The Red Dress - Sex Stories

The Red Dress

... exhausted and the tube felt like a drain pipe in my throat. Before long we were in a private room off the main ward and the white uniformed nurse very gently, removed the tube from my throat. Philip helped me to drink some water, my mouth and lips were so dry. I looked at him and asked him why I was there. He took my hand and held it tightly, looking at me intently before answering very carefully: “Well...” he paused, as if uncertain of what to say. “After you went to bed last night, I heard a commotion from our room. I ran up to find you having a full blown fit. You were thrashing about like a wild thing and I didn't know what to do. I called an ambulance and they arrived in minutes. By that time you had stopped fitting but you had also stopped breathing.” He waited and swallowed. I could see his eyes filling up as he resumed: “They worked so hard to revive you and I thought I had lost you but they brought you back.” The emotion was too much and he burst into tears. “I love you so much, I couldn't bear to lose you!” He sat beside me on the chair and pulled out a handkerchief to wipe his eyes and blow his nose. I waited patiently until he had recovered his composure. “They gave you a scan and found a blood vessel had burst in your head and was causing pressure to build up ...

... around your brain. That is why you had such a head ache.” All was now clear. My dreams weren't dreams at all but my brain trying to tell me something was wrong. I held Philip's hand tightly. “Where am I now? This doesn't look like our local hospital.” “No,” he replied, “Because of the fit, they brought you straight to the neurological hospital. You have been in surgery for some hours and I have been reading about this wing. It's called the 'Laura Pendleton wing'. Apparently it was paid for by the legacy of an old woman, Laura Pendleton, who passed away about twenty years ago. It seems her husband was missing, believed to be killed in North Africa during the second world war, an army officer if my memory serves. Anyway, it seems she rescued a neighbour from her house when it was hit by a V1 flying bomb. The neighbour only survived a few hours and later died in hospital from internal head injuries, I suppose a bit like you had. She never remarried and as she had no children, she left all her money to the hospital with a proviso that it was to be used to treat head injuries and such like. I suppose, in a round about way, she saved your life.” He paused and frowned, “I just realised... how strange...” “What is?” I asked. “The neighbour,” he answered, “She was called Anna too!”