© Copyright 2004
Author's Note: The following is a fictional story. In it, fictional characters have hot, sweaty, unprotected, fictional sex. They live in a fictional world without fictional diseases. You do not. Be careful. All characters in this story are old enough to know what they're doing. Now, on to the show!
Getting a phone call at three in the morning isn't something I would recommend if you're looking for a way to wake up that's gentle on the nerves. The ringing jarred me awake and I waited a moment, expecting Angie to pick up before my sleep-addled brain remembered that she was with her mother.
"Hello?" My voice was thick and raspy, and I hoped to God the caller had a good reason for getting me up at such an early hour.
"Yes... who is this?"
"I'm sorry, sir. This is Mercy Hospital in Apple Ridge. This is Mr. Daniels?"
"Yes. What is it?" I asked, aware of the worry I could suddenly hear in my voice. Apple Ridge was halfway between our home in Black Ridge and Stapleton, where Angie's mother had moved after Angie started college. Angie had said she wasn't sure when she was coming back, and to be honest I hadn't been all that sad to see her go at the time.
Married life had been a tough adjustment for us, and I was beginning to wonder if we'd made the right decision. I knew it was a foolish thought, because every couple goes through a rough stretch, all our friends said so. At the time, it had been a relief to be on my own again at least for a few days, but the thought of Angie in the hospital wiped that all away in a heartbeat.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Daniels. There's been an accident on the interstate, and your wife is in critical condition.
"Wait a minute. Are you sure you have the right Daniels?"
"Yes... oh God... it's my wife? Angie?"
"Yes sir, I'm sorry sir. I don't know any particulars, just that she was involved in a car accident and was flown in an hour ago."
"Yes. There was some confusion as to her identity."
"What? Jesus, start over. How is she? Why was there any confusion?"
"She was unconscious when she came in, and... I'm sorry sir, there's no delicate way to put this, most of her clothing and all of her personal effects were lost with the car."
"Oh fuck... I'm sorry... what happened? Just tell me what happened." The nurse didn't know enough to tell me anything, and I waited an agonizing few minutes while a police officer who had been on the scene and was still hanging around the hospital was called to the phone.
He went on to tell me that Angie appeared to have been driving alone in the country, when her car was sideswiped by another vehicle at an unmarked intersection. The other driver had been killed instantly, the car a twisted wreck in the middle of the road, but Angie had survived, and her car had skidded off the road.
The impact was violent but not remarkably serious, he said. The other driver would have easily survived, but had not been wearing a seatbelt and broke his neck attempting to fly through the windshield. Angie wasn't hurt with the impact, and would have been fine, but in trying to gain control of the vehicle, she had driven onto a farm property and ran into an above ground fuel tank, which exploded onto the car.
"Oh Christ," I moaned. "How is she? When can I see her? I can be there in ninety minutes."
"Sir," the officer interrupted. "I'd advise you to stay where you are. We'll send someone to get you. There's no rush, Mrs. Daniels is in surgery and will be for the next few hours." My heart was a lump in my throat and I felt my world crashing down on me. I sat back on the bed and took a few deep breaths before continuing.
"What kind of surgery?" I asked, fearing the answer.
"Reconstructive. I'm sorry I don't know any more at the moment."
The officer said a car would come to get me shortly, and he hung up. My hand was shaking as I put the receiver back on the cradle, and I happened to glance at our wedding picture, taken only three months ago.
Knowing I had a while to wait I dressed and headed to the kitchen. I needed a drink.
I was a freshman in high school, and I hated every minute of it. I was the definition of geekiness, and none of the upperclassmen, or most of my friends for that matter, failed to remind me of it at any opportunity. The fact that I had hair that couldn't be managed with all the hairspray in the world didn't help things much, especially in tandem with what were easily the thickest pair of glasses in school.
Combine my less than stellar looks with a schedule that included calculus and advanced economics, not to mention band and choir, and I was the butt of more than a few jokes.
If it wouldn't have been for Angie, I don't know if I would have made it out of my social hell.
Angie and I grew up next door to each other, and for most of our elementary school years the two of us were inseparable. Whether it was racing toy cars on the sidewalk or dressing up our stuffed toys in baby clothes, if one of us was doing it so was the other. I remember one time in junior high my mother commenting, "that Angie is sure a nice girl," and the idea stunned me.
Angie wasn't a girl! She was my best friend, and that was that, and I was sure she felt likewise. We told each other all our secrets, and neither of us had hinted that we had any kind of feelings for each other, so the obvious assumption was that we didn't.
Things began to change after that, possibly because of my mother's comment, or possibly I was just growing up. When we got together now, I was acutely aware of just how much of a woman Angie was turning out to be. Playtime together became more and more difficult, and if I hadn't known better I would have sworn she was dressing to tease me, but Angie wasn't that kind of a girl.
Or so I thought.
It was the homecoming dance, and I didn't know enough to realize that the uncool kids really didn't go to the big social events, especially without a date. I was unpopular and without a date, and as a result spent much of the evening sitting at one of the tables, far away from the dance floor, drinking punch.
I'd had no luck finding a dance partner, and it was beginning to stick with me that all of the girls I had asked to dance had turned me down cold, without so much as an "I'm sorry." I was beginning to contemplate heading home when I felt someone stop and stand in front of me.
"Hey Angie," I said.
"Hey yourself. Wanna dance?" I looked at her quizzically. Surely she wasn't serious?
"Really? You want to dance... with me?" I asked. She nodded. "What about Bobby?" Bobby was our grade's sports star, and although he was a nice guy, I didn't like him. He was dancing with Angie all evening, and I hadn't had so much as a chance to ask her to dance, much less the opportunity to say hello. Obviously he was the enemy.
Angie grimaced. "He's off with his friends. C'mon! I wanna dance with you." She grabbed my hand and I allowed myself to be pulled onto the dance floor.
I had spent enough time watching the other kids dancing and having fun that I knew the basics, and held my arms out to Angie. She gracefully slipped into my embrace and the two of us began the typical back and forth motion that marks many junior high dances, awkward and unsure of ourselves.
"So have you had a good time?" she asked. I shook my head.
"Not really. No one wants to dance with me," I said, full of self pity.
"That's not true. I wanted to dance with you," she answered, trying to act slighted, but her grin gave her away.
"Nah, that doesn't count... you're a good friend. You almost have to dance with me," I said.
As we had danced our bodies had slowly filled the original gap we had left between us, and as we swayed to the music our thighs would occasionally touch. I was aware of the swell of her breasts under her white cotton blouse, and tried not to stare.
"Keith. Look at me," Angie chided, and I snapped my head up, afraid I'd been caught ogling her boobs. That wasn't the case though. "You're a nice guy," she said, and I felt a burning sensation as her chest came in contact with mine as the two fiery points of her tits pressed into me. "A lot of girls would be happy to dance with you." I was suddenly short of breath and could only nod.
We danced another song together after that, our bodies moving closer and closer until at last Angie's arms were tight around my neck, my own hands resting on the gentle swell of her ass. I wasn't aware I had an erection until I felt Angie's hips push against mine, and I suddenly felt pressure where before there had been none. I felt my bulge pressing against her midsection and knew she certainly must feel it too. Embarrassed I tried to pull away, but Angie held tight.
"Is that for me?" she asked, a small smile playing across her lips. I nodded and was relieved when Angie ducked her head, resting against my chest. I felt her sigh, her pear-sized breasts pressing hard against my chest. I unconsciously wrapped her tighter in my arms and as she shifted against me, I could feel my head spinning with all the new sensations.
I thought we were done when the song ended, but the DJ announced one last song, and Angie showed no signs of breaking our embrace.
"What about Bobby?" I asked again, concerned she might want to dance with him.
.... There is more of this story ...