XIV

Trina paced the hospital waiting room, eager for any word on Fonda's condition. Stavros was still speaking with the police. The bag of "evidence," or the fish Trina was asked to deliver, was in one detective's possession. The police assured her she wouldn't be charged with delivery of a controlled substance or any other crime if she would cooperate. Trina promised the detectives that she would tell them anything they wanted to know. In reality, all that she knew was that Corey had asked her to deliver the fish to Ray. The stories coming from the other workers in the fish market substantiated her claim. She would worry about that later. The only thing she cared about at that moment was Fonda.

She paced the hall, biting her already short nails to the fingertips. He would be all right, she tried to convince herself. He had to be. Doctors can do so much these days. Besides, she found him early on, if the time frame Stavros mentioned was right. The blood around him wasn't dry which led her to believe that she got there just in time. Doctors can do so much . . .

Why did I ever have that fight with him, she chastised herself. I wouldn't have stormed off to see Corey and none of this would have happened. Oh, God what I fool I was. Fonda was the sweetest guy I've ever known and I let my crazy jealousy cause all of this. Fucking Margie. This was her fault, too. That three-way was the biggest mistake I could have made. It had to confuse someone as straight-laced as Fonda. Oh God, he's so innocent. He was just so far in over his head. And Margie is absolutely gorgeous. Men just don't turn down women who look like that. Oh Fonda, I'm so sorry about everything. If you ever get out of this, I'll make it all up to you. I can't lose you now, she sighed as she buried her head in her hands.

"Trina?" Stavros interrupted her self recrimination.

"Yes," Trina jumped as she turned to face Stavros. "Any news?"

"You can go in and see him for a few minutes. He is out of surgery but he is still unconscious. We really won't know anything for a while," Stavros solemnly told her.

Trina nodded, and let him guide her to Fonda's room. She looked up tearfully at Fonda's parents as they clung to each other outside his room. She touched Mrs. Daskalakis on the shoulder as she passed.
 
 

Trina swallowed hard as she stared at the battered man lying in the hospital bed. What wasn't covered in bandages or tubes appeared mottled and bruised. Cautiously she approached his bed, pulling a chair close to his bedside, not sure if her wobbling legs would support her for much longer. Fonda looked half-dead.

"Oh, Fonda," Trina shakily exhaled. "What happened to you?" Trina reached out and touched his cheek, one of the only spots on his body that was not bruised.

"Those bastards tried to beat him to death, that's what happened," Stavros spoke from the doorway. Trina turned to look at him. "Detective Petrofsky just told Mama that they have a lead on the perpetrators. A couple of junkies who were associated with Corky. They're looking into his part in the attack too. They should all fry . . . "

Stavros approached the bed, pulling up another chair to sit by Trina and his brother. "The doctor said he's in a coma. They're not sure how long he will remain like this. Two ribs are broken, his right wrist is shattered. He has contusions all over his body. It appears one of the men used a pipe by the shape and length of the many bruises he has over his back and legs. The worst part is the head wound, apparently made by the pipe . . . " his voice trailed off and he covered his eyes with a hand. "It doesn't look good."

Trina sat stunned, looking from Stavros to Fonda. "What do you mean, Stavros? Don't you dare tell me he's going to die. That's, like, impossible, you know? I mean, they � the doctors � can do things to help him. It's not like he's that bad off. Right?" Trina looked hopefully at Stavros. "Right?" She grabbed Stavros' arm and squeezed hard looking for some sign of hope in his eyes.

Stavros looked up at her and frowned. "I don't know."

"I don't believe it. Fonda is strong. He'll make it, I know he will. I mean, a man like that just doesn't up and die like that. He can't give up . . . he can't," Trina babbled, realizing she wasn't making any sense but couldn't seem to stop. "You know, I tried to tell him that he shouldn't get mixed up with me. Shit. I'm just one royal fuck-up. I guess sometimes, no matter how good my intentions are, if I can't stay away from the bad element, the bad element will bite me in the ass. This time my bad element bit Fonda." Trina looked at Stavros. "I'm sorry, Stavros. This is all my fault. I hope you and your family will find it in your hearts to forgive me for dragging Fonda into this mess."

Stavros put his arm around Trina, giving her a squeeze before rubbing circles over her back. "Nonsense, Trina. Fonda makes his own decisions. You aren't to blame for what those thugs did to him. You had no idea what the both of you were walking into."

Trina leaned into Stavros. "He's got me so confused right now, you know? I've never met anyone like him. I don't know . . . " Trina shook her head, "What I do know is that I want him well so that I can tell him never to come running after me again. No, I guess that's not what I really want."

Stavros nodded. "You want Fonda and what you don't realize is that you have him. You had him a long time ago, if I know my brother." Stavros patted her back once more before getting up. "I will leave you two alone for a moment. I want to see if the doctor told my parents anything new."

Trina nodded and pulled her chair closer to Fonda's bedside. "I'll stay with him."

Stavros stood at the door and watched this woman hovering over his brother. His concern for his brother lessened slightly when he watched Trina. She loved him, he could tell � even if she wasn't able to admit that to herself � and would help Fonda through this. Fonda will get through this, Stavros affirmed to himself, he had to.

Two hours passed and there was no change in Fonda's condition. Nurses were in and out of the room, checking IV lines and monitors, throwing sympathetic glances Trina's way. Trina couldn't bring herself to ask about Fonda's prognosis, not wishing to hear any bad news if there was any. She stubbornly knew that he was going to come out of this soon and he would be fine.

The sound of Trina's beeper interrupted her quiet prayers for Fonda. Only a few people had her beeper number who might be calling her now: her agent, Margie, her parents, and the director of the ballet company. Trina retrieved her backpack from under her chair and tiptoed to the hallway. Fonda lay still and silent in the cold room. Trina's eyes met Mrs. Daskalakis'. "Mrs. Daskalakis, can I get you anything? Coffee or tea maybe?"

"No, Catrina dear. I was just going to sit with my Fonda for a while. The doctor said we should talk to him. I think I will see if he responds to the news we just received about Coco Puff," a mischievous smile cracked the older woman's features. "This should really bring him around."

"News about the dog?" Trina asked.

"Coco will be having puppies," Mrs. Daskalakis grinned. "It seems that Pedro, a Chihuahua owned by the groomer, got a little familiar with our Coco Puff the night she spent at the groomer. I'm sure Fonda will be thrilled to hear the news."

Trina managed a smile. "I'm sure he will be, too." Trina pulled her pager from the outside pocket of her backpack and looked at the number. It was from the director of the troupe. "I'll be back in a couple of minutes, Mrs. D. I need to make a quick phone call. If anything changes in the meantime, could someone come and get me? I'll be down the hall at the pay phone."

"Of course, my dear."

Trina hurried anxiously to the pay phone to check in with the director. "This is Trina Murphy. Did you page me?"

"Yes, Ms. Murphy, I did. This is Connie Albright, Madame Renault's secretary. We've just been informed that the troupe has been picked up to perform a four-city tour beginning in three days. We will return in time to open on Broadway in three weeks. Mme. Renault feels this is an extraordinary opportunity to perform before large audiences before the big night, especially beneficial for those of you who have not performed on, or off, Broadway before. This will give us all a chance to get the kinks out. We need your confirmation that you will be available and we also need you to come by and fill out some necessary paperwork before rehearsal tonight."

"Rehearsal tonight?" Trina asked.

"Yes, that's another reason I called. While we are aware that rehearsals were canceled for the week, given this new opportunity, we obviously had to suspend the cancellation. Rehearsals will begin this evening at 7:00 p.m. You will be able to attend, won't you? I don't have to tell you what will happen if you do not show up," Mrs. Albright cautioned severely.

"I'll be there, Mrs. Albright." Trina checked the time. She frowned when she calculated she only had another three hours to spend with Fonda before she had to leave. Then there was the four city tour. How could she leave him for that long?

"Very good then. We'll see you this evening. Good day, Catrina."

"Good day." Trina frowned as she hung up the receiver. "Good day? Yeah, right."
 
 

XV

Trina returned to Fonda's bedside, her heart a little heavier. She leaned over and delicately placed a kiss on his lips. "Oh, Fonda, what am I going to do? I can't leave you right now. I just can't. I know, you're probably thinking that you don't need me, and I would understand that, but I think I need you. I need you," Trina repeated. "I'm, like, such an idiot sometimes. I mean, there you are just the greatest man that ever came along and I act all cold and distant, like I don't give a damn or something like that. It's not that I want to. It's just something I do, you know, for protection and everything."

Trina sat in the chair next to Fonda's bed once again. She pulled herself close to his ear and continued her confession. "Once I used to be a different woman. I trusted people and gave of myself. I even did stupid things like call just to see how they were doing or to offer to do things for them. I would spend my money, and I never had a lot, just buying little gifts. I used to buy a lot of sappy cards, too. Little things that said 'just thinking of you.' Stupid, huh? I know, you don't care to hear about all this. I really hate talking about it, too. It kinda brings up a lot of old shit I would rather leave alone. It's just that, all that trust and shit � the old Trina � couldn't see the forest for the trees, or something like that.

"It was like, I would do all this stuff to make this person like me while I was neglecting what I needed most of all: self-respect. At least that's what my therapist said at the time. Anyway, I changed the day I realized I was being used by someone I thought I was in love with. Four months I poured my heart and soul into that relationship, neglecting my career and throwing away auditions, just because I needed to be at his beck and call. He didn't need me, at least not like that. He was already married. I didn't know that at the time � well, right away anyway. He only needed me to be around when his ego needed stroking � and other things. Then one day he just ended it, like it was nothing. You know what he told me? He was like, 'Trina, you didn't seriously think I'd leave my wife for you,' Asshole. It was like he was just throwing me out with the trash," she choked up and paused for a moment. "I just couldn't go soft anymore after all that. It hurt bad to hit bottom and realize what a fool I was. 'Never again,' I told myself." Trina paused, stroking the spot on Fonda's cheek that seemed free of injury. "Until now. And then all of those feelings of mistrust just jumped up with what Margie said. I don't know what to think anymore."

She took a deep breath, rubbing her eyes and brushing the hair out of her face. The room was eerily silent, the hum of the electronic IV machines the only noise breaking the stillness. Even the sounds from the hospital seemed distant and muted to Trina, as if they were part of another time, another place. "I only thought I knew what love was, or at least how it felt to be in love. Now I know that I was so wrong," Trina took a deep breath. "I believe, really and truly believe, that I finally know what love is supposed to feel like. I think I'm falling in love with you, Fonda." Trina leaned back in the chair and watched for any reaction from the comatose Fonda. She felt the knot of panic unwind in her belly just a little as she realized how she felt and she chuckled to herself. "Yeah. I'm falling in love with you."

Trina leaned forward again, her voice growing a little louder, "Your mom said it was a good idea to talk to you, so I am. So help me, Fonda, if you tell anyone what I just told you I'll . . . well, I'll . . . I'll do something . . . eventually. It wouldn't be right at the moment to threaten a man in a hospital bed," she smiled. "Your mom also told me how your favorite little mongrel from hell will be bringing more little vicious puppies into the world. With a Chihuahua, no less. Now, those are gonna be some butt ugly puppies . . . " She sighed and tried to force a smile. "I thought you might like to know that, anyway. In fact, if I ask her, I'll bet she'll reserve the best puppy for you." Trina watched his closed eyelids for any sign of reaction. Fonda remained lifeless.

Trina tentatively placed her hand on his chest, feeling the strong thump of his heart beneath her palm. "You're going to be all right, Fonda. I'm going to be here to take care of you. You'll probably just have to beg and beg to get rid of me but I still won't go. How's that for being a nuisance?" Trina fought back tears as she thought about rehearsal and the tour. "Other opportunities will come up. Ira told me this afternoon that word was good about me and my talent. I'll be able to pick the jobs I want sooner or later. I just can't leave you right now. I don't know how I could possibly concentrate on the tour with you like this. I just don't know . . . "

Trina started when she heard the distinct crackle of Mr. Daskalakis' throat clearing behind her. She turned and met the old man's gaze. "Hi Mr. Daskalakis. Why don't you have a seat and I'll leave you two alone."

"Catrina, we need to talk."

Trina stood nervously and pulled her backpack to her chest. "Yes sir?"

"Why don't you step outside in the hallway with me?" Mr. Daskalakis extended his arm and guided her out the door. Trina tried to read the expression on the man's face but it was useless. He was grieving and he looked tired. When they got into the hall she swallowed more dread, she knew he wasn't the kind of man who would mince words.

"Have a seat, dear."

Trina sat and waited for him to take the seat opposite her. "What is it? Is it Fonda's condition?"

"Yes and no," Mr. Daskalakis began. "We have no idea how long Fonda will be in a coma. However, given what the doctors have said, we also have no reason to think the outcome of Fonda's attack will be fatal. We will have to be patient." He leaned back and sighed deeply as he clasped his hands in front of him before continuing. "What I have to say next will not be easy for you."

Trina gulped down a breath, "Go ahead, Mr. D. I want you to just tell me what you think. You blame me for this don't you?"

"No, no, Catrina. That is certainly not what I'm thinking," he smiled warmly at the young woman, shaking his head vigorously and taking one of her hands in his, trying to ease her fears. "Fonda is a grown man capable of making his own decisions. As I understand it, he went looking for you out of concern and care. Our son has always been like that and I wouldn't have expected anything different. You could have been in quite a precarious situation and Fonda would not have stood back and let it happen. You had no control over the mugging. No, Catrina, I don't blame you for this."

Trina sighed in relief. "If I would have suspected anything . . . "

"I know. I know, Catrina. But that would have been impossible in this situation. No, what I have to say next will be difficult but for another reason. I couldn't help but overhear your apparent decision to cancel your recent . . . ah, 'gig' as it were," he pronounced it 'jig' and she smiled slightly. "Forgive me if that isn't the right term. I've lived in New York most of my life and I still have a tough time figuring out what some people are saying; like those Jews with their damn Yiddish. They kept using the word Geshmak. It took me years to figure out they were telling me my food was tasty. I thought they were asking for a type of fish. Sorry. . . . Anyway, where was I? Oh yes, the dancing. Fonda mentioned to me and his mother the very good news of your recent acceptance in that ballet company. He was extremely proud of you. His mother and I feel the same way. However, I thought I heard you mention in there the decision to cancel your upcoming performance in order to stay by his bedside. Am I right?"

Trina looked down at her hands gripping her backpack. "Yeah. I can't imagine leaving Fonda right now. It'd, like, tear me apart not being with him."

Anthony Daskalakis leaned forward, taking Trina's cold hands between his work-weary and calloused ones. "Fonda would not want you to give up this opportunity. Not at all. His mother and I, we worked and worked to build our dream. We made sacrifices and some of them were very, very hard. Fonda is the same kind of man. He admires and appreciates hard work. I am not an expert on dance but from what I gather from Fonda, you have worked equally hard all your life to accomplish this goal. To give it up now would be disappointing to us all. We want you to succeed, young lady. Besides, what can you really do for Fonda sitting by his head, whispering in his ear all day, eh?" Mr. Daskalakis squeezed her hand before chuckling lightly.

Trina smiled wanly and shrugged, unsure about what to do.

"Oh, I know you whisper little lovey things to him if I'm not mistaken. I still do that to the wife. I tell you what," he leaned forward and whispered to Trina, "you call on the telephone and I'll hold the phone up to Fonda's ear and you can still whisper little lovey things into his ear."

Mr. Daskalakis smiled, pulling Trina into a hug. "Go and dance and call every day. We'll take care of our boy while you're gone and he'll be ready to dance with you when you return."

Trina returned the embrace and wiped a tear from her eye.

XVI
 
 

On the subway uptown, heading for the studio, Trina reflected on Mr. Daskalakis� remarks. She couldn't promise him anything more than to think about it. He made good points, and his support of her was more than she expected and made her feel like part of the family, but she still wondered if she could perform to her best ability while worrying about Fonda. Trina still felt responsible for his condition and despite what his family had said to her, it didn't ease her guilt over the whole situation.

Trina arrived at Mme. Renault's studio on E. 55th street with about a half-hour to spare. She greeted a few of the other dancers dourly and stepped off to the side of the room to do her stretching and warm-up exercises alone.

"Hey. Trina, right?" A tall, thin blonde walked over, smiling. Trina nodded meekly and smiled wanly at the pretty dancer. "I remember you from the audition when she had you show a step to everyone. I knew you were in, then. You're so good."

Trina nodded, but didn't say anything. She reached into her bag and pulled well-worn knitted leggings on, ignoring the other girl.

"Um, my name's Mindy. This is . . . hey have you been crying?" She noticed that Trina's eyes were red and bloodshot.

"Yeah, it's no big deal," Trina said, turning to stretch her legs, trying to stop the conversation before it began.

"What's wrong?" she asked. Obviously, Mindy wasn't one to take a hint.

"It's a long story. My boyfriend was mugged. He's in a coma." Trina said brusquely, looking weak and sighing heavily.

"Oh, man, that's awful. I'm so sorry," Mindy sympathized and reached out to stroke Trina's arm, smiling warmly. "I won't bother you then. I'm sorry." She started walking away.

"No . . . no," Trina called to her new friend. "I'm sorry. I'm just really bummed about the whole thing. I didn't mean to snap at you." She forced a smile and Mindy came back.

The two women stretched in silence for the next few minutes. Trina couldn't help but notice Mindy's eyes darting about the room, staring at the other dancers.

"First time?" Trina asked.

Mindy chuckled and blushed slightly. "Is it that obvious?"

"Not really, but you're spending as much time looking around as you are warming up."

"I'm so nervous. I got the call this morning. I auditioned, but didn't make it. Then they called this morning. I guess one of the others tore a hamstring, so she won't be able to dance for like, three months, so I'm in. It's an awful way to make it, but I'm not complaining."

"Hey, whatever it takes for your break. You've got to make the best of it."

Madame Renault stepped out of her office with a couple of her assistants and put the dancers through their paces. After a while the assistants broke the troupe into smaller groups to work on specifics.

Trina shined, pushing herself through the rehearsal with as much fervor as she ever had. In fact there were a couple of times she was asked to demonstrate a step or two to some of the others. It was much easier for her to concentrate fully on her dancing than to dwell on Fonda and his condition. Mr. D was right, she thought, the best thing for me is to be out here dancing. There's nothing that I can really do for him anyway.

"Tomorrow, ladies and gentlemen," Mme. Renault said in her shrill voice at the end of the rehearsal. "Two rehearsals. Noon and seven in the evening. Be prepared to work hard. I was not pleased with much of what I saw tonight. There were a couple of encouraging performances, but by and large it was quite disappointing. Especially from those who have danced with me before. We're opening in four nights at the Wang Theater in Boston and I've seen better dancing at high school recitals. I expect these steps to be polished. Is that clear?"

The dancers murmured their acknowledgments as they broke apart to gather their belongings. Trina threw her stuff in her bag and looked at the clock. "Damn," she whispered under her breath.

"What's wrong?" Mindy came over smiling and sweating, wearing a towel around her neck.

"Hi," Trina perked up a little. "It's already nine-thirty. Visiting hours at the hospital are until nine."

"That sucks. Well, good luck, I hope your boyfriend gets better. See ya tomorrow," she said cheerfully before heading out with a small pack of dancers.

Trina smiled and nodded while walking over to a phone on a wall in the corner of the studio and pushed a series of buttons.

"Hello."

"Hey, Stavros. Trina. How's he doing?"

"Pretty much the same. At one point, mother thought she noticed him flutter his eyelids, but I don't think it actually happened. Wishful thinking, most likely. How was your rehearsal?"

"Actually, it was pretty good. I think your dad is right about dancing. At least when I was dancing I was able to keep my mind off of Fonda."

They spoke about Fonda for the next couple of minutes before Trina noted that the studio lights were being switched off. She said her goodbyes and ended the call, promising to be in to see Fonda early the next morning.

She took the subway downtown and wandered around The Village, instead of heading straight home. She walked the still busy streets among the couples holding hands, lost in their own world. She really didn't want to go home and see Margie, and wanted some time alone to think about the tremendous changes in her life in the last twenty-four hours.

Trina stopped into a bar just down the street from her apartment; it was really just a dive that she and Margie would hang out at occasionally. She took a table in the corner of the dark, smoky room, sipping from the water she ordered and barely hearing the acoustic guitar playing in the background.

She buried her head in her hands as she thought about the tremendous upheaval in her life in just the last day. She had gone from being blissfully happy preparing for their sailing trip, to the despair and hurt of breaking up with Fonda over Margie's accusations. She was still dazed by the shock and horror of finding him battered and broken in the alleyway on the lower east side, to realizing that she loved him. And now, she was being torn apart after she was told that she needed to leave town in a few days.

Everything was moving way too fast for her to comprehend matters. She was accustomed to living life at a fast and frenetic pace, but this was even too much for her. Margie, whom she usually turned to when things got too stressful, was part of the problem now. She was still mad as hell at her roommate and blamed her, to a degree, for much of what happened today and now didn't know whom to turn to for counsel.

She sighed, and noticed that it was already eleven o'clock and knew that if she wanted to visit Fonda at the hospital before her first rehearsal of the day, she was going to need to get to sleep early. As she walked toward her building, Trina could feel the thumping in her chest tap to a nervous beat, unsure of what she was going to say if Margie was already home.

"Hey, where have you been all day?" Margie asked, sitting in shorts and a tank top and watching TV in their living room.

Trina ignored her, throwing her bag on the couch, and headed to the bathroom without saying a word. When she emerged, Margie was waiting for her, looking apologetic.

"Look Trina, about what I said today. I . . ."

Trina interrupted her. "He's in a coma. He's in a fucking coma, Margie."

"Who's in a coma?"

"Fonda," she cried.

"Holy shit. No way! How is he in a coma?"

"After our fight, I went to see Corey. Well dickhead Corey asked me to deliver a fish to Ray � remember Ray, the choreographer?" Margie's mouth was wide open as she nodded her head, but said nothing. "Anyway, the fish I was delivering wasn't just a fish but it had a couple of ounces of heroin in it."

"Shit. I told you that Corey was �"

"Just be quiet," Trina snapped at her roommate and held her hands up. "Well, Fonda found out about the heroin and came after me. Then a couple of guys jumped him and beat the shit out of him. Now he's at St. Vincent's in a fucking coma."

"I'm so sorry, Trina. Honey, I didn't . . . I mean, I didn't think . . . " Margie hung her head and broke into tears. "What I said . . . earlier . . . "

"What?" Trina asked sharply.

"About me and Fonda. It kinda was an exaggeration," Margie said sheepishly.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Trina cried.

"When I said about . . . you know . . . about me and Fonda getting it on all those times . . . it was only one time. The morning after the night we had the threesome with him. He was asleep and I just kinda threw myself at him. I'm sorry. He was just such a great fuck�"

"You mean you made that up?" Trina fumed. She glared at Margie, her fists clenched and her neck muscles straining.

Margie nodded meekly. "Yeah. And about the blow jobs in the car. It was one time, and I kind of set him up. He tried to stop me," Margie related the truth about the blow job she gave Fonda in his car.

"So why all the bullshit this afternoon? You're supposed to be my best friend. How could you have done all that?" Trina scowled at her friend, plopping herself disgustedly into an easy chair.

"I'm sorry . . . really I am. I was jealous and, like, so turned on by him. I mean, he's like the best fuck I've had in years. You know how I like big cocks, I didn't think �"

"That's your problem," Trina interrupted again, angrily. "You don't think. All because of you he's in the hospital. God knows whether he'll die or not. I knew you were selfish, but this is even too much for you. And now the first guy I've ever really loved is fighting for his life."

"You love him?" Margie asked softly, a wide-eyed, open-jawed expression plastered to her face.

Trina nodded, slowly at first then gaining speed as her conviction grew within her. "I really do."

"Oh wow. That's like, so amazing. I mean, you've never loved anyone. I wondered sometimes if you ever really liked guys, or if you just went out with them so you could make career contacts."

"Well, thanks for thinking that I'm incredibly shallow," Trina said shortly.

"That's not what I mean," Margie protested. "I mean, you're always dating, like, dancers and musicians, guys that you say introduce you to people or can get you auditions and shit like that."

"Yeah . . . well, I guess I never felt as serious about any guy before. I mean, I really didn't even realize it until I saw him in the hospital. But now I just can't imagine being without him," Trina sighed and brought her knees up to her chin.

Margie walked over and began stroking Trina's hair motherly. "I'm so sorry, honey. I don't know what else to say. Can you ever forgive me?"

Trina said nothing, but reached out for Margie's hand, squeezing it slightly. She stood and hugged her roommate warmly before giving her a slight kiss on the cheek. "I'm going to go to bed. I've got to get up early so I can go visit Fonda before rehearsal."

"I thought you didn't have rehearsals for a few days."

Trina told Margie about the four city tour that she'd be starting within a couple of days. They discussed Fonda's condition a bit more in depth before Trina said good night, dragging herself into her bedroom, quietly shutting the door behind her. She peeled off her sweaty clothes and crawled between the covers naked, hopefully finding sleep quickly.
 
 

XVII

Trina held her breath as she stood outside Fonda's hospital room, waiting for the doctor to come out. If only she could see a little light in Fonda's recovery, it would make what she had to do next a little easier. As it stood now, she couldn't get him off her mind for longer than a few minutes at a stretch. She still felt responsible for this man. She loved him.

Stavros solemnly closed the door to Fonda's room, spotting Trina fidgeting nervously in the hall. "Trina," he greeted her with a curt nod. "Good morning, such as it is."

"That sounds bad, Stavros. What did the doctor say?" Trina asked, pushing her hair from her face.

Stavros shook his head, stretching his arms over his head. It was obvious that the strain of all this was placing on Fonda's brother. Between spending time at the restaurant and hospital, Stavros was running himself ragged. "Not much change. Mother did mention seeing Fonda move his hand last night." Stavros paused, taking a deep breath, and nodding his head in the direction of a doctor reading a chart at the nurse's station, "That doctor he said that could have been nothing more than a reflex of some kind. I don't know . . ." Stavros shook his head.

"Nonsense, that's what I say," Mrs. Daskalakis boomed from behind Trina, "I know my son and he will be fine. He was trying to tell me something, this I know for a fact. That doctor cannot possibly know everything about my son."

Trina wanted to believe Mrs. Daskalakis more than the doctor and she smiled. "Good morning, Mrs. D."

"Trina, my dear," Mrs. Daskalakis planted a kiss on Trina's cheek, squeezing her arms as she pulled away. "Now, don't you worry. You see, he will be fine. Are you ready for your trip?'

Trina nodded, looking away quickly before Fonda's mother could see the emotional reaction she caused. "I was going to tell Fonda goodbye for now. I wanted to give him my schedule, just so he knows where I am so he won't worry and all," Trina shrugged self-consciously.

"That is a good idea, Trina. Oh, before I forget, Mr. Daskalakis wanted you to have this." Alcina rummaged through the enormous tote bag she seemed to always have with her, pulling needlework, notepads and various paperback novels from within before she found what she was looking for. "Here, take this and call as often as you like." She handed Fonda's cell phone to Trina and smiled, though her eyes looked tired and sad.

"Thanks, Mrs. D. And thank Mr. D for me if I don't see him before I leave."

"I will my dear. We're just pleased that we can help. He'll be by when he leaves the restaurant at three. Being back at work after three years of playing golf and pestering me around the house has been tiring for him."

Trina rubbed the older woman's arm affectionately as she glanced at the clock in the hall. "Speaking of leaving, I need to be at the rehearsal hall in about an hour to catch the bus to the airport. Can I go in and see Fonda now?"

"Of course, dear. We'll be right out here." Mrs. Daskalakis and Stavros left Trina alone, walking to the by now familiar surroundings of the waiting area near Fonda's room.

Trina gathered her strength once more, taking a deep breath before pushing the door open into Fonda's room. She stopped and caught her breath, just watching the big man in the bed. He appeared to be peacefully sleeping. Faded bruises, a cast on his right wrist, some stitches on his neck, and one large bandage across his temple were the only evidence that he had faced death and nearly lost.

Trina approached his bed slowly, all but expecting him to open his big brown eyes and flash his wonderfully generous smile at her. Disappointment irrationally struck her when she realized he couldn't � wouldn't � do that right now.

"Hey big guy, I hear you've been giving your Mom some signals." Trina leaned forward and kissed his cheek, lingering longer than usual just to feel the warmth of his skin and the texture of his unshaven face over her lips. "You can give me a signal at any time, you know. But if you're tired, I understand." She smiled sadly, leaning on the side of his bed with her elbows resting on the bed rail. Lightly, she fingered a few buttons nervously before continuing with her goodbye. "You've got a great family, Fonda. I mean, they are really good people. It's easy to see why you turned out as good as you did, not all screwed up and impulsive like a few people I know," Trina smiled bitterly. "Anyway, your Dad, he helped me out with a major decision. He said you would approve and since you're taking this extended vacation, I decided to take your Dad's advice."

Trina caressed his face. "I don't mind telling you that this is really tough on me, leaving you like this, but I'll be back, don't you worry. You haven't gotten rid of me that easily, I mean, if you want me around after . . . " The rhythmic pulsing of machinery in the room almost stifled Trina's quiet sob.

Trina smiled, and forced herself to change the subject. "Hey, I see you've lost a couple of those goddawful machines. I guess that's good news. . . . Oh, before I forget, I brought something for you." Trina pulled a program from her backpack. "It's a copy of the program that will be passed out at the shows I'll be performing in. See?" She held the program in front of Fonda's closed eyes. "There's my name right there. Kinda hard to believe, huh? I mean, me, the fly girl from Hell, actually starring in a real live ballet. I wrote down on the back the cities we'll be performing in, just in case you get the urge to jump up out of this bed and come see for yourself. We'll be in Boston at the Wang theater, Baltimore, Washington DC at the Kennedy Center � can you believe that � then Philadelphia before we come back here for opening night." Trina placed the program on the crowded night stand, propping it between a hospital-issue pink cup and a box of tissues.

"And, just so you know, I'll be calling you on a regular basis, thanks to your Dad. He loaned me your cell phone for the trip." Again Trina glanced at the clock, frowning at the quick passage of time. "Okay, like, I need to fly so I don't miss the bus." She leaned in close to his ear and whispered, "I love you, Fonda."

Trina stood, wiping a tear from her eye, amazed at herself for finally admitting her feelings to him. If only he could hear her. She pressed her tear-dampened fingers to her lips before touching Fonda's lips.

Trina turned and quickly left the room, not stopping to look back for fear she would lose all control and run sobbing down the hall. She bid a hasty goodbye to Stavros and Mrs. Daskalakis. It took every bit of effort not to break down as she stood waiting for the elevator. Leaving was tearing her apart but she had to do this, it was for her future, for their future.

When she had left the room she didn't see Fonda's reaction, the lift of his fingers as they splayed in the air as if to acknowledge her presence and her confession.

XVIII

"Yes, the news is good, Trina." Trina hopped on both feet, chewing her fingernails at Stavros' news coming from the cell phone. She had a difficult time hearing over the din of excitement bustling outside the dressing room and pressed the phone tightly to her ear.

"He's awake?" she shrieked and a couple of the dancers nearby cast sideways glances at her. Trina instinctively dropped her head and lowered her shoulders, as if that could somehow take back the sound of her squeal. She couldn't even begin to restrain her excitement, not that she wanted to. After five days with no change in Fonda's condition, any new news was welcome, and this news was the best of all possible worlds.

"Yes, he is out of the coma and beginning to speak to us," Stavros replied in a stilted tone.

Trina jumped at the knock on the door. She glanced in the mirror and touched the tip of her little finger to the fake eyelash � part of her stage makeup � before excitedly continuing. "Okay, that is so great! I need to get going in five minutes for curtain call, Stav. Can I talk to him real quick?"

"Uh . . . I'm sorry, Trina. Maybe another time. He . . . uh . . . he looks to be asleep again."

"Oh," Trina said dejectedly, "I'll just call back after the show. Maybe he'll be awake again then."

"That sounds good, Trina. Dad says to break an arm . . . I think he means leg. Good luck."

Trina disconnected the call, tucking the phone into her backpack. She wasn't going to be disappointed. How could she? Fonda was out of the coma. Besides, she wouldn't have had enough time to talk to him anyway. She hurried out the dressing room door, bursting with joy, to take her place with the other dancers. Only sixteen more days and she'd be back home.

Stavros hung up the phone and turned to his brother. "She is eager to speak with you. How long are you going to put her off?"

Fonda peered up at his younger brother, only shaking his head.

"She'll understand," Stavros continued. "Trina is a bright and sweet woman."

"No," Fonda uttered hoarsely � it was obvious to everyone that even that small utterance was painful for him. He fumbled with his speech, trying to say more but gave up, punching the mattress in frustration.

Stavros calmed his brother with a hand to his arm. "It's all right. I'll help you. We will wait and see. Maybe by next week things will have changed. I'll make excuses until then."

Fonda nodded and smiled weakly, squeezing the hand Stavros had on his elbow.
 

The curtain had been raised and lowered three times after the ballet performance. The assemblage seemed especially pleased with the presentation of Bizet's Symphony No. 1 in C major. The dancers milled around backstage, awash in the afterglow of their skillful execution, sharing in the camaraderie of their success.

"Trina, darling, wonderful performance tonight. You shined like the star you are destined to become, my dear." Trina glowed under Madame Renault's compliment, words she rarely gave out to anyone.

"Thank you, Madame," Trina gushed before hurrying off to the dressing room, still reeling from the glare of the footlights and the applause of the audience. Trina smiled at herself in the mirror, mentally pinching herself to see if this was something she was simply imagining. Her thumb dialed the number to Fonda's room into the cell phone, the other hand peeling off the heavy eyelashes.

"Hello? Stavros?"

"Yes?" Stavros sleepily asked. "Ah Trina. I'm sorry I must have dozed off. What time is it?"

"It's about eleven or so, is Fonda awake?"

Stavros yawned. "It's late, Trina. Fonda's exhausted and has been sleeping soundly."

"You're sure he didn't go back into the coma?" Trina asked quietly.

Stavros laughed. "No, Trina. He'll be fine. He's just sleeping right now. He said to tell you that he wishes you well on stage and can't wait to see you."

"Thanks. So when will I get to talk to him?"

"As I understand it, he will be needing a lot of extra rest as his body continues to heal. Nothing to worry about."

"Oh. Okay," Trina sighed and her shoulders drooped. "Well, if he wakes up, he can call me any time, if he wants to."

"I'll be sure to tell him. Goodnight, Trina."

"Goodnight."

Trina looked up as Mindy came in to their shared dressing room, peeling her costume from her athletic body. Dancers weren't modest and they rarely had the chance to hide their bodies when it came to performances. Many times Trina had to change costumes backstage, sometimes among the lighting engineers and other employees of the theater. Seeing Mindy walk into the room half naked didn't affect her much � other than to notice her blonde bush covering her pussy. Mindy smiled and Trina caught herself staring and turned her head away.

"Hey! Great show tonight, huh?" Mindy said, rubbing a towel over her damp chest and neck.

"Yeah, it felt good tonight. Heather even managed to meet her mark on time tonight." Both women giggled. Trina stripped her pale leotard off, followed by matching tights. Neither woman wore underwear under their costumes, it was not allowed during performances. They continued to make small talk as Trina waited for the shower to warm.

"So? Did you hear anything on your boyfriend?" Mindy asked, falling back into a chair. Trina peeked but quickly looked away from Mindy and her open legs.

"Um, yeah. Good news," Trina replied loudly as she stepped under the steaming shower. "He's out of the coma and starts physical therapy tomorrow. I'm so excited." Trina squeezed her eyes closed, rubbing soap into her skin. Stage makeup was difficult to remove, she rationalized, and she didn't want to turn around and see Mindy watching her with that look in her eyes.

"That is so great. I'm happy for you."

Trina started, rinsing the soap from her eyes. Mindy's voice came from behind her instead of a distance.

"I hope you don't mind. I'm so sweaty and this shower looked too good to wait," Mindy said, smiling broadly, her straight, white teeth sparkling. She took the soap from Trina's hand. "Here, let me help you," Mindy laughed, "You still have gobs of mascara under your eyes."

Trina stood still and looked up as Mindy carefully dabbed at the makeup under her eyes. Mindy stepped a little closer, looming only slightly taller than Trina. Their breasts, wet and soapy, touched. Trina jumped at the contact, looking down at Mindy's chest. Mindy's nipples had contracted to erect points, either from the water or the contact with Trina, she wasn't sure. Mindy continued to soap her skin, watching Trina, an uncertain smile barely gracing her lips. She reached out, rubbing lather into Trina's neck, down her chest, until her hands skimmed beneath Trina's breasts, pushing them together slightly.

Mindy held her breath as she looked into Trina's eyes for some signal � anything that would give her the green light to proceed. She was incredibly attracted to Trina, but nervous at what she was starting. Their friendship was budding on the tour and she would have hated to jeopardize that, but she was just so drawn to Trina that she couldn't help herself. She looked intently into Trina's eyes, not moving her hands from where they were on Trina's breasts.

A small sigh escaped Trina's lips. Mindy decided to take a chance.

"You have beautiful tits," Mindy murmured, rubbing her thumb over one hard nipple.

The reaction was instantaneous. Trina closed her eyes and moaned at Mindy's touch. Mindy lowered her head to Trina's breast, sucking in a nipple while pinching her other one. Trina leaned back against the shower wall.

Margie had been the only woman Trina had ever been with up to this point and Trina marveled at the differences in their body types. Where Margie was smaller and curvier, Mindy's body type was much like her own, tall and lean with small, perky breasts.

Mindy glanced up at Trina to gauge her reaction. All she saw was the half-lidded look of lust in her eyes, and traced her tongue up Trina's chest, licking her neck.

"Mmmm" Trina moaned through her nose as she ran her hands over Mindy's wet and soapy back. Trina lowered her head and looked Mindy in the eye, she could feel herself getting wet. They giggled slightly, as if they were sneaking into somewhere they shouldn't dare, before joining their lips in a tender kiss.

Mindy was the first to venture her tongue into the breech, hesitatingly moving forward, seeking out Trina's own tongue. Trina embraced the tongue, tentatively at first, then with more aggression, wrapping her own around the pink muscle. The two thrashed under the cover of lips, increasing their arousal with each flick.

Their hands aggressively explored each other's body. Trina cupped Mindy's small breasts while Mindy inserted a finger into Trina's moist vagina. Trina groaned her pleasure into Mindy's mouth as she tried to buck against her friend's hand.

Mindy removed the finger from Trina's pussy and brought it up to their lips. The two women licked eagerly at it, dancing their tongues over it and intertwining them around the slick digit.

Mindy broke the kiss and continued her oral ministrations lower, nibbling on Trina's nipples before trailing her tongue lower, circling Trina's navel and lowering it to Trina's moist entrance until she reached Trina's shaven mound. She pushed Trina's leg up over her shoulder and looked up at her friend.

Mindy swiped once at Trina's clit, sending electric jolts through her body. Trina was confused. She desperately wanted to make love with Mindy, but her feelings about Fonda were rapping a constant and ever increasing tattoo on her conscience door.

"Wait," Trina said, smiling apologetically down at Mindy, lifting her leg from the girl's shoulder. "I just can't do this right now."

Mindy sat back on her heels and looked down. "I'm sorry . . . I mean, I thought that . . . "

"No. It's not you. It's . . . me."

Mindy stood and smiled at Trina, exiting the shower and grabbing a towel. "I guess I thought we might have felt the same way, nothing serious, just a little fun."

"I'm sorry. I know what you mean, Mindy. And maybe so under different circumstances. It's just . . . well . . . I've never been in love before and I think I just figured it out. Believe me, I desperately want you now . . . but I can't. I wouldn't feel right about it. Does that make any sense?"

Trina turned off the shower and wrapped a towel around her. "I don't want to hurt you or anything Mindy. I want to be your friend. I really like you and you're, like, gorgeous. I mean, I was totally turned on but I just can't betray Fonda for anybody right now. I hope you understand."

Mindy took the towel Trina held out for her. "I got it. You love the guy and want to be faithful to him. That's cool. That's really cool." Mindy leaned forward and gave Trina a quick hug. "He must be some guy."

"And a half." Trina smiled broadly.

"I'm happy for you. Really. . . . I'm just a little worked up now, thanks to you," she stuck her tongue out playfully at Trina.

"I was definitely tempted, that's for sure."

"Hey," Mindy changed the subject. "How about a light late night dinner at that deli down on Park Street? I'm starving."

Trina smiled. "Yeah, that sounds good. Just as long as those dorky guys who were trying to flirt with us yesterday aren't there. I could go for something other than a salad."
 
 

XIX

Did Fonda dream about Trina or was it an injury-induced hallucination? Stavros and his parents had told Fonda of her concern, but he wondered if they were simply trying to ease him through his recovery.

Still, Fonda thought, her confession seemed so real. He even thought he felt her warm breath near his ear when she spoke � revealed � how she loved him. He reached up with his good hand and touched his face, feeling of the remaining stiff stitches. Maybe she just felt sorry for him, or maybe it was merely his imagination working overtime.

"Here you go, Mr. Daskalakis, safe and sound in your room," Fonda's thoughts were interrupted by the harsh and husky voice of Gertrude MacIver, a nurse he had become all too familiar with during his stay. Or, rather, a nurse that had tried to become familiar with him. He shuddered at the thought.

"And look here, Dr. Kaplan is waiting to see you." Nurse MacIver cooed, her lumbering, hulking form helping Fonda into bed none too gently. "Is there anything I can get for you, Mr. Daskalakis?"

Fonda shook his head, uttering a quiet no.

"What's that?" MacIver cackled. "Now, you know you need to speak up more; it's good for your speech therapy regimen."

Fonda took a deep breath, clenching his good hand, "No, Nurse MacIver. I don't need anything now," Fonda said slowly, forcing a smile through clenched teeth. His parents entered the room just as she gifted Fonda with a nicotine-stained grin.

"That's much better, Mr. Daskalakis. Much better."

"That will be all, nurse," Dr. Kaplan said, ignoring Nurse MacIver's retreating backside as best he could � the woman should have been outfitted with back-up lights and a loud beep like a four ton truck � before turning his attention to Fonda. "How would you like to be released, Mr. Daskalakis? You're making great progress in your recovery and I see no reason we need to keep you here. Of course, you'll still need physical and speech therapy for a while but we can arrange for a home health agency to assign a physical therapist to do that in your own home. Reports are encouraging enough from the physical therapy department for me to feel comfortable releasing you." Dr. Kaplan paused and looked back at Fonda, removing his glasses.

"Home would be good," Fonda said, smiling broadly.

"I do need to see you in a week in my office for a follow-up."

Fonda nodded and smiled slightly. He felt like a caged animal in the hospital and was only too eager to leave, secure in the knowledge that � even though he might not heal any faster at home � he would no longer have to deal with the likes of Nurse MacIver.

"I'll get it," Mrs. Daskalakis said as she bustled to the front door of their home. "It should be the physical therapist lady."

Fonda glanced up as his mother opened the door, more than a little apprehensive; the physical therapist he had at the hospital was a sadistic little man named Bray � what kind of name is Bray, anyway? � who seemed to take delight in Fonda's agony. His fears vanished as soon as his mother guided the bouncy young girl into the living room.

"Fonda," Alcina said in her thick Greek accent. "This is your physical therapist. Kimberly . . . I'm sorry, my dear. I'm terrible with last names."

Kimberly smiled at Fonda's mother before turning toward him and extending her hand. "Hi. I'm Kimberly VanHousen. Nice to meet you Fonda. I'm going to be your physical therapist for the next month, at least. . . . Duh. Like you didn't know I was your therapist," she rolled her eyes comically, smiling down at Fonda.

Fonda gripped Kimberly's hand in a firm handshake and tried to stand, but the pain was too great for him and he collapsed back into the chair and grimaced. "Nice to meet you Ms. VanHousen."

"No, just Kimberly, please," she said, smiling warmly, understanding his pain. "We'll have you jumping out of that chair in no time.

Fonda nodded, relieved that Kimberly was pleasant, and her eyes sparkled at his smile.

"Well, I see that you two need to get busy here. I have some errands to run. But I'll be back with lunch in about an hour. Will you be staying for lunch, Kimberly?" Mrs. Daskalakis asked, casting a quick glare in Fonda's direction.

"No ma'am, I can't today. Maybe some other time, though. Thank you."

"Mother, you don't need to bother yourself with all this cooking . . ."

"Nonsense. You need to regain your strength. Trina gets back soon and, well, you do remember what we talked about, don't you? I haven't seen the ballet in years."

"Yes, I remember. I already have the tickets."

Mrs. Daskalakis beamed. "Good. Kimberly, very nice to meet you. Take care of my boy, eh?"

Mrs. Daskalakis turned and strode from the room, casting Fonda a cautious glance behind Kimberly's back.

"Yes ma'am, Mrs. Daskalakis," Kimberly replied, turning back to Fonda.

"So, Fonda, first things first. We need to get you up out of that chair and walking around a little bit," Kimberly began, looking him over. Brown curls spilled over her shoulder as she tilted her head, examining Fonda's large frame. "I reviewed your file last night. Don't think for a minute that your size intimidates me in the least. I might be small but I've got a hell of a kick." Kimberly giggled at Fonda's shocked expression. "Oh, not like that! I mean, lean on me all you want. I can handle men twice your size." Kimberly smirked as she approached Fonda and then her face turned a deep crimson as she realized the double meaning of her words.

Fonda took a deep breath. This girl was going to be fun, he thought; at least a lot more entertaining than Bray, who obviously had received his medical training from Dr. Mengele. "Yes, ma'am. I wouldn't want to get on your bad side. I think you'd take pleasure in hurting me," Fonda grinned.

"Oh, you don't know the half of it," Kimberly smiled coyly as she approached, biting down on her plump lower lip.

Fonda groaned inwardly. He felt a stirring in his groin and knew without a doubt that Kimberly was beginning to have an effect on him. He cursed himself and his body for betraying his feelings for Trina. How could he possibly get excited with another woman? Why was he even flirting with her? Sure, she was pretty and was flirting with him, but that was no excuse; he was in love with Trina. Surely he could wait another couple of weeks to see her. It had been so long, though, since he was last with Trina, that his hormones were more like those of an out of control teenager's than a grown man's, he tried to rationalize. That had to be it � at least, he hoped that was it. And because of his broken wrist, he hadn't been able to seek his own pleasure since the accident and his sexual frustration level was at an all time high.

Kimberly giggled, shaking Fonda from his thoughts. "That's right, mister. You better do as I say or I'll really put you through the paces."

Fonda gazed up at the tiny woman, pixie-ish and cheerful, and couldn't help but grin up into her blue eyes. "Do you remember how to do this?" she asked.

Fonda arched a dark brow and grinned. "I would hope so."

Kimberly giggled again, batting the air near Fonda. "You flirt. You know what I'm talking about. I'm going to bend over, you're going to put your hands on my shoulders and we'll lift together to get you out of that chair. Just be careful of your wrist."

Fonda nodded as Kimberly leaned over. Her loose scrub shirt fell away from her chest as she bent towards him. Fonda couldn't help but stare. Gazing at women's cleavages is very much like looking at an eclipse � you know you shouldn't do it, but you just can't help yourself.

Kimberly was wearing a sheer, white push up bra � simple, but elegant. Her breasts, fairly large for a woman her size, strained out of the confines of the tight bra and Fonda clearly saw enough to see to two tiny erect nipples, straining to break through the thin fabric. He quickly looked away.

"That's right, just like that, Fonda," Kimberly breathed in a slightly husky tone near his ear. "Put your hand right there and grab on. Don't worry about hurting me."

Fonda nodded, laying his injured hand across her shoulder. He felt her hands grip him under his arms. She maneuvered closer to him, bent legs straddling his knees. His cock jerked in his loose-fitting sweatpants, now noticeably tenting the fabric. He tried to shift in the seat to make it less obvious but wasn't nearly as successful as he hoped. His face was rapidly turning red and he hoped that she didn't notice the reason for his embarrassment.

"One . . . two . . . three . . . " Kimberly lifted at the same time Fonda pushed off from the chair. He winced in pain as he struggled to his feet, amazed at her strength as she easily accepted his weight against her. One of his thighs made contact with her crotch, but Kimberly didn't flinch, professionally ignoring it as a byproduct of the task she was performing. "Good. Now, hold steady and I'm going to step back slightly."

Fonda glanced down in embarrassment, hoping Kimberly didn't notice his arousal. Her brow was furrowed slightly and her muscles strained as she was concentrating on the task at hand, ignoring the source of Fonda's shame. All the better, he thought. If she had noticed it, the poor girl would probably have run screaming from his home, never again risking entry to take a good paying job in the privacy of a man's home.

Hands that were once gripping under his arms now smoothed down the side of his torso and held firm. Fonda felt her hard nipples digging into his chest, their contact not helping reduce his arousal at all. She didn't pull back right away, and he wasn't sure if supporting him was the only reason. Instead, she pressed her chest into him a little harder before breaking contact and sliding. Kimberly stepped back, looking up at him. Her hands slid lower to his waist and continued to hold firm. "How does that feel?"

Fonda cleared his throat before responding. "Good." He broke Kimberly's ice blue gaze and focused on a light across the room. He began to recite the Gettysburg Address in his mind, concentrating on anything he could in hopes of deflating his quickly growing cock. He cursed himself for his arousal, still not knowing what he would say if she noticed it.

It was no use. In his mind's eye he saw the petite therapist standing before him, heavy-lidded, lips parted, as she stripped off her uniform. Underneath the baggy scrubs was a magnificent body: tight, tiny, with generous curves and overflowing breasts. She reached behind her to unclasp her bra, letting the undergarment fall from her breasts. Her breasts were large and round and tipped with tiny brown nipples, and he pictured his mouth covering them, nibbling on their tips with his teeth.

She bent over, her eyes never leaving his, and slipped from her sheer white panties. She was trimmed, the way he liked a woman's bush, but not bare, very much in the Brazilian style. The tiny woman quickly stripped the sweatpants from Fonda's body, taking his briefs down with them, before gently pushing him back to the sofa. In a second she had him straddled, guiding his huge cock into her wet hole, groaning as she enveloped the veiny shaft. She threw her head back and cried out as his penis delved deeper within her tight, wet walls. She rode him fiercely, grinding into him with a passion, and thrust her breasts into his face. Fonda pictured Kimberly's lithe frame riding his cock up and down, up and down, her breasts heaving and bouncing with each stroke as he tried to corral them in his mouth. "Yes . . . yes . . . oh, Fonda . . . fuck. . . fuck . . . me! Oh Fonda . . . oh Fonda . . . Fonda . . ." Kimberly cried out loudly as she continued to pump all that she could out of him. He grabbed her jiggling breasts as she began to shudder, sucking one of the tiny buds deep into his mouth. She was warm and hot and . . .

"Fonda . . . Fonda?" Kimberly asked, "Are you okay? You seem miles away."

Fonda started and looked back at Kimberly. He couldn't respond right away and instead turned around and hobbled in the opposite direction slowly, surreptitiously trying to adjust his, now raging, erection. "I'm . . . fine," he said over his shoulder, "just eager to get to work."

If Kimberly had noticed his erection, she politely ignored it. Then again, he thought, how could she not notice it, unrestrained, such as it was, beneath the slack cloth of his sweatpants. Fonda steadied himself against the back of an arm chair and took a few deep breaths, hoping the growth in his crotch wasn't as noticeable when he turned around.

"I take it from what your mother said that you have a goal in mind? A girlfriend or something?" Kimberly asked, taking Fonda's mind off his discomfort briefly.

"Yes, I do. Trina. She's a dancer," Fonda smiled, turning to face Kimberly again. "She debuts on Broadway in a few weeks. I would like to surprise her. The last time she saw me I was still in a coma."

Kimberly frowned, "How sad for the both of you. I bet she's just as eager to get back home to see you, especially now that you're recovering so nicely. I like to encourage goals in my patients. It does seem to make the therapy go by a little quicker, if not a little easier. As you know, recovering from your kind of injuries can be frustrating as well as painful."

Fonda chuckled painfully, unsure if she was alluding to his current frustration. "To be honest with you, Kimberly, I haven't even talked to her on the phone. I'm afraid that she will have a hard time understanding the difficulty I am having with my speech."

Kimberly touched Fonda's elbow, guiding him away from the chair. "Your speech has improved dramatically since the accident. I don't think you have anything to worry about on that account. And, I have to say that I just love your little accent," Kimberly gushed.

Fonda smiled. "Thank you. I grew up here, in America, but my parents always spoke Greek with us and we grew up in a Greek neighborhood in Astoria; I never quite shook the accent. . . . Besides, a little accent is great for business." Fonda grinned as he paced himself, walking carefully next to Kimberly. "My brother Stavros, on the other hand, has lost his, for the most part."

"Well, don't you lose it. It's adorable. You shouldn't have much longer before your speech patterns are completely back to normal � give it a week or so."

"How do you know? I mean, we've only just met."

"I told you that I have your file. The reports from the speech therapist have indicated a quick response and recovery, given your type of head injury. The jumps in progress each day are remarkable. In fact, right now, I can barely detect any hesitation," Kimberly replied in a now professional tone. "And, since you've worked by yourself on some of the exercises the hospital PT prescribed, you've become much more ambulatory than I would have expected at this point. Two weeks and you'll be able to get up with hardly a twinge of pain," she smiled, then involuntarily looked down at Fonda's crotch before forcing her head away from his as she burned in embarrassment.

She coughed, then continued with her assessment. "That's my prediction. You might need a little assistance, maybe with a cane, but I see this wheelchair going in about a week."

"Really? That's encouraging. And, a cane isn't all that bad. I'm just so embarrassed to be so helpless."

"Nonsense," Kimberly disagreed. "What happened to you was terrible. And you're making great progress. You should be pleased with yourself, not embarrassed."

Certainly not embarrassed by that cock of yours, she thought as she pictured his large penis, unencumbered by his pants, bobbing free in the room just awaiting her lips to encircle it. As they walked across the room, her mind wandered to images of Fonda's large muscular frame, lifting her easily and bending her over the chair, thrusting his huge erection into her with frenzied abandon. She could picture him grabbing a handful of her hair, yanking her head back and kissing her neck, as he pumped himself into her forcefully.

"I could even wear my tuxedo on opening night," Fonda said, interrupting his physical therapist's fantasy.

Kimberly laughed nervously, relieved that he didn't notice her daydreaming. "That's the spirit. Won't she be surprised? Does she know you will be there?"

"No, we haven't told her yet. I want to surprise her."

"I think she'll be very happy to see you, Fonda. Now, let's get to work."