tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-52647338799034218972024-03-05T08:36:36.689-08:00Eric and ReggiePlease Note: All Stories on this Blog are Copyright - 2009-2018LJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09209660278651151524noreply@blogger.comBlogger8125truetag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5264733879903421897.post-16962833036684847742012-06-06T05:18:00.000-07:002012-07-25T06:01:37.339-07:00Acronyms<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: large;">The shocked look on Eric’s face made me quiver. “What?
You’ve changed you mind? You don’t like it? Isn’t it the kind you
wanted?”<o></o></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Eric squatted down, his face only inches from my dick. “I
don’t believe you did this,” he murmured, his voice barely audible. <o></o></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">“What do you mean? You asked me to!” I screeched, not
understanding his response. <o></o></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">He looked up at me, a sudden look of comprehension crossed
his face. “A P.A.!! Reggie, when I told you I wanted you to get a P.A., I meant at
the office, a personal assistant. Not a Prince Albert piercing!”<o></o></span></div>LJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09209660278651151524noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5264733879903421897.post-84389387088116628312011-10-23T04:19:00.000-07:002011-10-23T13:49:52.818-07:00Last Dance<div class="MsoNoSpacing">The wedding was everything we hoped for, everything we’d work hard to create. I was so proud of Reggie. He looked incredible, so handsome in his tux. We’d lived together for six years before we finally decided to take the plunge and make it legal. Now at this moment in the reception hall surrounded by all our friends, I wondered why we’d waited this long. <o></o></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">The ceremony was over; we’d eaten, we’d drank, we’d cut the cake and we’d dance our asses off. Now things were winding down and I ready to take my new husband and depart on our much anticipated honeymoon. <o></o></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">He was standing at the side of the room talking to the DJ. As I approached him, he turned and gave me a smile. “Time to head out, my love,” I whispered.<o></o></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">“Not quite yet. We have one more dance just for you and I,” he answered with a grin.<o></o></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">He took my hand and led me out to the dance floor, took me in his arms and gave a nod to the DJ. As the music started, I began I had to laugh. My beautiful brat and his sense of humour had picked the perfect song. <o></o></div><br />
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</div><div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/NsFP2CeTsJw" width="420"></iframe></div>LJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09209660278651151524noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5264733879903421897.post-22632133042802091552010-06-11T14:04:00.000-07:002010-06-11T14:04:17.197-07:00The Cat, The Mother and The (lack of) WardrobeWritten By Mel<br />
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“It wasn’t my fault Eric!” Reggie complained from the corner. <br />
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“I told you to stand quietly,” Eric replied where he stood carefully washing the scratches on his arm. <br />
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“You should call ahead if you’re going to bring home company.” <br />
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Reggie had been lying naked on the sofa hoping to seduce Eric, when mother and son walked in. He grabbed for the blanket which the cat had been sleeping on. As he yanked it, the cat few up into Eric’s arms scratching them. <br />
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Eric’s mother could still be heard laughing uproariously from the parlour.<br />
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“It’s not that funny Mother!” Eric shouted. <br />
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The EndLJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09209660278651151524noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5264733879903421897.post-73958968681578007532009-06-02T09:38:00.000-07:002009-06-02T09:40:39.750-07:00The BequestWritten By: Mel<br /><br />Dedication: To Jodie on the occasion of your site’s fourth anniversary. A million thank-you’s for hosting my stories on your wonderful site. You are one in a billion, my friend.<br /><br /><br />Reggie’s P.O.V.<br /><br />“Your two o’clock appointment is here, Sir,” said the voice of my secretary over the intercom.<br /><br />I looked up from the report I was reading and fumbled for the correct button to send a reply. My office is large and plush; all the finest furnishings money can buy. The cost of the desk alone would buy an average family car. It’s a far cry from my little cubical in the town planning office. So much in my life has changed these last few months. <br /><br />It all began on a cold morning last March. Eric was out of town on a business trip and I was just getting ready for work when the front door bell rang. Dressed in my trousers and shirt, and barefooted, I opened the door to find two serious looking men dressed in long woollen coats standing on my porch. <br /><br />“Is this the home of Mister Reginald Smithaven-Johnson?” one of the men asked.<br /><br />I suddenly felt very nervous. “That’s me, can I help you?”<br /><br />“I’m Sergeant Williams and this is Sergeant Barsky; we’re from the O.P.P.* May we come in?” The two men flashed their I.D.<br /><br />“Yes, of course.” As I ushered them into the house, a sense of foreboding grew rapidly in my gut. I showed them to the living room and the two police officers sat on the sofa while I took a seat in the chair across from them.<br /><br />“Sir, are you the son of Edward and Elizabeth Smithaven-Johnson and brother to Edward Junior and his wife, Lucinda?” Sergeant Williams asked.<br /><br />“Yes,” I replied, feeling my stomach clench.<br /><br />“Sir, we regret to inform you that your parents, your brother and his wife were the victims of a motor vehicle accident on Dufferin Road in King Township at approximately one-thirty a.m. this morning. From what we can ascertain, the vehicle driven by your brother slid off the road over a steep embankment. The car rolled several times before coming to a stop in the valley below. I’m sorry, sir, but there were no survivors.”<br /><br />I felt the blood drain from my face. Had I not been sitting, I’m sure I’d have fallen. I don’t recall with any detail what happened next. I know they asked me if anyone was home with me or if they could call anyone; my wife perhaps? I remember telling them I had no wife and that I needed to reach my partner. <br /><br />Eric’s cell phone went straight to voice mail as he had it turned off during a meeting. Somehow I managed to reach my best friend, Cecily, and she arrived at the house within minutes of my call. She held me together and kept me sane as we tried to reach Eric. It took over an hour to find him and of course he was terribly distressed at being away when I needed him. We talked for a while on the phone and he promised to be on the next flight home. Three hours later, Eric was holding me in his arms and assuring me that we would get through this together. <br /><br />Making funeral arrangements was a nightmare. Lucinda’s family of wealthy socialites had expectations for everything; from co-ordinating caskets, to flowers, music and choice of minister for the services. <br /><br />We agreed upon a joint service for all of them. So it was, that five days after the accident, we sat in St. Michael’s church and listened as glowing eulogies were duly given and tears appropriately shed by the many. I was not one of them. I sat through the service like an automaton. I wanted to cry, I knew I was supposed to cry, but nothing came. I just sat there listening to the words and staring into space.<br /><br />The Church was packed with hundreds of mourners. Each one dutifully offered their condolences. Although I knew the assorted relatives and some of the old family friends, they seemed to be far outnumbered by the throngs of unknown faces. I thanked each one for their kind words, and in one day shook more hands and received more kisses than I had in my lifetime.<br /><br />With Eric and Cecily by my side, I got through that long horrible day. I recall being forcefully seated at one point, a plate of fancy little sandwiches pushed into my hand followed by a command to eat. Cecily commanded my attention with some silly banter about the weather while Eric kept the masses at bay long enough for me to finish the food and down a cup of weak tea. I had headed to the bar at one point, walking away with a large Scotch only to have it removed from my hand and replaced with a Coke before the first sip hit my stomach.<br /><br />I know that Eric was worried about me as he kept on about me letting out my grief and that I needed to cry. But somehow it all seemed like it was happening to someone else. I seemed to be feeling nothing but a hollow emptiness in my gut. <br /><br />Father’s attorney and old friend, Lincoln Piper, had requested we attend the reading of the wills on the morning after the funeral. I hadn’t given much though as to disposition of the estate up to that point. So when the readings were done, the results left me shocked beyond belief. <br /><br />Other than some donations to various charities and some small bequests to long-term employees; I, the prodigal son and brother, was the beneficiary of it all. I now owned Johnson Industries and was the head of The Smithaven Foundation. I was the owner of the large estate in King City, the town house in Toronto and the cottage in Muskoka. I had bank accounts and stocks and bonds worth millions. My brother’s house and private possessions went to Lucinda’s family but all his shares and ownerships from the company were mine. <br /><br />When I didn’t say a word for almost five minutes after the lawyer stopped speaking, Eric stepped in and addressed him. “I think my partner needs some time to come to terms with all of this. I assume there are people in place who are managing the company and foundation in the interim?”<br /><br />“Yes, yes of course. However, we will need Reggie to sign a large number of documents and the whole thing has to go through probate, which will be a fairly substantial legal process.” He went on to explain a lot of legal mumbo-jumbo that had me totally overwhelmed. In the end though, we had set up an appointment for a meeting the following week and he then handed me copies of the wills and the keys to my parents’ home.<br /><br />Lucinda’s father approached me as we were leaving. The poor man was the picture of grief, having lost his only daughter. “Reggie, if there is anything of your brother’s that you would like, please let us know. We’ll ensure it is sent to you.”<br /><br />“Thank you, Mr. Andrews. I can’t think of anything at this time but I’ll be in touch if there is,” I replied politely. Truth be known, I knew there was nothing of Edward’s that I would want. We had never been very close and I felt it better his things be with his wife’s family. They probably knew him better than I did. <br /><br />We got home from the lawyer’s office and went upstairs to change out of our suits. I knew Eric was worrying about me but I didn’t seem to have the energy to care. He kept asking me how I was feeling and telling me that I wasn’t alone in this and that we’d deal with it together. Eric made lunch and I forced enough food down to keep him from nagging; then told him I was tired and going to take a nap. <br /><br />Once I was upstairs alone, I pulled the copies of the wills out of the envelope and began to read. Lincoln had said during the reading that he was skipping the first of the bequests as they only applied if Father, Mother and Edward had been survived by their spouses or in the case of Father and Mother their first born son. As I read, what I suspected became the truth there in black type. Father’s will first left most of his estate to mother, with the exception of the business. That he left mostly to Edward Jr. with twenty-five percent shares for mother. For me, he left a single bequest of four million dollars and ten percent of Johnson Industries. <br /><br />It went on to read that if Mother were to predecease him, Edward Jr. would receive all that was to be given to mother and my bequest would be the same with the exception of an increase in shares to twenty percent. It even went on to name any progeny of Edward Jr. born before or after his death to receive a large share of the estate and company with no change to my bequest. It was only at the very end that it mentioned if he were predeceased by both Mother and Edward Jr. and no progeny existed would I receive the bulk of the estate.<br /><br />I am sure Father never thought for a moment that this would come to pass as it did; that he would die with both Mother and Edward Jr. I learned at the funeral that Lucinda had been three months pregnant with their first child, so there wasn’t, nor would there ever be, any grandchildren for Edward and Elizabeth Smithaven-Johnson. It all got left by default to their disappointing, damaged, gay son. <br /><br />Mother’s and Edward’s wills read similarly with me being the last resort to receive what I now had. I put the wills back into the envelope and stuffed it under the mattress, hoping that out of sight would be out of mind. What the hell was I going to do? I shouldn’t have any of this and now it was all mine; along with all the responsibility that goes along with it, millions of dollars, employees, and people counting on me. No, it wasn’t right and I didn’t want it at all.<br /><br />Eric’s P.O.V.<br /><br />What a nightmare these last few days had been. Poor Reggie; he’d lost his entire family. Not that they’d been particularly close but still they were his parents and brother. Even an unborn niece or nephew was lost that day. I was afraid for him. Reggie was not grieving the way that he should. He hadn’t shed a single tear. It’s not that I expected screaming and rending of clothes, but it wasn’t healthy and it wasn’t normal. This emotionlessness was actually a bit frightening. For the first time since I’d known him, I felt helpless in my ability to care for Reggie. It wasn’t as if I could spank him for how he was feeling, though in some ways I felt the release of emotion would be good for him. <br /><br />When more than four hours had passed, I decided he’d slept long enough. I climbed the stairs and entered the bedroom. The sight that greeted me further added to my concern. Reggie was laying on his back, fully clothed and arms at his sides, just staring straight up at the ceiling. He didn’t even turn his head when he heard the door open. Then perhaps he didn’t hear it open. <br /><br />“Hey babe,” I called softly, not wanting to startle him. “I’ve got the tuna casserole that Mrs. Thompson brought over, heating in the oven. Get yourself washed up; it will be ready in ten minutes.”<br /><br />“Not hungry,” he stated.<br /><br />I walked over to the bed and rubbed my hand over his lightly stubbled cheek, then bent to kiss him. “Well you need to eat, so get up and do as you’re asked. Be downstairs in five minutes, okay?”<br /><br />He didn’t argue; just mumbled ‘fine’ and rolled on his side.<br /><br />Less than five minutes later, I was in the kitchen setting the table when I heard the sound of a car starting up. I looked out the window just in time to see Reggie’s car pull out of the driveway. I tore outside in hopes of flagging him down but he was out of sight by the time I reached the end of the drive. <br /><br />With anger and worry vying for first place within me, I ran into the house to try calling his cell. I found a note by the phone in the hall. <br /><br />Eric,<br /><br />I need a bit of time to myself. Please understand. I’m not running away from you, this is just something I have to do. My cell phone is off but I’ll check the messages regularly. I know you’ll be angry and I’m sorry. Please don’t worry. I’ll be okay.<br /><br />Reggie<br /><br />What was I going to do? Part of me actually wanted to say it was okay, that Reggie needed and deserved some space after what he’d been going through. But the Top in me was shouting a resounding ‘NO’; that what he needed was to be home with me working through his problems together as a couple. Taking off like this was totally unacceptable. Grieving or not, he has an obligation to the parameters on which our relationship was built. <br /><br />I called his cell immediately and told him just that and that I expected him to call me as soon as he got this message and to turn himself around and head home. I sat down and prayed for a call and mulled through the events of the last days. <br /><br />As my mind catalogued the time in the lawyer’s office, I came to a startling thought. The keys to his parents’ home; I’d seen Reggie pocket them as he walked away from his talk with Lucinda’s father. I tore up the stairs and found the suit he’d been wearing tossed over the chair, but the keys were no longer in the pants pocket. I was now sure he’d driven to King City. I just didn’t know why.<br /><br />I turned off the oven, set our home phone to forward all calls to my cell and headed out for the hour-long drive to the estate. I was going to bring my boy home.<br /><br />Reggie’s P.O.V.<br /><br />I entered the house I grew up in, quickly keying my old code into the alarm system and praying that it hadn’t been deleted. The last thing I needed was a visit from the local constabulary. The display on the key pad turned green and screen read ‘Welcome home Reginald’. I guess Mother and Father hadn’t felt it necessary to remove me from the system even though I’d returned my keys to them years before. <br /><br />The large foyer with its gleaming marble floor and vaulted ceiling still echoed when you walked through it. I noticed the formal receiving room to the right of the entrance had been redecorated again. Mother changed this room every two years like clockwork. Nothing in this house ever became worn out. Things were recovered, refinished, repainted and replaced before the first sign of wear or tear.<br /><br />I honestly didn’t know what I was doing here. I just seemed to feel the need to make some connection with my family and this house seemed the place to start. Across the hall from the receiving room was father’s office. The sliding pocket doors stood closed as they always did when father was inside. I ran my hand over the smooth wood surface, remembering how it felt to be summoned to the office, to be called to see father again and be at the receiving end of another of his ‘talks’ on appropriate behaviour, living up to my potential and most importantly, not sullying the family name. <br /><br />I slid open the door and was immediately struck by the smell of father’s cigars. It permeated the room with its cloying scent. Father had the cigars imported especially for him. All the ‘real’ Smithaven-Johnson men smoked cigars, or so I was told. But then again, I never quite fit in with the ‘real’ Smithaven-Johnsons. I’m sure father would have believed they’d switched babies at the hospital, except that I was born right here in this house. <br /><br />The portrait of my great-great-grandfather still hung on the wall behind father’s desk. Lionel Johnson, I’ve been told a look a great deal like him. The Smithaven-Johnsons came to be when Lionel married Cordelia Smithaven. Socially the Johnsons were nobodies; however, Lionel had a head for business. At twenty-one years of age, he opened small tool shop and through some very shrewd dealings he began to carefully buy out the factories that made the tools he was selling. By the time he was thirty, he had made a tidy fortune and Johnson Industries was well on its’ way to becoming one of the world’s largest tool manufacturers. <br /><br />As the story goes, once Lionel had money he wanted the social standing to go with it. He apparently felt that could be gained by joining The Granite Club. Edward Smithaven was on the membership board at the time and found himself impressed by this up and coming young man. <br /><br />The Smithavens were old money and well-known for their philanthropic works. Edward’s only daughter was of a certain age and it was considered past time she find a suitable husband. However, it seems Cordelia had little use for the young men of appropriate social standing which her parents had tried to send her way. Edward arranged for Lionel to meet Cordelia and the two struck it off. They soon married, hyphenated their names and lived to all intents a very happy life together. <br /><br />They had three children; two daughters and a son (my great-grandfather) Lionel Jr. to whom the family business was passed. Lionel Jr. was not quite the business man that his father was. However, he was the favourite of his Grandfather Edward Smithaven and upon Edward’s death, Lionel Jr. formed the Smithaven Foundation, a philanthropic organization that today gives something on the order of six million dollars each year in support of the arts. <br /><br />Lionel Jr.’s first born son was named for his grandfather Edward. However, the boy died of diphtheria at the age of ten. This left everything to his younger brother Lionel III, my grandfather. He built this estate in King City during the depression when land was cheap and labour could be had for a song. <br /><br />I vaguely remember my grandparents living in this house when I was a small boy. Grandfather died when I was only six and Grandmother only seven months later. One of the things I do remember about my grandmother was how gentle and kind she was. She always smelled of roses and she spent more time with me than my mother ever did. My nanny told me that my grandmother died of a broken heart; that she was unable to go on without the man she loved at her side. <br /><br />Funny, but I can’t imagine that being the case had mother survived father. I can hear her now saying that it was total rubbish to think someone might die of a broken heart. <br /><br />Mother’s maiden name was Smithaven. She was actually a distance cousin to Father. They were considered the perfect match; two people of good breeding and class who brought forth the perfect heir to their little empire in the person of my brother. Then some years later, quite by accident I’m assured, they brought forth me; Reginald, the imperfect son with behavioural issues and totally inappropriate sexuality. <br /><br />I slid into the chair behind the desk and tried to wrap my head around the fact that father would never sit here again, that in fact this was now mine. It wasn’t right though. No one wanted me to have it, least of all me. <br /><br />I sighed and began to nose through the desk drawers with little idea of what I’d find or even why I was looking. There were the usual desk supplies and a drawer filled with neatly organized bills and statements. Correspondence from business acquaintances and friends, nothing I found caught my attention until I opened a thick file folder filled with papers bearing the letterhead, Orillia Home for the Developmentally Challenged. <br /><br />The letter on the top was dated only two weeks ago. I felt the blood drain from my face as I read.<br /><br />Mr. Edward Smithaven-Johnson<br />11958 King Road,<br />King City, Ontario<br /><br />Regarding: Cordelia Smithaven-Johnson<br /><br />Dear Mr. Smithaven-Johnson,<br /><br />Thank you for your most generous donation to further improvements here at the Orillia Home for the Developmentally Challenged. Our residents will certainly benefit from the new physiotherapy room. <br /><br />Your daughter continues to do well in our care. There is no change to in her condition. As always you are welcome to visit at any time.<br /><br />Sincerely,<br /><br />Dr. William Bower M.D. F.R.C.P. (C)<br />Director, Orillia Home for the Developmentally Challenged<br /><br />I scrambled through the letters seeking out more information. As I moved further back in the file, the letters grew yellowed with age. I pulled out the one at the very back and began to read.<br /><br />September 19, 1964<br /><br />Orillia Home for the Mentally Retarded<br /><br />Mr. Edward Smithaven-Johnson<br />11958 King Road,<br />King City, Ontario<br /><br />Re: Infant Mongoloid, Cordelia Smithaven-Johnson<br /><br />Dear Mr. Smithaven-Johnson,<br /><br />The mongoloid child arrived in our facility last week. She continues to thrive. However, with this type of retardation and its’ accompanying physical defects, we cannot be assured that this will continue. We have some mongoloids that have lived well into adulthood, but many suffer heart defects in childhood and pass away.<br /><br />Be assured that the child will receive the very best care available and that it will always be completely confidential.<br /><br />Thank you for your cheque for the first six months of care. We will send you an invoice in an unmarked envelop semi-annually. <br /><br />Sincerely,<br /><br />Dr. John Webber<br />Director, Orillia Home for the Mentally Retarded.<br /><br />I was stunned beyond words. I had a sister; a sister born a year before Edward and seventeen years before me. My God, she’d be forty-five this year. I had to wrack my brain for a few minutes to remember what the obsolete and highly derogatory term Mongoloid meant today. Downs Syndrome; my God, they sent her away to a home for the ‘mentally retarded’ as soon as she was born. As I looked through the waft of letters, over the years I could see the change in attitude and names. The Orillia Home was now for the Developmentally Challenged, not the mentally retarded. They stopped calling my sister by her condition and started calling her by name.<br /><br />It looked like my parents never once visited their only daughter, though of course they did ‘the right thing’ by ensuring she had care in a decent facility. Made donations to the facility, but never gave her a moment of their time. She’d grown up never knowing a moment of family love. Hell, even my lousy relationship with them was better than that. <br /><br />I knew then I had to go to her. I had to see her and help her. I’d bring her home with me. Eric wouldn’t mind I was sure of it. She was my sister and my responsibility.<br /><br />Thinking of family and responsibility suddenly reminded me that I was neglecting the biggest responsibility in my life, my relationship with Eric. I picked up the phone on the desk and began to dial home. Before I finished putting in the number, the front doorbell rang. I decided to ignore the door in favour of speaking with my partner. Seconds later, Eric’s warm voice was answering me.<br /><br />“Reggie?”<br /><br />“Yeah, it’s me. Eric, I’m sorry I took off. I know you’re angry. I’m at the estate in King City.” The irritating door bell rang again and again as I spoke. “I’m sorry. Hang on a second. Some ass is at the door and won’t stop ringing the bell.” <br /><br />I put the phone down and marched out to the front door to give hell to whoever was interrupting me. I yanked the door open, only to find Eric standing there with his cell phone in hand.<br /><br />“About time you answered the door.”<br /><br />I fell into his arms, feeling his warmth surround me. “I’m sorry... I’m so sorry...” I mumbled against his jacket, my face pressed into the soft leather. <br /><br />He guided me back inside and kicked the door closed behind us. He pulled me away from his embrace and held me at arm’s length as if to inspect me. “Are you alright?” he asked.<br /><br />The sight of my lover, and the fear-touched concern in his voice, set off something inside of me and for the first time since this nightmare started, tears filled my eyes and I began to cry. Eric led me back into Father’s office and sat me on the leather sofa across from the desk. I cried in his arms for the longest time while totally soaking his shirt front, unable to produce words or even tell him about my newly discovered sister. Finally when the tears began to ebb, he produced one of his ever-present handkerchiefs and softly wiped my face.<br /><br />He smiled at me when I met his eyes. “I never thought I’d say this, but it’s good to see you cry. You needed to let it out, baby, you needed to allow yourself to grieve for them.”<br /><br />“No...no the tears aren’t for them,” I protested angrily. “The tears are for what I’ve found here in Father’s office. Something...something so horrible...but then the thing isn’t horrible but what they did was. Oh God, Eric, I have a sister!”<br /><br />I’m sure he thought I’d lost my mind until I dragged him to the desk and showed him the file. He was a shocked as I was. Perhaps more so as I think he’d always wanted to see the best in my parents. <br /><br />“Eric, they didn’t even mention her in the will. Nothing was said or done to ensure her care. I can’t believe the bastard. How could he do that?” <br /><br />He rubbed my back as we read through the papers. It was about half way through that Eric noticed an envelope lying on the floor. It hadn’t been there when I’d arrived. It must have fallen out of the folder. It was addressed simply: To Edward Jr. to be opened upon my death.<br /><br />I looked to Eric for support as I opened it. It was written in my father’s very precise hand.<br /><br />Edward,<br /><br />I realize that this has come as quite a shock to you. When I told you that upon my death you were to look for special instructions in my desk, I know that you did not expect to discover anything like this. <br /><br />I am sorry that I have never had the courage to tell you in person. Somehow I just never found the right time or way to explain the situation. You should know that other than your mother, myself and the director of The Orillia Home, no one else on earth knows about your sister’s existence. <br /><br />At the time of her birth we were told that she would likely not live long and even if she did, she would never be normal or capable of caring for herself. The terminology of the day was ‘mongoloid’ and it was explained to us that she would be severely mentally retarded and would suffer from numerous physical handicaps. We were advised that the best thing we could do was to put her in an institution immediately and go on with our lives. <br /><br />Your mother was horrified that her first born child would be born this way with this defect. She insisted that we inform everyone that the child was still born. And so we outwardly mourned her loss and prayed for another child. When you were born a year later, we were able to proudly announce the birth of a healthy son to carry on the family name. <br /><br />After your birth, your mother informed me that she would have no more children as the stress and fear of having another defective child was too much for her. <br /><br />However, sixteen years later and quite to our shock, your mother found she was expecting again. Given her age at the time and previous history of having a child with what was by then called ‘Down’s Syndrome’, we knew there was a high risk of reliving what we’d been through the first time. It was an extremely stressful time. You may recall that she spent most of her pregnancy in seclusion. However, by God’s grace Reggie was born without defect and your mother had the doctor’s ensure she couldn’t get pregnant again. <br /><br />In order to ensure that this never becomes public knowledge, no mention of Cordelia has been made in either of our wills. I set up a private trust fund that will ensure she receives proper care for the rest of her natural life. All money left over from this fund will become the property of The Orillia Home for the Developmentally Challenged upon her death. <br /><br />I ask please that you inform the director of my death so that he might deal with the trust accordingly. There is nothing else you need to do to administer the fund. However, if you have further questions, I have directed The Orillia Home to give you full access to whatever records pertaining to this that you require. <br /><br />With regards to your mother, I ask that you do not bring this subject up with her. She has refused for years to discuss it and your knowing would only upset her terribly. As far as your brother goes, I would rather you not inform him. As you well know, he tends to be emotional and would only take this very private matter and make more of it than needs be or worse still, could approach your mother which would only lead to discourse. <br /><br />Love,<br />Father<br /><br />“The fucking bastard!” I screamed as I tossed the letter across the desk. “Don’t inform Reggie. He might actually feel something, might actually have a decent human emotion!”<br /><br />There was a grouping of photographs sitting on the desk in front of me. I grabbed one of Father hob-knobbing with former Prime Minister Brian Mulroney and hurled it across the room. I watched with great satisfaction as it shattered against the fireplace. It would have been followed by everything else on the desk’s surface had Eric not taken hold of my hands and locked them lovingly into his large warm ones. “Baby, I know you’re angry. You have every right to be angry, but throwing things and smashing them isn’t going to make this go away. It isn’t going to make you feel any better.”<br /><br />We spent the next two hours talking and carefully going through the files in the desk to ensure we had all the information before making any decisions. The papers for the set up of a trust fund for Cordelia Smithaven-Johnson, ward of the Orillia Home, were found in the file folder right behind the one with all the letters from the Home. It was set up with an initial worth of one million dollars. About the only good thing I could say, was that he’d at least ensured she’d be properly cared for. <br /><br />When I told Eric that I wanted to bring her home, I was afraid he’d say no. But instead he said of course she could come with us if that was what was best for her, but he did insist that we make an informed decision and not go jumping into things. <br /><br />The next morning with Eric behind the wheel of his Celica, we set out for the two hour drive to Orillia. The home was in a beautiful rural setting with a gated entrance. When I told the gate-keeper that I was here to see a resident Cordelia Smithaven-Johnson, he looked surprised. His look of surprise changed to one of shock, when he asked my relationship to her. <br /><br />We were held at the gate for several minutes while the gate-keeper made a call. He returned with a smile. “Please drive through to the main building on your right. Dr. Bower will be waiting for you.”<br /><br />It was a large old stone-front building with a wide veranda and double doors. Being the dead of winter, the lawns in front were snow covered, but the appearance of the shrubbery and front edifice gave one to believe this place was well cared for. <br /><br />We stomped the snow off of our shoes before opening the doors. The entry way was tiled with scatter mats to absorb the melting snow from people’s shoes. Further inside, the floors were gleaming hard wood and the walls were painted a warm shade of cream with polished wood trimmings on all the doors going down the centre hall. <br /><br />A wide staircase ran up the centre of the hall and coming down the stairs was a casually dressed man in his early forties. He approached us with his hand extended and a kindly smile on his face. “Good morning, I’m Dr. William Bower, though known around here as Bill.” He seemed to scan our faces for a moment then looked directly at me. “You must be Mr. Smithaven-Johnson. I’m pleased to meet you. You look very much like your father. May I offer you condolences on your loss? It was a terrible tragedy.”<br /><br />“Yes...I’m Reggie,” I stammered. “You knew my father?”<br /><br />“Well, of course. He was a regular visitor here on first Monday of every month like clockwork. We’ll miss his visits very much.” <br /><br />When he glanced to Eric, I realize that I hadn’t introduced him. “This is my partner, Eric Coombs.” They shook hands and extended greetings while I gathered my thoughts. “Dr. Bower, I don’t mean to sound shocked, but up until yesterday I didn’t even know that I had a sister and from what I read I didn’t think my parents ever came and saw her.”<br /><br />“Please call me Bill. Why don’t we go to my office so we can talk about this more in a more comfortable setting?”<br /><br />We followed him up the staircase and a short ways down the hall and into a nicely decorated office with a large window overlooking the grounds. Several smaller buildings that looked like cottages could be seen down a pathway leading away from the large main one. <br /><br />Bill indicated a leather sofa along the wall where Eric and I sat while he took a seat in a plaid upholstered wing chair across from us. “Reggie. May I call you that?” I nodded. “Reggie, I can certainly understand that you have suffered through a great deal these last few days and then to discover that you have a sister whom you knew nothing about must have added to that shock. Though your father was never anything but kind and generous to The Orillia Home, I never understood his insistence upon secrecy. I believe it had something to do with your mother as he was very insistent that we never make contact with her for any reason. You should know though, that Cordelia adored your father. She’s a very special person.”<br /><br />I was thunderstruck and needed to understand more. “Tell me about her, please. I’d like to know about my sister.”<br /><br />“Cordelia has been a resident here since a few days after her birth. Though she has Downs Syndrome, she’s a remarkably healthy and happy person. Her intellectual age is approximately that of a nine year-old, though emotionally she’s a bit more advanced at about the twelve or thirteen year-old level. She’s quite outgoing in her own environment; however, she suffers from agoraphobia when she’s in places unfamiliar to her. <br /><br />Over the years many things have changed in the way developmentally challenged persons live in our society. As a result of these changes, we only have a small number of residents who live in permanently. However, there are those who either must have a live-in caregiver or stay in an assisted-living facility. Cordelia is one of those people. She would not be able to live independently. <br /><br />One of the aims of the Orillia home is to help our residents learn skills which give them financial independence and a sense of self worth. Your sister is very talented with a needle and thread. She hand sews beading and sequins on bridal gowns and other women’s formal wear.”<br /><br />I was rather shocked to hear that my sister was being made to work at such a job. “You’re telling me you make her earn a living by sewing beads on rich women’s clothes?” I practically shouted. If Eric hadn’t taken hold of my arm, I’m sure I’d have leapt up from the sofa. <br /><br />Dr. Bower was obviously used to dealing with emotional reactions. He just smiled at me and calmly replied. “Reggie, your father left your sister a most generous trust fund. I can assure you that she works because she wants to. Cordelia loves her work and she gets great satisfaction from the creations she makes. If left to her own devices, she would be up in the middle of the night sewing. Bless her, she’s quite good at some things but has no sense of time and needs reminding when to sleep and eat and bathe.”<br /><br />I thought about what I’d learned and was beginning to realize that this was a more complex situation than I’d considered. “You said that Cordelia adored my father. Does she know that he’s dead and if so, does she understand what it means?”<br /><br />“Yes, we’ve told her. She had experienced some other losses in her lifetime; a couple of friends and workers here, so she does understand that death means the person will not be back. She has expressed genuine grief that her papa will not be back to see her.”<br /><br />“It must be very hard for her. Bill, I’d like to meet her if I could and get a chance to know her.”<br /><br />Bill smiled. “Of course. I think she’d like that as well. She lives in the first cottage down the path. Why don’t we take a walk over now?” He glanced at his watch. “They should be finished lunch by now. If we head over right away, we’ll catch her before their afternoon walk.”<br /><br />We donned our coats again and headed out of the main building. About a hundred feet down the path was a pretty little cottage house with yellow shutters. Bill opened the door, calling out as we entered. “Julia, I’ve brought visitors!”<br /><br />A rotund woman in her forties came out of a room at the back of the cottage. She was drying her hands on a tea towel as she walked towards us. “Afternoon, Bill. We’re just finishing up the dishes.” She looked questioningly towards Eric and me.<br /><br />“Julia Dempsey, meet Reginald Smithaven-Johnson, Cordelia’s brother, and his partner, Eric Combs.”<br /><br />The woman grinned and held out a pudgy hand. “So you’re the famous Reggie. Edward spoke of you and your brother all the time. I’m pleased to meet you. Sorry for your loss though. It was a terrible tragedy. We were all heart sick when we heard the news.”<br /><br />I didn’t think I could be surprised any more than I had been the last two days. But hearing that my father spoke about Edward and I to these people was another thing to add to my list of the unexpected. <br /><br />Eric seemed to notice that I was momentarily speechless. He reached forward and took the woman’s hand. “Thank you. It’s been a very trying time.”<br /><br />I pulled myself together and added. “Yes...yes thank you.”<br /><br />“Reggie would like to meet Cordelia. Can she be spared from the kitchen?” Bill asked.<br /><br />“Oh, of course. Why don’t you gentlemen take a seat in the common room and I’ll get her for you.”<br /><br />We were shown into a small room with floral upholstered furniture and lemon coloured walls. I stood nervously by the window, chewing on my lip. Eric placed a hand on my shoulder and gave it a reassuring rub. <br /><br />Moments later, Julia entered the room followed by a small woman with close cropped brown hair and thick dark-framed glasses. Her features were typical of those with Downs Syndrome; the slanting eyes, flat nose and broad face, but the smile that lit her face was a vaguely familiar one. “Hi, Doctor Bill!” She ran to Bill and gave him a hug. <br /><br />Bill returned the hug and then led her over to where Eric and I stood. “Cordelia, I want you to meet some people. This is Reggie and Eric.”<br /><br />She looked at me a bit quizzically. “Are you my Reggie?” she asked. “Papa says I have a Reggie who’s my brother. He gave me a picture. You wanna see it?”<br /><br />She took my hand and dragged me from the room, down the hall to a small bedroom. Nearly every inch of the room’s walls were covered with pictures; some just magazine cut outs, some posters, and others that were obviously personal photographs. She took hold of a picture in a brass frame and thrust it into my hands. “That’s my papa with my Reggie and my Eddy.”<br /><br />It was a photo from Edward’s wedding day. We were all in tuxes and smiling for the camera. I was only seventeen when Edward married and I felt geeky and awkward in the formal wear that seem like a second skin to my father and brother. <br /><br />I handed the picture back and took her hand into mine. “Yes, Cordelia, I am your Reggie and I’m very glad to finally meet you.”<br /><br />She looked at me with sad eyes and a pouting lip. “My papa died. He won’t be able to visit me anymore. Will you come and visit me?”<br /><br />I led her to the neatly made bed and sat down with her. “Yes, I would like very much to come and visit you. I’d like to be your friend.”<br /><br />I glanced up to see saw Eric and Bill standing in the door way. Bill nodded approvingly and Eric gave me a loving smile. <br /><br />“Cordelia, would it be okay with you if Eric came with me when I visit?” I motioned for Eric to join us. “Eric is my partner and we like to do things together.”<br /><br />She looked Eric over as if assessing him carefully. “Do you like liquorice? My papa always brought me liquorice when he visited.”<br /><br />Eric grinned. “I love liquorice, especially black liquorice. What colour do you like?”<br /><br />A smile lit her sweet face. “I only like the black; well, sometimes the red kind but black is best.”<br /><br />I was suddenly taken back in time and place to my grandmother’s bedroom in the King City estate. I was no more than six years old. I’d snuck into her bedroom in search of her stash of black liquorice. She caught me with my hand in the drawer pulling out the favoured treat. The smile that lit her face was the mirror image of the smile that Eric was getting from Cordelia.<br /><br />We stayed and visited for more than two hours. I learned a great deal about my sister and was looking forward to future visits with her. She proudly showed me her current work of a beautiful bridal gown upon which she was stitching delicate pearl beading. She explained very seriously about the need to wash your hands and keep the dress clean. <br /><br />We were introduced to the three other developmentally challenged women who lived in the cottage and listened to some amusing stories of the lives they shared.<br /><br />The only negative point came when I asked if she’d like to come and see our home. Cordelia began to panic and it took a while to assure her that she wouldn’t have to go and that we’d be only too happy to continue visiting her here. <br /><br />After saying our good-byes to my sister, we had another short talk with Bill about what was acceptable to do and bring during our visits and various policies of the home. <br /><br />By the time we were headed home, I was exhausted. Cordelia’s parting words to me began to play over in my mind, though I knew her meaning was quite innocent. As a matter of fact, Julia explained that Cordelia said this same thing to everyone when they were leaving. Still her simple words ‘be good’ made me think. I hadn’t exactly ‘been good’ yesterday. I’d done a number of things that in our relationship warranted discipline and I suddenly found myself stewing on when the hammer would drop. <br /><br />We hadn’t been driving for more than ten minutes when Eric pulled into the parking lot of restaurant. <br /><br />“It’s past time we had a good meal,” he said simply as he led the way inside. It was quiet with only a few patrons scattered about the dining room. We were shown to a secluded booth where I began to realize a serious conversation might be taking place. <br /><br />Eric sat perusing the menu while I just stared at the pages without reading a word. I looked up when I felt his large warm hand wrap around mine. <br /><br />“Quit stewing and pick something you’d like to eat.”<br /><br />I had to smile. He knew me so well. By the time the waitress arrived, I still hadn’t decided. Eric shook his head and immediately ordered for us both; meatloaf with mashed potatoes, comfort food, simply hearty fare to sooth a weary soul. <br /><br />When the waitress departed, Eric returned his attention to me. “You wanna tell me what’s got you worrying or will I take a guess?”<br /><br />I moaned and dropped my head forward into my hands. Suddenly I felt him slip into my side of the booth. “Scoot over,” he instructed. I was soon pulled snugly against his side, his arm wrapped around my shoulder. “I want you to listen and really hear my words, okay?”<br /><br />I nodded and prepared myself for a lengthy ‘talk’.<br /><br />“Babe, what you have been through in the last week has been enough to send anyone crashing over the edge. Yet you have handled yourself with remarkable strength and dignity. I think I can guess where your mind is at this moment. It’s wandering along the ‘I screwed up and now I’m in trouble’ path. What I want you to do; is to get off that path right now.”<br /><br />He paused and looked at me intently as if to gage my comprehension of his words. “Reggie, you know the saying ‘there is an exception for every rule’. Well baby, this last week is the biggest exception ever written and if you’re thinking you deserve to be punished for any behaviour exhibited at this time, then my love, you need to change your thinking. As far as I’m concerned, the discipline aspect of our relationship doesn’t even touch circumstances such as this. You have absolutely nothing to feel guilty about, so let it go.”<br /><br />I looked at him with tears welling in my eyes. “But I did screw up, Eric. I ran off yesterday and didn’t tell you where I was going or even answer my cell phone. I know how disrespectful that is.”<br /><br />He sat gently rubbing his hand up and down my back as he spoke. “Reggie, you need to give yourself a break. You’ve suffered a tremendous loss and I’m not about to punish you for a small infraction in the weight of what you have been through. That’s not to say that I’d tolerate you doing that again, but in this case, the cause was more than just.” <br /><br />We talked for several more minutes until the waitress returned with our meals. She gave us a funny look as she put the plates in front of us, squished together as we were on the one side of the small booth. Though I wasn’t feeling hungry, Eric cajoled me through the meal until I had consumed most of it. <br /><br />I don’t remember much of the ride home as I fell asleep only minutes after leaving the restaurant and didn’t wake up until Eric was gently nudging me to say we were home.<br /><br />Over the next few months, I made some life-altering decisions. With Eric standing strong beside me, I sold Johnson Industries. The business held little interest to me and I had no intention of spending my days attempting to run such a large corporation. After much soul-searching, Eric and I both resigned from our jobs. We then moved in and changed the face of the Smithaven Foundation from a patron of the arts to a multi-million dollar supporter for developmentally challenged persons. We have three residential and eight non-residential centres for training and education scattered across the province. We’ve just launched a huge public awareness campaign, hoping to educate people about acceptance and integration. <br /><br />Eric and I are joint CEO’s of the foundation, working as equals in all ways. But when we get home, we revert to the relationship that has worked so well for us all along. He is still my Top and I am happily still his Brat. We sold the mansion in King City and the townhouse in Toronto, though we did keep the cottage in Muskoka and enjoy our time away there. Through the week, we still live in the house we first bought together, though we have done some renovating to make it a bit more comfortable. <br /><br />We visit Cordelia at least twice a month. She reminds us both of the reason we do the work that we do with the foundation. The Orillia Home is now one of the centres owned by the foundation, though we haven’t done much to change it other than putting a few extra staff in place and modernizing the buildings. <br /><br />All in all, our lives have changed a great deal since that fateful day last winter, but the important things have stayed the same. Life must go on in the face of loss and though I did lose my parents and brother, I have gained a sister who has become one of the greatest joys in my life. <br /><br />The EndLJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09209660278651151524noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5264733879903421897.post-22935210307264691922009-05-01T18:31:00.000-07:002009-05-01T18:45:46.050-07:00The Guilty HeartWritten By: Mel<br /><br />Answer to Lady Jodie's story challenge about a sick or injured Top.<br /><br />Dedication: To Stef, my friend who is always there, and to Jodie, who finally kicked my muse back to life.<br /><br /><br />Eric is finally asleep; his foot propped up on a pillow. The lines of pain on his face have smoothed out for the first time since it happened. Oh God, this is all my fault. What kind of Brat breaks his Top’s leg? This had started out as such a great day. How could I have let it get so bad?<br /><br />The storm started around four a.m. and by the time we were up and getting ready for work at seven, it was pretty bad outside. Eric had put on the local news to get the road conditions. They were announcing the usual school and bus cancellations and then the mayor came on to ask that everyone who did not have to travel, to please stay home, as this would be safer and give the plough and salt trucks the opportunity to clear the roads more efficiently. Included in the announcement was the request that all town employees not involved in snow removal or emergency services please stay home as well. I work for the town planning office and as such would be included in the stay home crowd.<br /><br />“Yahoo!” I yelled. “No work for us today.” I was grinning happily and danced up to my partner, planting a big kiss on his frowning face. Suddenly wary of that look, I asked, “Why don’t you look happy?”<br /><br />Eric gave me one of those small smiles he gives when he’s trying to lighten up bad news. “Baby, you know we only live a five minute drive from my job, so it’s not a long difficult commute on bad road conditions like you would have. As well, I have a major project that has to be finished off today. I’m going to have to go into work. It won’t take the whole day. I’m hoping to be done by two or three at the latest.”<br /><br />I wasn’t happy but I knew that Eric had been working very hard on this project and he felt he had to get it done and sent off to head office today.<br /><br />“I know,” I said sadly. “I’ll just have to laze around the house without you.”<br /><br />“A little lazing is fine,” he replied. “However I want you to take care of some chores that need doing while I’m gone. I think…”<br /><br />I didn’t give Eric a chance to finish before I began my protest. “Chores! You’ve got to be kidding me? This is a snow day and that’s for having fun, not doing some lame chores.”<br /><br />That of course earned me one of those patented Eric looks. “Just settle down, my boy, and listen before you dig yourself into trouble. The forecast says the freezing rain will have stopped by nine a.m. I want you to get outside at that time and get the no-salt ice melter spread all over the driveway and walkways and stairs. I’ll sprinkle some on the back porch and steps on my way out to the garage but I’m sure you’ll need to spread more there when you go out. We don’t need someone taking a fall on our property. When you’re done with that I’d appreciate you changing the sheets on our bed and washing a load of towels as we’re getting short on them. Other than that, you can have the day to yourself. I don’t think that is too unreasonable a request is it?”<br /><br />I pouted but knew it would get me no where and besides it really wasn’t that much to do. “Okay, I can do that.”<br /><br />Eric smiled and kissed me. “Good man,” he said.<br /><br />The early part of the morning went by quickly. I changed the bedding and put the towels into wash, all while watching talk shows on the TV. When I looked outside at nine-thirty, the freezing rain had stopped and the sun was just peeking through the clouds. It was truly a beautiful sight. Everything was covered with a crystal clear sheet of ice; each tiny branch of every tree glistened in the weak sunlight. The snow that lay on the ground was coated in ice giving it a high-polished sheen. It was a winter wonderland out there.<br /><br />Feeling invigorated by the sight, I got on my outerwear and ventured into it. I chose the same method of leaving the house that Eric had earlier. There was a small covered pail filled with the ice melter and a scoop sitting by the back porch door so I carefully made my way outside, sprinkling the chemical in front of me as I walked. I sent broad sweeping arcs of the stuff over the entire driveway, having to refill the small pail several times from the large bucket in the garage.<br /><br />I was just finishing the front walkway when I heard Mrs. Thompson from next door come out onto her porch. Mrs. Thompson is a sweet widowed lady who has lived in that house for more than forty years. She raised her three kids there and stayed on after her husband passed away two years ago. I know her kids are always after her to move into a senior’s apartment building because they worry about her being alone in the big old place, but she is adamant about keeping her home. I could see her struggling with one of those huge bags of salt and immediately went to her aid. I called out to her as I made my way up her icy front walk, sprinkling my ice melter in front of me as I went. “Mrs. Thompson, why don’t you let me do that for you?”<br /><br />She smiled as she saw me approach. “Oh Reggie, you dear boy. Whatever would I do without you? I’ve got plenty of my own salt though, dear, so don’t go using up yours.”<br /><br />“No problem, Mrs. T. I’ll have it spread out in no time,” I said as I took the bag from her.<br /><br />“When you’re done, why don’t you come in for coffee? I’ve just baked a banana loaf this morning and it’s waiting for someone to try it.”<br /><br />How could I refuse the dear old soul? She must get pretty lonely. “Sure sounds great. I’ll be done and at your door in about ten minutes, okay?”<br /><br />“Lovely, dear,” she replied as she made her way back into the safe, warm indoors.<br /><br />Mrs. T. and I had a nice visit; her cake and coffee were to die for. She talked my ear off about her grandchildren, especially her one little grandson, Derek. She went on about what a beautiful child he was but he was such a handful for his parents. She explained he had something called ADHD and that his mother quite despaired of him, sometimes thinking that he would never succeed. When I told her I too had ADHD, she was amazed. Nothing would do but she had to hear the entire story of my battles with it, my long-term use of Ritalin, and my finally leaving drugs behind to make use of more natural methods of dealing with my issues.<br /><br />Finally, I made my excuses and went back home. I got the towels from the dryer and folded them neatly just like Eric likes and even put them away in the cupboard. Yes, this was turning out to be a good day. I had completed all my tasks and still had a couple of hours to just relax and have fun.<br /><br />Feeling pretty good about my successes, I decided to put on some of my favourite CDs louder than Eric allows me to play them and I plopped down at the computer for a little web surfing. The minute I logged on, I saw my best friend Cecily’s happy face lit up on Yahoo messenger, so we started up a chat. She too was staying home because of the storm. The school where she taught was closed, so the two of us could while away a couple of hours chatting. I never understand how it is that I can talk for so long with Cec. We hardly ever seem to run out of things to say and we can talk to each other about anything. She’s the only person who knows Eric and I have a discipline partnership and she accepts it as if it was something she deals with daily.<br /><br />It was about two o’clock when I heard what sounded like banging on the back door. I told Cecily BRB, turned down the stereo and went to investigate. <br /><br />There standing at the back door was Mrs. T. She looked positively frantic. “Thank goodness, Reggie. Come quick to the front. It’s Eric. He’s had a fall.”<br /><br />I don’t remember even getting my feet shoved into my shoes but I must have done as I was wearing them when I came to a skidding halt on the front walkway. There sitting on the stone walk was my beautiful Eric; his face contorted with pain as he gingerly held his left ankle. His brief case had broken open and file folders were scattered around him.<br /><br />I fell to my knees at his side. “Eric, are you alright?” I asked stupidly, knowing that he obviously was not.<br /><br />“My ankle, babe,” he whispered between clenched teeth. ‘I think I might have broken it.”<br /><br />I turned to Mrs. Thompson. “Please call 911 and get an ambulance for us, Mrs. T.”<br /><br />But before she could respond, Eric spoke up. “No, there is no need for an ambulance. Just help me up, Reggie. We can drive to the hospital.”<br /><br />I tried so hard to argue with him and get him to see reason but he would have none of it. He even insisted I pick up his scattered files and put them back in his brief case before helping him to the car. Mrs. T. helped with the brief case and retrieved my jacket from the house as I got Eric settled into the back of my car. I could tell he was in a lot of pain from the way he was hissing and gasping with each movement but never cried out or complained.<br /><br />During the drive to the hospital, it finally occurred to me to ask Eric how he’d fallen. His answer left me cold with horrible guilt. He’d slipped on the on the front porch step; the steps I was about to salt when Mrs. T. came out onto her porch that morning. I’d forgotten to go back and finish the job; I had been so smug and satisfied with myself that I’d done all the chores Eric had asked me to do. Oh fuck! My stupid brain and the ADHD. I couldn’t keep my concentration on the job long enough to go back and finish it and now my partner was suffering because of my incompetence. I had messed up big this time, really big.<br /><br />We got to the hospital with Eric only having to tell me to slow down on about six occasions. I pulled into the emergency driveway and jumped out, telling Eric to stay still while I got some help. The few hospital employees I could see as I went in were all with someone, but I spotted a wheelchair sitting by the doorway and pushed it quickly outside to my waiting car. We had gently pulled off Eric’s shoe when we got him into the car at home and I could see that the ankle had swollen up a lot in that short time. We managed to get him into the chair without banging his foot and I pushed him into the ER.<br /><br />Eric’s P.O.V.<br /><br />It had been a busy day at work getting the last bits of that project finished, but now it was over and I was home. I smiled as I looked at the driveway and walkways around the house. Reggie had done a good job of clearing up all the ice from the storm. Things had been pretty good at home lately. We’d had very few flare ups of Reg’s ADHD induced temper and he was doing very well at completing his assigned tasks.<br /><br />With brief case in hand, I headed up the front walk, mounted the bottom step to the porch and suddenly found my foot sliding out from under me. In an attempt to catch myself and stop the fall, I somehow brought my left foot down on the walkway at a bad angle and it twisted under me as I fell. I could feel the snap and there was no doubt in my mind that I had broken a bone.<br /><br />I lay on the hard stone of the walkway for a couple of minutes just trying to catch my breath. There must have been a stray bit of ice on the step as I could clearly see that Reggie had done an excellent job clearing the ice around the house. From within the house I could hear the vibrations of music. Reggie had the stereo going and quite loudly at that. I attempted to shift to a more comfortable position but the pain was terrible and left me gasping. There seemed to be no way I could get up and balanced enough to get up the steps and near the front door. I tried calling out to Reggie but there was no way he could hear me over the din of his music.<br /><br />I lay there for better than ten minutes. By the grace of God or whatever angel watches over me, Mrs. Thompson our next door neighbour heard me calling Reggie’s name enough times to grow curious and look outside to see what was happening. The sweet woman was soon crouching beside me. I asked her to go round the back of the house and get Reggie for me. Within seconds my partner was kneeling at my side. Reg wanted to call an ambulance but I felt that this was unworthy of an emergency vehicle and insisted he take me to hospital in his car.<br /><br />Fortunately we live fairly close to the hospital and although I had to remind him to slow down a couple of times, Reggie did get us to the hospital safely. It took ten hours from the time we arrived at the hospital to get things done. I know Reggie was very concerned for me but I had to admonish him to sit still on several occasions when he got up to bother the nursing staff. He was obviously nervous and upset with the entire situation. I kept sending him on small errands just to keep him occupied while we waited. I was fortunate they determined fairly quickly that the break would not require surgical intervention. I was given permission to have something to eat while I waited my time in the fracture clinic where the cast would be applied.<br /><br />Reggie brought us back some questionable looking ham sandwiches and lukewarm pop from the cafeteria vending machines. Although I wasn’t feeling particularly hungry, I ate if only to encourage Reggie to as well. I asked him a couple of times if something was troubling him but each time he denied having any problems beyond his concern for me. I will confess though that with the confusion of the hospital environment and the ache in my leg, I didn’t really push him as I might normally have done.<br /><br />I was finally fitted with a cast and provided crutches. The doctor advised that I not put any weight on the ankle for the next ten days and at that point I would be given a boot which would fit over the cast and that I could walk with it.<br /><br />It was three a.m. by the time we got in the back door of the house. I was exhausted and the painkillers were wearing off. Reggie was wonderful in his assistance. He got me upstairs and helped me undress. The hospital had loaned me a pair of scrub pants that were loose enough to fit over the cast, thus saving my good suit pants from having to be slit up the leg. Although they were filthy from the fall, somehow they had survived without a tear. Reg brought me a glass of water and the pain pills the hospital had provided to last me until the prescription could be filled in the morning. Once settled into the comfort of our own bed with my leg elevated and the effect of the medication hitting me, I fell into a deep sleep.<br /><br />When next I woke Reggie was curled up asleep and half on top of me. A glance at the clock told me it was past ten a.m. I shifted slightly and Reg was awake immediately. His hair was tousled; he had sleep creases in his face and a small line of drool at the corner of his mouth. He was gorgeous.<br /><br />“Hi, beautiful,” I said smiling. “Did you have a good sleep?”<br /><br />His response wasn’t what I was expecting. “I’m sorry, Eric. I didn’t mean to fall asleep on you. I hope I didn’t hurt you. Let me get you breakfast, or maybe you need help up to the bathroom. Do you want to get washed? I can do that, but I’ve got to go to the pharmacy for you prescription, then I’ll...”<br /><br />He was speaking so quickly, almost frantic sounding. I knew I needed to settle him down immediately. I reached for his hands and pulled them quickly to me, holding him firmly. I spoke gently and calmly. “I’m okay, baby. Just relax. I’m…”<br /><br />Reggie took that moment to take in the time and he leaped from my grasp, cursing as he went. “Oh gods, look at the time!” he shouted. “I was supposed to be at work at eight-thirty. Shit! How could I be so fucked up!” His voice was nearly hysterical. Since I couldn’t easily move to him, I knew I’d have to calm him down with words alone.<br /><br />“Reggie, sit down right now!” I seldom raise my voice to him, so I’m sure it was quite startling. He sat on the side of the bed and stared at me with the look of a deer caught in the headlights. He was breathing hard. I once again reached over and pulled him to me. “Reggie, I need you to hear me, baby. Take a deep slow breath in through your nose. That’s it. Now out through your mouth. Good, now keep doing that and listen to me.” His breathing slowed but he was still looking anxious, as if any moment he might just explode. I spoke very calmly and softly as I had learned to do with him when he got out of control. “I’m going to need your help today, honey, so I’d like you to call into work and tell them you’re not going to be able to come in. You’ve got lots of vacation time owed you so I’m sure a couple days off will be fine. Then I’d really like it if you could give me a hand getting to the bathroom, okay?”<br /><br />Having clear cut directions always seemed to help Reggie when he was like this. “Okay, Eric. I can do that,” he responded.<br /><br />We got through things that morning fairly well. I was pretty clumsy at first with the crutches but was improving with some practice. Reggie was very helpful, almost too helpful in getting things for me and assisting me with what were normally simple tasks, like walking and maneuvering the stairs. As dinner hour approached, I suggested we keep things simple by heating up the lasagna we had in the freezer and fixing a salad to go with it. He had left me watching some talk show on television while he went to the kitchen to get the dinner put together. Growing bored with the program, I hobbled into the kitchen in search of my lover’s company.<br /><br />Reg was at the sink washing a red pepper. On the cutting board beside him were thinly sliced onions, tomato, cucumber and a colander filled with lettuce. “Hey, babe. I thought you were just going to put together one of those quick Caesar Salads,” I commented, thinking he’d gone to a lot more work than I’d expected.<br /><br />“Why, because you don’t think I’m capable of making a better salad?” he snapped.<br /><br />I do confess to being momentarily stunned by this display of temper. “Reggie, that’s not what I…”<br /><br />“If you don’t think I’m able to do a salad, you can do it yourself!” He turned to storm from the room.<br /><br />Somehow despite the crutches, I was able to snake out a hand and grab his arm as he went past me. “Stop right where you are. First of all, that is no way to speak to me, my lad. I do not appreciate your attitude at all. Secondly, if you had taken the time to listen to me you would have known that I am in fact quite impressed by all you’ve done. My comment was simply to say you didn’t need to do all this extra work when the simple Caesar would have been fine.” I managed to land two rather impressive swats to his behind while saying all this, though I did end up dropping a crutch.<br /><br />Reggie’s eyes were bright with unshed tears when he looked at me. “I’m sorry I snapped,” he choked out as he bent to retrieve the fallen crutch.<br /><br />“It’s okay, hon. We’re good now. Why don’t you finish up with the salad and I’ll get the table set?” But Reggie would have none of that. He insisted I sit with my foot propped up on another chair while he completed the dinner preparations. Throughout the meal he seemed edgy, like he was nervous about something, but continued to deny any problems.<br /><br />The next day was Friday and Reggie had arranged to have it off as well, to be home with me. By Monday, he would be returning to work and I was sure I could manage on my own by that point. Little did I realize what the next few days would hold in store for us.<br /><br />Reggie’s POV<br /><br />It was really late by the time we got home from the hospital. I’m sure Eric was in pain, but he didn’t make much of it. I wished that I was strong enough to pick him up and carry him into the house, but all I could manage was to let him lean on my shoulder as he hopped up the steps to the back door. I certainly wasn’t going to have him go near those front steps; I’d messed him up enough already.<br /><br />It was an arduous journey upstairs to the bedroom and I could tell Eric was at the end of his strength by the time I’d helped him change and get settled into bed. He was asleep with in moments.<br /><br />When I went back downstairs to lock up I noticed the message light flashing on the phone. I was startled when the automated voice said there were six new messages. To my horror they were all from Cecily and each one was progressively more anxious than the last. I’d totally forgotten that I’d left her hanging on the Instant Messenger with ‘BRB, there’s someone banging on my door’. In the fourth message, she was on her cell phone standing at our front door. She was partially apologizing for being a worrywart but in the next breath berating me for leaving her in such a worried state. She finished that message with a reminder that we should salt the steps they were slippery. ‘Lord, Cec,’ I thought, ‘thank god you didn’t fall too.’ I couldn’t stand the thought of being responsible for hurting her as well.<br /><br />The final message had been left only an hour ago at two a.m. asking me to call her no matter what time I got in. I went into the den so I could talk to her, without the sound of my voice carrying upstairs and disturbing Eric. The computer was still on as I’d left it. I moved the mouse as I was picking up the phone to call Cecily. As the screen lit up there was the IM chat we’d been having earlier, with line after line from her asking where I was and some gently telling me off for leaving her like that. I was such an idiot. I’d caused my partner to break his leg and worried my best friend nearly to death.<br /><br />The phone hadn’t even finished the first ring when Cecily’s voice came on. “Oh god, Reggie, that better be you!”<br /><br />“Yeah, Cec, it’s me. I’m so sorry for leaving you hanging like that. I know you were worried.”<br /><br />“I’ve been out of my mind, Reggie. What happened with you?” she asked. “You tell me you’ll be right back, someone is banging on your door and then you don’t return. Leaving me with no word of what was happening. I was scared for you.”<br /><br />“I know, hon. I feel just horrible, but it was Mrs. T. at the door. Eric had fallen on the ice outside. We’ve been at the hospital all this time. He has a broken ankle.” I went on to tell her all the details of our hospital adventures and Eric’s prognosis. Being the dear friend that she is, she offered to help out in whatever way she could.<br /><br />I finally crawled into bed with Eric after four a.m. I had planned to get up before him and make some breakfast to serve to him in bed. I had to do everything I could to make this up to him. I was determined to make him as comfortable as possible. I thought seriously about telling him that I was totally at fault for his broken leg; that I had screwed up as usual by not finishing my job of salting. But I couldn’t bring myself to stick him with having to deal with me and my mess-ups, when he was the one in need of help.<br /><br />I know I’ll have to confess to him; but when he’s better that way he’ll have the strength to give me the walloping I deserve to get. And in the meantime, I’ll be able to take care of him like I should.<br /><br />I didn’t remember anything until I woke the next morning, draped over Eric’s chest. He was giving me one of his beautiful smiles as I opened my eyes. I don’t deserve this man. He’s so wonderful to me and I’m always screwing up. Now I’ve screwed up so bad, I’ve caused him injury. ‘Well,’ I thought, ‘I’m going to be the best partner in the world until that cast is off and he’s back to normal. I’m going to do everything for him.’<br /><br />Wanting to take care of him to the best of my ability, I’m afraid I got a little worked up and Eric had to talk me through one of my patented losses of control. I had momentarily freaked when I realized that I was late for work but of course didn’t end up going anyway, as I needed to stay home and help Eric. My boss was extremely understanding when I explained what had happened and he told me to take the next day off as well and return to work on Monday. <br /><br />That morning went fairly well. We even managed a good laugh as I helped Eric take a bath with his broken leg hanging over the side of the tub. Neither of us has ever used the bathtub since we’ve lived in the house, we both prefer showers. I know though that he felt a lot better when he was clean. Eric is a very fastidious man. He showers twice most days, once after work to wash away the day’s worth of sweat and grunge and once in the morning to wash away the previous night’s worth of sweat and grunge, (that version of sweat and grunge was at least fun to make). <br /><br />I tried so hard to make everything as easy as possible for him and was determined not to give him any trouble. We had a small flare up at dinnertime. I’d decided to make a mixed salad and was working hard in the kitchen to chop the veggies in the same way he does and surprise him with it. He walked in while I was working and I stupidly mistook what he was saying and ended up snapping at him, spoiling the mood entirely. It took all the concentration I had to keep things going that night. Inside a voice was screaming each and every time I saw that cast on his leg, ‘You fucked up royally this time, Reginald.’<br /><br />Friday morning dawned bright and clear. I woke as I usually do; half on top of Eric with his arm slung over me. I shimmied out from his hold without waking him, which was unusual as he normally wakens the moment I move. I managed to make quick use of the washroom and slip downstairs to put on the coffee and make us some breakfast. I’m not the greatest cook in the world but I do a half-decent job of scrambled eggs with fried tomatoes and toast. I could hear the sound of the toilet flushing as I was carrying the tray with our breakfast up the stairs.<br /><br />Eric smiled brightly as I came into the room; he was hobbling back from the washroom on his crutches. “Hey, babe, I was just going to come down. I could smell those fried tomatoes and coffee up here.” He gave an appreciative sniff. I put the tray down on a chair and helped Eric settle into the other one with his foot up on the ottoman.<br /><br />When we bought this house it had three bedrooms, but we decided that we wanted to increase the size of the master suite. So we took down the wall separating the master from the next largest bed room and from this extra space we doubled the size of the bathroom, made a large walk in closet and had a bay window installed that looked out over the back garden. In front of the window we have a sitting area with two club chairs and a large ottoman. We will often sit there when we’re looking for a quite place to talk or simply to enjoy the view of the garden. We have a huge backyard filled with trees and shrubs and it never fails to provide us with something beautiful to look at no matter what the season.<br /><br />This morning the temperature had risen above freezing for the first time since the ice storm and with the sun shining brightly, the ice was beginning to melt and drip from the branches of the trees, falling in fat plops onto the snow below. A brilliant red cardinal was chattering noisily in the tree nearest the window, all in all a perfectly peaceful and beautiful sight to behold. Along with all this beauty, I had my loving partner with me and a day off work; so why did I feel like I had a pound of lead sitting in my gut?<br /><br />“This is delicious, Reggie,” Eric commented as he ate my simple offering. “And it’s so nice sitting here, we should make a habit of eating our breakfast up here on Sunday mornings when it’s too cold to eat outside. It’s a much nicer view than we have in the kitchen.”<br /><br />My mind was still wandering when he spoke, so when I didn’t respond he tapped me on the leg with the end of his crutch. This startled me so much that I jumped sending my plate of eggs and tomato off of my lap and onto the floor. “What the fuck did you do that for? I have enough to do around here without you making me dump my breakfast!” I screamed as I looked at the mess lying at my feet. I regretted those words the very second they spilled from my mouth. They had flown out with as little thought as the plate had flown from my lap and they lay there between us even more ugly and disturbing than the congealing mess on the floor.<br /><br />The look on Eric’s face was one of shock. ‘Oh god, what had I done now?’ was all I could think as I dropped to my knees and began scooping the mess back onto the overturned plate. Tears were escaping from the corners of my eyes when I looked up at my speechless partner. “Eric, I’m sorry… I didn’t mean what I said…” I crawled the three feet between us on my knees and buried my face in his lap, clutching his lounge pants in my hands and managing to wipe egg and tomato slime all over them. “Please, Eric; forgive me. I’m such an idiot…I just…”<br /><br />His hand went to the back of my neck and stroked me gently. “Its okay, baby, just relax.” He soothed over and over. I calmed down a bit and I pulled my head up off his lap and noticed the mess I’d made of his pants. This just seemed to send me into another tailspin of guilt.<br /><br />“Shit…look at your pants!” I jumped up from the floor. “I’ll get you some clean ones. I’m sorry. I’m such a screw up… I…”<br /><br />From that point to be honest, I don’t remember a lot. I fell into a full-blown panic attack, hyperventilating and everything. I vaguely recall Eric’s arms wrapping around me and I found myself lying prone on the bed listening to his soothing voice talk me through the attack. He was gently but firmly admonishing me to breathe slowly in through my nose and out through my mouth, as he softly massaged my back and shoulders. The old method of breathing in a paper bag is no longer recommended, but Eric’s methods of relaxation and talking me through it were better than any professional help I had ever received.<br /><br />After a while I had relaxed enough to feel in control of myself again. I rolled over on the bed and saw Eric looking down at me. Although his mouth was smiling, I could see concern and something else in his eyes. <br /><br />“Feeling better now, babe?” he asked. I nodded as I sat up. He was perched on the side of bed with his cast-encased leg just a bare inch above the floor. His crutches were still over by the window. He’d moved me from the chairs to the bed and in doing so had put the weight of his body onto his broken ankle.<br /><br />“Oh, Eric, you’re in pain, aren’t you?” I asked stupidly, seeing the lines etched deeply in his forehead.<br /><br />He placed his finger across my lips. “Its okay, sweetheart, I’m fine. You do not start worrying about my ankle. Do you hear me?” His words were spoken in that ‘don’t you dare argue’ Top’s voice of his that I had no choice but to nod dumbly.<br /><br />The rest of the day passed without any major incidents, but the pound of lead in my gut kept making itself know every time I looked at Eric’s leg. I knew he was concerned about me and he managed to corner me after dinner with his usual perceptiveness asking ‘what was bothering me?’ But I was once again able to deflect him with a smile and promise that the only thing bothering me was my loving concern for the discomfort he was in with his leg.<br /><br />Saturday, the day the shit hit the fan. I woke to the sound of Eric’s voice cursing from the bathroom. When I arrived at the doorway he was balancing on his good leg while attempting to pick up the crutches that had fallen to the floor. I quickly scooped them and handed them back to him.<br /><br />“Thanks, babe. I guess I’m getting clumsy in my old age. What would you like to do today, take a jog in the park, go cross-country skiing, maybe a hike up the Niagara Escarpment?” he asked with a laugh.<br /><br />Somehow to me it didn’t seem the least bit funny that my normally active partner was reduced to hobbling around on crutches and I told him so.<br /><br />“Reggie, I have always been a strong believer in the healing power of laughter. Although this is a pain in the ass right now, I am not going to allow it to rule my life. This is a temporary set back, okay? Nothing we can’t get through together.”<br /><br />I plastered a false smile on my face and agreed with him.<br /><br />After lunch I made a run to the store for some groceries and left Eric on the sofa in the living room with a stack of magazines, cold drink and the television remote all within his reach. I had even ensured that he had used the bathroom before I headed out. I was gone just over an hour and called out to him as I came in through the back door, groceries in hand. When I brought in the third load of groceries and he still hadn’t answered me, I got concerned and went to the living room to check on him.<br /><br />There he was sound asleep on the sofa, snoring softly. I smiled and got the throw blanket from the back of the chair and lay it gently over him. As I was tucking him in, I noticed a bruise on the back of his hand that hadn’t been there before. I gently touched the surface of the mark and Eric’s eyes opened. “What happened here?” I asked gently.<br /><br />“Just me being clumsy again. I had a cramp in my good leg so I got up to move around a bit and work it out, but the fricking thing got a spasm and I lost my balance. I was by the doorway and I put my hand out to catch myself from falling but with the crutch in my hand I was totally awkward and whacked it against the corner. I didn’t fall, but I sure wasn’t graceful,” he said laughing.<br /><br />How could he be laughing when I felt like this? “What did you think you were doing getting up like that when you were home alone? What if you had fallen? Did you want me to come home and find you lying on the floor with another broken leg or worse?” I raged. Heat was rising in my face and I was sure it must have been the colour of a ripe tomato.<br /><br />“Reggie, calm down. It wasn’t that bad, honey. I’m perfectly fine,” he soothed.<br /><br />“Fine!” I shouted. “Fine? You’re not fine! You have a broken ankle and it’s my fault and now I can’t even take care of you well enough to keep you from getting hurt even more. Fine, you say? Not by a long shot, especially with me as a partner.” I ran from the house and got into my car, heading I knew not where.<br /><br />I drove around town for awhile, a seething cauldron of emotions, mostly I hated myself. I had caused the person who means the most in the world to me to be injured and now I couldn’t even control myself enough to care for him. I abandoned him when he needed me. Could there be a stupider, more useless person around? After about an hour, I found myself in front of McClusker’s Bar. I knew it was a bad idea but damn, I needed to do something to drown my misery. I found a place at the bar and ordered a beer, and then another and then another. You’ve heard the term ‘crying in your beer’? Well, that night it’s exactly what I did.<br /><br />Eric’s POV<br /><br />I called after Reggie when he ran from the room. I wanted to follow him, to stop his flight and try to make sense of what had just happened. By the time I got myself untangled from the blanket he had tucked around me and got to my feet, make that foot, I could hear the sound of his car racing down the driveway. I knew that it was hopeless but nonetheless I tried calling his cell phone, but of course got only his voice mail. I did leave him a message saying in as firm a voice as I could that I expected him to return home immediately and talk to me. <br /><br />Have you ever attempted pacing while on crutches? I can now tell you it is a difficult and truly futile endeavour. As one hour quickly slid into three, I was growing more and more anxious. Despite all our work on it, my Reggie is still a very reactive person; act first and think later continues to be his MO.<br /><br />I made casual calls to all of Reggie’s friends, inquiring if they had seen him that afternoon. Cecily seem to catch on that I was concerned but I shrugged her off saying that I thought his phone must have died and that it was no big deal.<br /><br />More time passed without a word and when those three hours had become six, I decided it was time to call in reinforcements. I picked up the phone and dialed Cecily’s number again.<br /><br />Cecily’s P.O.V.<br /><br />To say that Eric’s call surprised me would be an understatement in the extreme. Not that Reggie’s running off surprised me, but for Eric to feel desperate enough to ask for my help certainly did. However, this is one circumstance where the even best of Top’s (and Eric is the best) would need some help. I only wished that Eric had called me sooner. By the time I set out to look for him, Reggie had been gone from home for almost seven hours.<br /><br />Since Eric had called all the appropriate friends and relatives, I decided to a look around. The pubs were a good bet. I went first to McClusker’s, but he was nowhere in sight. As I was heading towards the door, I felt a tap on the shoulder. Jim Anderson, one of the town councilors, was giving me his best politician’s smile. His son was in my class and the kid was a real handful. “Mr. Anderson, how nice to seen you,” I lied.<br /><br />“Miss Shaw, I’ve been intending to call you regarding Tyler’s grades…” His voice droned on at me but I wouldn’t be able to tell you another thing he said because at that moment Reggie came staggering out of the men’s room. I quickly told the old windbag that he would have to call me at the school and left him standing there with his mouth hanging open like a fish out of water.<br /><br />As I neared my friend, I could see he was in a bad way. His face was red and splotchy and his clothes were disheveled. He took a seat at the bar without even noticing my approach. “Another draught,” he slurred as he dug a five from his pocket.<br /><br />I put my hand over his and caught the bartender’s attention. “Change that order to a large bottle of water,” I said.<br /><br />When Reggie’s eyes met mine, he immediately fell into my arms, his face pressed into my shoulder and he began to cry. After a few minutes, he was able to pull himself together enough to talk. He smelled of stale beer and was obviously quite drunk.<br /><br />“Cec, I’ve lost it all,” he moaned. “I’ve ruined my whole life…I’m such an asshole.”<br /><br />I took him firmly by the shoulders and looked him in the eye. “Reginald Smithhaven-Johnson, you stop that right now! I will not listen to you running down my best friend like that. I love you and Eric loves you so much, he’d die without you. You are a dear and wonderful man,” I laughed slightly. “A bit reactionary I have to admit, but still wonderful and you have NOT ruined your life.”<br /><br />“Oh god, Cec, you weren’t there. I was such a jerk and Eric is hurt because of me. He deserves someone who isn’t so disjointed he can’t even remember to put salt on the steps.” He began to cry again.<br /><br />There it was! The whole reason behind Reggie’s behaviour, guilt. It was a monster trying to eat his very soul. I know the workings of his mind well enough to be certain that telling him it was not his fault wouldn’t help the situation in the slightest. This he had to work out with Eric. What I could do for my friend was to help him sober up enough to understand that no matter what, Eric loved him and he needed to go home and face his problems head on. I got him to start in on the water and fed him some Tylenol to help relieve the hangover before it began. He was too drunk at that point to really hear my words but I calmed him enough to know that going home was the right thing to do.<br /><br />I was able to persuade him to let me call Eric and tell him what was happening. I swear the phone didn’t even ring when Eric’s voice came on the line. “Reggie?”<br /><br />“It’s Cecily,” I responded. “I’ve found him. We’re at McClusker’s. Give us a little time and I’ll have him home to you soon.”<br /><br />“Is he okay?” Eric asked.<br /><br />“Yeah, he’s going to be fine once he sobers up a bit.”<br /><br />“Just bring him home, Cecily, please.” Eric’s voice actually had a pleading sound to it. Poor guy was really worried for Reggie.<br /><br />“I will. See you soon.”<br /><br />When I got off the phone, Reggie was laying with his head on the bar. I rubbed his back as I spoke with him. “Hey, hon, time we got you home to your love.”<br /><br />Reg just moaned and mumbled, “Wanna sleep.”<br /><br />Laughing as I gently prodded. “You can sleep all you want when you get home, sweetie. Come on now, up you get.” I pulled him into an upright position, expecting only to see bleary sleep-filled eyes, what I saw caught me off guard. His eyes were shining with unshed tears and his face appeared to be wracked with pain. “Reggie?” I asked quietly. “I thought you were ready to go home now?”<br /><br />He clamped his eyes shut and tears squeezed between the lids. “I’m such a fuck up, Cec. I need to let Eric go. He deserves so much more than I can give him.”<br /><br />I wiped the tears from his cheeks. “Listen to me, Reggie. This is the alcohol talking. Eric is the luckiest man on earth to have you and he knows it too. Now you just pull yourself together and get home to that man you love.” I knew I had to be firm with him. Reggie has the biggest insecurity streak you can imagine, not that I could blame him. With his background and the way his family treated him, it’s a wonder he does as well as he does.<br /><br />“Thanks, Cecily, you’re a very special friend. I wish I could live up to your belief in me.”<br /><br />“Oh, Reggie, you do; up to it and beyond.”<br /><br />I guided him outside and lead him to my car. When I saw him looking towards his own vehicle, I told him that it could spend the night right were it was and that I’d take him the next day to pick it up.<br /><br />Reggie was pretty quiet during the drive home but I could see him chewing nervously on his lower lip as we turned onto his street.<br /><br />Eric’s P.O.V.<br /><br />I’ve never felt as relieved as I did the moment I saw Reggie stepping out of Cecily’s car. Cecily went to him, put her arm around his waist and guided him to the front door. I pulled it open as they were coming up the front steps and hobbled out on my crutches to greet them. Reggie’s eyes met mine and I could read the sorrow there. He held back for a moment as though he doubted the type of welcome he would receive. I opened my arms as best I could while balancing on the crutches and he came to me, wrapping his arms around my waist and burying his face in the side of my neck. We stood like that for a moment, just drinking in each other’s presence.<br /><br />Once I felt myself calmed by the solid warmth in my arms, I was able to acknowledge Cecily. “Cecily, thank you so much for bringing him home. Please come in.” I gestured to the doorway.<br /><br />However she just smiled and shook her head. “I’ll leave you two alone for now as you’ve both had a long trying day.” Speaking now to Reggie, who I could see was about to protest her departure, “I’ll call you tomorrow, hon, so we can set a time to go and pick up your car. Sweet dreams.” She kissed him gently on the cheek.<br /><br />“Thank you, Cec!” Reggie called after her. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”<br /><br />Although the temperature had warmed since the ice storm, the evenings were still chilly and standing on the porch had us both shivering. I turned Reggie towards the door and patted his bottom. “Inside before we both catch a chill.”<br /><br />Reggie entered the hallway and waited for me to go through the doorway before he closed and locked it behind us. “Let’s go in the kitchen,” I suggested and pointed the way with my raised crutch. He walked slowly ahead of me and stood nervously beside the table as I took a chair. “Go get a couple of bottles of water, honey, then come and sit with me.”<br /><br />He brought two chilled bottles from the fridge and placed one in front of me before taking the seat opposite to mine. He cracked the seal on his bottle and took a long pull before he sat it back on the table. “Do you need some Tylenol?” I asked.<br /><br />He shook his head. “No, Cecily gave me some already.”<br /><br />“Are you feeling alright?”<br /><br />Reggie closed his eyes and let out a faintly whispered, “No, I’m feeling like a jack ass.”<br /><br />I couldn’t help the small smile that crossed my face. This was my Reggie. “Well I suppose you have cause to feel poorly at the moment. How many beers did you have?”<br /><br />He hesitated looking thoughtful as if trying to count them off in his mind. His head bowed and he looked up at me sheepishly. “Seven or eight I think.”<br /><br />I shook my head at this declaration; he’d be feeling this for a while. “Have you eaten anything since breakfast?” His sad headshake got me up to the fridge. He tried to protest that he wasn’t hungry and that he could fix something for himself but I made him stay in the chair and drink his water while I fixed him a ham and cheese sandwich.<br /><br />He sat and silently finished the sandwich before he spoke again. “Eric, I’m so sorry for what I did. I…”<br /><br />I cut him off before he could get worked up again. “Not now, babe. We’re both too tired to deal with this now. Let’s go to bed, have a cuddle and then we’ll deal with it tomorrow when we’re fresh.”<br /><br />It took several minutes of weak protesting on his part and cajoling on my part to get him upstairs, undressed and tucked into bed. But despite his protests, he was sleeping soundly ten minutes later.<br /><br />Reggie’s P.O.V.<br /><br />The alcohol in my system combined with the feelings of guilt worked together giving me bizarre dreams throughout the night, but at some point I must have slipped into a deeper sleep, as I was shocked to wake up and find it had gone past nine-thirty. I could hear the sounds of Eric in the kitchen below and the smell of coffee and bacon assailed me. Surprisingly enough I was not feeling too bad, I suppose all the water I drank and the Tylenol had worked its magic. I had a mild headache but knew that it would vanish once I’d eaten.<br /><br />After I quickly showered and dressed, I headed to the kitchen. I was filled with mixed feelings; part of me longed to be with Eric to feel his quiet strength as he held me, the other part dreading the ‘dealing with my actions’ that was coming.<br /><br />As I entered the kitchen I was greeted by the sight of Eric standing with his crutches at the stove. I was once again filled with the deep guilt I carried for being the cause of his injury. Eric turned and gave me one of his winning smiles, which I tried to return.<br /><br />“Morning, sweetheart. Coffee’s ready. Get yourself some and some OJ as well. How’s the head?” he asked.<br /><br />“Thanks,” I replied. “Head’s not bad at all really. Can I get you coffee or juice?”<br /><br />He declined and finished scooping the scrambled eggs onto the plates along with the bacon from the warmer and freshly buttered toast. I took the plates to the table and we sat together.<br /><br />As we ate I tried to screw up my courage to talk to him. “Eric, about yesterday I…”<br /><br />He cut me off. “Not now, Reggie. We’ll discuss this after we both have a good meal in our stomachs.”<br /><br />“But I…”<br /><br />He raised his hand and gave me ‘the look’ I knew enough not to argue with that. He brought up small talk about how poorly the Leafs were playing, weather and the state of the local government. It wasn’t until we’d eaten and had the kitchen tidied up that he was finally prepared to discuss the real issue at hand.<br /><br />Eric wrapped his arms around my waist and kissed me as he leaned against the counter. “Okay, babe, let’s go into the office and we can talk.”<br /><br />This trip always reminds me of the film ‘Dead Man Walking’. I feel just like the condemned. Usually Eric walks beside me with his hand on my back to offer some support and I think too make sure I don’t try and make a break for it. But today, hobbling on crutches, he couldn’t provide that bit of security. I had to make this journey unaided by my lover.<br /><br />We sat as we always do, side by side on the old worn couch. Eric rested his crutches against the wall and took my hands in his. He gave me a reassuring smile. “Reggie, I really need to understand what has been going on with you these last few days. I appreciate that you have been worried about me since I fell and that having to help me has been a strain, but there is something more going one with you, babe, and you need to tell me cuz I still haven’t passed my Top’s mind reading class.”<br /><br />That’s my Eric, always trying to lighten a difficult moment with a touch of humour. If only it could help with how I was feeling now. “Eric, there is absolutely NO strain involved in helping you. I love you. Taking care of you is my pleasure and joy.” I drew a deep breath; it was time to let out the whole ugly truth. “You deserve so much more than me. I’m such a fuck up. I…”<br /><br />Eric jumped on that line before another word could be spoken. He pulled me over so fast my head was spinning and landed two very hard swats to my backside. “You will not speak that way about the man I love! Is that clear?”<br /><br />I was startled and my breath caught in my throat. “I’m sorry…” I choked.<br /><br />He pulled me upright again and kissed me gently. “Now are you ready to try this again?” he asked.<br /><br />“You don’t understand, Eric!” I exclaimed.<br /><br />“Then make me understand, honey. I want to know what the problem is. However, that doesn’t mean I’ll accept you being self-abusive while you’re explaining it.”<br /><br />I nodded. Self-depreciation was a big issue with Eric. He would never let me run myself down, no matter how much I deserved it. I had to word this in a way that would not set Eric off again before I even finished.<br /><br />“Your fall, on the porch; well it was my fault. I didn’t clear the ice like I was supposed to. I screwed up and you’re paying for it.” There the words were finally out. I buried my face in my hands, not wanting to see the look on Eric’s face. But there was no hiding from him as his hands gently pulled mine away and his gentle voice commanded me to look at him.<br /><br />“Reggie, I know for a fact that you cleared the ice. I noticed it as soon as I got out of the car, the place looked great. Also Mrs. T. told me about how you were out clearing our ice and then came over and did hers as well. So what are you talking about?” he asked patiently.<br /><br />“That’s the problem, don’t you see? I didn’t finish, I was about to salt the steps when Mrs. T. came outside dragging this huge bag of salt. I couldn’t let that sweet old lady take a fall so I went running over and cleared all her ice. Then she invited me in for coffee and cake, you know she makes this really good banana cake. When I came home I forgot to go back and finish the steps. So you see, it’s all my fault. Damn ADHD! I can’t keep my mind from wandering long enough to finish a simple job. I’m so sorry, Eric.”<br /><br />My eyes were squeezed shut with tears escaping between the closed lids during most of my speech. I couldn’t bear the look of disgust I knew Eric must have had on his face. So I was quite shocked when I felt his arms wrap around me and felt gentle, loving kisses being planted all over my face.<br /><br />Eric’s P.O.V.<br /><br />“Oh, baby,” I crooned over and over. “This is what this is all about?” I asked, not really expecting an answer. “You’re telling me that you diligently did all of the salting but stopped at the front steps when our elderly, frail neighbour needed your assistance. That you did her salting for her, accepted her reward of coffee and cake, then came home and did the laundry after that. But you’re carrying some horrible self-imposed guilt because you humanly forgot that you hadn’t finished the last tiny bit of salting at the front? And that now you are blaming yourself and ADHD for a tiny bit of human error?”<br /><br />“I am to blame, Eric. If I had done the job, you would not have fallen and there is no getting around that,” Reggie mumbled miserably.<br /><br />I took him by the shoulders and held him back enough for him to look me in the eye. I took my time to speak carefully, to ensure he understood exactly what I meant. “Reggie, I had an accident. I slipped and fell on ice. These things happen all the time. You, my beloved partner, are no more to blame for me falling than I am. Frankly, after a storm like that, I should have been taking more care on steps, watching where I was walking. But I’m not going to waste my time dwelling on what ifs. The facts are my ankle is broken. However, it will heal. But you, my beloved, will not unless you can let go of your guilt and you mean more to me than my ankle or frankly any other body part. Reggie, you are my life, don’t let a small oversight damage the man I love.”<br /><br />He looked at me with eyes filled with unshed tears. “I love you, Eric.”<br /><br />“If you truly mean that then grant me this wish and forgive yourself, please.”<br /><br />He smiled at me and those tears lost the battle and slipped down his cheeks. “I can’t deny you anything.”<br /><br />We cuddled together for a while just enjoying some loving closeness. However, I knew there were other issues we had to deal with, issues that could be just as damaging. I knew waiting longer would do neither of us any good. So as I sat stroking Reggie’s soft hair, I spoke. “We still need to deal with what happened yesterday, don’t we?” I could feel his slight nod under my hand and feel the tension increase in his body. “You threw yourself a mighty temper tantrum, my lad, and then decided to top that off by running away and getting drunk. Not exactly a shining moment in your life, was it?”<br /><br />“Not one of my better ones I guess,” he answered. “Eric, I am sorry for what I did and said. Please forgive me.”<br /><br />“Always, darling. However, we do have rules and consequences in this relationship, don’t we?” He didn’t answer, just nodded solemnly.<br /><br />‘Get on with this,’ I told myself. Drawing a deep breath, I continued, “Let’s review the facts. You had a problem, which you chose to hide from me. Then you ran away, you turned off your cell phone, and you went way beyond your limit of alcohol consumption. Does that about cover it?” I asked.<br /><br />His whispered “Yes” was barely audible, but I let it go.<br /><br />“Okay, let’s get this done.” I encouraged firmly. Reggie knew what was expected and though he may not have appreciated it at the moment, this was what he needed to wipe the slate clean. He stood slowly and undid his jeans, lowering them along with his boxers down his thighs. I pulled him firmly down over my lap and made sure he was positioned properly.<br /><br />I placed my left arm firmly around his waist and drew him in close. Resting my right hand on the tender skin of his bottom for a moment, I steeled myself then raised it quickly and brought it down smartly on the cheek closest to me. He let out a startled yelp followed by several others as I continued. It always takes a great effort for me to bring this kind of pain to the one I love, but I know it’s what he needs to give him closure and the security of knowing I am in charge.<br /><br />The spanking proceeded quickly and by the end, his bottom was an even shade of fiery red and he was weeping softly. I pulled him up into my arms and he cried out the last of his tears into my shoulder. We remained together on the sofa for almost an hour, wrapped in the old afghan I had pulled over us, before either of us felt like moving.<br /><br /> We spent the rest of the day together as if attached at the waist, reassuring little touches passing between us every few minutes.<br /><br />It was another six weeks before I saw the end of that cast. By that time, spring had fully arrived, the tulips had bloomed and ice storms were a rapidly fading memory. The last of Reggie’s guilty feelings faded with the disappearance of the plaster case on my leg. Life with my beloved Brat may not make for a bump-free road, but then it’s all about the journey, isn’t it?<br /><br />The EndLJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09209660278651151524noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5264733879903421897.post-557974712047969372009-05-01T18:25:00.000-07:002009-05-01T18:31:53.085-07:00Stop! Look! Listen!Written By: Mel<br /><br />Question: Have you ever felt that the punishment you have administered to your Brat was either the wrong one or administered unjustly.<br /><br /><br />I have been looking at this question for sometime now and have tried very hard to tell my guilt ridden brain to shut up and ignore it. After all it's done and over with, Reggie and I worked it out and he's forgiven me for jumping to conclusions. So why am I still feeling badly two years later? After all I'm human, aren't I? You know to err is human and all that wonderful stuff and lord knows that my dear boy is divine enough to have forgiven me.<br /><br />The responsibility you accept when you take on the role of Top in a DP relationship is very serious; it would be extremely easy to become taken with the power and control your partner/Brat so willingly gives to you. The trust it takes for them to relinquish that control is so incredible, no descent person would want to destroy it by abusing it. This is my story of how I almost destroyed that trust.<br /><br />Two years ago this spring, Reggie was studying for his final exams; his graduation was only weeks away. I was so proud of him. He had worked hard to achieve his degree and it was finally within his grasp.<br /><br />We had weaned him off of the Ritalin more than two years previous. Although it hadn't been an easy process for either of us, it was well worth the effort. A well-regimented regime of diet, exercise and proper sleep; balanced with discipline and structure had given Reggie the tools he needed to realize his dreams. Did I tell you how proud I was of him? LOL Okay, I did but it bears repeating. It's not as if we didn't have our struggles. Reggie had a sore bottom more times than either of us cared to remember but none of the issues had been terribly serious, mostly simple losses of temper and disobedience of the rules of behaviour we had agreed on.<br /><br />Through a great deal of effort and a little trial and error, we’d learned that he was good to study for two hours at a stretch with thirty minute breaks. During break times I would ensure he’d get something to eat whether it was a full meal or just a small nutritious snack, and that he’d do something physical such as taking a walk or some simple stretching exercises. This routine seemed to really work for Reggie, not that he was always cooperative about following it though.<br /><br />We’d had many times when he had trouble settling in and wanted to break after less than an hour and of course times when the opposite was true and I had to drag him away when he was engrossed in what he was doing. It might sound odd to drag him away from his work when concentration was such a problem for him. But if he was allowed to go beyond the two-hour limit, he would become exhausted and temperamental and he would not retain the information he was reading anyway, so the time was being wasted.<br /><br />My story begins on a Friday afternoon; Reggie’s last exam was scheduled for the following Monday morning. We had both agreed he would decline social events for this weekend in order to put all his concentration into his studies. It had originally been my plan to come home early, prepare a good meal for both of us and then Reggie would spend a few hours studying. However a last minute wrench was thrown into those plans by way of an explosion at the pharmaceutical company where I work. I work in the research department and was contentedly going about my business when the workstation six meters from mine exploded into flame.<br /><br />Fortunately, it was not a major explosion but it was enough to cause some serious burns to the chemist working there and send glass and other debris flying through the room. I had been hit by a couple of the pieces and had some minor cuts to my arm and face, nothing serious thank god but startling none the less. The whole mess took some time to straighten out and of course the fire department and ambulance had responded.<br /><br />I called Reggie as soon as I was able and filled him in on what was happening. He was distressed that I had been injured. However after repeated assurances that I was perfectly fine and was only held up by the investigation and clean up he seemed to calm down.<br /><br />I reminded him he was to stay at home and work, which of course only gained me a smart mouthed remark about his not being totally irresponsible and knowing what he had to do. Then we discussed in detail the schedule I wanted him to follow until I came home. He agreed to set a timer to help him stick to it and I told him I would call the little Deli he loved and order some dinner to be delivered to him, and he promised that he would eat all of it when it arrived. I explained it would likely be eleven or after by the time I got home.<br /><br />Finally feeling comfortable with the situation at home, I was able to return and deal with the mess at work. Fortunately it didn’t take as long as I had originally anticipated and I found myself pulling in our driveway by nine-fifteen. According to his schedule Reggie should have been at his desk studying at that time, so you can imagine my surprise to find the driveway devoid of his car. Frowning unhappily, I entered the house in search of a note from my errant lover and felt my dander rise further when none was to be found. Calling his cell phone proved to be a futile effort as well.<br /><br />Now on every Friday evening there was a standing party of sorts that a lot of Reggie’s friends attended at an off campus watering hole called McClusker’s. He had gone to there (with my blessing) on a number of occasions. There had been a couple of instances early on of his drinking too much which cost him dearly with a very sore behind, but since then he had been very good about sticking to a one beer limit if he was driving and two if I was picking him up. However tonight it was a zero limit since he was supposed to be at home studying.<br /><br />I was storming out to my car with the intention of looking for him there when his car turned into the driveway. I was at his door before he could even open it, and could see the look of surprise on his face when he saw me. As soon as he opened the door the odour of beer assailed me. He’d been drinking and more than he should have by the smell. I will confess to already being short of temper from the incident at work and finding an empty house when I got home, so the smell coming from my partner just furthered my irate mood.<br /><br />“You’ve been at McClusker’s!” I accused.<br /><br />“Yes, I…” he began but I cut him off before he could attempt any excuse.<br /><br />“Get in the house, Reggie!” I snapped.<br /><br />“Eric, please I…” he tried again but I was having nothing to do with his excuses. I swatted him four times right were we stood in the driveway.<br /><br />“Move it now, Reggie, and don’t say a word!” I ordered. I swatted him twice more as we entered the house, my anger getting the best of me. I sent him to the office and told him to find a corner until I calmed myself a bit. I didn’t normally use corner time, because frankly I don’t think it an effective punishment but I was furious and wanted the time it would provide me.<br /><br />There is no reasonable excuse for what I did next. I offer the following only as an explanation not an excuse. My day had been very stressful. I was concerned for my injured colleague from work, the cuts on my arm were stinging and now my partner had defied me and gone off drinking when he should have been studying. Topping it all off, he had been driving in a less than sober state by the smell of him.<br /><br />To this day I am ashamed of my actions. I did not take the time I should have to fully calm down, if anything I probably allowed myself to become further incensed before I went into the office. Reggie was standing stiffly in the corner when I pulled out the straight-backed chair and took a seat. I called him over and told him to drop his pants. He tried once again to speak but sadly I wasn’t in a listening kind of mood. I can still hear the words I spoke echoing through my mind. “I cannot believe you, Reggie. You knew you were to stay home and study tonight. Hell, you agreed it was the right thing then you go out without a word to me. No note, nothing. And then you drive home while stinking like a brewery. I am ashamed of you. You’re going to remember this for a long time, young man.”<br /><br />He eyes were shining brightly with unshed tears as I pulled him over my lap and began to pepper his bottom with hard unrelenting smacks. By the time I was finished his cheeks were a bright red and he was crying freely. I was much calmer as I pulled him into my arms and held him as he recovered. He repeated a litany of ‘I’m sorry’ into my ear as I rubbed his back. We went upstairs, showered and then settled into bed for the night. Feeling all the trouble was now behind us, I declared that we would start afresh in the morning. Reggie was unusually quiet but otherwise seemed himself. We fell asleep pressed together with my arm draped over him.<br /><br />I had thought the matter settled after I’d punished him, but I couldn’t have been more wrong.<br /><br />When I woke at seven-thirty the next morning, Reggie was already out of bed. I fumbled for my robe and padded down the stairs where I found him showered, dressed and sitting at his desk studying.<br /><br />“Good morning, baby,” I said as I bent over to give him a kiss. He smelled of soap and his usual spicy after-shave, a delicious thing to get up to. “What time did you hit the books?”<br /><br />I received as brief kiss and a mumbled “Six o’clock” in return as he concentrated on the books before him.<br /><br />“Okay, I’ll make us some breakfast. It will be ready for eight in time for your break.”<br /><br />“K” was the only response I received.<br /><br />I made his favourite breakfast, omelets with sharp cheddar cheese and green onions, crisp rye toast, orange juice and coffee. We ate while I did most of the talking and he responded appropriately but once again seemed a little quieter than usual. I put it down to residual feeling from the night before along with nervousness over the upcoming exam.<br /><br />The rest of the morning and afternoon continued in the same way. He took his breaks as requested, ate what I put in front of him and took a walk or whatever physical activity I suggested. He was cooperative but still very quiet, his sentences being of as few words as possible without being sullen or short. I asked him a couple of times if he was okay and I was assured all was well, that he just had his mind on his studies.<br /><br />The phone rang as I was preparing dinner and by the time I hung up I was in shock, feeling like the lowest kind of human on earth. All I kept thinking as I walked into the office to face Reggie, was how could I make this up to him. How could I ask him to forgive me?<br /><br />The caller had been Reggie’s friend, Bryan. He’d asked to speak with Reggie but I had said he was studying and shouldn’t be disturbed.<br /><br />“Please just tell him thank you again for coming last night,” Bryan said. “I don’t know what I would have done if he hadn’t. Tell him I got the ticket and the flight leaves in two hours. I’ll pay him back as soon as I can. I know it will take a while but… well, he’s just the best guy on earth. I’m sure you already know that though, don’t you?”<br /><br />I was beginning to feel the edge of an emotion I didn’t like; guilt. Something had gone down last night that I didn’t know about. “Yes, Bryan,” I replied. “I know he’s the best guy on earth. However, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”<br /><br />“He didn’t tell you?” Bryan asked. “Just like him not to brag about his good deed. I’ll tell you what he did for me. My sister called me yesterday to tell me my mom is in the hospital back home in Vancouver. She has cancer and isn’t expected to live much longer.” He paused as if to gather himself. “There was no way on earth I could get home to see her. I just don’t have the money for a flight. You know I’m living off student loans and a part-time job at the bookstore. My dad died years ago and my mom had to work hard just to keep a roof over our heads, so no one back home has the money to send me either.”<br /><br />“Well, last night I went to McClusker’s to drown my sorrows in some beer. Sheila, one of our friends from school was trying to help but I got stinking drunk, so she called Reggie. He dropped what he was doing and came right away. When he heard the story he just up and writes me a cheque for the cost of the trip like it was nothing. I was so damn grateful I stood up to hug him and ended up spilling beer on his shirt. We got him dried off but when he dropped me home he still smelled like a brewery. I hope it didn’t ruin his shirt.”<br /><br />I was in shock. All I could do was to mumble that Reggie’s shirt was fine and that I was glad he told me the story and hoped he got home in time to be with his mother. I don’t even remember hanging up the phone, but I’ll never forget that walk into the office and staring at this beautiful man whom I loved and didn’t deserve. I walked up beside him, pulled him up from the chair and wrapped him in my arms and planted several kisses on his face.<br /><br />“Bryan just called,” I said.<br /><br />That was all it took. My dear sweet boy knew and forgave me. The sad part was that he actually felt he had been at fault for going to Bryan’s rescue without asking me. Although I said I would have liked him to have left a note, that certainly did not excuse me for punishing him without listening to his side of the story. We both learned a lesson in communication that day. I just wish I could forgive myself as thoroughly as Reggie has forgiven me.<br /><br />So that’s my sad answer to the question. I hope all of the Tops who read this, will remember what happened to us and never allow such a thing to happen to them.<br /><br />EricLJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09209660278651151524noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5264733879903421897.post-54104818183276504792009-05-01T18:16:00.000-07:002009-05-01T18:25:39.789-07:00AbandonedWritten By: Mel<br /><br /><br />Okay, I’ll confess I was in a bad mood, but it wasn’t my fault. My best friend had to go out of town for a week and I was alone, abandoned by the person I’d come to count on when I was in trouble and boy, was I in trouble.<br /><br />Cecily, that’s my best friend’s name, had come into my life a year ago quite by accident. I am a civil engineer and work in the planning department of the City Hall. Cecily’s a teacher and she had brought her grade six class down for a tour and a chance to meet the Mayor. I had a major project to present to the town council that afternoon and was rushing down the hallway with an armload of blue prints just as Cecily and her class were coming up the hall. As I turned the corner, so did Cecily and well you guessed it, we collided. <br /><br />Rolls of blue prints were strewn all over the floor along with a pretty young woman with long dark brown hair. I was horrified to have knocked someone over in my haste and immediately bent to help her up. She in turn seemed equally distressed over the mess of blue prints on the floor all around us.<br /><br />We were surrounded by a gaggle of giggling twelve-year-olds who seemed to think that seeing their teacher dumped on the floor was equivalent to the best of slapstick comedy. I soon had my plans gathered back in my arms and after making what must have been the tenth apology, I left this teacher and her students to continue their tour. I went on to make my presentation and it was to my pleasure a huge success.<br /><br />That same evening I was meeting my partner, Eric, for dinner at a restaurant near to our home and I was in the mood to celebrate after my success that afternoon. Eric was running late so I took a booth by the front and ordered a glass of wine while I waited. As I was reading the menu someone sat down across from me. I looked up fully expecting to see my partner’s face and was taken back by the smiling visage of the young teacher I had bowled over that afternoon.<br /><br />“Fancy meeting you here,” she said with a smile.<br /><br />I laughed and we began to chat. After chuckling over this afternoon’s collision, we exchanged names and pleasantries. The ringing of my cell phone interrupted our conversation and I excused myself to take the call.<br /><br />“Reggie, honey, I’m so sorry…..,” Eric began.<br /><br />I knew immediately this wasn’t going to be a phone call I liked. Eric spent five minutes explaining and apologizing, giving me all the perfectly reasonable and logical reasons he couldn’t meet me for dinner. He followed this up with a set of very toppish instructions, not to have any more alcohol than I’d already had, to eat a healthy meal and to go straight home afterwards. Well I wasn’t exactly a happy camper and snapped to phone shut harder than was strictly good for it.<br /><br />I had forgotten that Cecily was still sitting across from me until I looked up to see her frowning face. <br /><br />“Trouble?” she asked sweetly.<br /><br />I know I must have looked pretty angry and by God, I was. Who did he think he was, standing me up for dinner and then giving me orders on what to drink and eat? “My partner,” I explained. “He’s not going to be able to join me for dinner.”<br /><br />“Business partner?” she inquired.<br /><br />“Life partner,” I explained.<br /><br />The tiniest hint of a frown seemed to pass over her face but so brief was it, I couldn’t say for sure as her pretty smile reappeared. <br /><br />“Are you meeting someone?” I asked her.<br /><br /> She laughed and said, “I had actually come in to get some take out, when I saw you sitting there and couldn’t resist saying hello.” She paused as if considering something then asked. “Do you feel like some company?”<br /><br /> I was still steaming at Eric and the thought of eating my dinner all alone wasn’t pleasant, so I readily agreed. Being in full Brat mode, I ordered more wine and Cecily joined me. As we talked we found we had a lot in common. Over the course of the meal I ordered several more glasses of wine. Cecily stopped drinking after her second glass.<br /><br /> Of course the more I drank, the looser grew my tongue. She was wonderfully easy to talk to and I began to tell her about Eric and me, how we’d met, about my family and background. Now this conversation wasn’t totally one-sided. Cecily was sharing stories of her life with me and that is where the cat slipped out of the bag.<br /><br />Cecily told me of a recent incident in her life where she was terribly upset with something rather mean-spirited that a colleague had done to her. She explained that in her anger she decided to take a bit of revenge on this person. She had been in the staff office an hour before a meeting and saw this guy finishing up a Power Point presentation he would be giving for the meeting. When he left the room she quickly sat at the computer and made a fast alteration to the name of the school principal from Mr. Walter Cummings to Mr. Walters Cumming, as well as changing the title of the presentation from ‘Inter-Connections Between Courses’ to ‘Inter-Course Between Connections’.<br /><br />When I started to roar with laughter over this, she shook her head sadly and said that although at the time everyone had laughed, the poor guy had gotten so upset by ‘his’ error that he requested a transfer to another school. Cecily ended up being chewed up with guilt over her prank.<br /><br />With alcohol as lubricant, my mouth moved without the effort of thought. “Eric would have paddled my ass till it was blue for a move like that. He hates pranks especially when they are done as revenge.” It took me a moment to realize what I had said. I was in shock and my face must have turned twenty different shades of red.<br /><br />When I finally looked up, I expected to see shock or possibly disgust in the face before me, instead I saw what seemed to be a slight smile and nod of understanding. Could she really understand what kind of relationship Eric and I shared?<br /><br />I tried to speak. “I umm….well I…” was all that would come out. Where was the ease of speaking that the alcohol had provided a few seconds before?<br /><br />“Reggie, you don’t need to be embarrassed. It’s okay, it’s none of my business I know, but I do understand. I know about domestic discipline, if that’s what you were referring to.” She gave me the sweetest gentlest smile. “I realize that I hardly know you, but I like you. I pride myself on being a good judge of character and can just tell that you are a good man and I’d like to get to know you better. I think we could become good friends.”<br /><br />My head was spinning. Between the embarrassment and the alcohol I didn’t know what to say, but there was something about this sweet woman, something that made me feel that I could tell her anything and she’d understand me.<br /><br />That was a little over a year ago and we have become fast friends. Cecily has become my confessor, my confidant. Of all the people I know, only Eric do I trust more than Cecily.<br /><br />Now here was I in huge trouble with Eric. Ha! Trouble isn’t a strong enough word. Eric was going to kill me and I didn’t have my best friend to talk with, to help me face what I had done and listen to me pour out my feelings after I’d lived through the consequences. It’s so stupid if I think about it. I mean I managed to deal with these things before Cecily came into my life. Why had it become so hard now?<br /><br />Then I thought about Eric’s car and I knew I needed someone to help calm me so I could go forth and explain to my partner what I had done. Eric had bought a brand new Toyota Celica with manual transmission. This had been his dream car; he’d saved for a long time and had it special ordered with all the bells and whistles he wanted.<br /><br />Normally I wasn’t all that interested in cars, having come from a family of wealth I’d seen and driven my share of nice cars. However, with all the cars I’d driven, none had had a manual transmission. Only two days after he’d taken possession of the car, Eric took me out to an empty parking lot and with infinite patience attempted to teach me the finer points of driving a stick. To say the least, I was not a quick student. Oh, I did try but it seemed I had slipped back to my school days when ADHD was in full control of my behaviour. The whole thing ended rather unhappily with Eric displeased and me sporting a sore behind.<br /><br />That was last night. The night that as if by some horrible design, both my partner and best friend left town for business trips. Eric was only to be gone for two nights, but Cecily was representing special education teachers at a conference in Montreal and would be gone all week.<br /><br />Before Eric left he made sure to instruct me not to touch his car. Oh, he was kind about assuring me that with patience I would learn to drive a manual transmission, but I wasn’t to attempt to do so on my own. I had of course promised not to even lay a finger on his precious car, but it seemed the fates were conspiring against me.<br /><br /> The following morning I was running late for work, I always have trouble getting up without Eric there to jostle me out of bed. The second I turned the key in the ignition of my car I knew I was in trouble, no sound of the engine turning nothing at all but a slight clicking noise. Damn the fucking battery was dead. A glance at the dashboard gave the explanation I’d left the headlights on when I’d come home the evening before after dropping Eric at the airport. Now what was I to do?<br /><br />The answer was parked right in front of me, Eric’s shiny new car. Of course a little voice in the back of my head was yelling out ‘Don’t you dare!’ but the Brat voice was yelling out much louder ‘Come on take it, he’ll never know’. It was the Brat voice that won the argument. I tore into the house for the spare keys he’d so carefully placed in his desk drawer.<br /><br />When I started up the car I knew I’d have to do some cautious maneuvering to get it out of the driveway. My car was parked behind it and although our drive is wider than a single car width, it would be extremely tight for two cars to be side by side. The top half of the driveway is flanked on one side by the house and the other by two large maple trees. My car was up close to the house so I would have to back Eric’s out around it and ease between it and the trees.<br /><br />Drawing a deep breath and totally ignoring the little voice yelling at me to stop, I steeled myself to do this. I carefully thought through the positions for reverse and first gear, I easily got it into reverse and began the maneuvering. I was feeling quite proud of myself as I got the car worked over to the other side of the drive and began to reverse it between my car and the trees. I got it past the first tree and realized that I was slightly angled and could end up clipping my own car; so I pulled forward and straightened out a bit and started to back up again.<br /><br />At that same moment, the garbage collection truck stopped at the bottom of the driveway to pick up the trash. I braked and waited for him to move on. That’s when disaster struck. I got confused and didn’t realize I was already in reverse and I put the thing into first. I don’t know what happened to my brain in the next few seconds, but it obviously stepped out and left me. As I started to move forward, instead of breaking I put my foot on the gas and sent the right front fender scraping against the bark of the maple tree. By some great fortune my brain began to work again quickly enough for me to brake and prevent the whole side of the car from being dragged against the tree. I managed to get the car stopped and sat there with my heart pounding so loud in my chest, I was sure they could hear it twenty miles away. I couldn’t tell you how long I sat without moving, but finally I pulled myself together enough to get shakily out and walk around the vehicle to assess the damage.<br /><br />The paint had been badly scratched from the front of the fender back to the wheel well but thank the gods, it didn’t appear to have damaged the fender itself. The metal wasn’t dented or crumpled at all. It could have been much worse. I knew that, but it wasn’t going to save my hide. Eric was going to kill me, and hell I couldn’t blame him. I wanted to kill me.<br /><br />I began to feel dizzy and queasy. The longer I looked at the damage, the sicker I felt. Moments later I was kneeling on the grass, heaving up bile from my empty stomach. I climbed back to my feet when I was feeling less nauseous and made my way slowly back into the house. I knew the cause of my dizziness was not only the accident but by the fact that I had eaten nothing that morning in my rush to get out the door to work on time. I laughed at the irony there since one of the things Eric had reminded me of before he left was to eat properly and not skip breakfast. Eating regularly is one of the most important things I do to keep my ADHD in control, steady blood sugar levels with balanced nutrition make a huge difference in how I cope. Now not only had I disobeyed Eric by driving his car, I had also broken the cardinal rule about eating.<br /><br />At this point I knew I was too upset to manage work, so I called in and told my boss I was sick. Not really a lie was it? I mean I was feeling like crap and had just heaved my guts up on the lawn, if that doesn’t qualify as sick I don’t know what does. I went and lay down on the living room couch for the next hour trying to pull myself together, but the upset of the accident combined with low blood sugar just lead me to a massive headache.<br /><br />I picked up the cordless phone half a dozen different times, alternating from wanting to call Eric or Cecily. Each time I would begin to punch in their cell phone numbers and each time I hung up before I was finished. I couldn’t bring myself to disturb either of them during a business trip, especially with my embarrassment over what I had done. I paced the floor and walked in and out of the house, looking again and again at the damage to the car, hoping for some miracle that would make the huge scratch just disappear.<br /><br />As the day wore on, I was becoming more and more agitated. I thought a couple of times about eating, knowing that that would be the first thing Eric would want me to do, but I felt so ill every time I even considered food that I didn’t have a thing. The more I thought about this trouble I was in, the more I convinced myself it was all the fault of my car having such a lousy battery. A battery I had bought only last winter from the mechanic Eric always used. The guy was the brother of one of Eric’s friends and always gave us a break on the labour portion of the bill. That was the problem, that stupid ass had sold me an inferior battery, this was entirely his fault.<br /><br />I went into Eric’s office to get the number and call this guy to give him a piece of my mind. Eric normally kept his personal phone book in his top desk drawer, but when I looked there it was not to be found. I pulled the drawer out all the way and began to toss the contents on the desk top as I searched. One by one I went through all the drawers dumping papers and supplies all over the desk and floor in my frantic need to call the mechanic. It wasn’t until after turning his office into a war zone that I came to the conclusion that Eric must have taken the book with him. Of course, being a man of brilliant forethought it then occurred to me that I could have looked the number up in the yellow pages.<br /><br />Minutes later, with number in hand I was on the phone to John’s Auto Shop. John had a small independent business and was often too busy to take calls himself, leaving it to voice mail. When I heard the tone I set out in a tirade that would have shocked a seasoned sailor, accusing John of everything from incompetence to theft. I ended the call with a threat to contact my lawyer and slammed the phone down.<br /><br />I was seriously out of control of myself, pacing the floor and slamming doors and cupboards as I passed them. I was feeling dizzy again and climbed the stairs slowly and crawled under the covers of our bed. I pulled Eric’s pillow to me and was comforted by the telltale scent of his cologne. I needed him and yet I didn’t want to talk to him. How could I? What was I going to say to him? I fell into a fitful sleep and was awakened a couple of hours later by the ringing phone.<br /><br />It was dark in the room illuminated only by the light of the clock on the nightstand. I fumbled for the phone and spoke a groggy hello into the receiver.<br /><br />“Hey, Reggie” came the bubbly voice of my best friend. “You sound like I just woke you. I thought I would have caught you just coming in from work.”<br /><br />“Hi, Cec,” I said trying to sound a little more coherent. “How’s the trip going?”<br /><br />“Havin’ a great time. These conferences are a blast”<br /><br />“That’s nice,” I mumbled. “I’m glad it’s going well for you.” My voice was still rough.<br /><br />“You wanna tell me why you were sleeping at this time of day?” She asked in her usual straight-forward way.<br /><br />Trying to fend her off a bit, I answered her with a question. “Can’t a guy take a nap without an inquisition?”<br /><br />“Okay, sweetie, what’s wrong?”<br /><br />Damn! How could she read me so well? I took a deep breath trying to decide what I wanted to say. “I’ve got a problem.”<br /><br />“What’s happened?”<br /><br />“Nothing really, just Eric’s going to kill me.”<br /><br />I could almost see that gentle understanding smile of hers as she spoke. “Honey, Eric worships you. Nothing you could have done would change that. Now tell me about it and we’ll work this out together.”<br /><br />I sighed, this was what I needed, someone to share this horror with. I recounted the whole sad story for her. As I told her the last bit about leaving the nasty message on the mechanic’s voice male, I added, “I’m such a fucked-up idiot, Cecily. I don’t know why either you or Eric put up with me.”<br /><br />“Stop it right now!” She admonished quickly. “You are NOT a fucked-up idiot or any other kind of idiot either. And Eric and I do not put up with you. We both love you.”<br /><br />I laughed without the slightest bit of humour. “Maybe you two need to rethink that. I know Eric will when he sees his car.”<br /><br />“Reggie, honey, listen to me. I know you’re upset and that can make anyone say things they don’t mean, but you need to remember just how much you are loved and valued. If you think for one second that Eric values you less than he does that car, you are sadly mistaken, my friend.”<br /><br />How does Cecily do this? She has the ability to make me see the bright skies during a hurricane. We talked for nearly an hour and by the time I hung up the phone I was feeling one hundred percent calmer. I was ready to talk with Eric, to face the music as it were. I didn’t have long to wait. Less than ten minutes later the phone was again ringing.<br /><br />My ‘hello’ was answered by the deep and reassuring tones of my partner. “Hey, babe, how are you?”<br /><br />“I’ve been better. Eric, I need to talk with you about something.”<br /><br />His voice was less enthusiastic as he spoke, but still calm and comforting. “Okay, honey, I’m listening.”<br /><br /> Once the whole sordid story was explained; my beloved partner’s first inquiry was of course not about his car or my unpleasant tirade at the mechanic, but simply was I okay. He made me go and get something to eat while he held the phone, then I was told quite firmly to go take a warm bath and get into bed.<br /><br />Less than five minutes after I was in bed, Eric called back and talked to me but not about the accident or the trouble I knew I was in, that he told me in no uncertain terms was not something he would discuss until he was home the next day. Instead he just talked as if there were no problems whatsoever. He told me about his trip, even taking the time to describe the dreary hotel room.<br /><br />“You think you can sleep now, honey?” he inquired after he’d finished talking about his trip.<br /><br />“I’ll try,” I said without much conviction.<br /><br />“Take off your boxers!” he ordered.<br /><br /> “Huh?” was all I could think.<br /><br />“Do it now, Reggie. Take off your boxers.” His voice was deep and husky.<br /><br />I quickly did as I’d been told. “Don’t speak, just do what you’re told. Use just your finger tips and slowly caress your chest and abdomen.” I followed the instructions and felt shivers spreading up my spine. “Now gently pinch your nipples, roll them between your fingers, squeeze harder, now keep pinching.”<br /><br />My cock was soon standing at full attention. “Now slowly, very slowly bring you right hand down till it’s just touching that hard cock of yours.”<br /><br />I laughed, “What makes you think it’s hard?”<br /><br />“Quiet! No talking remember?” he responded. “Using just your index finger slide it up and down the underside and around the head, just keep doing it.” I was beginning to pant with need. “Now take it firmly in your hand, keep pinching your left nipple and stroke yourself, just the way I do it.”<br /><br />Oh god, this was so hot! My breathing quickly was becoming ragged as he told me exactly how to stroke, how hard and how fast. “Okay, a couple more stokes and you’re going to cum. Come on, baby. Now!” I came just as he said the word. As I regained my breath I could hear him chuckle lightly. “Feeling better?”<br /><br />“Oh God, yes!” I whispered.<br /><br />“Now go to sleep, honey. I’ll be home tomorrow afternoon okay? I love you.”<br /><br />“Love you too, Eric. Thank you.”<br /><br />“Night, babe!” he said and he was gone.<br /><br />Despite my worries over what was coming the next day; I slept soundly.<br /><br />I did as Eric told me to do and took a taxi to work the next morning and put in a reasonable day at work. Eric was waiting for me as I came out of the office. He’d taken a cab home from the airport and then drove his beautiful, but scarred new car to pick me up. I couldn’t help but stare at the huge scratch for a moment as I approached it. I was frowning sadly as I opened the door, but I was greeted by a smile, a loving kiss and hug from the man who means the world to me.<br /><br />“Eric, I’m so sorry, I…” I began, but he reached over and squeezed my knee as he pulled away from the curb.<br /><br />“Not now, honey, later at home. Now tell me about your day.” He was so calm and his words so soothing. The drive home was filled with mundane chat, I only wish that is could have totally removed the nagging trepidation in my gut. As we walked in the front door, I was prepared for Eric to take me into his office for our “talk” but instead was lead into the kitchen where the smell of his wonderful Ziti casserole filled the air.<br /><br /> We ate dinner, talking amicably about the upcoming weekend and our plans to go to a friend’s cottage. Anytime I even hinted at the subject of the car, I was firmly told we’d discuss it in his time; not mine.<br /><br /> Finally after we had the kitchen cleaned up, he slipped his arms around my waist, kissed me and then took my hand and led me into his office. Eric has this really old leather sofa that had been his father’s. The leather was kind of worn in spots and a bit stretched out of shape but it was soft and comforting. We sat together as he held both my hands in his and looked deeply into my eyes.<br /><br />“All right, honey, since we didn’t get to discuss this face to face last night, I’d like to hear a full accounting of just what took place yesterday, from the minute you got up until we talked on the phone.” He spoke with such quiet patience, it made me feel even more ashamed of myself.<br /><br />He let me speak at my own pace, interrupting only a few times to clarify a point or two. Not once did he pass any judgement or make a negative remark.<br /><br />“That’s it, up until the moment you called. Eric, I can’t tell you how bad I feel about this.” My voice was shaky and tired.<br /><br />“I’m very glad Cecily called when she did. We are lucky to have such a good friend. It seems she helped you quite a bit.”<br /><br />I nodded my head. “Yes, she’s a very special person. I don’t know what I would have done if she hadn’t called.”<br /><br />Eric squeezed my hands as he spoke. “As I see it, Reggie, it boils down to three points. First, you took or at least attempted to take my car after you had been specifically told not to. Second, you defied the rule about always eating breakfast, although you know that keeping your blood sugar level is important to your control of ADHD. And third, you were unspeakably rude to John in that message you left on his answering machine. When I came home today there was a message from him on our machine. The poor man was terribly distressed over what you said. When I called him back it took me twenty minutes to calm him down and reassure him that we had no intentions of suing him for damages. I had to apologize profusely for you and have promised him that you would be doing the same in person at his shop tomorrow morning.”<br /><br />I hung my head in shame remembering the awful things I had said to this poor man who had never been anything but kind to us.<br /><br />“Okay then, let’s get this taken care of.” Eric is always so calm, even when he is about to sear my backside. He pulled me to my feet in front of him, reached up and undid my belt, then popped the button and pulled down the zipper on my trousers. Sliding his thumbs into the waistband of my boxers he sent everything sliding down to the floor. Before I could draw another breath, I found myself across his lap with his left arm wrapped securely around my waist and his right hand resting on my butt.<br /><br />“Why are you being spanked, Reggie?” he always asked and I hated having to say it. It was embarrassing and felt almost as bad as the spanking itself.<br /><br />“Because I took your car when you said no. I didn’t eat when I’m supposed to and I was rude to John.”<br /><br />I could feel his hand raise off of my bottom and then a split second later felt it crack hard against my right cheek. Eric is nothing if not thorough in everything he does and spanking me is no exception to that rule. His hand moved fast and hard, covering both cheeks and the upper part of my thighs several times over. I tried so hard not to give into tears but I never succeeded. By the third circuit, tears were pouring from between my tightly closed eyes. By the fifth circuit, I was pleading with him to stop, promising to behave forever and a day. No matter how much I begged or kicked, he kept going with intermittent reminders of listening to what I was told, eating properly and thinking before I spoke rudely to someone.<br /><br />My butt felt like it would momentarily burst into flame and I was sobbing uncontrollably when I suddenly realized it had stopped. Eric released his hold on my waist and I slid to my knees on the floor, soaking his jeans with my tears as I held onto him tightly.<br /><br />When I calmed down a bit I found a handful of tissues gently drying my face. Eric pulled me up into his lap, mindful of my tenderized backside and I snuggled into him gratefully, sniveling my sorrow into his shoulder as he gently stroked my back.<br /><br />“It’s okay now, sweetheart, it’s all over. We’re good now.” He repeated this gentle mantra over and over.<br /><br />Yesterday at this time, I felt so alone in the world, abandoned. How I could ever think that way when I was lucky enough to have this wonderful man and a caring dear friend in my life. Abandoned? No way!<br /><br />The End.LJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09209660278651151524noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5264733879903421897.post-91526692978789468742009-05-01T18:06:00.000-07:002009-05-01T18:16:27.626-07:00SecurityWritten By: Mel<br /><br /><br />Reggie's P.O.V.<br /><br />I suppose I should start this tale with an introduction. My name is Reginald Smithaven-Johnson, but everyone who knows me calls me Reggie. I live in an old Victorian house with my partner Eric Coombs. I find it hard to believe that Eric and I have been together for four years. We met during my second year of university, he was guest lecturing in my chemistry class. Eric is a chemical engineer and does research for a major pharmaceutical company and is the most gorgeous hunk of manhood I have even known and what the hell he sees in me I have yet to figure out.<br /><br />At the time we met I was on the maximum safe dosage of Ritalin, for the purpose of controlling ADHD. I had been taking the drug since I was in grade school. Born to wealthy parents, sixteen years after the birth of their only other child, my brother Edward, I was something of a surprise.<br /><br />My mother felt she had done her wifely duty providing my father with a son and heir in the person of my brother and considered me to be at best a distraction to her social life. My father had little time for me. His world revolved around running the family business and training Edward to take over the company when he retired. So of course it came to a shock for these two socialites to be saddled with this unexpected, hyperactive, unyielding child.<br /><br />I was raised with the daily reminder that my brother had always been such a well-behaved boy and I should strive to be more like him. I never found it easy to sit still and be quiet as I was so often admonished to. I wore out a succession of nanny's each of them quitting with the recommendation that my parents `do something about that boy'. But not having the patience to deal with my neediness, they would simply hire a new nanny.<br /><br />By the time I entered the second grade in the Wallingford Academy, I had developed a reputation among the teachers as being a problem child. My parents were finally encouraged to get me professional help and so I found myself dragged off to a child psychiatrist and quickly put onto higher and higher dosages of Ritalin until I reached the maximum amount. Of course this caused other minor side effects such as insomnia so I was put onto sleeping pills as well.<br /><br />I made my way through the succeeding years of school in something of a drugged haze. My parents were quite happy to have a well-behaved, albeit drug-addled child who was easily sent from school to summer camps without cramping their busy lives.<br /><br />I had a few friends along the way but none of whom I would have called particularly close. The nearest thing I came to a good friend was a guidance councilor during my high school years at Ravenrock Preparatory. Mr. Whitehead was one of those teachers who really connected with the kids. Everyone liked him but for some reason beyond my comprehension he took a real shine to me and I to him.<br /><br />I found myself physically attracted to him and wishing he were not my teacher so that I could become his lover. Of course, he never would have allowed me to act on those feelings but they were a powerful reason behind most of my teenage masturbating fantasies.<br /><br />Mr. Whitehead took a group of us boys on a camping trip that fall and it was then that he learned the extent of my Ritalin use. He was not a fan of the widespread use of Ritalin. Oh, he acknowledged there were some kids who did have real problems and for them the drug could be a godsend, but he felt parents and teachers were often just too lazy and uninterested to give kids the time and attention they needed to learn self-discipline. So they would resort to the easy way out and drug the kids into submission.<br /><br />It's funny when I think about it. Mr Whitehead was so popular amongst the kids when you consider just how strict he could be. He was a lot of fun and showed us all learning didn't have to be a torture. His assignments were interesting and we really learned. However he wouldn't suffer slackers. If you were late handing an assignment in or did less than your best work, there were consequences. The worst one of all though was the look of disappointment on his face. No one ever wanted to disappoint Mr. Whitehead.<br /><br />I wanted nothing more than the respect of this man. When he would give you that patented smile of his, the one he gave when he was proud of you, your whole world would light up. It was that smile that had me make arbitrary decision to stop taking my Ritalin in the winter of my sophomore year. I wanted to show him I had that self-discipline he was always talking about. I wanted him to see that I could manage to learn and grow without the use of the drugs.<br /><br />Of course, I made this decision without discussing it with anyone. Going cold turkey after being on the drug for more than eight years caused me horrible side effects and I was suddenly depressed and found myself in my mother's bathroom swallowing a handful of sleeping pills. Fortunately, the housekeeper caught me in the act and I was rushed to hospital to have my stomach pumped.<br /><br />When I was confronted over it, I confessed to having stopped taking the Ritalin and why. My parents were so infuriated when they found out that I had gotten this idea after talking with Mr. Whitehead, they quickly arranged to have him fired. I never saw him again. It was years later that I heard he was teaching at a reform school for boys. I often wondered if he remembered me with anything other than contempt over my attempted suicide and his firing.<br /><br />I never allowed myself to get close to anyone after that. My first real sexual encounter was with a guy I met in a bar one night during my first year at University. He took me to a cheap hotel room and fucked me dry. The pain was beyond belief; the only saving grace was the fact that he'd used a rubber. Nope, relationships were not for me. I wasn't going to get myself hurt by allowing feelings to get in my way.<br /><br />Then along came Eric Coombs. I was seated in the front row during Eric's lecture and although I'm sure what he had to say was very interesting. I couldn't keep my eyes off his beautiful body. He was at least six inches taller than I and about forty pounds heavier. It made me feel so small and insignificant.<br /><br />At the end of the lecture he took questions. I tried so hard to think of an intelligent question to ask of this beautiful man. A question that would make him take notice of me. But in the end I stopped myself. I reminded myself that I wasn't worthy of his attention and there was no sense getting my hopes up.<br /><br />However, at the end of the class as we were all filing out of the lecture hall, my Professor took hold of my arm. "Reggie, I want Mr. Coombs to meet you," he said as he pulled me forward. "Eric, this is the young fellow I was telling you about, Reginald Smithaven-Johnson. He's the son of Edward Smithaven-Johnson Sr., of the Smithaven Foundation."<br /><br />I rolled my eyes, `Oh great, another one just interested in my family money and not in me at all.' Well I couldn't have been more wrong. Eric, it seemed, had been encouraged by Professor Ogilvy to get the inside track on some grant money, but Eric was very weary of the Professor and told me in no uncertain terms he would not be approaching me or my family for research money.<br /><br />However, this gorgeous man kept talking to me. He asked if I was interested in having coffee with him. I was to learn at a later date that the Professor had dropped the less than subtle hint. That Eric and I had something' in common and that maybe Eric might make use of our orientation to get to know me better and therefore have better chance of getting on my good side and getting the money.<br /><br />He asked me out to dinner the next night and before I knew what was happening I was spending the weekend at his house. When Eric learned of my Ritalin use and how long I had been taking it, I could see the disapproval in his chocolate brown eyes. He was like a bloodhound seeking out information on me and my life, and for some reason I found myself compelled to tell him the most personal details about myself.<br /><br />Intimate bits and pieces, my parents and their lack of interest in me, my inability to stick with one thing with out the drugs, my dismal sex life, I laid it all on the table for him. After the second week, Eric presented me with a complete research paper he had done on Ritalin, its effects, indications and contraindications. All in all he felt with what he had learned about me and the drug, there was no way I needed it or should have ever been on it so long.<br /><br />Within the month, this wonderful man and I were living together and he had me begin the long slow journey to making myself Ritalin free. He had a complete timetable drawn up and hauled me off to a specialist to have it approved. We spent the next three months slowly weaning me off.<br /><br />My moods began to swing into highs and lows but he was so patient and kind. However, my lack of concentration soon became more apparent and he made me make up lists and charts with all of my responsibilities. Classes, bills to be paid, assignments to hand in, it went on and on. Then it happened. I blew up and threw a major tantrum over some small issue, which to this day I can't remember although I'm sure he does.<br /><br />Eric brought up the subject of discipline that day and before I knew what had happened I was over his knees getting my bare butt spanked until I thought it would burst into flame. And when it was over he held me in his arms and told me he loved me. He called me his Brat and told me that I would be his and he would be mine forever. That was four years ago, the four best and happiest years of my life.<br /><br />Oh, they haven't been always easy years. I know that I have challenged him and exasperated him, but he still stays with me. I'm not an easy person to live with and off the drugs, I am a hyper personality. But somehow he got me through University and keeps me in line enough to hold down a real responsible job with the city’s planning department. He wouldn't let me take the job with my family’s Foundation that my father offered me when I graduated. He made me see that it wasn't a real job, just a figure head position glad-handing and schmoozing the public.<br /><br />Although I don't have the family money behind me anymore, father cut me off when I wouldn't come and work for him, I am happy with Eric and have pride in what I do.<br /><br />This brings me to this last Saturday afternoon. Eric was out playing golf with some old friends. I don't play as it simply eludes me how people stay patient enough to hit a little ball with a stick and chase it around the grass. Eric had tried teaching me but after the tenth go round he was sporting a black eye where I had accidentally hit him with the club and I was permanently banned from the game.<br /><br />We had plans for that evening, it was Eric's brother's thirtieth birthday and we were going to a big bash his wife was throwing for him. So while Eric went golfing and I stayed home to indulge in one of my favourite past-times. Reading Discipline Fiction stories on the Internet. Eric had actually encouraged this hobby as it gave me the opportunity to read about other people, all be they fictional, who live in our lifestyle. I had recently found a new site by one author and thought this a good time to see what her stories were like.<br /><br />Her writing was good and the first story appealed to me a great deal. The stories were short and easily read in about thirty minutes or less. As I began the second story I found it quite different from the usual Top/Brat fiction. This one was from entirely the Top's point of view and was not exactly happy. This Top spoke of how exhausting it was having this Brat depending on him to make all the decisions of his life. Of how at first it was fun, but it had been a couple of years and it had lost its appeal. The strain of dealing with the same issues all the time, of repeating things over and over with this needy Brat, had worn the man out.<br /><br />I began to compare this to my life with Eric. Was I too wearing my partner out? Could he be growing tired of my neediness? I had, like the Brat in this story, repeated the same ill-behaviours numerous times. The more I thought about it, the more I began to envision my Eric feeling the same way.<br /><br />I read on to a further story with a similar theme, unhappy Top and too needy Brat. Oh God, that was me. I was far too needy. I was going to lose Eric by my behaviour. By the time Eric came in the door from his golf game, I had worked myself into a full-blown panic over it.<br /><br />Poor Eric was confronted with me sobbing in the living room and when he tried to comfort me to find out what the problem was, I started screaming at him to leave me alone; that he was better off without me and since he was growing sick and tired of me anyway, I might just as well pack and leave now. That seemed to be the breaking point as I soon found myself standing in the living room corner, face pressed against the wall.<br /><br />"Now when you've pulled yourself together enough to explain what this is all about then you may come out and not a second before." He spoke with his usual Eric firmness. God, how I was going to miss him, but I might as well face the truth. I was too much trouble and he was better off without me.<br /> <br />Eric's P.O.V.<br /> <br />It was late afternoon when I arrived home from my golf game. I was in a particularly good mood as I had finally broken 90 and was feeling rather amorous. If we timed things right, we could spend a couple of hours in bed having some fun before we needed to get ready for my brother's birthday party that evening.<br /><br />When I walked in the door, I called out to my young lover but got no answer. His car was in the driveway so I knew he was home and thought he might be out in the backyard. As I was walking through to the back I heard a muffled sound coming from the living room. I turned to investigate and found Reggie lying on the sofa with his face buried in a pillow, quietly sobbing.<br /><br />I sat beside him and laid my hand gently on his shoulder so as not to startle him. "Reg, honey what's wrong?" My inquiry was met by a stiffening shoulder and a muffled ‘Go away’. I tried pulling him up into my arms to comfort him but he rolled himself into a tight ball around that pillow. No adult I know can roll themselves into such a tight little ball as my Reggie. He wraps his arms around his pulled up knees and tucks his head down inside. I've been tempted to try picking him up and dropping him, just to see if he would bounce.<br /><br />Determined to help my obviously agitated lover, I slid my arms under that tight little ball to lift him and that's when the ball morphed into a wild cat. Reggie's arms flew out from his body, his right elbow catching me in the nose and causing an explosion of pain. He yelled out "Get away from me!"<br /><br />I was momentarily stunned by the pain in my nose. When I regained my wits, my young lover was swiftly backing up towards the doorway. "Reginald Smithaven-Johnson, stop right were you are!" I yelled out to the fleeing figure and he froze in his tracks, four years of obedience overcoming his desire to run. I stood up still holding my throbbing nose and pulled Reggie back to the couch by the arm. "Sit!" I commanded and then drawing a deep breath, I took a seat beside him.<br /><br />Reggie sat stiffly like a condemned man awaiting his execution. I wrapped my arm around his shoulders and pulled the ridged body up against my own. Taking my free hand, I tilted his chin towards me so I could connect with him but he closed his eyes and turned from me. I took a firmer hold and spoke. "Look at me, Reggie." I tried to keep my voice calm and reassuring but my Brat was having none of it.<br /><br />He squeezed his eyes shut and struggled again to get away from me. "Just let me go!" he shouted. "I know you're sick of me, so let me pack my things and I'll leave!"<br /><br />I held him firmly and tried to calm him several times and obtain some understanding for this inexplicable behaviour change, but Reggie was inconsolable and seemed unable to provide a reason for his near hysteria. Continuing only to yell that I was better off without him and he should leave me now, as he physically fought to pull himself away from me.<br /><br />I knew this was getting me no where so I pulled him up off the couch, landed two firm swats to his bottom, dragged him to the nearest corner and planted him into it. "Now when you've pulled yourself together enough to explain what this is all about then you may come out and not a second before."<br /><br />I sat down in my leather recliner, which gave me a perfect view of my Brat where he stood, face pressed against the wall. Reggie's entire stance was a picture of tension, his hands were balled into fists, his normally beautiful round bubble butt was tucked in and tight, his shoulders were hunched and his legs ramrod straight. As I sat I began to consider the words or accusations that my boy was slinging at me. What in the name of heaven set this off I wondered? He had claimed that I must be sick of him and that I would be better off without him. Even went so far as to say he would leave me. Although I knew Reggie well enough to know that these words were spoken in a state of great agitation and they were not reflective of his honest feelings for me, I will confess that I was not steely enough to hear them and be unmoved by them. Damn, it did hurt.<br /><br />I gave myself and Reggie sufficient time to calm down and ease the hurt. No matter how hard he tried after about ten minutes his muscles began to relax a bit and he went from his soldier like stance to shifting from one foot to the other. When I noticed his head turning slightly in an attempt to ascertain my whereabouts, I knew he was ready to talk.<br /><br />"Reggie, are you ready to explain yourself without throwing a tantrum?" I asked him.<br /><br />He stiffened again slightly but nodded his head. "All right, come here then please." I watched as he drew a deep breath and knew he was steeling himself for what was to come. He turned slowly and shuffled his way over to me, without meeting my eyes. When he got close enough I drew him onto my lap and wrapped my arms around him. Although he didn't relax himself to cuddle into me as was his usual habit when I held him on my lap, he at least wasn't so tense as before. I reached up and gently tugged his lip out from between the teeth that were gnawing it so harshly. "Okay, babe, now will you please explain what this is all about?"<br /><br />His face scrunched up tightly and tears leaked out of his closed lids, with shuddering breaths he repeated his earlier mantra about being too much trouble, and my being better off without him. I placed a finger across his lips and spoke firmly. "I don't want to hear these words again. I've actually heard quite enough of them this evening. What I do want to hear from you is what brought this on, why you're suddenly feeling like this?"<br /><br />"I…I know that's what happens…aft…after time with Brats like me. You… you'll just get sick of me and all the trouble I give you." He turned to look at me; his large red rimmed eyes wet with tears, seemed to me to be pleading to be proven wrong. "Everyone gets sick of me and my neediness after a while. First my parents, then my brother, and teachers, it's only a matter of time before you will feel the same way. We'd both be better off if I left now before it gets any harder than it already is."<br /><br />I wrapped my arms more firmly around him, pulling his body against mine. I kissed his head and whispered gently to him. "Reggie, I love you more than life itself. I would not, could not grow sick of you if we were to live for a thousand years. Now tell me what brought this on."<br /> <br />Reggie's P.O.V.<br /> <br />Why did Eric have to be so nice? Why couldn't he just let me go like I knew he secretly wanted to? I was a loser and a royal pain in the ass, even my father had told me that. Why did I ever think Eric could feel differently? It was so hard to do what I knew I had to do, while I was being held in his arms, while feeling his soft kisses against my head. No! I thought I'm not going to give into him I have to remain strong.<br /><br />"Eric, please just let me go. You don't have to pretend to want me any more!" I struggled to pull from his arms and got a swat on the butt for my efforts.<br /><br />"Didn't you hear what I just told you?" Eric asked me, he sounded exasperated. "I don't know what brought this about, young man, but I am determined to put an end to it. Now unless you are prepared to explain this to me immediately, you can go back to that corner and remain there until you are ready to talk."<br /><br />This was going to be so hard but I knew I had to do it. Not for my sake, but for Eric's. It would be easier for him if I were to leave on my own, than it would be if I were to wait until he was so sick of me he was forced to put me out. Eric was such a nice person that he'd keep me around way beyond the point of wanting me anymore.<br /><br />Yes, I was going to have to stand strong and break it off now. I drew a breath and turned to meet Eric's beautiful chocolate eyes. Putting on the most calm, cool and collected voice I could manage, I spoke. "Eric, let's be adult about this. We simply are not destined to maintain a long-term relationship and it would be better if we call it quits now before it becomes ugly."<br /><br />As he looked at me, the blood drained from his face like wine pouring from a broken bottle. His arms where they held me went limp and slid to his sides. I could see he was shocked by the intensity of my words. Trying to maintain my resolve, I pulled myself up from his lap. That beloved warm lap, the lap that I had found myself laying across being castigated for one misdeed or another, the lap that had cradled me after each correction ensuring no pressure was put on the sizzling skin, the lap I straddled the first time we made love. Oh God, how could this be happening? Unwanted tears began to escape my now tightly clenched eyelids as I turned from my Eric and ran blindly towards the door.<br /><br />I don't suppose I got three feet away when a hand took hold of my biceps and I found myself being firmly steered towards the sofa.<br /><br />"Reggie, you are not running out on us this easily. If you truly meant the words you just spoke you wouldn't be crying like you are. Now we are going to sit down and discuss this. I love you and I am sure that you love me and we need to figure out what is bothering you so we can fix it. So start talking, young man." Eric said this as he pushed me solidly onto the couch and took a seat right beside me, holding my hands tightly in his.<br /><br />I opened my tear-filled eyes and looked at his face, the love and comfort I saw there only started me crying again. "I…I don't want us to be over." I sobbed at him. "But I understand now what it's like for you. I'm so demanding and needy you spend so much of your time on me and my problems, you're going to grow weary of the whole thing and I don't blame you."<br /><br />Eric looked at me very seriously his words were spoken slowly as if trying to communicate with someone who barely spoke English. "Reggie, I am going to ask you one more time to tell me what got this started. What did you hear or read or do or for that matter, what did I do that set this off?"<br /><br />I gnawed on my lip for a minute before making up my mind to lay out the whole sordid mess for him. "There was this story…on the Internet. I found this new site with DP stories and the stories were pretty good. Except well… I read this one where the Top had gotten sick of being in control, of dealing with his Brat. He talked about how dealing with the Brat's problems all the time had worn him down and that he wanted to put an end to their relationship. And well I…." I hesitated suddenly coming to realize that I was envisioning the end of my relationship over a fictional story I'd read on the net.<br /><br />"And well you… decided that that story automatically applied to us?" Eric asked rather incredulously.<br /><br />This set me off crying again. "I'm sorry….I'm sorry Eric. I know I'm a fucked up idiot."<br /><br />Eric's arms wrapped around me and drew me in close. "How do I feel about you running yourself down like that?" He asked as he laid gentle kisses against my face.<br /><br />"But I am, Eric. I'm totally fucked up. How can you love someone like me? Don't you see that's why I figured that story to be right? I'm so dumb. I never learn anything. You have to teach me the same things over and over again."<br /><br />He pulled back from me and holding my by the shoulders, he looked straight into my eyes. "Do you think that I'm stupid?" he asked.<br /><br />"You? You're the smartest person I know" I responded with horror that he would even ask me such a thing.<br /><br />"I must be pretty stupid to have picked a totally fucked up idiot as my partner."<br /><br />How could I answer that? Here was the best man on earth and it looked like I was calling him stupid. "No, Eric, that's not what I meant at all! I only meant that I screw things up so badly and I…."<br /><br />"That's enough, Reggie!" he spoke firmly putting his fingers to my lips. "I'm not going to listen to you beating yourself up any longer. You need to start listening to me now. When you have a problem, you what are you supposed to do?"<br /><br />"I'm supposed to share it with you." I whispered.<br /><br />"And why are you supposed to share your problems with me?" he asked with his infinite patience.<br /><br />I recited the answer to that question that I knew so well. "Because together we are stronger and can deal with problems as a team."<br /><br />"Now let me see if I have this straight. You had a problem today with a story that you read. The feelings that story created in you caused you to worry and be upset. Is that correct?" he asked. I could only nod sadly.<br /><br />"And so you proceeded to work yourself into a lather over this and by the time I came home, you had determined through nothing but your own imagination, that there was no hope for our relationship. Then when I tried to find out the problem you lied to me, pushed me away and when confronted with the reality began to belittle yourself. Am I right?"<br /><br />I wanted to protest this statement, to tell him he had it all wrong or that he'd simplified a more complex issue, but truth was he had it exactly right. "Yes" I sighed, "you are right." I almost added that I was stupid, but I guess I was smart enough to know better than to belittle myself further. Hell, even idiots like me don't keep up a punishable offence when it's laid in front of us like that.<br /><br />"Did you save the address for this person's website on your computer?" he asked.<br /><br />"Yes, she calls herself Cornsilk."<br /><br />"Okay, when we are done here you will remove this Cornsilk person’s address from your computer and you will never read anything written by her again. Is that understood?" he ordered. I nodded solemnly.<br /><br />Eric then gave me one of his wonderfully warm hugs and pushed me gently away. Not a person to make more out of something than there needs to be, he proceeded. "Stand up, Reggie."<br /><br />I cannot say that my brain was what commanded my legs to push me up off the sofa. To be honest, I think my muscles are tied more to Eric's voice than to me, for I found myself standing in front of him with no memory whatsoever of getting up. My trousers were unceremoniously undone and lowered to the floor and I was gently lowered across that beloved lap yet again. My boxers were soon joining my trousers and I felt cool air against my backside. However, that coolness was quickly replaced by the warmth of my lover's large firm hand.<br /><br />"Why are you being spanked, Reggie?" he asked calmly.<br /><br />Oh God, how I hated this part; to lay naked and vulnerable across his lap and have to explain my offences. I drew a calming breath and began. "I didn't come to you and share something that was bothering me. I lied to you when you tried to help me."<br /><br />"And?" Reggie prompted. I shook my head vigorously. "And you spoke disrespectfully about yourself and disrespecting yourself is…?"<br /><br />"as bad as disrespecting you." I recited.<br /><br />"Okay, let's get this taken care of."<br /><br />I felt his hand rise from its resting place on my bottom and the sudden sting of it slapping hard against my cheek. I gasped as a second later it fell on the other side. He kept up his rapid staccato, alternating cheeks as he moved slowly around my entire backside. It took little time for my gasping to turn to sobbing, but he didn't stop there. He continued the painful on-slot until I thought flames would surely rise from my butt. By the time it ended, I was inconsolable. He let me slide gently to my knees beside him and I buried my streaming face in his lap, soaking his cotton chinos with tears. He gently stroked my hair while speaking nonsensical terms of endearment until I calmed enough to catch my breath.<br /><br />I felt his hands grasp my sides and pull me up to such a position that he could lift me onto his lap, his legs separated enough that my tender skin wouldn't rub against his trousers. I wrapped my arms around his neck and tucked my head under his chin. "I'm sorry, Eric." I sniveled. "So sorry I…."<br /><br />"Shhhh, baby, it's alright, it's all over." He sat rubbing gentle circles on my back while he kissed the top of my head.<br /><br />"We're good?" I whispered.<br /><br />I could hear a slight chuckle as he answered. "We're good, honey. All is fine now."<br /><br />We sat on the couch cuddled together for about fifteen minutes until I felt him shifting under me. "Hey, babe, time for you to move. My legs are falling asleep." I moved cautiously to my feet. He put his hand gently on my butt as I bent to retrieve my boxers from the floor. "Okay?" he asked as I straightened.<br /><br />I smiled and nodded. The skin still burned and was beginning to itch as it always does afterwards. But I felt good; loved and cared-for. This wonderful man loved me. I was the luckiest Brat on earth.<br /><br />"Glad you're feeling okay because we're due at Dan's party in an hour."<br /><br />I moaned loudly, but smiled. This was security.<br /><br /> The End.LJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09209660278651151524noreply@blogger.com1