by Tia Siren
"Knock, knock," I finally brought myself to say as I walked into the room.
"Oh, hey," she said quickly, wiping at her eyes as she did all that she could to hide the fact that she had been on the verge of tears.
"My shift is just about up, and I thought I'd come and check on you before going home. See how you are doing."
"That's so nice of you," she said, smiling as I sat down by her bed. "Seriously, you are the only one here that treats me like I'm actually human. Everyone else makes me feel like I'm E.T. or something."
"Oh, don't take that personally," I joked. "Most of the men here don't spend much time around awake patients. Especially beautiful women. You've just caught them off guard is all."
For a moment, I thought I had gone too far with the beautiful woman comment. That was until she snorted and slapped me on the arm. "Stop it. Seriously."
"Anyway, I came by just to see if anything else has come back to you. I know that we did this earlier, but it has to be done at least twice a day, and I'd rather it be me than anyone else."
"Oh, me too," she beamed. The moment that she did though, she must have realized how over excited she looked, as she instantly pulled herself back. "I mean, yeah, I definitely prefer you to do it over some of the others.
I had to work very hard to hide my smile after that reaction. I was getting to her. It was so clear. That chemistry that had always existed between us couldn't be forgotten, regardless of her amnesia or how much time had passed between the two of us.
"Okay,” I said. “So how about it? Anything new?"
"No," she said, letting out a sigh. "Like I told you earlier, I remember small things. I can tell you what my favorite food is."
"Spaghetti and meatballs! Is my favorite meal, I mean. Sorry." I hung my head in an exaggerated fashion while also making sure to pout for her benefit.
"That's okay,” she said with a smile. “Mine is anything Mexican. And my favorite movie is The Princess Bride, but I couldn't tell you the last time I watched it. I know what my favorite color is and even my favorite song. But again, I don't know when I last listened to it. It's so frustrating!"
"Don't worry," I said gently, "It will come back."
"But when?!"
"That, I can't answer." My answer frustrated her further, a fact that I couldn't really blame her for. On instinct, I reached out and took her hand in mine. To my relief, she didn't flinch. "But listen, I am going to be here the whole time helping you, okay? Until you get your memory back, if you need anything, anything at all, you just let me know."
She didn't respond. Instead, she smiled and gave my hand another squeeze. It was because of that positive reaction that I decided it was time to put the second part of my plan into action. It was then or never.
"I've been thinking. You get out of here tomorrow, and you're probably not.” I paused. “I imagine that you aren't too thrilled with the idea of entering a world that you kind of know nothing about. You have Liana, but that's about it really, at least until your memory comes back. But I want you to know that you don't just have Liana. You have me, also."
"Okay," she said.
"And, well, rather than having to come in here to do these memory tests, I was wondering if you would rather meet up outside of the hospital? We can get a drink or some food or whatever. I don't want you to think of it as a date. But more like, well, I don't really know what to call it. But hopefully, you see what I mean?"
I was very aware of how much I was sweating in that moment. I could feel it pouring off me. And as it did, I could also feel her eyes boring into me. I basically stared at my feet the entire time, too nervous to look at her. It was silly really, as I was certain that she was going to say yes, but even still, I was scared. It was like I was asking out my high school crush, and just like that moment, she had the ability to crush me if she chose to.
"Sure," she said, after what felt like minutes. "I'd like that."
I finally worked up the courage to look at her and was relieved to see that she was smiling at me. I hadn't even noticed, but I still held her hand in mine, and in that moment, she was stroking it with her thumb.
"That's great," I beamed, trying my hardest to not sound as ecstatic as I was feeling. "How about this? I have your home number, courtesy of Liana. I'll call you when you're settled in, and we can organize something?
"Yeah, that sounds great," she said, smiling equally as hard as I was.
After that, I made sure to get out of that room as quickly as possible. I had done what I needed to do, so there was no point in hanging around. Or I would run the risk of ruining the entire thing.
The plan was indeed perfect, and I knew Kate inside and out. I knew her likes, dislikes, and what she saw as a perfect date. And although I had specified that this wasn't to be a date, I think we both knew that it was.
What really got me excited, though, was her reaction to it. She seemed equally as keen as I was, and it only served to confirm what I was sure to be true, that she liked me. Now all I had to do was drive that point home and make her fall in love with me like she once was.
I had no idea how long her amnesia was going to last. For all I knew, she might wake up the next day and remember everything. As such, I knew that I had no time to waste. I was going to plan the perfect first date. It was going to be magical, resplendent, and everything that a first date should be. By the time it was done, she was going to be head over heels in love with me, and finally, I would have Kate back.
That was the plan anyway.
CHAPTER 6
KATE
"Well, this is it,” Liana cooed as she opened the front door and led me inside. “Home sweet home."
I had been worried all morning about finally going home. As I had no memory, the hospital had become my home over the last few days. As sad as it may seem, that bed was the only one that I had ever known. The walls were the only ones that I was used to waking up and seeing. Heck, even the terrible breakfast and lunch they fed me had begun to taste like a home cooked dinner.
I had no recollection at all of my actual house, and my biggest fear was how strange it was going to feel when I did finally set foot in it. I knew it wasn't going to feel like my house, and I knew I wouldn't feel comfortable there. It was terrifying.
"So, what do you think?" Liana asked as I stepped around her, into what she claimed to be my apartment. My home.
As much as I’d been afraid that my apartment wouldn't feel like a home, I was also worried about what kind of home I lived in. Liana had already filled me in on what it was that I did for a living. As low as that was, I couldn't even imagine what kind of place I would be able to afford on such wages.
Although I was a writer, or dreamed of being one, in order to pay the bills, I had gotten a job waitressing at a strip club. I didn’t have to take off my clothes or dance, at least that was how Liana told it anyway. But I did have to dress in skimpy outfits. Liana was a stripper at the club. She’d hooked me up with the job as a favor, apparently, although it didn’t exactly feel like a favor now. Once I got my life back on track, I would look for another job that didn’t require me to work in little more than lingerie.
I struggled to find the words as I looked over the hovel that I called home. "It's quaint."
The place was a dump. And that was being kind. It was a studio apartment, which meant that I could see the bathroom, living room, kitchen, and bedroom all from the convenience of the front door.
And if it was just that, then maybe I would have been okay with it. But it was also so damn run down. The paint peeled off the walls, rusty water stains marked the ceiling, and the carpet in the bedroom frayed along the edges. And I wasn't even going to get into the smell.
"You're a struggling writer, what do you expect?" Liana said dismissively as she closed the door behind the two of us. "I'm a goddamn actress who hasn't worked in months. What do you think my place looks like?"
It was a humbling experience, finding out just how low my life had sunk. I had n
o memory of it, and yet, I couldn't believe that this was what I had made of myself. If there was one positive to be taken from my accident, it was my new-found sense of drive and purpose. This may have been me, but it wasn't going to be for much longer.
"I don't know what your place looks like,” I said as I walked around my apartment. “For some reason, I imagine that you have a lot of fuzzy pillows and decorative shit on the walls?"
One thing that stood out above anything else was the lack of wall hangings, pictures, or any sign that a person actually lived there. It looked almost like a squatter’s apartment, one I had rented with the express purpose of leaving as soon as I was able.
"Hey, maybe your memory is starting to come back?" Liana beamed as she made her way into the kitchen. "Now, how about we have a drink and—"
"Actually, I was wondering if I could be left alone?" I asked, doing my best not to sound rude. "It's just that it's my first night, and I don't know, I guess I wouldn't mind a little time to myself? To settle in."
"Say no more," Liana replied, not looking in the least bit put out by my request. "I totally get you." She made her way to the front door, sashaying her way across the room as she walked. "My number is on the fridge and on your phone if you need anything. Anything at all. Okay?"
"Sure thing." I gave her a grateful smile as she waved goodbye and closed the door behind her.
And then I was alone.
I spent the next few minutes walking silently around the apartment, taking everything in, trying to see if there was anything that would jog my memory. It was a very small apartment, and I had very few possessions, so that didn't take too long. Looking over my clothes, through my books, and rifling through my cupboards yielded nothing of interest.
It wasn't until I found my laptop that a sudden wave of excitement washed over me. Surely, I would find something on my laptop? A written piece? A journal entry? Anything that might help me better understand who I was.
Opening it up, I immediately spotted a folder titled “Writing." My heart beat faster as I clicked it open. Inside the folder were a dozen more folders, each labeled with titles I didn't recognize and that meant nothing to me. Some were of people's names. Others were clearly titles of stories that I had written.
I opened one called "A Tale of Two Lovers," and began to read. It was a romance spy thriller about a young woman, a school teacher, on holiday in Prague. While on holiday, she became embroiled, by accident, in a deadly game of international espionage. It would have seen the end of her, too, were it not for the handsome gentleman spy who soon came to her rescue. As he helped her escape, the two became romantically engaged, eventually falling in love.
I read the story from start to finish. It was enjoyable and decently written, but it didn't ring any bells. It may as well have been written by a stranger. The only detail I could glean from the story was that I was clearly a half-decent writer, most likely in search of the right story. One that would help me break out of this hell hole.
Closing my laptop, I moved to the drawers of my bedside table, realizing that I had yet to rifle through those. It was in them that I came across my journals for the first time. As with my laptop, my heart began to race. Surely, I would find something in these.
I picked up the most recent one from almost a year ago and flipped to the end. It seemed that I used to write in them all the time, only to stop for some reason. Maybe I could find out why?
The third to last entry, written in pen, was smudged, as if I had been crying when I wrote it. I read the entry twice. It was sad in a way that I couldn't imagine. It seemed that I was once madly in love.
To quote myself “my love ran deeper than any ocean.” But, despite how deeply I’d been in love, my lover broke my heart. His name had been Liam, and after three years of unbridled romance, he broke up with me. Although he tried to get back with me the next day, I refused. It seemed that he had hurt me too much for forgiveness.
I closed the journal, biting my lip as I thought on this. It was so frustrating, but even with a written account of my past, I still couldn't remember a damn thing. The only part of that journal that rang a bell was the name Liam, and that was because of my doctor, more than anything else.
Ah, Liam Morgan. There was a memory worth having. With him in mind, I dropped the journal on the floor and laid back in bed. I didn't want to confuse him with the man from my past. I didn't want to taint his good name. I was sure that if I ever had a Liam to myself, one that I could remember, I would never let him go.
He was just so perfect. Forget about his physical attributes, even though those were hard to overlook. It was his personality which made me as hot and bothered as I currently felt. Where everyone else had so far treated me like a social experiment, he was the only one to treat me like a human. He spoke to me as if he actually cared. He looked at me like no one else had. He held my hand and asked me out.
I could feel my body getting warmer. More thoughts of Dr. Liam Morgan swirled in my mind's eye. I pictured that smile of his and those broad shoulders, those deep eyes. My breathing intensified. I suddenly became very aware of how alone I was, the first time I had been, for as long as I could remember.
The hospital had given me some old clothes from the lost and found for me to wear home. Just an old pair of jeans and a plain white t-shirt. Right then, they felt restrictive.
One thing that I was proud of was my body. You could call me pretty and that would be fine, but it was my actual body that most would desire. I wasn't tall, but I had long legs. They were strong and muscular and ran up to a firm, round ass that I was surprised to find belonged to me. Top that off with a flat stomach that was indicative of time spent at the gym and small, supple breasts. I knew that I wasn't being modest in thinking that I had a killer body. One that I knew Liam would delight in.
Lying on my bed, I quickly slid out of my jeans and top. I wasn't wearing a bra or panties, either. I loved the feeling of lying naked on my own bed, where no one could disturb me. My breathing continued to intensify as I ran my hand slowly down my stomach, creating goose bumps over my skin as I stroked my torso.
I bent my knees up and stroked the inside of my thighs as I did. My body began to shiver as my long fingers ran their tips over my moist, warm lips. Every time I touched them, an electric pulse surged through my body. And every time that I touched myself, I thought of Liam.
I imagined Liam on the bed in front of me, on all fours with his head buried between my legs. His smoldering eyes would gaze up at me while he licked his lips, until they were nice and moist. Then, his tongue would plunge inside of me, parting me open to taste me.
As I imagined this, my own fingers finally slid inside of me. I gasped softly as they dipped into my warm wetness. I moaned as they slid in and out, in and out. I pressed on the inside of my pussy, pulled them out, and ran them over the head of my clit. As they touched my clit, my knees shook. My entire body followed suit.
I stroked my clit softly, feeling it engorge under my touch. Every few moments, when the sensation became too much, I would dip my fingers back inside of myself, getting them nice and wet again before going back to my clit. As I rubbed it, it grew and grew, and I could feel the warmth growing inside of my body.
Like a fire, that sensation grew. It started at my legs and worked its way up. Once it reached my torso, it spread, engulfing the rest of my body. Although it was a fire, it felt cold as ice. My body began to shiver and shake as I continued to rub myself. I kept thoughts of Liam in the forefront of my mind. He was inside of me now. He was punishing me. He was penetrating me and making me his.
I worked myself harder and faster. I could feel the delicious pressure building inside me. It was so close. It was brimming on the edge. My entire body quaked. My breathing was destructive. I was about to blow.
And then I did.
I came hard and fast. As my body erupted, I slid my fingers inside myself, keeping them there. I writhed and kicked on the bed, turning over and biting into the pillow. The
sensation was amazing. So great that once it was over, I felt literal tears dripping down my cheeks.
And as I lay in bed for what must have been hours afterwards, my thoughts were always with Liam. That was one of the most explosive orgasms I’d ever had, and that was just from thinking about him. I could only imagine what it would be like if I ever had a chance to make him mine. I could only hope that he wanted it as much as I most certainly did.
CHAPTER 7
LIAM
I wasn't used to getting nervous. It had been so long since I’d felt anything close to nervousness, l didn’t think I could feel that emotion anymore. As a doctor, I had long ago learned to suppress that emotion. I had to. When people’s lives were on the line, I had to act on my gut instinct and make decisions that might result in death. I didn't have the luxury of succumbing to nerves.
But, as I drove to Kate's apartment, I realized that my nerves were back in full force. My knuckles were white and my palms were sweaty as they gripped themselves around the steering wheel. My knees shook, and even my gut didn't feel quite right. I was one hundred percent, unequivocally nervous.
The funny thing was that I really had no reason to be. Although I had sold this as a non-date, Kate and I both knew exactly what it was. As such, I made sure to go all out.
I knew Kate better than anyone. I probably knew her better than she knew herself. Because of that, I was able to plan the perfect date. I had three years of memories to work with. Three years of discovering what Kate liked and what she didn’t. I had to assume she would still enjoy the same things, even though her memories were gone.
Was it dishonest and cheating? Probably. Did I care? Maybe a little. Should I stop asking myself stupid questions and focus on the date ahead? Absolutely.
I was surprised to see her new apartment when I picked her up there. When we were dating, she lived in a much nicer place than the one I arrived at tonight. I assumed that she hadn't been living here long. I would have loved to ask what happened, but despite her not being able to remember, I also didn't want to give myself up.