The Last Flight. Chapter 17 - Sex Stories

The Last Flight. Chapter 17

... welcome distraction. “Pretty good!” I smiled up at her. “Not as much pain as I expected so I think it must be healing nicely but now I have taken the weight off it, it is throbbing.” “Well, that is something then,” her face brightened as she spoke. “I shall tell Maman when she gets home.” “Do you have to?” I winced as I replied, “I am not supposed to be walking on it yet.” “I know!” she laughed, “That is why I will tell her, so she can check and make sure all is well.” “Oh, all right then,” I pouted playfully, “I know when I am beaten.” She squeezed my shoulder once more then turned away, saying, “I will get your coffee, I left it on the kitchen table.” As she turned I playfully took a swipe at her pert bottom but, as she was wearing those tight slacks again, it made a resounding slap! She stopped dead and turned to me, raising an eyebrow as she did, then smiled but in a way that I wasn't sure if there was something other than indignation. Still smiling she turned away again and disappeared through the doorway back into the house. We didn't eat until Françoise got home, about seven-thirty. Pascale said nothing about me trying to walk until after the delicious meal she and Dominique had prepared. Between them they cleared away the dishes and washed them then, when all was done, we prepared to retire to the living room for the remainder of the evening. I reached for my crutches and as I did so, Pascale suddenly spoke up. “Maman, before we move, could you check Karen's ...

... dressings and wound please?” Françoise frowned. “Why? I only checked them yesterday.” She looked at me and shrugged. “She tried to walk without her crutches today.” She mouthed the word 'sorry' to me as she spoke. I gave a wry smile and sighed as her mother glared at me. “Karen!” She sounded quite annoyed. “All right,” she sighed and looked at her eldest daughter. “Pass me a chair then.” Pascale placed a chair in front of me and then carefully lifted my leg and rested my foot upon it. I pulled up my dress to give Françoise access to the dressing. With great care, she removed the safety pin and unwrapped the bandage, rolling it up as she went then, once it was free, removed the flat gauze pad. “Hmm,” she said, examining the vivid red wound carefully. “It is good. You must be so careful not to rush your recovery, young Lady. I am sure that Doctor Rousseau explained to you that such a deep wound heals from the bottom of the laceration. It is very important that you do not tear open the outer flesh before it is fully knitted.” “Yes, he did,” I replied somewhat sheepishly. “I just needed to do something. Having to use crutches all the time is driving me insane.” “I do understand, Karen, but if you do any harm by being impatient, you will be on them even longer.” For a moment she looked at me, making me feel a little abashed at being so foolhardy, then smiled. “Be patient, Ma Cherie, there is no hurry.” Throughout all this I noticed that Dominique had been unusually quiet. She was usually ...