The Love Box Experiment

Chapter Fourteen. K in bed.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN.

Paul opened his eyes and tried to figure out where he was. A white room, quiet, except for a regular bleep going off to the left of his bed. A monitor of some sort. He could hardly move unless you call rolling-the-eyes movement. He felt thirsty.

At that moment, Tam came into view to his right. Paul tried to understand what his faithful housekeeper was doing next to his bed. She came over and helped him drink some water through a straw.

He managed to croak, 'where am I?'

'In hospital. You collapsed at Heathrow. Remember?'

'Don't recall a thing. What's wrong with me?'

'You had a bump to the head which must have been hurting for a few days, right?'

'Yup, but . . . '

You blacked out.' Tam gave him some more drink. 'A small blood clot in the brain, not helped by the long flight.'

'What day is it? How long have I been here?'

'About a week. They induced a coma, then operated.'

'Shit. Any news from Katie?'

'No contact at the studio. And your phone's off.' 

Paul managed to raise his hand to his neck. 'Tam, where's my chain?'

She looked in the draw. 'It's in here. Where did you get it?'

'Long story.'

Paul realised he was too drugged up and gave up the struggle to think of Katie for the moment.

-O-

Katie lay in bed in the dark. The sounds of night time London could be faintly heard; a far off siren; a car passed and slowed to park nearby. She had cried every night since she got home a week ago. Tonight was no exception and she dried her tears. She reached over in the dark to her bed side table. The Calvin Klein Escape was on top and Katie pulled it over to touch some of the perfume to her neck.

The CK brought back so many memories; the way Paul had put a dab onto each of the erogenous zones around her body. She put her hands above her head and recalled the way he had worked down, slowly, deliberately, down to her feet. Then up to her V.

She whispered to the room, 'you bastard' and switched her thoughts to the police station, and the way she had slapped and kicked him in the groin. 'Good,' she said to the ceiling, 'you deserved it.'

Her body was alive with a need. Katie removed Paul from her focus and imagined her being tied down. This way she had no choices, no decisions, no responsibility. She leaned over the side of the bed to open the bottom draw of the table next to her. Pulled out a plastic bag, didn't need the light, drew out the device measuring about the same size as Paul, lay back on her bed.

These were private things she didn't want Paul to know about . . . his name had crept again into her mind and she pushed it away . . . to return to her own secret world. Where anything goes.

Pictured herself as tied to the bed head, and an imaginary blindfold over her eyes, made to submit. She wanted Paul to do this, not now, not ever, and discarded his memory as Katie pressed the pink rubber to her V. The scenario became real in her beautiful mind as she moved her hips, the spasm rippling through her.