Enchanter - Sex Stories

Enchanter

... am I bleeding?” I asked her. “There’s blood coming from under your shirt, low down,” she said. “Help me get it off.” She unbuttoned me and pulled the shirt away. There was a jagged piece of glass sticking out just above my hipbone. I must have picked it up when I jumped through the window. I don’t recommend jumping through windows. I had lost a lot of blood. That explained the collapse. “Look on the top shelf in the hall closet,” I told her. “There’s a blue box up there. I need it and a bottle of water.” She brought me the box and got the water out of the refrigerator. She grabbed a couple of kitchen towels and I opened the box and gave her a bottle of alcohol. “Fallon, can you clean that up a little so I can see it?” She could and I got a pair of forceps out of the box. I eased the glass out and blood flowed freely. She pressed on it with the towel and after about five minutes I felt clear headed enough to think. I got out a suturing needle and threaded it. “You might not want to watch this,” I told her. “No, let me do it. You can’t see well enough.” “Can you do a running cross stitch?” “Yes, I’ll do it.” She did. It hurt like blazes, but she did a good job. She cleaned it up with betadine and put a bandage on it. “What are you going to do about your ankle?” she asked. “It’s going to be ok,” I told her. “Ok? How can it be ok? Look at it! It’s puffing up like a balloon.” “Trust me, Fallon. In a couple of days it will heal.” “You’re an idiot, Oliver. Broken bones don’t heal ...

... like that. What happened to you? Why are you hurt?” “I got in a fight. They were tougher than me.” “I’ve never known you to lose a fight,” she said. “How many of them were there?” “Five,” I told her. “Help me get my coat and shirt off.” She pulled the coat off my shoulders and she frowned when she saw the twelve gauge. She didn’t say anything; she just untied the thong and put them both in the closet. She took off the shirt and threw it away. She was gone for a minute and she came back with another shirt. She helped me put it on and buttoned it up. “Oliver, I’ve got to go to work. I’ll be back in the morning and I’ll bring you something to eat. Let’s get you comfortable.” She went in my bedroom and came back with a pillow and a blanket. She eased me back on the pillow and tucked the blanket around me. “Do you need anything else?” “Yes,” I told her. “I need alcohol. There’s a bottle of bourbon in the pantry. Bring me a glass and the bottle.” She frowned at me again but she got it. She put the first aid kit away and kissed me. “Don’t move till I get back,” she said and she was gone. I called my aunt. She’s the smartest person I know, but she’s eccentric. Apparently, she was feeling social because she answered. She doesn’t always do that. I told her about the situation down town. She didn’t have a clue who might have a vendetta against me. “It may be the same people that killed your parents,” she warned. “We never found out whom or what took them out. All you ever knew was that ...