“Fuck me, Mikey, fuck me hard!” she murmured, her eyes hooded as she smiled challengingly at him. Mike slid his hands under her waist and pulled her closer as he slid into her in one smooth, practised move, making her gasp at the intrusion.
“Like that, Lissa?” he whispered, grinning again as she nodded happily.
“God, you’re good at this!” she murmured happily, “Remind me to keep you!”
Mike smiled as his lips met hers, Lissa’s tongue parting his lips to brush and tangle with his as he began pumping into her.
Lissa’s breath began to hitch and shudder as she moved against him meeting him thrust for thrust, until once more climax blazed through her, making her tighten around him as she gasped and whined. The constriction was too much for him, and he came in a rush, flooding her with what seemed like torrents of spunk, filling her as she trembled against him.
They lay back, winded, breathless, but satisfied. They lay for long minutes, savouring the after-glow, until Lissa finally rolled on her side and traced a wandering, random pattern on his chest with her forefinger.
“Mikey, there’s one thing, and I don’t know how to tell you, so I’m just going to tell you straight out, OK?”
Mike looked at her quizzically.
“You’re not breaking-up with me are you?” he smiled, and grinned wider as she poked him in the side, his one ticklish spot.
“Shut-up and listen, Mikey, this is important!”
Mike subsided and paid attention while she gathered her thoughts.
“Mike, I’m… not sure, but I think mum’s on to us; no wait!” she put her hand on his chest as he tried to sit up, an alarmed expression on his face.
“Mum knows, I’m sure of it, but she’s OK with it; she asked me to do two things; she asked me to never hurt you, as if I would! The second…”
She leaned over and kissed him softly on the forehead.
“That’s from mum; I think it was her way of telling you she’s not mad or anything, that nothing’s changed, and that she loves you; she just wants you to be happy, and so do I, and I hope I make you as happy as you make me! There, that wasn’t too bad, was it?”
Mike pulled her closer and nuzzled her neck, making her giggle.
“You make me ecstatically happy, Lissa!” he murmured into her neck, making her smile happily. Lissa lay contentedly in the crook of his arm, beginning to doze-off, when a thought struck her.
“Mikey, I have to go back to mum’s in the morning; I need to collect my stuff; I only brought a change of underwear; I need to get some clothes. Can I borrow the Pajero?”
Mike nodded sleepily.
“Of course; I’m working from here tomorrow anyway; take it for as long as you need it.”
His voice was already blurry with sleep, and she too was almost ready to drop, and with his warm body nest to hers, Lissa quickly succumbed, falling into a deep, satisfied sleep, content to be with her Mikey…
*
When Mike awoke, she was gone. He passed the window on his way to the bathroom, and saw his 4×4 still parked outside, but her MR-2 was gone.
“Must have changed her mind…” he mused as he got himself ready for a shower; he’d just stepped into the shower when his cell rang;
“Fuck it, I’m here now, let it ring!” he thought, soaping up. His phone stopped, then started ringing again; again he ignored it; it rang off, and then the land-line phone started ringing.
“Whoever it is, they must really want me!” he grinned to himself, reluctantly switching off the shower and wrapping a towel around his waist. He picked up his phone and saw the two missed calls, both from his parents’ number.
“What now?” he groaned mentally; more pleas from his mother to try and make it up with his father? More reasons from his father why he was right? He almost didn’t return the call, but did, just to see what it was this time. His mother answered on the first ring.
“Michael? Oh God, Mike, come home now, please! Mikey, it… it’s Lissa…!”
A cold knot twisted in the pit of his stomach.
“Mum, MUM! What about Lissa, what happened, where is she?” he almost shouted; sudden fear, huge, wild, and unmanageable, wanted to run amok in him, and he only held it down by an effort of will.
“Michael…” his mother trailed off, and Mike realised she was crying. Now the fear rose even higher, bitter and acrid in the back of his throat.
“Michael…” His father, sounding strained, but still together. “Michael, it… Lissa… she was on her way here, she was on the A4 Bath Road, I told her a million times how dangerous the Bath Road was, I told her never, never come back that way, I don’t know why…!”
“What happened to Lissa!” screamed Mike into the handset, cutting his father short.
“She was in an accident, Mike; we don’t know what happened, but they had to cut her out of her car; they’ve airlifted her to the Royal Berkshire Hospital in Reading. We’re on our way there, we’ll see you in the Accident & Emergency unit. Hurry Michael!”
Mike dressed hurriedly, running his fingers through his wet hair and taking the stairs two at a time, fear jumbling around inside him like a herd of elephants, huge and unstoppable as he bolted for his car, saying her name over and over, like a mantra, a prayer, hoping against hope she was alright, that she was going to be alright, telling himself she was going to be alright, begging, hoping, praying to anyone, anything that was listening to please make her alright, to make this go away, to make this have never happened. He never even noticed the twenty-mile drive to the hospital; he got in his car, and then he was pulling into the public parking area and running into the adult section of A&E; everything in between was just a blur.
As he burst through the doors, he saw Brigitte, her face ashen as she leaned against John, his face suddenly lined and old. Brigitte jumped to her feet as soon as she saw him, and then she was in his arms, crying almost hysterically. Mike was trying not to cry too, to ask them just what had happened, but the words wouldn’t come, just dry, croaking noises escaping past the huge lump in his throat.
Eventually, he managed to calm his mother enough so he could ask her; John was lost in a world of his own, his eyes staring blankly, but at least his mother was able to talk.
“Mum, just what happened, how…?”
“She was hit by a lorry,” said John, his voice barely above a whisper, “that’s what the police said; she wasn’t speeding or anything; she was stopped at a junction, and this cement truck just came out of nowhere and… and…” he paused to swallow, the sound loud and harsh in the sudden silence. “The truck driver jumped the lights, or his brakes failed, or whatever, but she was … she was there… she couldn’t… she had no chance…!”
Mike watched in shock as tears raced down his cheeks; he’d never seen John show any emotion except supercilious arrogance or anger, and now this…
A man in ER scrubs came through the doors from the A & E unit and looked enquiringly at the three of them.
“Mr. Sheridan…?” he ventured. Mike glanced at his father, still incapable of speech, and stepped forward
“I’m Michael, Lysette’s brother; these are my parents. How is she, please?”
The doctor looked at all three of them, at their strained expressions and shook his head.
“Not here, if you don’t mind; let’s go somewhere a little more private. This way, please.”
They trailed after him to a small room with softer chairs than the waiting area, and the doctor waited until they were all seated, his face sympathetic, but set and unsmiling.
“Mr. and Mrs. Sheridan, I’m sorry to have to tell you that Lysette has sustained a number of very serious injuries; she’s in a coma, but her chances are not good; due to the nature of the impact, and the severity of the injuries caused by the impact, her brain activity is slowly but surely ramping down, and her body is beginning to progressively shut down. We’ve intervened where we can, as much as we can, but I don’t know how effective we’re going to be, so the next twenty-four hours are going to be crucial; if she survives that long, then I think she has a chance. In the meantime, we’re monitoring her very carefully, but I think you should prepare yourselves in the event we can’t save her. I’m so sorry, I wish I had more hopeful news, but I want to be honest with you; she sustained a very severe lateral impact, and the prognosis right now is very poor.”
John and Brigitte stared aghast at the doctor while Michael paled as the blood drained from his face; he felt light-headed, and the doctor’s voice faded, drowned-out by the roaring in his head. This couldn’t be happening; this was some weird, horrifying nightmare; he was going to wake up any second now and Lissa would be there, soft and warm, smiling sleepily as she kissed him; this place, with its cold, disinfectant smell and anonymous, bare white walls, this was just a nightmare, and he willed himself to wake up; he didn’t want any more of this.
But he was awake, and it was real, and it was Lissa, his Lissa, the centre of his world they were talking about; how could he sit there and talk so calmly, so clinically about her? She was more than a patient, she was Lissa, and he wanted her back, now, whole, complete, and none of this to have happened. He realised the doctor was still speaking.
“… we’ve completed that, we’ll be moving her to the Critical Care Unit; we can only allow one visitor at a time, I hope you can appreciate why. Once I have the plates and scans back from Medical Imaging, I can give you a more informed and balanced view of what, if anything, we can do next; it may be several hours yet. If you want to stay in here, please do, I’ll have someone look in on you as and when they can, but if you need anything, please ask at reception. I really am very sorry, Mr. and Mrs. Sheridan; let me assure you we are all doing our very best to provide all the care and attention Lysette needs right now to hopefully pull through. If there are any changes, I’ll let you know. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I really have to get back to A & E.”
Brigitte turned to her husband, her mouth opening in a soundless scream, her throat working, but no sound coming out, then slumped forward against him as she passed-out. John caught her even as he locked gazes with Mike, no words from either of them; what was there to say?