but probably a small enough amount to knock me unconscious.”

“Serafina, I would never…”

“Of course, you wouldn’t, dear Alexis. But, a girl in my position must take every precaution. That is why I switched wine glasses with you, while you were preoccupied removing your remarkably fashionable boots.”

Color and confidence drained from my face. My right leg crashed to the floor. “You…switched…?” I couldn’t even finish my sentence.

“Horrible, I should think that way, isn’t it? But then I thought: the wine? That would be too obvious. Perhaps, I should switch the plates.”

“The…the…plates?” I was growing unsteady, a little bit wobbly. Blood was rushing out of my head. My left leg slid off the table.

“And the flatware. Because I believe you did say at the beginning of the evening, ‘what’s mine is yours. Mi casa es su casa.’ And naturally, I returned your generous gesture.”

“You returned it?” I said weakly, my knees shaking.

“Share and share alike, right Alexis? I even exchanged the after-dinner mints. Everything you gave to me, I returned to you.”

I felt woozy. One eye was starting to droop. “The napkins too?”

“Uurp!” Serafina nearly gagged on her wine. “Napkins? What do you mean?”

I sat up in my chair. “The napkin that I dipped in chloral hydrate…a potent version that can be absorbed through the skin? You know, the napkin I’ve been cleaning you with for most of the night?”

“But, but….” Serafina’s lovely brown face was getting paler by the second. “You touched that napkin yourself. You would have absorbed anything on it.”

“Oh yes,” I agreed. “You’re right, of course. I held the napkin between my toes—my nylon-covered toes.”

“That’s right, porous nylon.” Serafina’s eyes started to swim in their sockets.

“That would be the nylons that I treated last night with Airidion IV. Great stuff. Industrial repellent. Repels water, grease, oil, gasoline, and oh, chloral hydrate solution. You’re so observant, Serafina.”

Slowly, Serafina’s lids grew very heavy, and the glass of wine she had held so confidently in her hand, tumbled onto the table, making a large, dark, red stain in the middle of the white cloth.

“Careful,” I chided. “I expect you to be able to hold your liquor.”

“I…hate…you…you…conniving…cuuuunnntt...zzzzzz.”

Guest Story: Shall We Dance?

The story of an overly dedicated nurse and her tormented patient. By Dane Bainbridge.

Shall We Dance?

“I’m such a klutz.”

Maiko fumbled with her trapeze. Two pairs of broken arms in the last six months and she still hadn’t learned to grasp simple, concrete objects. I can thread needles with ten broken fingers. This poor girl couldn’t even unlatch the rail-guards on her hospital bed.

“I should be more careful. I need to pay attention to what I’m doing. You know what I mean?”

After knocking herself in the head with the aluminum trapeze bar several times, Maiko gave up and started yanking at the canvas slings that elevated her broken and plastered legs.

“Just look at what I’ve done.” I was leaning out over the open hospital room window. My six inch stilettos had the effect of pooching out my rear end. The black, polyester nurse’s uniform I was wearing was stretched to the breaking point around my firm buttocks. I glanced over my shoulder. Maiko managed to free one leg from its canvas sling, but the other leg was hopelessly twisted. Grommets and cables strained as Maiko’s other gorgeously long plastered leg stretched high above her, nearly touching the particle-board ceiling. In such an awkward position, her cotton hospital gown had hitched itself up above her sleek, rounded hips and I could clearly see her skimpy, baby-blue panties wound tightly about her wonderful ass.

“Oh dear,” I gushed, blushing out of embarrassment. “As if, it weren’t bad enough what I did to your friends—accidently dropping each of them out of this narrow window.” I leaned further out to better examine my handy work, taunting Maiko by kicking my legs out behind me, as if I could fall down at any moment with just the slightest push. “You know, us nurses take an oath, a Hypocritic Oath, to do no harm to our patients and to take every measure to foster their healing and recovery. And here, I somehow managed to drop Lin and all of her broken bones and plaster casts right on top of Sakura and all of her broken bones and plaster casts. I mean, such carelessness almost makes a mockery of that sacred oath.”

Maiko was pawing at the hospital room walls with her thickly plastered hands and arms like a hungry dog pawing at his master’s porch door—only a bit more frantic. If her jaw hadn’t been ensconced in a thick, foam and rubber padded neck brace, she might have added to the conversation.

I leaned further out the window, allowing my tight nurse’s dress to ride up my butt, and getting perilously close to joining my patients on the ground below. So far, it had been a magnificent night of compounded injury with unlimited potential for convalescence and healing. Officer Brobinsky lay in a heap of shredded plaster bandages, half on and half off the courtyard bench, her twisted arms and legs sprouting in various directions like those of a drunken octopus. Gang-banger, Lin, my nemesis, had plowed face first into her best soldier’s shoulder cast. Now, both were moaning in agonizing pain. June and Sun who were such adorable sisters, I felt compelled to bandage them together before tossing them over, had against all odds, managed to crash straight into the statue of St. Rita, the patron saint of healing. Altogether, the scene presented a broken Garden of Delights with contorted, bent limbs, bare behinds and torn hospital gowns.

“Lovely, just lovely.”

Maiko lost her balance, sliding along the wall. Sans fingers, she had no hope of catching herself, and instead smacked jaw first on the hard hospital floor.

“Craaack!” Her already split jaw, split significantly more. “Gaiiii!”

“You poor thing.” I hopped back down to the floor, spun around, and clopped across the floor in my stiletto shoes with the double-thick platforms, like the old Western cavalry riding to the rescue. “Mommy’s coming, sweetheart.” Tears were streaming down Maiko’s soft, flush face. “Let me take that horrible contraption off of your neck. It must be killing you.”

I undid the hook on Maiko’s Philly Collar, allowing her neck some air and comfort.

“Yaiii!”

“There, much better. Ooh! Vertebrae number three looks badly bruised. Let Nurse Alexis kiss it.” I ran my black-gloved hands around her delicate waist, feeling with my fingers where the cracks in her ribs met and then moved my hand up the ridges of her spine. I pressed my large, firm breasts against hers, and swept my warm, moist tongue along her fragile throat, pausing briefly to nestle my face in her glorious, silky, black hair, as she lay prone on the floor.

“Heee…pp,” she whined softly.

“You must tell me how you keep your hair so thick and shiny.” I ran my fingers though my long coils of black and blue hair falls. “You probably think these are extensions, but I assure you, they are the real thing. I’m telling you, shampoo night is murder.”

Maiko continued sobbing, and the darling girl kept trying to communicate. “Merthy, merthy…I pleadth of youth, merthy.”

“Of course, dear Maiko. You know I’m all about mercy. Let me help you to your feet.” I rose from the floor and yanked Maiko up to a standing position. There she stood, warm and soft next to me, her long, thick leg casts encasing her fractured femurs, popped patellas, twisted tibias, and re-angled ankles.

Maiko screeched. “Aaaakgh!”

“There, much better.” I felt her exposed toes rubbing against the wooden platforms of my shoes. “How cute.”

“Waaa!”

We found ourselves wrapped tightly together, like a pair of Argentinean Tango dancers. I ran my fingers through her hair now and pressed my nose against her temple. “What sweeter perfume is there than the sanitary smell of anti-septic hospital bed sheeting?”

“Eeeep!”

“You know what we need now?”

Maiko groaned.

“Mood music.” I released Maiko letting her crumble to the floor, while I clopped over to the CD player and hit the play button. I clopped back to Maiko and jerked her back up to her feet without missing a beat.

“Yaaarghthth!”

“I love Cole Porter, don’t you? I mean, isn’t ‘Anything Goes,” just divine?” I grabbed Maiko’s chin and gently shook it in a negative motion.

“Gaaa!”

“I’m sorry, honey. I only brought Cole Porter. Tomorrow night, I promise, it will be as much J-Pop as you can stomach.”

We romantically slow-danced across the hospital room floor, Naturally, I led. Maiko followed, puddling up the lapels of my black nurse’s uniform with her tears.

“See what a good dancer, I am?” My platform shoes inched dangerously closer to her unwisely, exposed toes, which were popping out like baby mouse heads from the edge of her leg casts.

We pressed in, cheek-to-cheek. “Remember those dark days, Pumpkin, when your gang, the Khmer Rouge Girls, were oh so jealous, that my Golema Goth Girls held the Heights?” With one hand, I gently held Maiko’s broken right arm. I cupped the other hand around her waist, but nonchalantly, like a pervy virgin teenager at his Junior Prom, ran it down into her panties and around Maiko’s incredibly smooth bum. “And, that your gang held that tiny patch of weeds and gravel in the Warehouse District? Then, one day, you got it into your heads to attack our harmless little girl gang, while we were all fagged out from a long night of activities, in front of the Seven-Eleven. Remember? Yes? Dip.”

I twisted Maiko back as we dipped, broken ribs crackling as she stretched backwards. You may not be aware of this, but it is unbelievably difficult to dip a girl who is wearing two long, plaster leg casts.

“Nyaaaaah!”

We resumed our dancing--Maiko screeching bloody murder with each dainty little step. “I certainly do. I mean, how could I forget? You ran rode across our limbs with your Harleys—over and over again, ad infinitum—breaking our legs and arms, not once, not twice, but multiple times. Dip.”

There was more twisting, more crackling and more crying. This time when I leaned over to pull Maiko up from her dip, I pushed down on her small toes with my platform shoes. The resulting crunching sound, excited me to the point that I found myself pressing my hard, healthy pelvis into Maiko’s soft, bruised pelvis, then bringing my knee up and wrapping it around her firm behind.

“Yaaa!”

“Remember? But, you didn’t stop there, did you? Next came the lumber and the steel fence posts, the bricks and the cinder blocks; finally, the baseball bats and tire irons. You girls certainly did a number on us. Dip.”

I dipped Maiko again. Having given up on my soggy lapel, she began blubbering into my ample cleavage. Her wet tears on my warm bosom made my heart race. I pulled her back up, pressing down on her large toes just to make certain her plastered feet wouldn’t slide out from underneath her.

“Cruuunch!”

“Aaai!....hagaah…aaaaai!”

“Remember? You straddled my badly broken body. You looked magnificent. You were wearing your shiny, green, PVC, Chairman Mao outfit with your red sickle and hammer undies peeping just above your waistline as you pressed your petite healthy hips into my shattered ones—just as I’m doing now. Then, you gave me a long, wet passionate kiss with more tongue than a den full of Cottonmouth Vipers. Like this.” Pressing down on Maiko’s toes again with my platform shoes, I lifted her up to my height, cracking and crunching her middle toes. Then, I kissed her. At first, soft, light, but eventually much harder and fuller, cleaning her palette and teeth with the flat of my tongue.

“That kiss, Maiko! Oh, that kiss! Words can’t express how much you turned me on that night. And then you left abruptly—left me so cold.” My eyes grew moist. All of Maiko’s blubbering was making it that much more difficult to restrain my own tears. “Oh sure, you came back to run us over some more with your motorcycles, but after that, you left me cold—after such a mad, passionate kiss.”

I nibbled on Maiko’s ear lobe and ran my lips along the soft, fine hairs on the back of Maiko’s neck. A delicate, lonely tear ran down the side of my nose.

“I thought about you during my long, lonely recovery. You know, they put my ass and legs in a double-hip spica and my boobs and arms in a double-shoulder spica? At least, I admire you for your professionalism.” I gave Maiko a tight squeeze and breathed in her wonderful scent. “There I was, stuck in traction, much like you were just a few moments ago—so hot, so worked up, so little I could do to release the love and pleasure that welled up inside of me for six long months.”

I sighed deeply. Maiko and I had danced ourselves right next to the open window. “Now, I’m fully healthy and you’re the one that is hurt. Can you even imagine how difficult it was for me to wait so long, night after painful night, just for this moment? Dip.”

I dipped Maiko halfway out the window. In a futile effort, she pounded at the brick, exterior walls of the hospital with her plaster arm casts—doing more damage to her casts than the walls. Her fabulous fanny jutted out over the window sill as I moved around behind her. I ran a gloved hand over her soft, prone cheeks. Slowly, she started sliding downward, there being more of her outside of the window than inside. She screamed, a muffled scream.

“Don’t worry, baby, I got you. I ran my hands down her baby-blue panties and pulled up on them. The undies strained and the threads began to pop—one by glorious one.”

“Aaaaai! Aaaaai! Noooo…th!”

Finally, the last thread gave way. Maiko slipped through my hands, kicking as she went down. She managed to smack me in the nose with the hard edge of her plaster leg cast, then followed up with a broken toe inserted into my right nostril. Clumsily, I reached for the leg cast, but it slid through my fingers. I saw Maiko tumble through the air, like a stiff rag doll impersonating a circus acrobat. She landed three stories below, outstretched arms first, on the grass, just missing the sidewalk pavement. Both casts exploded into powder and fiber shreds on impact. The sound of unbroken bones breaking reverberated throughout the courtyard. Her legs came next, crashing against the compacted turf. More cracking and crunching echoed throughout the garden as a plume of white, plaster dust rose up from where Maiko landed. Then the screaming, the moaning, the groaning and lastly, the sobbing. Her hospital gown torn to bits, poor Maiko lay face down in the dirt with her bare bottom gleaming in the moonlight.

My heart welled just as a small trickle of blood dripped down from my nose and onto my ruby-red lips. “Oh, poo! I’m bleeding!”

Absentmindedly, I took Maiko’s torn undergarments and dabbed at the blood on my face. Then I pressed the blood soaked panties up to my nose. They still smelled of wonderful, beautiful, gorgeous Maiko. I breathed in a lungful and shouted out the window for all to hear: “Fantasize about me in your body cast!”

I know I will.