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Review This Story || Author: Bruce Boxer

Occupational Hazzards

Chapter 18

Occupational Hazzards
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Three weeks passed and we were all three recovering
nicely. The enclave was shutdown for a month to allow
us and the rest of the employees and members some time
to alleviate the emotional and physical impact of the
events surrounding yet another death.

Buddy went home to his mother's house in Cleveland.
Dana and I were alone in the compound except for a
skeleton crew of cooks, maintenance folks and, of
course, Frieda. We were mobile enough to return to our
respective Villa's. But with the pretext of making in
easier on Frieda to look after us, I altruistically
offered to stay at Dana's in her guest room. No
problem, I told Fieda, just the kind of guy I am. Mr.
Lemming called us weekly to check on our health and
continued to express words of encouragement and
appreciation. I was getting kind of use to this life
of leisure and really getting use to being around
Dana. Miraculously, we incurred no broken bones or
internal damage during our abuse. Freida said me just
needed somebody work. Her liberal dispensing of
narcotics eliminated my pain from torn ligaments and
the burns. Hair that the steam and healing process had
removed was reappearing on my chest and pubic region.
I'd have scarring no doubt, but most of the new skin
just had a healthy pink glow. I wished for quicker
healing however, so I could wear some clothing and be
able to out and about a bit. I could really only
tolerate a light linen handkerchief on my groin as a
concession to modesty. Frieda upped my narcotic dosage
when I mentioned this and I didn't care if I was naked
at a presidential inauguration! Dana and I took
strolls around the compound--her in pajamas and a robe
and me in only my deck shoes. Dana never reacted; I
could have had a tuxedo on as far as she let on.

During the last week of our recuperation, Dana and I
set on her patio in the perfect evening weather of
late September in western Maryland. I was off Frieda's
drugs for the most part--only antibiotics to curb
infection remained a regular part of my regime. We
sipped light beer while discussing any and every
topic. I began to get cold as the sun set and Dana
suggested adjourning to her cozy den to see what the
new television season had to offer. She situated me on
the big, soft couch and brought a white, light cotton
blanket from an oak chest next to the TV.

"I know you're self-conscious about being 'naked man'
so I'll join you." she announced. "Turn your head."

I did as I was told until her warm hip touched mine on
the couch and the blanket nestled over us both.

"This feels good," she said as the remote secured us a
new situation comedy.

"Ooo!" she exclaimed. "I read this show is a
guaranteed hit."

I watched her freckled face glow like a prism in the
multi--colored reflection of the TV. My healing skin
picked up the warmth of her body as more and more of
us collapsed into each other under the blanket. Dana
felt my gaze and turned to look at me.

"What, did you want to see something else?" she asked.

I kissed her lightly on the bridge of her spotted
nose. 

"That was so sweet," she said. "Do it again."

I did as I was told and followed with several others
to her eyelids, cheeks, corners of her mouth, and nape
of her neck. As I lingered on her earlobes, I told
Dana I loved her.

"I know," she said. "I've always loved you."

"Gee," I murmured in her ear. "You don't suppose it's
my drug residue making me say that do you?"

Dana gave me a pout followed by a bite on my ear.

"There's one thing I just have to know," I said while
lifting the blanket and staring at her legs. "Where do
those freckles stop?"

Dana giggled while we embraced and kissed each other
lightly. Our hands and lips explored our partner
gingerly. We stroked, licked and kissed parts tenderly
to avoid causing pain to our abused bodies. We left
very little discomfort as we made love with passion
enhanced by sharing death-defying trauma. We missed
the rest of the new television premiers and took a
well-deserved rest when the news came on at 2300
hours. The programs opening scene announced the date:
September 12.

"Dana," I voiced louder than I intended with her head
nestled at my side. "Everybody comes back tomorrow and
I'm not sure how to handle that. And there are other
things about the Organization that bother me." 

Dana got up without making any effort to cover
herself.

"I'll put on the coffee--I think we both need to talk
about a lot of things." 

On to Chapter 19



Review This Story || Author: Bruce Boxer
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