I honestly don't remember very much. The wet roads, rain coming down so hard and so fast that the windshield wipers couldn't even keep up with it. The appearance of headlights rounding the curve blinding me for a moment, a moment in which I saw the deer crossing the road just in front of the other driver. And then nothing.

And I hate not being able to see, to move. I don't know what happened, or even what's wrong, if it weren't for the sound of her voice I might have given up wondering or even caring a long time ago. Time for me has no meaning, it's become eternal, a prison in a black void that occasionally is softened by the sound of her voice, that sweet melodic sexy sounding voice. And it matters not to me what she even looks like, even if I could see her. It is simply the sound of her that pierces the darkness of my despair.

"And how are we this morning?" she asks in that soft sexy voice of hers. I hear her as she moves about the room, the sound of the Velcro strip being wrapped around my arm as she once again checks my blood pressure.

She doesn't deserve my frustration, it's not her fault, particularly as she seems to be the only one who really cares one iota about me. Even knowing that, I respond curtly. Sorry for that almost immediately.

"Just how the fuck do you think I am?" I ask. "I'm bored. Laying here like this day after day without visitors, without anyone to talk to is driving me crazy!"

There is of course no response to that. Why should she? This unseen Angel continues about her business, notes being taken as I hear her lift the chart that's attached to the end of my bed. "How long have I been sleeping?" I wonder, hoping that if it's the afternoon that she'll massage my body, my muscles. I like that. I like the feel of her gentle soothing touch. Sometimes I fantasize about more than that. But obviously, that's all it is. She is after all a professional, and as such, especially in my situation, why would I even begin to think that this unseen Angel would have any interest in me?

"I bet you'd enjoy a nice refreshing bath now wouldn't you?" she asks.

My demeanor immediately changes. I can feel myself smiling. "I really could. Thank you." I reply apologetically. I just wish I could help her, I know it's difficult for her, or must be to move me about like a rag doll, dead weight in her hands, yet somehow she seems to manage without much difficulty. I can't picture her as some beefy Amazon. That soft sensual sounding voice just wouldn't match. Not exactly sure what she'd look like, certainly no Barbie, a Pamela Anderson perhaps, or even a Dolly Parton, though a Catherine Zeta-Jones look-a-like would be nice too.

I like the feel of the warm wet washcloth as she gently soaps and then rinses my flesh. I like how her hands seem to caress rather than scrubbing me as though I have twelve layers of dirt caked upon my skin. She's gentle, certainly thorough, and though relaxing, I cannot help but feel a twinge of arousal as well. I am only slightly alarmed by that, getting an erection at this point that I could not easily explain away could be highly embarrassing. Another thing I do like and appreciate about her, even though I love hearing the sound of her voice, she seems to know when to say something, and when not too. Sometimes all I want to do is feel her, smell her, and enjoy the simple touch of her hand.

Unfortunately, in this instance at least, time passes all too quickly. Now bathed, refreshed, feeling like a new man, all things considered anyway, my Calgon moment is over.

"I'll come back in to check on you before I leave," she informs me. "That's a promise!" she adds. I wish I could see her smile, I can hear it in the tone of voice however, and somehow see her as Teri Hatcher for some reason.

"I'll be looking forward to that," I tell her, even as the door softly closes to my room.

Once again sleep. Time passes. I can't help but wonder if she came, if I missed her before she left. Darkness prevails and I have no sense of the evening, or even morning perhaps. Only the loneliness to keep me company, which is no friend of mine as I listen quietly to the sounds of nothingness.

It is the sound of the door opening that alerts me I am not alone. But it is done so quietly that I am well aware it's been done in such a way as not to alert me of a presence. Curious, I decide to say nothing. Doing nothing is easy, I can't. But now I am curious for there is no sound, no spoken word other than the almost too cautious, too quiet sound of footsteps approaching my bed.

"Told you I'd come back," she whispers almost too quietly for even me to hear her. I almost reply to that, then feel the touch of her hand upon me. She's not checking my pulse or my blood pressure this time however, unless there's some new method for doing so that I'm not aware of. At first I am shocked actually, even stunned just a little. Not that she's touched me inappropriately mind you, only at the coolness of her soft hand against my bare flesh as it drifts ever so casually along my upper thigh. I tingle in wonder, wondering as I lay there, willing her hand to go elsewhere, knowing that miracles don't really happen, at least not to people like me anyway.

And then a miracle happens.

At first it doesn't even register. Her hand is so soft, her touch even softer that for the briefest of moments, I am sure it's a dream. I'm not really awake at all, dreaming as my now Halle Berry double slips her hand ever so gently around my much flaccid cock. Am half expecting to feel the warmth of a washcloth as she soaps me, wondering indeed if I missed an entire day and that perhaps this a periodic necessary function to be performed that up until now hasn't been. Or again, the feel of Velcro suddenly being wrapped around my dick as some new method for measuring one's blood pressure is applied. But no... it's not anything like that. Not anything like that at all!