Chapter 3- Part 1

(Unedited Version-Contents may be inappropriate for readers under 18)

I’m completely spent from my restless night of sleep.  I repose in the comfort of his protective arms utterly sated from our carnal night of lovemaking.  I immediately reminisce about the multiple orgasms we enjoyed together…

 As I fervently lay prone over a decadent down pillow, he leisurely walks his two fingers up the back of my ticklish legs.  I’m wearing nothing but a delicate black lacy thong.  The sensual taps of his fingertips lure dormant cravings deep within my body.  His fingers suddenly stop at my upper inner thighs, purposely coaxing more intense desires for him.  It's effective.  I want and shamelessly beg for more.  He proceeds with wispy feathery kisses along the middle of my lower back.  My body squirms pleasurably underneath him.  He slowly parts my thighs and slides the thin lace material to one side for full access to my velvet lips.  With every slow touch of his fingertips along my sensitive skin, moisture gathers and I desperately yearn for him to take me.  He sensually places his two fingers over my moistened sweet spot and begins a soothing circular massage.  The rhythmic motion sends me almost completely over the edge.  He has an approving expression on his face, watching me fall apart under his control.

It's apparent to him that my body craves more.  He gently rolls me onto my back with the same pillow propping my pelvis up.  He continues his sexual taunting with his skillful tongue as he places his head between my unsteady bent knees.  And at the same time, he also caresses and kneads my breasts with his free hand.  The arousing motion and pressure of his warm tongue and two fingers circling inside me provokes an explosive orgasm.  I moan and pant pleasurably.  He's pleased.
  

I hear my loud voice moaning over and over again…but now it sounds more like buzzing…oh shit, it’s my damn alarm clock!   I fight hard to open my rebellious eyes.  I don’t want my pleasure to end.  But unfortunately, I have to succumb to reality.  And the harsh reality is discovering that I was having an erotic dream of my mystery man, alone in my bed.

 I'm already struggling to stay focused in my first class as snippets of my vivid and lustful dream dominate my unsettled mind.  Nothing can penetrate my sinful obsession.   I can’t stop seeing his handsome face and imagining his delicious lips and hands all over my body.  Ugh…this will be a dreadfully long day for me.  How can I think about pathology at a time like this?  I’m angry with myself for not being able to concentrate and for allowing this mystery man, who I know absolutely nothing about, to dramatically influence me this way.  “This crazy fixation has to end immediately!” I scold myself.  I can’t allow anything or anyone to interfere with my academic goals. 

After I harshly lecture myself over the importance of regaining control of my raging hormones, I was much more productive in my remaining two classes.  I’m thankful Amelia and Richard did not detect my neurotic state of mind.  How can I explain any of this to them when I don’t have a rational explanation for myself?  I temporarily muffle this foolishness.  The question is how long will I be able to repress it?  I’m hoping to hang on until after our first encounter.

Carson

Ouch, I feel an unfamiliar sting in my right arm as I push my body up from a reclined position.  “Where the hell am I?”  I look around to search for any clues or answers.  I am hooked up to an IV pump and wearing a damn hospital gown with no boxers.  My ass is bared to all who enters my room. 

The last thing I remembered was apprehensively jumping out of my private jet in the middle of a severe, blinding, tropical rainstorm. Captain Franco announced that we would have to make an emergency landing on the turbulent water.  I frightfully jumped into the dangerous infinite depths of violent waves.  My body immediately surged remotely away from Owen and the inflated raft.  I yelled out in hope of seizing his attention.  There was no response from any direction.  I was on my own.  Initially, I courageously swam for my life but it was pointless.  There was no way to cut through the darkness of that desolate night.  I might as well have been a helpless blind man in a panther’s den.  Eventually, I gave up my useless swimming and played it smart by reserving my energy.  The crashing waves continue to beat forcibly against me as I drifted for many long torturous hours with the help of my life jacket. 

I was fearful of not being discovered before the unknown depths of the water would take my life.  I thought of Bianca, my fiancée of one year, who was anxiously waiting for me to wed her on the island of St. Maarten.  Even in the possible final hours of my life, I still had strong reservations about marrying her.  I had wished for love to enter my loveless life hours before this trip.  This wasn’t exactly how I imagine love would reenter my life.  And then there was the thought of losing all my years of cancer research if I was swallowed up by this vast body of water.  This daunting thought was by far more terrifying than dying.  I had to fight to remain alive for the sake of my work.  I had millions of people's lives riding on my survival.
  

The endless blindness of night finally lifted only to expose to the excruciating heat and scorching sun.  My throat was parched and my lips were painfully chapped with blisters. Though I was completely surrounded by water, I wasn’t able to drink a single salty drop of it.  This was the worst form of torture.  I only survived the horrific night just to suffer the beating heat from above.  I wasn't sure how much longer I would last.  But just when I thought my time here on earth was up, I spotted dry land from a near distance.  I thought I might be hallucinating, but I didn’t care.  I desperately swam towards it with whatever remaining life I had left in me.  I dragged my lifeless body onto the beach and reached out for help, a foot…

          ______________________________________

A blushing young nurse walks into my room and my recollections are abruptly interrupted.  She timidly introduces herself, barely makes any eye contact and begins assessing my vitals.  I remain compliant to allow her to complete her tasks and then fire my questions at her all at once.  She informs me that I was brought to this hospital by a medical resident who found me on the beach unconscious.  She also mentions the hospital has done everything to keep my case confidential which I am very pleased to hear.  The last thing I need is the damn paparazzi coming here to destroy this hospital’s peacefulness and my personal privacy.  I deal with plenty of their shit back in the states.  I decide to keep my anonymous identity for a while longer and give her just the minimal details she needs to complete her medical charting.  I begin with my name and date of birth, “Carson Bradley, 32, born May 31, 1980.”

I don’t want to be anything but lazy today which is abnormal and uncharacteristic of me.  I only want to bask in the radiant sunbeams shining through the far west window.  My recovering body and mind are uninhibitedly immersed in the warmth and glow of the sun.  It’s therapeutic for me.  My mind is free of any stress or obligations.  I’m almost at the center of my tranquility when careful sounds of docile footsteps enter my room and halt me in my mental track. 

I glance over my right shoulder for a glimpse of my new visitor.  I suddenly feel an unfamiliar tug in my chest as my body hardens into marble under her boundless beautiful presence.  Why is my heart racing so rapidly?  I am instantly mesmerized by the delicate, feminine features of her slender and youthful face.  There’s a mysterious hint of exoticness about her, possibly Asian or Hawaiian.  She has the most captivating and distinctive glimmering light russet brown eyes covered with naturally, dark, thick lashes.   I find myself hypnotized by them. Her fair complexion is slightly kissed by the golden sun in all the desirable places, on the tip of her dainty nose and cheek bones.  Only by sheer will power am I able to keep my distance and not reach out to touch her soft glowing skin.  Her silky, dark, chestnut colored hair is neatly tied back in a single long ponytail which enhances her professional appearance.  I can’t resist imagining how sweet her full rosy lips would taste upon my own and her gorgeous smile…what model wouldn’t kill to have that stunning smile.  I think my mind would forsake me if she would’ve granted me more than just one perfect smile.
     

She is well above average height.  Her svelte body is hidden under her over-sized professional white lab jacket.  If I have to guess her age, I would say mid-twenties because of her academic level but she’s obviously younger in appearance.  She seems coy and innocent as I continue to steal glimpses of her unblemished beauty.  I have a burning impulse inside me to study her for longer than the few seconds she grants me to gaze into her deep brown eyes.  Everything about her is extraordinary to me.  

I attempt to memorize every remarkable detail about her without detection.   Her hair is parted to the right.  There’s an adorable tiny mole underneath her left eye.  If you blink, you would miss it because it’s unnoticeable, but not for me.  She bites on her thumb nail or lower lip when she’s nervous.  She’s left handed and wears no rings on any of her fingers.  I’m selfishly pleased with her unmarried status.  I'm smiling on the inside while hiding it on the outside.  Shit, I feel embarrassed for losing myself in her presence.  I hope it’s not apparent.  My unexplainable attraction to her is beyond my usual discipline.  This peeves me because I'm normally in charge of every situation in my life.  How is it possible for me to be this intensely drawn to this young woman?  We’ve only met just a few minutes ago and we haven’t uttered a single word to each other.  Why is she distinctive from all the other women?  Is it gratitude I’m feeling for saving my life or is my heart finally telling me to wake up?

I lost Emily, my high school sweetheart, to Hodgkin’s Lymphoma at the tender age of seventeen.  With her suffering and death, she took my heart and I haven’t loved or cared for any woman since then.  I know we were young but the love I had for her was real.  My heart hasn’t felt that way for anyone else until now.  Sure, I’ve been with many beautiful women but at the end of the day, I was left feeling empty and alone.  This is probably why they only lasted a few weeks to several months.  I grew tired of trying to find love when it didn’t exist for me.  It was impossible to replace Emily.
 

Bianca served as my longest void companion.  I honestly never loved her.  I was coerced and brainwashed by my mother to settle down.  She couldn't handle the idea of me being unhappy and alone for the rest of my life.  She relentlessly worked on me for two years before I finally surrendered to her wishes.  “Please Carson.  I’m not getting any younger.  I want grand-babies.”  She would plead every opportunity she had with me.  I finally caved in a year ago and agreed to marry Bianca to make my mother happy, not me.

It would be narcissistic of me to expect this rare young beauty to give my vacant heart a chance when so many women have hopelessly tried and failed.  How cruel and selfish of me to even consider subjecting her to my loveless world?  I mustn’t allow myself to pursue her.  I would only end up killing her pureness and innocence if I fail to love her…

***Pictures are NOT mine.  They're shared from Pinterest.  The actors/models are not affiliated with my book.  The story is fictional.