From the Heart E-Book

M.R. Leenysman

• Herausgeber: M.R. Leenysman
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2018

Beschreibung

A collection of four erotic and romantic short stories:

• From the Heart - The spirit of his deceased wife leads the woman who received her heart into his life
• Birthday at the Hotel Bar - Road warrior spending his 50th birthday at the hotel receives a special gift from his favorite bartender
• Thirty-Five Years Late - Formerly shy man reunites with the woman he almost took to prom
• Haven from the Storm - Shy man is rescued by four women after his car breaks down

Leseprobe

Contents

Title

From the Heart

Birthday at the Hotel Bar

Thirty-Five Years Late

Haven from the Storm

From the Heart

Four Erotic Short Stories

By M.R. Leenysman

~~~~~

Copyright 2016, M.R. Leenysman

From the Heart

~~~~~

I don’t remember the crash.  Maybe that’s a good thing, to block out the pain, both physical and emotional.  I don’t want to remember the details.  For a while, I didn’t want to remember much of anything.

The first thing I do remember was coming to in the ambulance, as it raced to the hospital, and hearing one of the EMTs say, “He’s awake.  You’re going to be okay, Henry.  We’re on the way to Mercy.  You have a broken arm and a broken leg, and we’ve splinted both and given you something for the pain.”  I focused on him, and saw a name badge that said Ramirez, before I look up and saw a face that looked about my age of 29, with a moustache and one of those little soul patches under his lip.

“Hank, call me Hank…  Missy!  How’s my wife?”  We had been on our way home from our 5th anniversary dinner before leaving for Bermuda the next day when... Why couldn’t I remember what happened next?

Ramirez said, “The first team of EMTs on the scene are doing everything they can for her.  She should already be in surgery now.  You’re probably next, if that leg fracture is as bad as I think it is.  Nothing they don’t know how to deal with, though.”

~~~~~

I must have passed out again, because the next thing I remember is waking up in a hospital bed, my bandaged left leg elevated in one of those traction rigs, my left arm in a cast.  I had an IV and a blood pressure cuff and some other cabling wrapped around my right arm.  

If the little white board next to the door was to be believed, I had skipped a whole day.  Our anniversary was on the 22nd of April, but the board said it was the 24th.  The window showed darkness outside, but whether that meant it was early on the 24th, or late, I didn’t know.

I looked around, and found a call button on a cable wrapped around the bed frame where I could reach it with my right hand, and gave it a push.

It took five minutes, but someone finally answered.  “Good morning Mr. Sherman.  I’m Nurse Wilkins.  You’re at Mercy Hospital on the post-surgical floor.  The doctors needed to open up your leg to insert some rods and screws to hold your tibia and fibula together until they heal, so try to keep still.  How are you feeling?”

“How is my wife?” I answered.

Nurse Wilkins hesitated.  “I… Dr. Havers is on his way here, and he’ll update you on your wife.  It’s policy here for the nurses to not discuss other cases.  Dr. Simons is assigned to your case, and he will see you on rounds in a few hours.  Meanwhile, I do need to assess your status.  On a scale of 1 to 10, how much pain do you have?”

“A four, I suppose.  I assume I’m getting pain meds through the IV already?”

“Yes, sir,” she said, just as the door opened, and a grey-haired doctor came in.  When he got close enough, I could see ‘Dr. Ronald Havers’ embroidered into his white coat.  Which is a good thing, as he never actually introduced himself.

“Nurse, can you excuse us?” he said, pulling a rolling stool over to the bed, and sitting down on it.  When Nurse Wilkins had stepped out, Dr. Havers turned back to me, and said, “I was your wife’s surgeon, Mr. Sherman.  Your wife Melissa presented with a major head trauma, and my team and I did everything we could to repair the damage, but it was too extensive.  I had to declare her brain dead after three hours, and called in the transplant team.  I am so sorry for your loss.”

“Transplant team?  You harvested her organs?” I asked.

Havers looked surprised by the question.  “Yes.  I thought you would have known that she had indicated on her driver’s license that she registered as an organ donor, which amounts to her pre-consent for donation.  Once a determination was made that she would not recover, the organ donation protocols went into effect.  I know it doesn’t make up for your loss, but be aware that her organs have already saved four lives in the past day, including a heart transplant that was performed right here at Mercy.”

Missy is dead.  The thought repeated in my head until I fell asleep again, leaving me with another hole in my memory, as I don’t even remember Havers getting up and leaving.

I drifted through the next several days, barely remembering anything from that time.  Nurses checked on me, got me to use a bedpan, meals got delivered that I don’t remember eating, my leg was put into a cast from thighs downward after the incision was healed enough, but it was all swallowed up by the blankness of a life without my Missy in it.

It was on the 28th that a ray of sunshine appeared to break through the clouds.  Nurse Wilkins was on shift again, and came into my room, saying, “Mr. Sherman, there is someone here who wants to see you.”

A visitor?  So far as I knew, nobody was even aware that I was there.  Missy and I had just started a two week vacation the day of the accident, and were supposed to be in Bermuda, and to keep burglars away from the house we weren’t going to post to social media about the vacation until we were home.  Our friends and family would be expecting not to hear from us. Missy had lost her parents in her early 20s, but I hadn’t even called my own family yet, that’s how bad the fugue was.

“Who?” I asked.  “Did the hospital call my family?”

“We would if we had a number, Mr. Sherman, but you haven’t responded to several attempts to ask for one, and nobody has inquired about you.  But this visitor isn’t someone you would know.  She… um… she’s the woman who received your wife’s heart a week ago.  She just got transferred to this floor out of ICU and insisted she wants to speak with you, but you need to consent, first.”

Missy’s heart?  The woman asking to see me had her heart?  “I thought donations are supposed to be anonymous.”

“They are,” the nurse said.  “Nobody here told her, I swear.  She just knows, somehow.  I’m told she actually asked about you the moment she came out of anesthesia.”

“Yes, I consent.  Show her in, please.”

Nurse Wilkins left the room, then returned with a young lady in a wheelchair with an IV pole built in, and pushed her to the bed, placing the wheelchair alongside the railing, facing me, then adjusted the back of the powered bed so our eyes were at the same level.  Above the front of her gown, I could see the bandages on her chest incision.  She was wearing a face mask, from concerns about her immune system, that was being dampened so she would not reject the transplant.  Missy’s heart.

Nurse Wilkins decided we needed introductions.  “Shawna Dufresne, this is Henry Sherman, Melissa’s husband.  I’ll let you two be alone for a while, I have other patients to look after.  Use the call button if you feel you need to go back to your room, Shawna.”

I took a closer look at Shawna, and for a moment, thought I was looking at Missy, seeing Missy’s blue eyes looking straight at me.  I closed mine, and looked again, and Shawna’s eyes were decidedly green.  Her hair was a curly brown, where Missy’s was a straight black.  Where that initial impression of similarity came from, I didn’t know.  From the long legs showing past her hospital gown and a robe, she looked taller than Missy, too.  Finally, I muttered, “Hello, Shawna.  How are you?”

“Alive, thanks to Missy.” she answered.

“How… how the hell did you know that was her nickname?”  What was this?

“You’re going to think I’m batshit crazy,” she answered.  “I’m not entirely sure I’m not.  But, she told me so herself, Hank.  Your wife has been visiting me in my dreams, ever since the surgery.  She asked me to come to you.”

“That does sound crazy,” I said.  “I don’t suppose you have any proof?  Something only she and I would know?”

Shawna smiled.  Even though I couldn’t see her mouth, her cheeks and eyes both reflected it, and I wished I could see the rest.  “Something like your ATM PIN number is 537648, which is the name KERMIT entered on an ATM keypad that has letters on the keys?”

My eyes widened.  Missy was the only other person who knew that PIN, because it belonged to a joint checking account that was originally hers, after having a pet frog as a kid.  I had adopted it for several other accounts.  “Yeah, something like that.  So, I suppose Missy has a message for you to relay to me?”

“She does.  It’s ‘Marry this girl.’  She apparently wants me to take her place, so her heart still gets to love you.”

“You’re kidding, right?” I asked.

“I told you it was crazy.  I told her it was crazy.  But I’m just the messenger, or maybe I’m the message, I don’t know which.  Do you want me to go, or stay?”

That’s when I heard Missy’s voice in my head, “Believe her, Hank.  She’s perfect for you.  Maybe even a better match than me.  I can’t stay much longer.  Goodbye, my love.”

“Goodbye, Missy,” I whispered, a tear rolling down my cheek.

Apparently, I hadn’t said it softly enough, as Shawna said, “She spoke to you, didn’t she?”

I looked Shawna in the eyes before saying, “Yeah, she did, and then said goodbye.  A matchmaker to the very end, and beyond, apparently.  Is this our first date, then?”

“I suppose so.  Although I have to warn you, my doctors haven’t given me clearance to put out yet.  I’m not sure they’d even let me do a hand job to take care of that,” she said, pointing to my midsection, where the sheet over me was definitely tented by an erection.

“I’m sorry.  I don’t know where that came from.  God, this is so embarrassing,” I sighed.

Shawna laughed, a delightful sound I immediately wanted to hear more of.  “Your wife has been leaving me very, very wet after some of my dreams, talking about what a great lover you are.”  She pointed at my prick and said, “That has her written all over it.  And she’s right, you are big.”  I measured 8”, and fairly thick.  Every bit of it was stiff and throbbing.

Shawna reached her hand over the bed railing, and lightly caressed my prick through the sheet and gown, just for a second, but it was enough to make me start to shoot off, under the gown.  Feeling me spasm, Shawna rapidly pulled the sheet down and the hospital gown up, exposing me totally, then wrapped her hand around me, and finished jerking me off.  The gown was a total mess by the time I stopped cumming.  Thankfully, it was a private room, but I still couldn’t believe this had happened with a stranger.