Between Master and Slave (Manxman, Mature)

Routine

The doctor seem to take forever to measure my pressure. I fidget as I look at Rose, the overweight nurse that was there the first time I woke up since the accident. She smiles back, even as I am clearly challenging her. I start fuming even more since I don't seem capable to get to her, I don't care that I must look like a petulant child. Her smile is not condescending, just a good natured smile, which to me is even more infuriating right now. Finally the doctor removes the band from my arm. Was he trying to avoid talking to me or did he actually need to check my pressure three times.
"Alright then, you are definitely on your way to recovery." He finally adds with a smile.
"Good," I add, "will I be able to see Frank now?"
"Soon, I promise"
"Will you please tell me how he is doing, at least?"
"I guess you are strong enough now. He is in a coma." What? Just like that as if he is saying the sun is shining today.
"What?" I finally manage. I can't believe what I am hearing. "What do you mean by coma?"
"He had multiple injuries. Broken ribs, multiple fractures, concussions, we were able to stop the internal bleeding. You were lucky, somehow you lost conscience right away. The firemen were able to free you quickly from the wreckage. But the truck hit the car on the side caving the door in. That somehow dragged the car roof down on the driver side, squeezing the driver into the seat. I am told that to be able to take him out, they had to cut the underside of the car and lower the car floor to the ground, he was awake throughout the entire process. When the ambulance brought him here. I was on duty. He was in so much pain we had to induce a coma, just so we could work on him."
"Ok," I have to take a deep breath to let it all sink in, the pain he must have been in. Then I able to continue, "but when you worked on him. When you did the patching. You could have waken him. So now he is ok."
"He never woke up. He stayed in a coma."
"What do you mean he stayed in a coma. He. Just decides that he is going to stay under. That he is not waking up." I am getting upset.
"Mr. Romano, please calm down. It is more complicated then that. Frank had a lot of traumas. I am sure he will wake up. Right now you need to rest. Hopefully by the time you will be up and running he will be awake."
"So that's it then. I can just sit here and do nothing."
"Right now you can rest so that you will be up soon and be there for him. I will come to check on you later."
He turns and leaves the room.

The sound of the alarm wakes me. For once it is welcomed considering the great sleep I was having. I look at the time, 6:00am.
"Ohh Jeez. Maybe this job was not a good idea after all." I tell myself. After some debating I get out of bed and start my routine. Bathroom, quick shower, get dressed. I look in the mirror, presentable. Go get Francesco. He is not there. How can he be up every morning before me is a mystery. I look at the room, I should really try to set him up better. Sharing my bed is out of the question, he would be too much of a temptation, yet making him sleep in the laundry room is not ideal either. His cot is in a corner surrounded by piles of sheets to be ironed and shelves full of folded away sheets, blankets, towels, and all kind of bedroom, bathroom and kitchen linen.
That was another screw up, this was supposed to be my living room, but there is so much laundry that it became the laundry room. The small private kitchen in the b&b became the kitchen and dining room and study and office. I shake my head.
"What a mess, talk about poor planning." I tell myself as I get to the main b&b kitchen where we prepare breakfast for our guests.
As I enter the smell and music bring me back to reality. About two weeks ago I introduced him to pizzica, the local music. He can't get enough of the quick beat, a mix of traditional Greek, Arab and Italian. I go straight to the kitchen area.
Francesco is bending over checking the baking. The low cut shorts reveal the top of his buttocks and slit. He wears the t-shirt he picked at Primark over a month and half ago, which accentuates his shoulders and small waist. My pants get tighter, I have to resist the urge of grabbing him and claim him.
"Yeah, laundry room is a much better choice for you. You definitely don't want to share my room." I tell myself. Yet it is just loud enough for him to realize that he is not alone even if must now t have heard what I said. He stands and looks at me. He actually smiles. On one side that smile entices me to just get him on kitchen counter, on the other side that simple, genuine and innocent act brings a smile upon me.
"Good morning master."
"How many times ... Ohh just forget it. Is a loosing battle." I have been trying to make him call me just Joe. But to no avail. He looks at me baffled.
"Good morning Francesco." Smiling at him, which bring the enticing smile back.
"Cornetti are going to be out of the oven in about 5 minutes. I can make you something else in the mean time."
"Just a cappuccino would do fine. Then we will have breakfast together before the guests arrive. How far are you with the preparations?"
"Cornetti are in the oven, cakes are sliced, I have a tray of muffins ready, they will go in the oven after the cornetti come out, bread is in the tray it will have to be warmed up. I will slice the cheeses, vegetables and fruits next. How do we prepare the eggs this morning?"
"Let's do an omelette with the wild asparagus we picked in the fields yesterday. I will do it. Do we have pancake batter left?"
"No."
"Good, no pancakes. They are long to cook."
The oven beeps, we sit with fresh baked cornetti, home made jams and butter.
"This prune jam is amazing. You did a great job at taking all that ripe fruit from the garden and making it into jams. They are a success with the clients."
"Thank you master." He replies his face red.
"Today Bianca and Fiore check out. Caterina, Fiore and Bianca check in." I add. I named the rooms rather then giving them numbers. It makes for a more personal experience.
"Yes master, I have prepared Caterina yesterday. We just have to do the bed."
"Great you are getting good at this." He reddens again.
Soon we finish and we are in full swing preparing the rest of the breakfast. By lunch everything is ready, and the next guests have confirmed an early afternoon arrival. So I propose to Francesco to go to the beach for a quick swim. As we reach the sand we remove our tops. Francesco comes to me with the sunscreen so that I can put it on his back.
If my friends from New York would see me they would call me a masochist. How can such a simple task bring so many emotions is beyond me. On one side I feel pain for touching something I know will never be mine. On the other side I enjoy feeling his strong muscular back under my fingers, and I always take more time then it is necessary to put the cream on him. Finally, I feel anger for what was done to him. The scars made at the clinic are better now. But they are still red and clearly visible. When they opened him up to look at the device they really did a bad job at stitching the opening back. My doctor said the scars will remain, but given the creams we apply in a few more months to a year it should be much better. For now it is important for him to avoid the sun and when he is at the beach to put 50 cream on, that is what I am doing right now. I feel people staring. I know they stare at him, at his back. I get even angrier.
"Here, you are done." Somehow I am altered and it shows in my voice.
Francesco looks at me questioningly.

*****
I am never sure how to behave around the master. He is so gentle and caring. He never touched me since that first night, almost two months ago. He even brought me to see his doctor for the scar they did at the clinic. Every night he applies the vitamin e cream, and at the beach he puts sunscreen on me.
If my friends from Kraków would see me they would call me queer. How can a man touching me make me happy. But that is how I feel. He is gentle while he puts cream from my neck, all the way down my spine and the rest of my back. He uses both hands and they are firm yet gentle, giving more a massage then just putting cream. I don't even mind him slipping his fingers below the belt on my swim shorts, so that 'the cream is even on all my exposed skin'. I know that that is probably just an excuse so that he can touch more of me. But somehow I still don't mind, he is always self controlled and really respects me. I know it costs him a lot. Oh God, please don't let him go further, I am not ready for more. I know that it is inevitable, for him to want more and in time...please just not now.
Suddenly his massaging gets rougher to the point that he presses so hard it hurts. Maybe he is tired. Maybe he is frustrated and decided that he wants to touch me again. Will he come into my room this evening. Ohh, God what am I going to do?
Then abruptly he speaks
"Here, you are done." I hear the alteration in his voice.
I look at him. I am frightened. His face softens a bit.
"Is everything alright master? Have I done something that displeases you?" I try to keep calm.
He looks at me uncomprehending , then he answers.
"No everything is fine Francesco." He looks around, takes a deep breath, he places a hand on my shoulder lightly massaging the spot. It feels a lighter version of what he did when he touched me that night. I have to fight the urge to pull back, to run away.
"You know I would never hurt you, right." He looks me straight in the eyes.
"Yes master, I know." I look down, I am ashamed for what I just thought, for associating the touch on my shoulder with what happened that night. He places the hand from my shoulder to under my chin and gently makes me face him again.
"Then please stop worrying every time I change my tone of voice. Ok?"
"Yes master."
"Good"
The hand moves from my chin to my cheek caressing my face. He leans slightly toward me, our faces get closer. I stop breathing. I close my eyes. I try my best to stay still, not to be afraid.
He would never hurt me. He would never hurt me. I keep repeating myself. Then abruptly his hand is off my face. I open my eyes as he states.
"I'm going for a swim."
And he runs to the water at full speed. I start breathing again.