The Last Flight. Chapter 17 - Sex Stories

The Last Flight. Chapter 17

... girls and I and Dominique has made a suggestion. How do you feel about her sleeping in your room with you for a couple of nights? We thought that maybe having someone close to you would help calm you and if you can get a few hours good sleep then maybe you will feel better, even if just a little.” I stared at her and then across to Pascale and, finally, to Dominique. Each of them smiled as I looked across. “Oh, I, erm, well, I,er... I don't know. Do you think it would help me?” “I don't know,” she replied, “We wonder if having someone nearby may help you to relax a little and maybe that, in turn, could help you sleep more peacefully.” Once again, tears began to well in my eyes. “What did I do to deserve such love from you all?” “In all honesty, it was Doctor Harlow who suggested it,” she admitted,“He sees it as a last resort before having to prescribe sleeping pills which neither he, nor I, really want to do. Dominique volunteered herself.” “But nevertheless,” I insisted, “You are still willing to give up you own beds to help me and that means such a lot to me.” “It is agreed then?” Françoise looked at her girls and then at me as she spoke. We all nodded. Later that day, whilst she was at work I decided it was time to try and walk without my crutches. I knew it would be painful but, after my fall that morning I felt that it was time to stand on my own two feet. I told Pascale what I planned, whilst she was hanging out the washing on the line in the garden. She was the only ...

... one at home as Dominique had gone to visit a friend. “Karen, won't you wait until Maman gets home?” she pressed. “I would rather not,” I told her. “She has enough to do. I will be fine, I just need to hold you for balance at first until I can be sure that my injury can take the strain all right.” “All right then, are you ready now?” she asked. I nodded and she held out her hand to me. First, I leaned my crutches against the verandah whilst keeping all my weight on my good leg and then, taking her hand, tentatively shifted my weight so that I was standing equally on both legs. So far, there was no pain to speak of. I could feel the pulling sensation across the wound and it did hurt a little but it was less than I expected and so, I took a step towards her. As I lifted the good leg first and the weight shifted onto my injured leg, the wound began to throb but, again, no more than I expected. I gritted my teeth and took another step, then another as Pascale moved backwards with each one. “How does it feel?” she asked, a little worry showing in her eyes. “Yes, good,” I nodded, “Better than I expected but...” “But what?” she frowned. “It is still quite painful but bearable,” I replied. “Then I think that is enough of now, young lady!” she said, faking a stern, matronly look which reminded me so much of her mother. I laughed lightly. That tiny pastiche had raised my spirits phenomenally and I saw her smile too. “It is so good to hear you laugh, Karen,” her face looking a mixture of ...