by Marie Skye
What the actual fuck. As if it’s not bad enough that I have to put up with all this shit and therapy, but it’s possible that I’ll never dance again. He has got to be kidding me.
What the fuck will I do if it comes to that. Not just for me, but for my mother. We depend on me working at the club. It’s going to be hard enough, without me working for the next couple of months. Dancing is all that I know, it’s what I do. Where in the fuck would I be without it?
4
I’m glad to be home, but my leg has been hurting like a bitch, and aggravating the hell out of me. It seems like it is constantly throbbing, and I hate the way the pain pills make me feel, so I’ve just been putting up with the pain.
I have done everything the doctor told me to do, only walking on it when I feel comfortable doing so. Other times, using the crutches. The bandages are off now, so that’s a plus. Only problem with that is, the shit has started scabbing up, and itching like crazy.
Showers have been more of a bitch than anything I want to think about. Taking care of my mom hasn’t been possible, but luckily for me, everyone at the club has been helping me out. Stacey still stays with her at night, but my friends have pitched in, and are paying for a nurse to stay with her during the day too. Betty does her grocery shopping and other shit like that, that the guys don’t want to do. I always knew they were great, but all they’ve done lately, just proves that.
Today is my first therapy appointment after coming home. I’m not looking forward to it, mainly because I told Dare that I’d drive myself there, and I’m not sure about getting in and out of my truck with a fucked-up leg. Also, because the guy who did my therapy at the hospital, had breath that could set your nose hairs on fire. It took all I had to get through it the last time, so I’m not looking forward to that shit again today.
As I get up from my chair and reach out for my crutches, my damn cell phone rings. I put the crutches in one hand and pick up the phone with the other. Seeing Dare’s name and ugly ass picture on the screen, almost makes me want to ignore it.
I don’t though, because I know he’ll just keep calling. “Hello.” I mutter, trying to keep the frustration out of my voice, as I juggle the phone and the crutches.
“Your appointment is in a little while, right?” He asks even though I know that I’ve told him more than a few times it’s at three o’clock today.
“Yeah, I’m getting ready to leave now. Or at least I would be if I wasn’t on the phone.”
Finally hobbling across the room, I make sure my keys are in my pocket and open the front door.
“Good thing I pay attention. Get your ass out the door, I’m waiting out front for your stubborn ass.” Hanging up the phone, I look out in the driveway, and sure enough, there he is.
I told his ass that I would be fine going by myself. He may think that he pays attention, but he sure doesn’t listen very well.
By the time I put my phone in my pocket and make my way to his truck, he’s on the passenger side opening the door. “I know that you said you didn’t want a ride, but you don’t know what they are going to be doing to you, and you may be in too much pain to drive back home.”
I never even thought about that. I guess I should stop being a dick all the time to the people that are trying to help me, but I have never been good at accepting help.
Nodding my head at him, I say, “Thanks man, I never even thought about that.”
After I finally climb my tall ass in his truck, not without some struggling, I’m sweating like crazy. My leg is on fire and I just want to go back in and lay down.
Dare shuts the door, and walks around to the driver’s side and climbs in. He shuts his own door and starts the truck. “It’s a damn good thing that I’m smarter than you then, or you’d really be fucked.”
Deciding to let that smartass comment go, I don’t say anything back. Instead, I lay my head back and let his ass drive me around.
The therapy place isn’t far from my house, so it doesn’t take us long to get there. My leg is still throbbing when Dare pulls into a parking spot and I’m kicking myself in the ass for not taking a pain pill before I left. I’m afraid when I get done here, I’m going to really wish that I had.
Dare shuts off the truck and opens his door. As he walks around to my side, I’ve already gotten my own door open and am attempting to get out.
Grabbing my crutches, he holds them out to me, as I slide out of the seat. I almost hit my thigh on the dash, and the thought of doing that, scares the hell out of me, because I know it would hurt like hell. Trying to keep that from actually happening, causes me to stumble, and I would’ve fallen on my ass if Dare didn’t grab my arm.
Knowing I still need so much help, puts me in an even worse mood. I know that I shouldn’t be feeling sorry for myself, but I can’t fucking help it.
Putting the offered crutches under my arms, I let Dare lead the way and head inside the building. After checking in, I find an empty chair and sit my ass down.
“I know I may not say it much, but I appreciate everything that you all are doing for me.”
I can see the cockiness on his face, and I hate this even more. “You can pay me back one of these days. I’m sure I can think of some kind of way.”
Good grief, that’s all that I need.
“Dallas Winston.” I hear my name called, but it isn’t the same voice as dragon breath. No, this is a woman’s voice.
Looking toward the door, I just sit and stare for a few minutes. I’m sure the shock is on my face, as I look at the black-haired beauty from the club a couple of weeks ago. She doesn’t have on a sexy as hell dress, with her tits hanging out like she did before. Instead, she has on a pair of purple scrubs, but I know it is her. Her long black hair is pulled back, and in a messy knot, just above her neck, but it still looks good on her.
Slowly standing up, I get my crutches, and head her way. She holds the door open and lets me hobble past her.
After the door shuts behind us, she turns to me. “Mr. Winston, my name is Trina, and I will be the therapist working with you while you are here. Today we are mainly going to discuss what you’ve been doing since you left the hospital, and what you can expect from therapy. We will generally advance as your body will allow, but for the time being we are going to take it slow.”
Trina, so that’s her name. She doesn’t seem like she recognizes me, not even a little bit. I knew that she tasted like alcohol that night, but I didn’t think she was drunk. She seemed to know exactly what she was doing, surely, I couldn’t have been wrong about that.
“You can call me Dallas. I’m going to be here for quite a bit the next few months, it’s only fair that we are both on a first name basis.”
I know that she never heard my name, only knowing me as Big D, but what the fuck. The lights ain’t that dim in the VIP room. I don’t think that I’ve ever been with a woman that didn’t remember fucking me. This is bullshit, and I don’t like it, not at all.
“Fair enough, Dallas. Why don’t we go over here and sit down and we can discuss the plan of action for your therapy?” She says, before turning and heading toward a small desk.
I still have no idea what is going on, but I follow behind her. I don’t want to just come right out and ask if she remembers fucking me, but it is on the tip of my tongue.
After sitting down in the chair beside the desk, I don’t realize I’m still staring at her, until she starts looking uncomfortable. I can’t help myself, she is a beautiful woman, but I finally pull my eyes away, and look down at my lap.
She starts shuffling through the file in her hand, looking over my information. “Okay, it says here that you were in a motorcycle wreck, and had to have pins put in your leg. How has your leg been since you’ve been home?”
I give a little shrug before answering. “It’s been okay. The doctor said that it was fine to not use the crutches all the time. To try to walk without them some, if I can. To be honest, it hurts like hell when I do. I had hoped that it would f
eel a little better by now.”
Trina nods, still thumbing through the papers. “You have to be patient Dallas, it hasn’t been that long, and an injury like this takes time. We’ll work on some exercises that will help with that, but it will all take time. This isn’t something that is going to get better overnight.”
“I know, but the doctor said that it may never heal to the way it was before, and I need it to. My job depends on it. The sooner I get back to work, the better.”
She sits the file down on the desk, and finally turns to look at me. “I am going to do the regular therapy that we do for injuries such as yours. Everyone is different though, and you may require more. We will figure that out, after we get started.”
She doesn’t understand, I’m not sure that anyone does. It’s not like I can’t get a job somewhere else, that isn’t the problem. Making what I make at the club, at a different job, is the problem.
I try to keep the concern off my face, but I must not do it very well. “You aren’t the first one to worry, I’ve heard this many times before. I will give you the same advice that I give everyone else. It’s very likely, that you will recover completely, but it never hurts to look at other options, just in case.”
“Dancing is my other option, at this point it is my only option. I’m not qualified to do anything else, that will pay me what I make at Club SIX.” I mention the name of the club, just to see if it sparks some recognition from her. But, also because she needs to understand how much I need to be good as new. Even if she doesn’t remember me, surely she remembers the club, and the dancing involved there.
The expression on her face stays blank, if anything, it just turns more sympathetic. “I will do everything I can to help you, but I can’t guarantee anything. No one can.”
Well that’s definitely not what I wanted to hear. I had hoped that I would get here and she’d tell me that the doctor was just being pessimistic. I guess it’s up to me, to show both of them, that I will dance again. Only difference is, I’ll be better than I ever was.
5
The more that I go to therapy, and have to work with Trina, the more pissed off I get. I don’t know why I let it bother me so much, or why it affects me at all. It’s not that I think I’m fucking special, but I’m not usually this damn forgettable either. We’re on our fifth session together, and nothing, not even a hint that she remembers.
I thought the night we fucked, was great, and for me to say that, it had to be good. I’m usually the one forgetting the ladies, so for it to still be on my mind, that’s definitely saying something. It doesn’t matter though, she doesn’t have a clue about it. I’m to the point of reminding her though. There’s only so many hints that a man can give, before he’s beaten around the bush enough.
Could I possibly be wrong? Could this not even be the woman I remember? I guess it’s possible, but I don’t think it’s likely. I didn’t have a drop to drink that night, so I’m sure that this is the woman that I was with.
“Okay, Dallas, just one more set, then we’ll do the massage and ice, before you go home.” Hell, the massage is the best part of all this shit. It’s the one thing that makes me not hurt like hell after doing all of this.
I can feel the sweat dripping down my back, as I push through this last set. I may only be doing fifteen of each set, but by the time I get to the end, I can sure feel every bit of it.
“You’re doing excellent Dallas, and I can tell that you are taking this serious. It shows with what you are doing here, that you are doing your at-home exercises as well. I have to remind you, again, that no matter how much you want to improve, pushing yourself too hard will just do more damage. It’s important that you follow the guidelines.”
I try not to get angry, but this, on top of everything else, is just too much. “That’s easy for you to say. You’re not the one with bills to pay, and itching to get back to work. This slow process is driving me fucking crazy.”
“Therapy takes time, and if you don’t go about it the way that you need too, it could make your recovery take even longer. I do know what I’m talking about, whether you like it or not, you’re going to have to trust me on this.”
I follow Trina, as she walks over to the massage table, wishing that she wasn’t wearing these damn scrubs so I could get a glimpse of her tight little ass. Her damn scrubs are going to drive me crazy. Knowing what is underneath, is enough to fuck with my head. Today, she is wearing dark blue pants, and a shirt that has little American flags all over it. I have yet to see the same ones, more than once, and wonder how many of these fuckers that she’s got.
Her hair is up, like usual, and I want to reach up and take it down, just so I can see the long black locks, flowing down her back. Actually, I’d rather have it down, with a handful in my fist, as I fuck her over one of these tables.
As she steps to the side, I climb up on the table, and lay down. “I get what you’re saying Trina, and I do trust your judgement, but I have to get back to work. Not just for myself, but for my mother, she depends on me to help her.”
I don’t like to tell anyone, even my closest friends about how I sometimes struggle, but she needs to understand where I’m coming from too.
Trina nods her understanding before commenting. “Is there something else that you can do at work for the time being? Something to where you can sit and rest a majority of the time? If that was possible, I see no issue with you going to work. There is just no way for you to stand for long periods of time, much less dance right now.”
Shrugging my shoulders, I think about what she has said. “I’m not sure, I’ll talk to Betty and see if there’s something. Maybe I could sit at the door, and card people as they come in.”
I try to hold back my groan as she starts massaging my thigh. It’s a mix of pain and pleasure, starting with pain, but the more she rubs, it feels so fucking good. It’s a struggle to keep my dick under control, so that she doesn’t see a huge bulge in my shorts.
“Is your mother sick? Is that why she depends on you so much?” It’s an acceptable question, considering I’m the one who brought up my mother to begin with. Talking about my mom will surely help with the erection issue too.
“She had a stroke not too long ago. She hasn’t been cleared to go back to work, and I’m not sure that she ever will. She has a nurse that stays with her, to help her out, and has to have somebody help with her bills and shit. I don’t mind doing it, not at all, but at the moment I can’t. Hell, I can’t even pay my own right now.”
It’s not as bad as I let on, I’m doing okay. Pretty good considering how bad I could be doing. The only bills I have are electric and water, shit like that. My house, truck and bike are all paid for, and I even have some money put aside in the bank. I don’t even like thinking about my bike, knowing that it is gone now, just puts me in a bad mood.
“She has her own doctor bills, and now I got plenty of my own, so the sooner I’m making money, the better.” Trina has finished with the massage, but hasn’t moved from standing beside the table.
I glance over at her, and see that she is staring at me, with an expression that I don’t understand. It’s a mix between compassion and what almost looks like shock or fear.
“It’s very nice that you would do all that for your mother. There’s plenty of people that would just let her fend for herself. The fact that you are busting your ass to make sure she’s taken care of is amazing.”
She always has such a professional attitude, that after she says ass, a blush covers her cheeks. The look of embarrassment is clear on her face as she turns and walks away.
She comes back a couple of minutes later, her hands filled with the ice packs for my leg. “I’m sorry about that. There’s so many people that come in here, that barely attempt to take care of themselves. Hearing how you are doing so much, just took me by surprise, or I would’ve never talked like that. Especially in front of a patient, that was totally unprofessional, and I apologize.”
As soon as she places the
ice packs on my leg, I can’t hold back my wince. That shit is so damn cold on my aching muscles that it hurts.
When I finally catch my breath, I grab her hand before she has a chance to walk off again. “There’s no need to apologize. I’m the last person that you need to feel like you have to constantly be professional around. I’m sure, under the right circumstances, that I’d love to hear what kind of shit could come out of that mouth of yours.” I inwardly smile knowing my forward comment will make her blush even more, but I don’t care. I already know how she is outside of work, and it was definitely something that I didn’t mind.
Trina looks down, but not before I catch the brightness of her cheeks. Yep. I knew it. She peers back up at me before seeing that our hands are still joined, before pulling hers away. And just like that, she’s back to being professional. Clearing her throat, she says, “Leave the ice on for ten minutes, and then you’re done for the day. I’ll see you back here the day after tomorrow.”
She walks away, without giving me the chance to say anything else, and I know that that’s the end of our conversation. I missed my opportunity to remind her that she knows me, but I will soon enough.
I wait the ten minutes, then take off the ice packs, laying them to the side. Getting up from the table I make sure to stand with my good leg first, hoping that it’s not something that I will constantly have to do, and make my way to the door.