That's What She Said
That's What She Said
Two naked bodies. She was lying face up; the man next to her in bed was face down. Both were fully relaxed and deeply asleep. The bed was big, so by the middle of the night they were nowhere near each other, but their arms were stretched out toward each other. Their fingers were only an inch or so apart, as if their dreams remembered the activities of the night before. Her other hand was off the bed, on the left, so the wrist dropped. Her hair covered her face keeping the light out.
There is no sheet on either of them. The duvet and pillows, matching pink with bright red trim, were in a heap in the corner. Their clothes and underwear were still scattered on the floor.
Soledad, Sòle, del Valle was five feet ten inches, one hundred fifty three pounds, and a twenty-four inch waist. Her hair was light brown and fell below her shoulders. She had full lips, a long neck, ample breasts, a round ass and long legs.
He was six one, one hundred and eighty eight pounds. He had very little fat and excellent muscle definition with good abs. He was well endowed.
Soledad woke up when the phone rang. It is 4:17 AM. She read the number, shook her head, put the phone on silent ring, and went back to sleep. I told him not to do this. There is nothing I can do about it now.
Across the bay in Berkeley, at 6 AM the alarm went off. Aaron got out of bed with a startle. He never used an alarm. A professor of philosophy goes to work whenever he wants, and Aaron never wanted it early. So it took him a minute even to remember why the alarm was set, but then it came to him that he was taking Pop to the doctor. I need to make an effort to look respectable . But in the end, he just used the regular stuff making him look like a caricature of himself.
Sole woke up. The doorbell is ringing. She looked at the phone. Six missed calls. She went to the bathroom to get her robe.
She looked at the man. He was a lot of fun. She had met him only two days before, on Saturday afternoon. She had volunteered, as usual, to be a doctor for the Special Olympics, under fourteen wheelchair basketball games.
There had been this terrible crash of three wheelchairs. One kid was thrown out of his chair with the other chairs landing on him. At first it looked like it might be serious. The kid's coach came running over, "Is he ok? Can I help?"
Sole cleaned up his bruises, but he was still crying in pain. He was quite small for a twelve year old. She took him in her arms, petted his face and wiped his eyes. Soon the boy smiled. She kissed him on the forehead. Then he beamed. "He'll be fine. It's really just a superficial bruise." I want some kids of my own.
"His mother is a crack addict. He is a really good kid, and I try to look after him."
"That's very kind of you. I promise you he'll be ok."
"We're so lucky to have you as the doc at these games. All the coaches are very grateful."
"They are lucky to have coaches like you who care." She said it was a pleasure, but he would not stop thanking her. He kept wanting to buy her a drink, dinner, coffee or whatever. He's coming on to me. He's not bad. Good smile. I still have an extra ticket tonight for a new fusion Irish group, The Green Dynamite. I'm still not going to take Bobby. I don't want to go on with Bobby. I have no other use for the ticket, so I can invite him.
"I have to take the boy home after the game."
"I have to go to the hospital to check on a sick patient."
They met at ten for the last set. He ran an Italian restaurant in North