Ignoring the Signs (Circa 1978) - Sex Stories

Ignoring the Signs (Circa 1978)

... his head nagging away at his guilty conscience. ‘You shouldn’t have ignored the warning sign. You were lucky the tide was out. You could have ended up swimming with the fishes. You could be in the hospital morgue.’ He sighed into his hands, cursing himself for his stupidity, knowing how fortunate he was to walk away from the accident without serious injury. Apart from a slight ache in his right leg and a few minor cuts to his knees and feet he was relatively okay. Heather wasn’t so lucky. She was badly hurt in the accident. His guilty conscience got the better of him. He decided to feign a limp. The dark sky beyond the windows was turning into a lighter shade of grey, the sound of birdsong signalling the beginning of a new day, a fleeting glance at the clock on the white painted wall letting him know it was approaching six o’clock, a squeaking door and the sound of heavy footfalls marching into the waiting room breaking the silence. “What the....” snapped the nurse, sweeping her tongue across uneven teeth, removing evidence of chocolate from her mouth and forcing a smile, her eyes wide open and both eyebrows raised, questioning eyes staring at the helpless figure in the chair. “Not you again,” she barked. “Mark Brand, if I’m not mistaken,” she added, shaking her head in disbelief, the mere mention of his name breaking her from her mental food orgy. “What is it now, or should I say, who is the victim now?” He wasn’t in the mood for another lecture from Susan Owen. He just ...

... lifted his shoulders in defeat and sighed into his hands. “How is she,” he enquired. The nurse scowled at his arrogance before biting on a chocolate bar, her chocolate coated words unexpectedly sympathetic. “The doctors are presently examining her injuries. When they’ve finished I’ll take you to the ward and you can have a few minutes with her in private,” she said, exaggerating a wink and pointing a finger at the floor. “Providing that limp of yours improves.” Even after the nurse had cleaned the dried blood from her battered and bruised body and dressed her wounds, Heather still looked absolutely dreadful. He pulled up a chair by the bed, held her hand and forced a smile, the silence broken by the occasional whisper of apology and a helpless mouth trying to find some comforting words that would ease the excruciating anxiety. The swishing noise of the privacy curtain pulled quickly along a rail and the authority in Susan Owens voice announcing that his visiting time was over broke the sombre mood. The chair scraped across the vinyl floor as he lifted to his feet and leaned over the bed. The kiss was warm and meaningful, holding it long enough until the nurse looked away, a whisper in her ear bringing an unexpected smile to her lips. “I just had a thought,” he muttered, choking back a lump in his throat, looking nervously over his shoulder before continuing. “With everything that’s happened.... I wondered if you had remembered to remove Trap 2.” She squeezed his hand, smiled and ...