Sugar and Sin Bundle

by Stacey Joy Netzel

  “It hurts so much.” She was still terrified and in pain.

  Where was the damn button for the morphine pump? He searched in her blankets, finally finding it and repeatedly pressing it.

  “There. Now that will help.” He was desperate to do more. Her hair had been braided back for the surgery, though in her distress some of the curls had come free. He smoothed her forehead and moved the hair out of her face. She still seemed to be looking at him without seeing. “Should I tell you the story of your opera?” She blinked in response, which he took as a yes. He whispered in her ear. “Violetta was the most beautiful woman of her age. No man could look at her and not want her.”

  Violet closed her eyes at his words, soft whispers at her ear. The morphine helped to ease the pain, and the story gave her something to focus on. Her handsome doctor was holding her hand. She could feel his warm breath on her fingers. She turned her face to his, and he smiled. She was coming back to herself. He started kissing her fingers. If this was the reward for enduring the pain, she would take it. The music was so beautiful, his words in her ear were like poetry. The morphine dulled the pain but did not entirely remove it. It did lower her inhibitions enough to for her to say, “Kiss me.”

  Michael stopped the story and looked into her eyes.

  Had she read his mind? But then, he wanted to do much more than kiss her. While he had been whispering the opera in her ear, he’d been fixated on the sliver of her creamy white shoulder that the johnny coat left exposed. He desperately wanted to taste her plump, rosy lips, slide his tongue past them to hers, explore the hard edges of her teeth. No, it wouldn’t be right. She was his patient. She was in the grip of pain and on drugs that lessen one’s hold on reality. But, but... that slice of shoulder tantalized him. He inched forward, barely moving. All he had to do was drop his head and brush his lips just there at the edge of the gown. His body seemed to have a will of its own and without thought did exactly that.

  Violet saw his eyes close. He craned his neck slightly and brushed his lips across her shoulder. She closed her eyes, and warmth flooded her body, a better balm for her pain than any drug. If this slight touch from his lips could melt her, what would real passion from him feel like? Her breath caught in her throat like a sob. She let her body melt into his touch, letting the thrill of it drive the fear and the pain away. Then she moaned, and he broke the contact. The pain came flooding back worse than before.

  “No. Don’t stop. It is the only thing that helps,” she cried, her eyes wild with torment.

  “It is... it's not right. You are my patient. I must respect the bounds of propriety.” He felt miserable saying it.

  “I don’t care. Is there somewhere you can kiss me? Please. I need to lose myself in something beautiful, other than all this pain.” Her voice was starting to keen like the wind outside.

  Michael didn’t care if they took his license. He would do anything to bring her some relief. He looked at her hand in his. Turned it as if just realizing that he was holding such an exquisite object. He placed one of the fingertips against his lips. She stilled and seemed to stop breathing, watching him with wide eyed fascination. He kissed each fingertip in turn, and then turned her hand palm up. Michael whispered to her—his mother used to do this to soothe him as a child—and began to lightly caress her palm with one of his fingers. Drawing them down the center made her warm. She looked at him with such, devotion but that didn’t make any sense. It didn’t matter to him right now. All he knew was he would stay here till she made it through the storm.

  Violet closed her eyes and willed her breath to slow. His light tracings on her palm were sending waves of pleasure through her body, warm liquid relief. The tracing stopped, but he still held her hand. She would scream if he let go. He must have thought she was asleep. This feeling was the opposite of sleep, which brought peace. In this state every nerve ending was on edge, all her senses focused on one spot.

  Through her lashes she watched him bend his head to her palm. With the slightest touch he kissed it. When she didn’t stir, he kissed more deeply. She moaned at this intimate gesture, thrilled that he wanted to be with her as much as she wanted to be with him. He pulled back from her hand. but she continued to feign sleep. Once he seemed convinced that she had not woken, he continued the kisses on her palm. Violet thought she would burst from desire, but she did not want to scare her dear, sad doctor. Her breath deepened. She curled her fingers just slightly to caress his face while he kissed her palm, the fine points of his beard tantalizing her fingertips. She wanted more than him just kissing her hand. Slowly, so slowly he almost didn’t notice the movement, she drew her hand to her collar bone. When it got there, he stopped the kisses. She could feel his eyes on her.

  “Are you my shy Violet or Violetta right now?” he whispered.

  She felt her mouth purse and the corners curl in the barest of smiles. She could be anything for him. She could feel the warmth of his breath before his lips touched hers, but when they did, Violet felt bathed in light. She allowed herself the smallest of peeks to see if the wonderful feeling really was coming from him. She imagined that if sleeping beauty were real, this is what she would have felt like.

  This was maddening, how could she kiss him back if she was supposed to be asleep? But if she “woke up” now, he would bolt, she was sure of it. She fought to keep her breathing deep and even when she really wanted to pant. Eventually she let her jaw go slack just a little. Would he try to deepen the kiss? Please! her mind screamed. The kiss stopped. She wanted to cry and missed the taste of him already. Finally, she couldn’t take it anymore and opened her eyes. There, not three inches from her face was Dr. Dennison. Her eyes fluttered in shock that she hoped he would read as waking up.

  “You are quite beautiful but a truly lousy actress.”

  “I... wha... oh, hell.” Then a bolt of pain tore through her body. “Oh God!”

  “Violet! Damn the morphine pump.” Michael raced to where he had been holding the button and started pressing it repeatedly. “Hang in there, it will work quickly. “Damn. I forgot the thing needs to be pressed every thirty seconds.” He continued to press the button in time.

  Violet lay back waiting for the drug to wash over her, but the wait seemed endless. In her pain she heard Michael’s voice and felt her hand in his.

  “Violet, listen to me.” He whispered in her ear, his words like some ancient incantation, “Close your eyes.” She did as he asked “I want you to move the pain. Imagine it is a bright light. Put all of the pain in that light. Now, pour the light in to my hand. Pass the pain to me.”

  Her eyes flew open. “No. I could never cause you this much pain,” she cried. He held her hand to his lips and kissed the back of it.

  “Okay, make the light into a ball and pass the ball to me, and I will throw it away.” With that he moved his hand so that just their finger tips were touching with space for the ball of light in the middle.

  Violet could feel it! She could feel all of the pain joining together into a single ball of light. She imagined the pain moving up her core to her heart. There she added some of the love she felt for this good caring man and sent it down her arm. She felt her hand grow warm in his, felt her palm burn. Then she felt his hand move away, and the heat and the pain were gone. When she looked over at him, he was smiling down at her and had taken her hands in his while he continued to push the morphine pump button.

  “You are a mystic,” she said drowsily.

  “No, it is just a visualization technique for pain control.” Now he was stroking her forehead. It was wonderful. “I’ll stay here and keep pressing the button so you can get some sleep. Please sleep. It will do you good.”

  “Mmm... magic” And she drifted off in a drugged slumber.

  Two hours later, Violet’s eye flashed open as the pain increased. She looked down and saw that Michael had fallen asleep with his head on her bed. He was still clutching the morphine pump button. She uncurled his fingers the way you would a sleepy child’s
and took it from him. She continued to press the button herself while she stroked his hair. It was like silk in her fingers. She closed her eyes and imagined what it would be like to lay in bed holding him after they had made love. Hmm, she supposed, depending on where he was paralyzed he may not be able to do some things. No matter, he could still give and receive pleasure of some kind, and that was a kind of “making love.”

  Even though the morphine didn’t remove the pain, it did make it manageable so she could lie here and actually enjoy this moment of contentment. It was not great passion, blinding lust, or even earth shaking orgasm, but this felt rarer somehow. Contentment was such a fragile, quiet thing that it could go unrecognized until it wasn’t there anymore. Violet watched his back lift with each breath. She stroked his jaw lightly and felt his beard play against her finger tips. Yes, she wanted him. His kisses made her melt, but it was more than that. How could she be falling in love with someone she barely knew? But there was no doubt that she was indeed falling in love. She let him sleep for another hour. He needed it. When she woke him, she whispered his name and tickled his ear. He woke up slowly, but when he opened his eyes and saw her he smiled even though he wasn’t fully awake. That small unguarded moment was precious to her.

  “Hey, sleepy head, you need to get up soon. I don’t want you to get in trouble for being in here sleeping.” She saw his guard come up as he pushed up from the bed.

  “What time is it?”

  “About five thirty in the morning. The storm is still blowing.”

  “Damn. I was trying to stay awake to keep your morphine pump going.”

  “I know. It was fine. Just having you lying here was good medicine.”

  He stretched and rubbed his eyes.

  “I need to get out of here, or there will be hell to pay. I have to go get cleaned up and do rounds with the residents in an hour or two. I’ll see you then. Um, you know last night has to be our secret, right?”

  Violet put on her most devilish grin.

  “I think there are definite blackmail possibilities here. Hmm, should I go for better food or... I know! If the storm is still raging tonight, then you have to come back here after you are done, and we can talk for a while. And the rest of the time, you can give me your very particular kind of healing.” She put her hand over her mouth. Part of her could not believe she had just propositioned a man, even if it was just for some kisses. She stopped thinking she was so cute when she saw the look on his face. “Hey, I was kidding. I would just like some company. I...” Oh god, don’t start crying. Violet, do not let yourself cry.

  Michael reared back at what she had said. Her words hit him like cold water. Why? She was being cute and flirty, even if she was slurring her words a little because of the morphine. Was it that he realized they had spent the night either kissing or doing other nonsexual but still nonetheless intimate things? He had always held himself to higher standards than everyone else. Actually, he felt like he had to, had to prove he was better so people could forget he was stuck in the damn chair. Here was someone who didn’t even look at the chair but only saw him, and he was terrified. Was this terror? His heart was racing, his pulse pounded, his breathing was quick and shallow. Either he was afraid or...aroused. But that couldn’t be possible. It had to be fear. He was just afraid that eventually she’d want...him?

  “Violet, sorry, I need a cup of coffee before I can be held responsible for anything I say.” He felt like a liar, though it was mostly true. “I’ll come by after I get done, I promise.” She still looked like she was going to burst into tears. He felt like such an ass. “Hey, if you play your cards right, I’ll raid the gift shop for chocolate.”

  He smiled up at her, all the while silently begging that she’d smile back. When she did he thought he would yell for joy. “Okay, remember keep pushing the button. I’ll come around with the residents in a while. We are going to get you out of that bed today!” Violet blanched. “Don’t worry I promise it will be okay, I have done this with more than a hundred other patients. I’m also going to put in an order for a sponge bath. Trust me it doesn’t sound like a big deal, but I have had patients tell me it is worth the pain of the surgery.” She was staring at him with her mouth open. “Really. I’m serious. I need to get going and get ready. Bye” And without thinking he kissed her hand.

  Violet didn’t make a sound till she was sure he wasn’t in earshot, then she let out a whoop. Then she started laughing. She would bet he didn’t even realize he’d kissed her.

  She felt like a teenager waiting for her date to show up, she was so excited about seeing him later. She undid her braid and finger combed her hair, in between pressing the morphine pump. When the morning nurse came in to check on her, Violet was able to get her toiletries kit, wipe off her face, and add some tinted lip balm and moisturizer. At least she didn’t look like something the cat dragged in any more. As she sat and waited for Dr. Dennison and the residents to arrive, she got sleepy from the activity before and the morphine.

  Michael was jumpy from exhaustion and whatever insanity had made him spend the night in Violet's room. Coffee usually mellowed him out, but not today. He seemed even more keyed up after having a cup. The residents didn’t love rounding with him under the best of circumstances, but today had been especially bad. He’d just about taken the head off of one of the juniors for not knowing the lab results of a patient. And then when the chief resident asked a question, he’d chewed him out, too. He’d left Violet for last to give himself time to get his emotions under control. He wished he could, but his head seemed to refuse to listen to reason where she was concerned.

  When the team entered her room, she was propped up on pillows, her hair cascading over them in waves. Her skin was so pale, it accentuated the rose of her lips. His breath caught in his chest. She looked like a sleeping beauty or Lady Godiva, lush curves and that gorgeous hair. He wanted to throw the team out as if she belonged only to him. Unfortunately, the team was staring at him, and it was a minute before he realized that he should be the one to wake her. He cleared his throat loudly and said “Miss Bellows?” She remained sleeping. Finally, he took her hand and patted the back of it. Her eyes opened and locked with his. And she smiled. Michael thought he had never seen anything so glorious.

  “Oh, I was just dreaming of y—” She looked around at the residents. “Dreaming of riding a horse.” She giggled a little. “Morphine makes you dream the craziest things.”

  Michael beamed. He knew he should keep his feelings under control, but he wanted to kiss her so badly he could barely breathe. She didn’t let go of his hand. Actually when he tried to pull it back, she tightened her grip. The residents were looking at him in utter confusion and then looking at Violet. She smiled like an angel at all of them, and they seemed to sigh in unison, completely charmed by her.

  Michael stared at Violet and pointedly took his hand back. “Ms. Bellows had spinal fusion surgery two days ago and is ready to get out of bed now.” Violet looked at him with near terror on her face that had nothing to do with the storm still raging outside. “Truly, you are ready. Please trust me.” To the residents, he added, “Seeing as the storm has left the nursing staff shorthanded this will be a learning experience for all of you, too. Someone bring in the walker that was outside the door.”

  After they disconnected the IV lines and removed the morphine pump, Violet was ready to walk. But she was still terrified. She looked at Michael with tears in her eyes. The residents were occupied with her covers momentarily.

  He looked over at them cautiously and then whispered to Violet. “Darling, I would never do anything that could hurt you. You can do this, you are stronger than you think.” Taking a quick look to make sure the residents were distracted, he gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. “For strength,” he whispered.

  Violet couldn’t help but smile. His kindness took her breath away. She would try to do anything to please him. He started directing the residents into position to assist her. She took a couple of deep calmi
ng breaths to clear her head. Slowly they sat her up and turned her so her feet were over the side of the bed. Such a simple thing, but the fear of it sapped her strength.

  Michael stopped them to give her time to adjust.

  “Are you okay? I want you to concentrate on me. If you do that, the walking will take care of itself,” he said. Violet shook her head yes and took another deep breath. “Good. Now we are going to lower the bed, and I want you to take the walker in both hands and stand up.”

  Violet drifted down until her feet touched the floor. She looked at Michael, and he smiled back. Violet grabbed the walker, closed her eyes, and stood before she could stop and think about what she was doing. When she was standing, she started breathing faster as her panic mounted.

  “You are doing beautifully, Ms. Bellows.”

  Just the sound of his voice soothed her.

  He wheeled himself backwards toward the door. “Are you in any pain?”

  She shook her head no, not trusting her voice.

  “Good, I want you to walk to me. Baby steps at first. You’ll be roaming the halls in no time.”

  With a resident on either side of her, she shuffled toward Michael. Sweat prickled her scalp, and her skin was clammy. It took all her strength not to panic, but she walked about five feet, turned around and walked back to the bed.

  By the time she got into bed, she was soaked in sweat and could smell the adrenaline on her skin. She was panting, trying to control the urge to cry. She wasn't in any more pain than before, less actually, but the fear of falling, of not being able to move was staggering. Had that been how Michael felt when he first found out he was paralyzed? Was that how he felt everyday? She couldn’t ask him in front of his residents, but she did want to talk to him about it.