How The Cookie Crumbles (35 page)

“I’m sure you will.” Sandy pulled out a folder. “Here’s the information they gave me on concussions. And he’s not supposed to have any physical activity… at all.”

Was she suggesting what I thought she was suggesting? As I leafed through the pamphlets, I snuck a look at Sandy, but her face was all innocence.

“He is a sweetie, isn’t he?” Sandy continued, “You know, I always felt he left home too soon. Hockey is so demanding! He was only 15 years old, and I couldn’t stop crying the day we drove him to Ottawa. He had a lovely billet family, and we could still see some of his games. But a boy needs his parents! His sisters were out all the time, and he was the one who loved to hang around. My baby.”

Sandy seemed to be reminiscing more to herself, but it was pretty interesting. I didn’t disagree with her; I felt that Jake had issues that might be explained by everything he went through too young. She paused and smiled, obviously thinking of their many happy times together. “You know, Nicola and I were starting to get worried. Jake never seemed to have a real girlfriend and with this whole partying lifestyle in Los Angeles,” she shook her head. “Well, having you on the scene is so nice.”

“Look Sandy, I should probably explain that Jake and I are not….”

Just then he lurched into the kitchen in gym shorts and a wrinkled t-shirt.

“Were you talking about me?” Jake demanded.

“Um, hello dear,” Sandy stammered.

“Yes,” I told him, “You’re the reason we’re both here, what else would we talk about?”

“Well, stop it,” Jake snapped.

Sweet was not the word for him.

42. Nurse Taylor to the Rescue

In my experience with sick guys, they all wanted attention. My brothers were totally obvious about it, lying in bed like tyrannical Jabba the Huts, demanding food, drinks and entertainment. Matt, on the other hand, was more like a martyr, telling me not to worry about him but hinting that if I wanted to make some homemade chicken noodle soup and deliver his finance assignments, it would ease his impending death.

Jake was carving out his own category. He was grouchy and frustrated at not being able to do anything, but all he wanted was for me to leave him alone. Well, maybe shove delicious meals under his door and then leave him alone. Then just when I was ready to re-concuss him with the nearest heavy object, he would revert to being nice and normal for long enough for me to forget what a jerk he was. And it was certainly weird to go to sleep in the guest room all by myself on Sunday and get a good night’s sleep.

Since he couldn’t stand any noise, I couldn’t watch TV or do anything around the house. I didn’t want to leave Jake alone but since he didn’t want me bothering him either, I decided to get some homework done – L.A. style! As I sat in the huge hot tub, I decided my cultural theory readings had never felt more glamourous.

Later I went down to check on Jake. I thought he was sleeping, so I put some fresh water and orange slices on his bedside table and then turned to leave. Jake’s eyes opened, and he groused at me, “At least someone’s having a good time.”

I was wearing a white crocheted cover-up over my bathing suit, but it was pretty clear where I had been. “I know, it’s a national day of self-sacrifice since Jake Cookson can’t have any fun. Stop being like that.”

“You don’t know what it’s like to have a concussion,” he muttered.

“No, but if you want to talk about it, or anything else, I’m happy to stay,” I offered cheerfully.

“Typical Frankie, talking is the answer to everything.”

I was pretty fed up after a whole day of this. “Look Jake, nobody wants you to be better more than I do. Does acting like a complete douche make you feel better somehow? Because it certainly makes me feel worse!”

Jake pouted for a moment and then sighed. “Sorry, Frankie.”

“It’s okay,” I told him. “I know you’re not yourself.”

“Why don’t you stay,” he motioned to the chair beside the bed and I sat down on it. “I can’t really talk or stuff, but I wouldn’t mind you being here.”

It was weird, I sat there and he lay there, but we didn’t say anything for ages. I wasn’t even sure if his eyes were open since the room was so dark. Then I saw his teeth in the dim light as he smiled and said, “Frankie, it’s kind of hot in here. Wouldn’t you like to take that white thing off?”

“I think you’re getting better,” I laughed. I kissed him on the forehead and then got up to leave. Sandy had said no physical exertion. “I’ll go get your dinner ready.”

The next day, I had to drive Jake to a clinic where he had to undergo some tests. He was as grouchy as ever, and I was wondering why the list of concussion symptoms didn’t include “being an asshole.” I used the SUV’s GPS and ignored all his comments. Driving in L.A. was stressful enough without a cranky backseat driver.

I went up to the doctor’s office with him, and the friendly receptionist told me that he’d be at least an hour.

“There’s a mall a block over,” she suggested, looking me over and correctly guessing my hobbies. I went to the mall; it was kind of an odd one, with dollar stores, random boutiques, a T.J. Maxx, and a cheesy food court. I was walking by one store, which clearly catered to the kinky crowd, wondering if even I could manage stilettos that high, when I got an idea.

Jake

Frankie was late meeting me at the clinic, and she had a big pink shopping bag when she finally got there. I guess looking after me came second to shopping. We walked back to the car, and she still insisted on driving.

“I can drive now,” I told her. “They did a test and didn’t find anything.”

“They scanned your brain and found nothing?” Frankie asked and started chortling away. Man, she was a pain.

“Ha. I’m cleared for light exercise now,” I said proudly. I felt fine all along.

But she still wouldn’t give up the keys, even though she drove like an old lady. No, I take that back; even my granny drove faster than Frankie. People were laying on the horn and giving her the finger, but she just kept crawling along.

Once we got home, Frankie made lunch for us, and then I went to my room to lie down again. I was tired, but it was hard to sleep. And I missed the team, the guys, the structure, and playing. Watching games was so frustrating; the only good news was that the guys were doing well. But even that was tough since I wanted to be contributing too, win or lose.

I could hear Frankie taking a shower, and I fell into a light sleep.

A while later I woke up when Frankie came into my dark room. She opened the drapes a little and let some sunlight into the room.

“What are you doing?” I asked, shielding my eyes.

“Just checking on my patient,” she replied, walking over to the bed.

“I’m fine,” I told her, keeping my eyes shut. She was always telling me to rest, and now she was the one waking me up.

“I’ll be the judge of that,” she said, in kind of a sexy, low voice.

I opened up my eyes and looked at her. Holy fuck! She was wearing this nurse’s outfit. A tiny white dress so low cut that her tits were popping out and so short I could see that she was wearing white stockings underneath, along with a pair of shiny red high heels. She even had a little nurse’s cap on top of her long dark hair.

“Frankie, shit! You look … hot.”

“Please Mr. Cookson, call me Nurse Taylor.” She pulled out a toy stethoscope. “Now I’ll have to examine you. Raise the t-shirt please.”

“Sure!” I sat up and peeled off my t-shirt. I was already feeling better, and I was cleared for light exercise!

She used the stethoscope to listen to my back and then my chest, running her hands over me and pinching my nipples gently. She knew I liked that.

“Uh, what do you think, Nurse Taylor?”

“A fine physical specimen,” she said, trying not to laugh. “But your heart seems to be beating a little fast.”

“Really?” Oh c’mon Frankie, what guy’s heart wouldn’t be racing after seeing you in a sexy nurse’s uniform?

“Yes, here’s what a normal heart rate sounds like.” And she put the stethoscope earpieces on me, put the round thing in my hand and then guided my hand into her cleavage. “Can you tell the difference?”

“No… not yet.”

“Oh well, maybe you need to get closer.” She undid the top button of her uniform, and her great tits came popping out in a red lace bra. I pushed the end of the stethoscope deeper between her tits; it felt great to be trapped between them.

“I think I can hear something,” I squeezed her tit with one hand and unbuttoned her uniform with the other.

“Really? Because my heart is on the other side,” she said smiling.

“Oh.” I plunged the stethoscope deeper inside her bra, rubbing it up against her nipple.

“Ummm,” Frankie took a deep breath; her lips were all shiny and red. I pulled down her bra and started pinching one nipple until it got all hard and pointy.

“Why Mr. Cookson, I’m going to have to ask you to stop that.” She pulled my hands away from her chest. “We have a purely professional relationship here.” She sat up straight, but didn’t cover herself up and she looked so hot with one nipple sticking out.

“Now tell me, where does it hurt?”

“Here,” I motioned to my dick which was sticking up, even under the sheet.

“Here?” she asked, running a hand down my stomach.

“Lower.”

“Here?” she asked, putting her hand inside the band of my shorts.

“Lower down….”

Frankie looked at me and smiled. And then pulled down my shorts and my boner popped out.

“Oh, I see the problem.” And then she got up and started to leave!

“No! Where ya going?” I cried out.

“Relax, Mr. Cookson. I know what’s needed here.” She around went to my bedside table and got some lube, and then snapped on a pair of latex gloves. I felt a little nervous.

Frankie came back and leaned over, running her gloved hands over the length of my throbbing cock. It felt weird, soft and powdery, but not bad. “Your organ is engorged. It looks painful.”

“It is, it totally is. Can you help me?”

“Certainly. There are medical… extraction methods. But someone in your condition needs to watch his activity levels, so the best thing would be to lie back and let an expert take care of this.”

I didn’t know how she could stay so serious and act so fucking hot at the same time. But I was happy to put everything in her hands; I lay back down on the bed with a pillow propped behind my head so I could watch.

Frankie squirted lube onto her gloves and started running them slowly up and down my cock. It still felt a little different, but good. I could feel myself growing even bigger as she moved her hands expertly over me. She bent over me, her soft hair tickling my thighs, and I reached down to push the hem of her dress up. Shit, I got a view of a red lace thong and those stockings with her bare flesh between. Fucking hot.

Frankie started jerking me off faster and when I started to groan, she stopped and squeezed her hand around the base of my cock. Then she looked at me, licked her red lips and gave me a huge smile. She put the tip of my cock in her mouth. She kept watching me and took more and more in. Then she started swirling her tongue around the head of my cock, pushing it into the little hole and all over the ridge. It felt so fucking amazing I couldn’t believe it.

She kept watching me and used her hands to gently massage my balls and stroke me between the legs. While she was sucking on the head, she kept working my shaft. But the best part was that she was so into it, and she kept looking at me and treating my cock like it was something delicious. If she could tell I liked something, she would do it more. Finally every fucking sensation in my body was centred on my cock.

Just when I thought it couldn’t feel any better, Frankie gently stuck a lubed finger up my ass. I swore and then started coming in spurts. Frankie swallowed everything and then stood up, straightened out her dress and pulled the sheet up over me.

“Sleep well, Mr. Cookson.”

I was totally drained and passed out.

When I finally got up, Frankie was doing homework in the living room. She was wearing jeans and a striped shirt and bare feet, and she looked completely innocent, like nothing had happened.

“How are you feeling?” she asked, smiling.

“Real good. Especially after the medical treatment.”

Frankie started blushing and she looked down at her laptop. “There’s dinner if you want it.”

I went in the kitchen. Frankie had made pork chops with gravy, mashed potatoes, and roasted vegetables. I could see a frosted cake on the counter. It was hard to imagine how she could be any more fucking perfect. I microwaved the plate she had left for me, sat beside her and switched on the Kings/Wild game with the sound muted. After I ate, we ended up sitting on the couch, eating banana cake while I explained the finer points of hockey to her. It totally sucked not to be with the team, but they won in the shootout. And being with Frankie was kind of nice in its own way.

I went to bed early, but I couldn’t get to sleep. Frankie came in to check on me before she went to bed. She was wearing a pretty robe, her hair was loose and her face was all washed and shiny with no makeup. My head wasn’t hurting, but I was tired. That was the weird part, sometimes I felt fine and then suddenly I wouldn’t have any energy. She brought me a glass of water and some Tylenol. She pushed the hair off my forehead and kissed me.