into the tub herself, hissing very
quietly when the sole of her foot hit the hot water.
“Sorry. It’s going to sting.” Then he put
the tea towel into the water and wet it thoroughly. He wrung it
out, then eased his hand around her slim ankle. She went stiff at
his touch, and he stopped and looked up. For a moment, she simply
stared back, and he stayed quiet, waiting. Then she nodded, and he
picked up her foot and, as gently as he could, cleaned her
wound.
Her feet, like the rest of her, were lovely.
Her toenails were polished a dark, dark red, darker than the color
of dried blood. The sand had worn the edges away a little. The sole
of the foot he held was red and abraded from her long walk in the
sand and saltwater, and he dabbed gently with the cloth to clean
it. The cut, when he found it under the sand and blood, was about
an inch and a half long and fairly deep—any deeper and he would
have suggested a trip to the ER for stitches. It was still bleeding
a little, but he was able to get it pretty clean, and there didn’t
seem to be any shell left behind. Just the omnipresent sand.
He eased her foot back into the water to let
it soak, intending to rinse the towel out in the sink. Before he
stood, he lifted his head and met her eyes. She was crying. Just
tears sliding down her face, nothing more. When he looked, she
wiped them abruptly away.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to hurt you. Did I
hurt you?”
“No.” It was a gasp more than a sound. “No.
You did not hurt me.”
She was staring at him in a way that made
him feel…something. Something different. Something more. A
tightening in his chest. A heavy pressure in his gut. A fullness in
his cock. Jesus. He felt ulterior motives coming on. He realized
that he still had his hand around her ankle, and that his thumb was
moving back and forth, caressing her.
He let her go and stood up. “Okay. Um. Just
let it soak for a while, and the rest of the sand will loosen and
float out of the wound. Then lots of antibiotic cream and a good
bandage. You probably want to wrap your whole foot, just to make
sure the wound stays covered. Okay? I’m gonna go ahead and call my
brother. I’ll wait outside for him.”
“Wait. Carlo?” The R in his name
rolled when she said it. He could feel it. Right now, he felt that
a lot.
“Yeah?”
“Thank you. For…for everything.” She smiled.
He thought it was the first true, wholehearted smile he’d seen from
her. Jesus. It was a little sad, but brilliant nonetheless. Jesus.
He had to get out of here.
He returned her smile as he stepped away.
“You’re welcome. It was my pleasure. Good night, Bina.”
He left her house. She let him go without
another word.
~oOo~
“Daddy! Daddy Daddy Daddy Daddy!”
Carlo pulled the pillow from his head and
found his son bouncing on his knees on the empty side of the bed.
Elsa sat at the side, her furry head bobbing up and down in time to
Trey’s bounces.
“Hey, pal.” He rolled to his back and held
his arms out, and Trey dropped full-force onto his chest. “Oof. You
get a good sleep?” He glanced at the clock. Not yet seven a.m.
“Yeah! Aunt Rosie told me FIVE STORIES!”
Trey held his hand up, his fingers splayed wide. There was still
sandy goop from last night’s s’mores between his fingers.
“Five! You must have been super-extra good
on the ride home, then.”
“Uh huh. I was! Did you catch the tail?”
Carlo blinked his sleepy eyes fully open.
“What?”
“Uncle Joey told Pop-Pop you didn’t come
home because you went to chase some tail. Did you catch it?”
Joey needed another broken nose. “No, pal. I
didn’t. Sorry I wasn’t here to put you to bed.”
“That’s okay. Aunt Rosie read me FIVE
STORIES.” Again, his sticky hand spread wide. “And Mrs. D. brought
doughnuts and beagles for breakfast. I don’t want a beagle, but
some of the doughnuts have
quietly when the sole of her foot hit the hot water.
“Sorry. It’s going to sting.” Then he put
the tea towel into the water and wet it thoroughly. He wrung it
out, then eased his hand around her slim ankle. She went stiff at
his touch, and he stopped and looked up. For a moment, she simply
stared back, and he stayed quiet, waiting. Then she nodded, and he
picked up her foot and, as gently as he could, cleaned her
wound.
Her feet, like the rest of her, were lovely.
Her toenails were polished a dark, dark red, darker than the color
of dried blood. The sand had worn the edges away a little. The sole
of the foot he held was red and abraded from her long walk in the
sand and saltwater, and he dabbed gently with the cloth to clean
it. The cut, when he found it under the sand and blood, was about
an inch and a half long and fairly deep—any deeper and he would
have suggested a trip to the ER for stitches. It was still bleeding
a little, but he was able to get it pretty clean, and there didn’t
seem to be any shell left behind. Just the omnipresent sand.
He eased her foot back into the water to let
it soak, intending to rinse the towel out in the sink. Before he
stood, he lifted his head and met her eyes. She was crying. Just
tears sliding down her face, nothing more. When he looked, she
wiped them abruptly away.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to hurt you. Did I
hurt you?”
“No.” It was a gasp more than a sound. “No.
You did not hurt me.”
She was staring at him in a way that made
him feel…something. Something different. Something more. A
tightening in his chest. A heavy pressure in his gut. A fullness in
his cock. Jesus. He felt ulterior motives coming on. He realized
that he still had his hand around her ankle, and that his thumb was
moving back and forth, caressing her.
He let her go and stood up. “Okay. Um. Just
let it soak for a while, and the rest of the sand will loosen and
float out of the wound. Then lots of antibiotic cream and a good
bandage. You probably want to wrap your whole foot, just to make
sure the wound stays covered. Okay? I’m gonna go ahead and call my
brother. I’ll wait outside for him.”
“Wait. Carlo?” The R in his name
rolled when she said it. He could feel it. Right now, he felt that
a lot.
“Yeah?”
“Thank you. For…for everything.” She smiled.
He thought it was the first true, wholehearted smile he’d seen from
her. Jesus. It was a little sad, but brilliant nonetheless. Jesus.
He had to get out of here.
He returned her smile as he stepped away.
“You’re welcome. It was my pleasure. Good night, Bina.”
He left her house. She let him go without
another word.
~oOo~
“Daddy! Daddy Daddy Daddy Daddy!”
Carlo pulled the pillow from his head and
found his son bouncing on his knees on the empty side of the bed.
Elsa sat at the side, her furry head bobbing up and down in time to
Trey’s bounces.
“Hey, pal.” He rolled to his back and held
his arms out, and Trey dropped full-force onto his chest. “Oof. You
get a good sleep?” He glanced at the clock. Not yet seven a.m.
“Yeah! Aunt Rosie told me FIVE STORIES!”
Trey held his hand up, his fingers splayed wide. There was still
sandy goop from last night’s s’mores between his fingers.
“Five! You must have been super-extra good
on the ride home, then.”
“Uh huh. I was! Did you catch the tail?”
Carlo blinked his sleepy eyes fully open.
“What?”
“Uncle Joey told Pop-Pop you didn’t come
home because you went to chase some tail. Did you catch it?”
Joey needed another broken nose. “No, pal. I
didn’t. Sorry I wasn’t here to put you to bed.”
“That’s okay. Aunt Rosie read me FIVE
STORIES.” Again, his sticky hand spread wide. “And Mrs. D. brought
doughnuts and beagles for breakfast. I don’t want a beagle, but
some of the doughnuts have
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