Chapter 4

Silvia screamed out her pleasure. For the past hour, Cook had done things to her that shook her to her very foundations. She’d never made out with a man before. Who knew that a half an hour of kissing could be so nice? She hadn’t.

Silvia shocked herself with her desires and her language. She hadn’t ever talked like that even when she was selling her body on the street.

A ringing of the telephone woke Silvia. Groggy, she reached over and answered it. Her voice, hoarse from her cries of passion, broke as she said, “Hello.”

“Hey, Silvia. What are you doing there?” Carla’s cheerful voice over the phone helped her wake.

She looked over at the strong body of the black man in bed beside her for a second before answering. His soft snores struck her as endearing. Confused, she asked, “What time is it?”

“Four. You were supposed to be over here a half an hour ago for Thanksgiving Dinner,” replied the young woman with a sudden trace of concern in her voice.

“Oh,” answered Silvia as her mind tried to establish a plan. She asked, “I had an unexpected guest and lost track of the time. Do you mind if I bring someone over with me?”

“No problem. We have a nice little turkey that will feed a dozen people.” Carla wondered about the identity of the unexpected visitor. She grinned as she realized that it might be Harry.

“Okay, we’ll be over there in half an hour. I’m so sorry about this.”

“No problem. That’s just enough time for Tim and me to get in a quickie. We’ll see you then,” replied Carla.

Silva hung up and looked over at Cook marveling at the physique of the man. Her entire body was still tingling from the earlier activities and looking at him intensified the feelings. Leaning over, she kissed his neck and ran a hand over his strong back. Her touch woke him.

Blushing at having fallen asleep after sex, Cook said, “Sorry. I try not to do that.”

“Do what?” asked Silvia with concern that he was going to dump her now.

“Fall asleep, afterwards,” answered Cook. His eyes wandered over her body as his desire for her returned.

“After being awake for more than twenty four hours? You’ve got to be kidding,” retorted Silvia with a chuckle. She was amazed that she had been able to wake him after so little sleep.

“I guess,” replied Cook in his deep voice.

“A couple invited me over for Thanksgiving Dinner. They are expecting us in about twenty minutes,” said Silvia as a shudder of excitement raced through her body. His hands really knew how to touch her. She didn’t want to leave.

A deep frown crossed Cook’s face at the news. He didn’t eat food cooked by other people. Although the situation had not arisen in years, he didn’t like people he cared about to eat food cooked by anyone other than him. His stomach clenched at the thought of watching Silvia eat food cooked by someone else. He felt as if he were going to get ill.

Suppressing the desire to throw up, he said, “I don’t think that is a good idea.”

His refusal surprised her and she said, “I’m sure that you’ll get along with them. They are my best friends.”

“It’s not that,” replied Cook. He struggled to come to some sort of compromise. After a minute of tension filled silence he said, “I’ll go, but I’ll have to leave during the meal and come back when you are finished.”

Silvia had enough experience to realize that there was something else going on here, but that he wasn’t ready to talk about it. If she wanted him to go with her, she would have to accept his terms. She would find some way to explain his absence during the meal.

Nodding, she said, “That would be okay. I don’t think they’ll mind.”

Having established that he was going to go with her, it was time to get dressed. Silvia, lying in the bed, realized that she was embarrassed to get out of the bed. Cook looked just as uncertain. A minute of awkward silence passed and then she started to giggle as the irony of the situation dawned on her. He started chuckling and then they both broke out in sidesplitting laughter.

It took them a few minutes to collect themselves enough to start getting dressed. They would slip a piece of clothing on and then laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation. For Silvia, getting dressed after sex was usually done without any concerns or care about her john; but Cook was no john. She didn’t know if she was supposed to look sexy or as if it was just an everyday kind of thing.

It amazed her how little she understood about relations between men and women, despite the fact that most of her life had been spent as a prostitute. Prostitute? Since when did she start considering her past in such high sounding terms? The thoughts running through her mind were just as confusing to her as the sex had been.

Once he was dressed, Cook apologized, “I’m sorry that I don’t have other clothes to wear to visit your friends.”

Silvia looked him over. He looked handsome in his Chef’s outfit. The most amazing thing was that after working in a kitchen for so many hours, it was still spotless.

Smiling at him, she said, “They’ll understand.”

“I guess we had better go,” he said wondering how far the people lived from her dorm room. He asked, “How long will it take us to get there?”

“About five minutes. They live in the couples dormitory across the commons,” answered Silvia as she opened the door of her room. Cook took her hand as he stepped out of the dorm room with her. The action took her by surprise and she almost forgot to close the door behind them. Together, hand in hand, they walked down the hallway. Silvia was blushing lightly, unused to such attention. Who knew that holding hands was so nice?

Tim opened the door and rolled back to let Sylvia and her date into the dorm room. As Silvia stepped in the room, Carla examined her friend from across the room. One look was enough to know that her friend had just gotten out of bed.

She screamed, “My God, girl. You look like you’ve just had the best sex of your life.”

Covering her mouth with her hand, Silvia froze in place blushing. Cook had entered the room just in time to hear Carla’s pronouncement and looked around as if caught with his hand in a cookie jar. Tim was beaming up at the large black man who was standing behind Silvia.

He extended his hand as he said, “Congratulations. She’s needed that for a long time.”

Cook didn’t know what to say or do. Finally, he shook hands with Tim as he introduced himself. “I’m Cook.”

Tim swiveled around in his wheelchair to move behind Silvia. He grinned and said, “I’m Tim. Pleased to meet you. Come on in and make yourself comfortable.”

Silvia had not told him that the people they were going to visit were handicapped. That didn’t bother him, but it was a surprise. He hoped that it didn’t show on his face.

Recovering his composure, Cook replied, “I’m pleased to meet you. Silvia said that you were her best friend.”

Shifting from foot to foot, Cook felt trapped. Silvia had frozen in place, the wheelchair was blocking entrance into the dorm room, and Carla was barreling down on Silvia in her wheelchair. The woman in the wheelchair had paused when she heard Cook speak.

In her typically embarrassing manner, she cooed, “Oh my. That voice is so sexy. I hope you’ll read poetry to me while Tim is jumping my bones.”

The joke woke Silvia from the paralysis that had resulted from Carla’s first comment and she rushed over to Carla.

Laughing at his wife’s behavior, Tim turned his chair to face Cook and joked, “I guess that Silvia didn’t tell you to bring your own chair.”

For a brief moment, Cook had believed the joke before realizing that Tim was kidding about the fact that he was confined to a wheelchair. He replied, “Nah. I just figured I’d sit in her chair and let her sit on my lap.”

“Don’t say things like that in front of my sex-crazed wife. She’ll be offering all kinds of seating advice to you.”

Winking at Cook, Tim pushed the wheels of his chair and maneuvered with practiced ease around the pair of women occupying the center of the room. Laughing, Cook followed him while looking around the dorm room. He’d never been in a couple’s dorm and was surprised to see a small kitchen, a bedroom, and a nice living room. The small room was immaculate. He realized that it would have to be neat and tidy if you were locked in a wheelchair. Clutter on the floor would make it impossible to move around in the small area.

The odor of food cooking assaulted Cook’s nose making him feel a little ill. The double amputee led him to the kitchen. With great trepidation, Cook followed him into the room wondering if he would be able to keep control over his stomach. He dreaded what he would find in there. Tim went over to the sink and washed his hands. Grabbing a pair of pads, he turned the wheel chair using the pads, and went over to the oven.

Noticing the intense stare Cook was giving the pads, he explained, “I find that cooking is one of the hardest things to do when you are trapped in a wheelchair. I have to use these pads to move around because I don’t want to get my hands dirty. Still, I end up spending as much time washing my hands as I do cooking.”

Cook watched as the man went about checking on the progress of the food. He was amazed that the man was as clean conscious as he was and volunteered, “I insist on a clean kitchen.”

“Same here. When I was first on my own after losing the legs, I was cooking one day and realized that I had gotten something disgusting on my hands. I spent the next hour in the toilet being sick at the thought of eating that food. Since then, this kitchen is the cleanest room in the house.”

Tim wasn’t going to explain what he had found on his hands out of consideration for the guest. The way he often explained it was that moving the wheelchair was like wiping your hand on the bottom of your shoe, every step. Most people found the idea of touching the soles of their shoes after every step a disgusting image when it came to preparing a meal.

Tim had touched upon something that was important to Cook without realizing it. Cook relaxed a little as he watched the man work in the oven. It pleased him to see the care the guy took with the food. When Tim rolled over to the refrigerator to get food, he examined every item with the same due diligence that Cook put into it. The large black man smiled as he realized that Tim cooked with the same care as he did. He felt that he might be able to eat here.

“Let me check on Silvia,” said Cook as he glanced into the living room. The two women were huddled over and talking with the kind of intimacy with which women were so comfortable. The young woman in the wheelchair smiled, giggled, and touched Silvia with natural ease.

He wandered over to the pair of women, getting noticed by Silvia. The black woman smiled and greeted him, “Hello. I’m sorry that I didn’t introduce you when we came in. This is my best friend, Carla. Carla, this hunk is Cook.”

Carla, with a definite expression of sexual interest, looked him over. As she made a fanning motion as if she was cooling herself off, she said, “Silvia definitely picked the right one.”

“Nice to meet you, Carla.”

Carla moved her mouth without saying anything, but the movements suggested she was complementing his voice and the effect it had on her. She rolled her eyes and placed her hand between her breasts.

Laughing at the antics of her friend, Silvia said, “Don’t mind her. She’s a sex fiend.”

“Oh.”

Confused, Cook looked over at Carla wondering how a paralyzed woman could be a sex fiend. He could understand how Tim would still want an active sex life. Even though the man had lost his legs, he hadn’t lost feeling below the waist and still had his equipment. He decided that her interest was primarily intellectual.

“If you call having to get my hands on Tim four times a day being a sex fiend, then I’m guilty as charged. I just think it’s natural,” Carla replied with a shrug.

“Four times a day? No wonder Tim can’t walk,” replied Silvia with a grin.

As Carla laughed at the joke, she said, “I’m going to have to tell Tim that one.”

Cook stood watching the exchange between the two women. He was very puzzled by Carla and couldn’t tell if she was joking or not. He didn’t know if Silvia had told their hosts that he wouldn’t be eating with them, but he realized that he could probably manage it now that he knew Tim took proper care to make sure that everything was clean.

Bending down, he whispered in the ear of Silvia, “I’ll stay for dinner.”

Surprised by his statement, Silvia looked at him with concern. She didn’t know what had happened to change his mind about eating there, but she could tell that it was a significant step for him.

Smiling, she said, “Why don’t you talk with Carla for a bit while I chat with Tim?”

“Sure,” Cook replied.

Silvia stood and started to walk away. After a few steps, she stopped and turned to Carla. With a grin, she said, “He can talk dirty to you, but you can’t touch him.”

Carla laughed and made a gesture, as if she were going to spend the time touching herself. Then she watched as Silvia went into the kitchen. Turning to Cook, Carla suddenly got very serious.

“It’s nice to see her this happy.”

“She hasn’t been happy?” asked Cook not really knowing that much about the woman he had made love with earlier.

“No. I’ve known her ever since she came to the Foundation, and this is the first time that I’ve seen that swing in her walk.”

Five years of serving in the Fusion Foundation had given Cook a lot of experience in watching people put their lives back together. It had taken him a year to get his life back together enough to function after Harry had brought him there. It was rude to pry into the past, but one listened and put the pieces together to fill in the background. He had a few facts already. She was a supervisor and that meant that the psych-staff had decided that she was emotionally sound enough to lead people that were often very weak.