The Last Flight Chapter 13 - Sex Stories

The Last Flight Chapter 13

... out the glass. “ Vous e tes bien , maintenant. ” I had no idea what she said but gratefully took the glass from her. “Merci ,” I replied as she released her grip on it. For a moment I looked at the glass, the surface of the water was splashing about like the ocean during a storm as my hand trembled violently in unison with the rest of my body. I felt physically sick. Lifting the glass slowly to my lips I sipped at the cool water, some of it dripping down my chin as I tried to steady it using both hands whilst the young French nurse studied me, her eyes filled with pity as she held a cloth under my chin to help catch the spilling fluid. With the gentle touch of an angel, she took the glass when I indicated I had enough and placed it on the little table, wiping my face with the cloth. I realised I had been sweating profusely and and my eyes were red and gritty due to the lack of sleep. The clock showed ten minutes to six as I took the nurse's hand whilst she made me comfortable. “Merci,” I smiled, genuinely grateful that she was there. “You are welcome, Mademoiselle,” she replied with difficulty, her accent heavy, “Matron will be, erm, 'ere, soon, oui?” I nodded and closed my eyes but instantly opened them again, fearing drifting back into the seemingly unending nightmare. “Why were you here?” I asked her, “Did I shout out?” “Oui, mais, Docteur 'arlow, say to, erm, 'ow is it you say, to, erm, spy on you?” Her face contorted with concentration as she tried to remember the ...

... English words. “To watch me,” I smiled. “Ah, oui, to watch you,” she agreed. “I am fine now,” I told her, “Thank you” The day was hectic. Doctor Rousseau was true to his word and, once I had breakfasted and washed, he worked with me to get me on my feet. He and Françoise supported me whilst I learnt to walk with two crutches. It was important that I put no weight on my leg whatsoever. By lunch time I was exhausted and lay back on my bed to rest. I closed my eyes. “Karen?” a female voice entered my head, “Karen.” “Oh no, not again,” I thought and immediately opened my eyes, shaking off the weariness. Something touched my arm, a gentle grip. “Jemima!” I exclaimed, relieved that this time, I was not dreaming. “I am leaving now, going home.” her wide smile seemed a little forced but, as there were others around I played along. “Already?” I replied, “That is wonderful!” “I am going to stay a few days at a hospice in Brighton until I am well enough to go back home.” “I have never been there,” I told her, trying so hard to keep up the small talk, my insides churning at the thought that I would be alone again, “I believe it is very nice though and the sea air will do you good.” She smiled. You will be home soon enough too,” she said, “and then we will catch up.” I nodded and squeezed the hand she extended towards me. “Have a safe journey.” “You too,” she answered. There was an awkward silence then, both of us lost for words until she looked up at the porter behind her and nodded. He pulled ...