A Fistful Of Sand Book 1Chapter 23: A Dish Best Served Hot (part 1) free porn video

"Well Dr. Walters, your MRI checks out fine, and your stitches are holding nicely. Heck, if I wasn't the one who'd sewn you up, I would have guessed you'd had them in a week ago." The doctor looked down in his file. "According to your records, you were hospitalized in Tunisia back in April ... lightning strike ... coma. But you were discharged just a few days later. I thought that was a clerical error, but you really do seem to possess some remarkable recuperative abilities ... makes me almost regret wasting that thread in your head ... Still, I'd like you to stay here for a little while longer. If everything continues to check out, we'll have you home in time for dinner."

The doctor looked around the room. Almost every flat surface was covered by baskets, some with fruit, some with flowers, one with summer sausages. There was one card from Eric at Custom Costumes promising him and Heather unlimited free use of everything he had to offer. Heather said he must have felt guilty for giving Vinnie her address or just happy that the scum that had beaten him up was locked away. "Seems like a lot of people were worried about you."

The doctor left and an already dressed Emily hopped off her bed onto one foot and hopped back onto Gregg's. "My hero!" she said, kissing him fiercely on the lips. His full-head gauze wrap had been replaced this morning with a simple bandage. Emily had been told the details of what happened the day before — she was just giving Gregg a hard time. Rivkah and E'dan had already received promises from her that she'd find some "special" way to repay them for saving her life.

Gregg felt like a fool with everyone calling him a hero. All he remembered of yesterday's events was opening the door and seeing Brittany. The rest was a blank until he woke up in the hospital this morning. "I wish people would stop calling me that. I didn't do anything!"

"Gregg, we've been over this." Gregg turned his head to see Heather standing in the doorway holding two cups of tea from the coffee cart down the hall. She entered and closed the door behind her, giving Gregg his tea and pulling up a chair. She had bags under her eyes and looked ragged ... but even ragged, Heather was still gorgeous. "You ARE a hero ... maybe not for what we've been telling the police and the press, but you're still a hero." Gregg was about to protest, but Heather cut him off. "If you hadn't come out of your stupor at that exact moment, E'dan, Rivkah, and I all would be dead. You snapped apart my chair like it was a twig ... you lifted Vinnie over your head with one arm. You — Are — A — Hero." She emphasized each word with a sharp poke to his chest. Her features softened and she smiled, her eyes once again welling up. "I ... we all owe you our lives ... And I love you."

Taking a deep breath and fanning her eyes to keep the tears from falling, she quickly recovered from her deep sentimentality. "Okay, I'm going to stop hogging you all to myself. There's a mob of people who have been less than patient waiting to see you." With that, Heather exited the room and headed out to the waiting area. Even in a hospital recovering from head trauma, Gregg couldn't help watching her tight jean-clad ass as walked away.

While Gregg sipped his tea, Emily showed off her new foot brace. In the attack, her ankle had gotten twisted, but the doctor said she probably wouldn't need to wear it for more than a couple weeks. For some reason, Gregg remembered Emily's foot being hurt considerably worse than that, but he wasn't about to argue with her being in better shape than he imagined. He did notice, however, that when he stood to go to the bathroom this morning, his own foot was tender. Not really wanting to deal with the implications, he simply chose to ignore it.

A minute later, a flood of people entered the room. Some had cameras, some had microphones. The president of the university shouldered his way in, making sure the press got shots of him asking how Gregg was doing, and calling him a hero. As more people entered the room, Emily was pushed further and further back until the only safe place left for her was her bed. But even there, she had to kick one cameraman in the shin when he climbed up on her bed to try and get a better angle.

Through the press of bodies and the dizzying strobe effect of camera flashes, Gregg noticed one lone figure in the crowd. Scribbling on a note pad like many of the reporters in the room, Deuce watched the events unfolding in the room as if he were studying everybody BUT Gregg. Reporters jostled to and fro, bumping into each other, and generally got in each others' way, except for Deuce who seemed to have the only ring of clear space to take notes uninterrupted. Gregg would have given anything to have the reporters leave and let him talk with Deuce in peace, if for no other reason than Deuce was at least a familiar face. As if sensing Gregg's thoughts, Deuce looked up from his pad over at Gregg, smiled sadly and left, his black trench coat floating behind him as if caught in a breeze.

The crush of reporters filled in the space left by Deuce and once again Gregg tried his best to focus on one question at a time.

Heather chose to avoid the crowds. Once they figured out that Gregg really didn't remember anything substantive, they'd finish with their photos and track her down. Someone, somewhere would figure out how she and Vinnie are connected, and soon that news would overshadow Gregg's heroism ... such was the way of cutthroat journalism. She'd already given a statement to the police and she knew that they weren't totally satisfied with what she said. No doubt Vinnie was telling a much different story. But she was going to stick to the story that Rivkah had suggested. In the end, the evidence could support either case, and Vinnie didn't exactly have a wealth of credibility. Besides, even if this case fell through, according to the doctor, Vinnie was a veritable fountain of information regarding his and others' criminal activities. Something had gotten rattled loose in his head when Gregg attacked him, and now the guy couldn't stop talking. If his own words didn't get him locked up for a long time, then the ones he'd been ratting out all night would soon be on his tail. Either way, Heather didn't imagine Vinnie would be bothering her again.

Rivkah had called the police this morning, saying that she found another gun in her neighbor's yard. She didn't bother to mention the fact that she was the one who kicked it there after disarming Vinnie's partner in crime ... she was just a concerned citizen. When the police came to pick it up, they dusted it and matched the prints to Paul who was picked up a little later.

Seeing a sign for a chapel on the floor, Heather decided that it would at least be someplace quiet. A sign on the door said "no food allowed" so with a sigh, she dumped her still hot, almost full cup into a nearby trash can.

The room was sparse — just a few pews, an altar, and a large unadorned crucifix. Backlit stained glass gave the room the barest impression of a cathedral. Luckily the room was empty so she took a seat and closed her eyes.

She was so tired. It had been an emotionally and physically draining night. It was ironic: whenever Gregg suffered, she always benefited in the end ... it seemed like hospitals were becoming benchmarks in her life. It was in a hospital in Tunisia where she finally fell in love with Gregg. It was because of a hospital that Gregg met Emily, and through extension, herself. And now, in a hospital, she'd finally shrugged off the yolk of her secret past. The secret that no one really seemed to care about. If she was just upfront about it, it never would have been an issue ... but keeping it for so long, the secret became less about its substance than about the fact that she was keeping it. "I'm such a fool..." she sighed.

"I never thought so," a voice said behind her.

She spun around, her hand already curled into a fist. This was not the best time to be sneaking up on someone with frazzled nerves. But the unkempt person behind her seemed unfazed by her move. It took her a while to recognize him, but when she did, she let her fist fly anyway.

David stared at her in disbelief as he rubbed his chest where Heather had hit him. She shouldn't have been able to do that. He was projecting calm and acceptance, but it didn't seem to be working. "What the hell?!" he shouted, rubbing where he'd soon be getting a bruise.

"I haven't heard a single word from you since that party at Emily's in Tunisia ... and now you just show up!" She didn't have the energy to stay mad ... she was just too tired. Getting up from her seat, she joined David in his pew. She moved to give him a hug, but he flinched. Once he realized she wasn't attacking, he joined fully in the embrace.

David couldn't believe how good her body felt against his. Her hair smelled wonderful, and he could feel her large breasts pressing against him. She pulled back and reluctantly, he let go. They stared at each other for a little while and David drank in her beauty. He'd had a crush on her since the orientation meeting before heading out on the dig. He'd done his best to transform Christine into a Heather-clone, but his best efforts paled in comparison to the real thing.

Heather's reaction to David was quite the opposite. "Forgive me for saying this David ... I know it's been a while, but ... well ... you look like shit. Are you okay?"

David scratched absently at his chest. His skin often itched and he'd broken the skin more than once scratching it. He did his best to keep from wiping his nose for the hundredth time. "I've ... I've been under the weather..."

Heather had seen enough of her stripper friends turn to drugs, and she knew the signs: the weight loss, the sunken eyes, the nearly translucent skin, the scratching ... She grabbed his hand in both of hers. David looked down, his body aflame with that simple touch. Her skin was so soft. "David ... I know it's not my place ... but we practically lived together for four months ... I hope you still consider me a friend." David didn't respond, he was too lost in her beauty. For months he'd been fantasizing about her, and now here they were together. Heather blushed embarrassedly when his growing erection became obvious. "David, I know some people who can help ... drug counselors ... doctors..."

David pulled his hand back. "I'm fine ... I just ... I just need..." Rather than completing his thought, he just stared at her. But it wasn't a stare of longing. It was intense, like he was trying to pierce her skull with his eyes.

Heather felt a little light headed, and a wave of dizziness washed over her. It felt like she was under water and the current was streaming thickly past her head. She swayed in her seat, but when she blinked, she felt better.

David was livid. He lashed at her again with all his mental strength, but it was like trying to hold a bowling ball covered in grease. Her mind just slipped through his grasp.

"David, are you okay?"

He didn't answer, he just stared again, even more intensely, a fresh stream of blood dripping out his nose and onto his shirt. Heather wavered a bit, but shook her head. The air in the little chapel must be moldy or something. She needed some fresh air. Placing a hand on his shoulder, she asked gently, "David, why don't we go for a walk. Have you seen Brian or Adam? They left with you, didn't they?"

David jerked back, as if Heather's hand was acid. "How ... Why aren't you..." He just stared at her in horror. Hopping out of the pew, he went straight to the door, his face a mask of anger and frustration. He stared at her again, but this time she didn't react. Combing his fingers through his hair and wiping his nose with his sleeve, he looked at Heather in sadness, like a child who's favorite toy had just been taken away.

She stood and took a step in his direction, but halted when he put out a hand. "Stay back ... don't touch me!" Heather froze and he again scratched at his chest. Suddenly, as if inspired, he looked at his hand. He held it before his face as if he'd never seen it before. His fingers curled slightly, like a hook. Smiling the sinister smile of a madman, he looked beyond his hooked fingers at Heather and started to chuckle. He held her gaze for a second, saying "It was good seeing you again Heather ... say 'hi' to El Professor for me. I'll see you again soon ... Pleasant dreams." With that he bolted out the door and ran down the hall. By the time Heather got to the door, he'd already turned the corner and was out of sight.

There was a pale man with scraggly black hair standing in the hallway outside the chapel, who was looking down the hallway in the same direction that David had just run. He turned and offered a weak, but sad smile to Heather and for some reason, Heather immediately felt better. She was still worried about David ... and Gregg ... and Emily ... and Charli ... and E'dan ... well, she was worried about everybody, but that strange man's smile seemed to remove the weight of the world she carried on her shoulders, and she felt her first moment of true peace since yesterday afternoon.

Deuce turned and walked away, pulling his collar up as if walking into a stiff breeze, his coat fluttering behind him in the unmoving hospital air.

That evening Rivkah and E'dan had everyone over for a terrific feast. "I wish I'd known it'd take my husband getting shot to get you all over for dinner! If that's what it takes, I guess I'll have to shoot him myself more often!" Everyone laughed at the joke, but E'dan's laughter seemed somewhat nervous. Gregg toasted the two people most responsible for his being alive in the privacy of their apartment since they insisted he not mention them in public. Gregg understood, but he wished the rest of the world knew that they were the real heroes, not him ... despite what Heather told him.

At Charli's insistence, no one mentioned Brittany. Chad still didn't know what was going on with that, but Charli insisted that she be the one to tell him. While everyone pitched in to clear away dishes, Heather pulled Charli aside and talked to her in hushed voices.

"Charli, you need to tell Chad. The longer you wait, the harder it will be. Trust me on this ... I know ... and look where it led!"

"I know Heather. I know." She looked over her shoulder at Chad who was drying dishes. He saw her looking and winked. Charli smiled back nervously. "But what if he hates me for what I've done? If not for me, then none of this would have happened."

It took Heather to figure out what Charli was talking about ... the line of logic getting to that statement was long and thin. "You mean if you weren't who you were and if you'd never crossed paths with Brittany?"

"Yeah ... something like that. I know I've changed so much since then ... What if Chad prefers the old me ... the mousy, shy me ... what if he's just humoring me? I mean, he's so athletic, and good looking, and ... and..."

"And you're a stone cold fox!" Heather said. "You're not giving Chad nearly enough credit. He likes you because of who you are. And honestly, I don't hear him complaining much about the new you. You've come out of your shell, you've gotten more confident ... but you're still you."

Charli thought for long seconds. She'd never been called beautiful or sexy or a 'fox' before she got into this crowd. Maybe Heather was right. From the stories she'd heard and from what she'd witnessed personally, Chad wasn't exactly a prude...

"Okay. I'll tell him Thursday ... after our next session with Brittany." Charli thought for a second. "Wait, we're still having our sessions, right?"

"Yeah, I think we can ... we'll have to do them somewhere else, however. My place is still a mess. At a minimum, I'm going to need new carpeting." Charli shuddered. She'd seen the place earlier, and the sight of all that blood on the floor, the walls, and the bullet hole in the door made her shudder. Her father, a Chicago cop, had lost his to criminal's bullet and she'd almost lost her dearest friends. That thought raged inside her and Brittany Anderson would pay dearly for daring to bring that element into back into her life.

"Okay. Let me think about how to tell him. It should be something special..."

Heather could tell by the smile on her face that Charli was already thinking of something devious.

Gregg lay in his bed on his back, staring at the ceiling. It seemed odd, but he could hardly remember the last time he'd slept in his own bed. Over the past months, he'd practically moved into Heather's apartment and his had become the local study place for his particularly tight group of friends. To some degree, Chad and Charli had made it their own since they couldn't get much privacy in either her dorm room or his fraternity house. But tonight, they grudgingly relinquished their hold on it ... especially when he reminded them who paid the rent there.

Emily sat perpendicular to him on the bed, one foot tucked under her and the other bandaged one extended out to her side. For sleeping purposes, she'd swapped her foot brace for a tightly wrapped ace bandage. Tracing a finger along one of Gregg's abdomen muscles, she closed her eyes and whispered, "rectus abdominis." Turning to the open anatomy book on her right, she smiled at having named it correctly. Her anatomy/physiology professor was understanding of her situation and had told her she could make up the exam when she returned to school.

Gregg didn't mind being used as a living study prop. In a way it was kind of relaxing having Emily slowly trace one muscle after another, close her eyes and try to name it. It was very intimate without being overtly sexual, and given how sex seemed to dominate his world these days, the change was refreshing.

The day was a non-stop stream of people wishing him well and wanting interviews. He'd become a minor celebrity overnight — his fifteen-minutes of fame being stretched out for hours. More than anything, he just wanted it to end. He wasn't used to being in the spotlight and was terrified of being under the microscope. Once a name is in the news, there'd be someone, somewhere who'd do some digging ... and at some point he'd make a mistake, simply overlook some detail, and the tangled web of liaisons he'd come to take for granted would be exposed. It suddenly dawned on him just how much he'd changed since that lightning strike a half year ago. Could he ever have guessed or even dreamed that he'd be surrounded by such a beautiful and sexy group of women who cared so much for him and vice-versa.

"What are you smiling about?" Emily asked playfully, closing her book for the time being.

"Just thinking about how much you mean to me." It was close enough to the truth. But instead of making Emily smile, her eyes got sad and she tossed her textbook onto the floor. Curling up against Gregg's side, she rested her head on his chest and held him protectively. She couldn't explain how she kept ending up in his bed in the hospital last night ... she honestly didn't remember doing it. But she couldn't deny the fact, having woken fully impaled on Gregg's cock. She couldn't explain how she knew that it was something that she just had to do ... that Gregg's life depended on it.

His heartbeat filled her ear, and a feeling of ownership washed over her. It was inexplicable, but she knew that Gregg's life was somehow her responsibility ... she would die to save Gregg, but yesterday he almost died saving HER ... and her intuition said that was backward. Gingerly, she touched her forehead in the same place that Gregg still had his bandage. That was something else that was bothering her ... Visions of the tile floor rushing up to meet her face filled her memory, but she had no damage that verified that that had actually happened. She sighed and absently played with the elastic waistband of Gregg's pajama bottoms. Maybe she just had an overactive imagination.

Emily's thoughts were interrupted by a knocking at the door. Laura poked her head in but hid the rest of herself behind the door. "Good, you're both awake. It's time to take your medicine." As quickly as she entered, the door closed.

Emily looked back at Gregg questioningly, her hand staying on his chest, but he just shrugged his shoulders.

The door opened again and Emily could feel Gregg's heart start racing. Heather and Laura were standing there with very mischievous grins on their faces ... but it wasn't their grins that had quickened Gregg's heartbeat. Heather wore an incredibly tight nurse's outfit that was held together with two buttons at her stomach, leaving her belly-button exposed and her huge breasts on the verge of popping out. Her skirt was tight, barely covering the tops of her white nylons. What an identically dressed Laura lacked in terms of cleavage, she made up for with her incredible legs and ass. Emily knew that the outfit Laura was wearing was actually sized for her. After all, on Monday, Emily, Heather, and Charli were going to use the nurses' outfits in their latest session with Brittany ... but those plans got derailed by Vinnie. So now Laura was wearing Emily's outfit. Because Laura had longer legs than Emily, the skirt rode higher and they could see the garter straps holding her nylons up.

"We didn't want to waste these outfits ... I hope you don't mind receiving instead of giving, Emily," Heather asked, already laying out some of her 'medical tools.' The equipment of healing she brought included whipped cream, massage oil, a vibrator, and other items of interest.

"Does Charli still have the third outfit?"

"No. She loaned it to Rivkah ... I'm sure E'dan won't mind a little TLC..."

Gregg was already tenting his pajamas at the prospect of his sexy Florence Nightingales kissing his boo-boos.

The next morning, Wednesday, Chad purposefully delayed Gregg from getting to his 9am freshman seminar on time. When they met in Gregg's office, Chad asked him to wait while he ran down to the archives to grab something he forgot. When they made it out to the quad he stopped to quickly answer a text message ... then to tie his shoe. Gregg was getting frustrated that his friend could be so petty just because he took his apartment back.

But, when Chad politely opened the door to the lecture hall for him, Gregg learned that his teaching assistant and friend was anything but petty. Gregg entered the room and a filled room stood to its feet and erupted in applause. Besides his normal 9am students, students from his other classes, faculty, and administrators were there to welcome him back. The only one not standing was Brittany who sat in her seat watching everything nervously. More than one person in class gave her frowns, her status be damned. Even Natalie stood, but she had no enthusiasm in her clapping — she was simply following Laura's lead.

Gregg was embarrassed, but also truly touched. So many people were genuinely concerned about him. Given that he considered himself friendless a mere year ago, he was moved beyond words.

A cake was wheeled in and he was asked to give a speech. Not being one for public speaking, Gregg simply made a joke about his students doing anything to delay getting their tests back. The rest of the class was a wash. For most of the female students, it was simply an opportunity to come up to him, shake his hand, get to look deeply into his eyes, and let them know how glad they were he was okay and how brave he was.

Eventually everyone started filing out. It was more like greeting line at a wedding with people forming up to shake his hand one last time and say a few last nice words. Laura played along, waiting her turn in line and shaking his hand as she passed. When she withdrew her hand, she gave him a conspiratorial wink and left Gregg with a note she had folded carefully and secretly pressed into his palm. He pocketed it to read later.

Finally, everyone had gone with the exceptions of Chad and Brittany, who hadn't moved from her seat since she arrived, not even to get a piece of cake. Chad sensed the tension in the room and offered to meet up with Gregg back in his office. He stepped out and closed the door behind him. Brittany still didn't move. She only sat there with her head down, biting her once perfect — now ruined — nails.

Gregg pulled up a chair and sat in front of her. For long minutes they just sat there, not speaking. For Brittany, Gregg's silence was worse than any shouting he could have done. Finally, in a voice so small it was almost inaudible, she whispered, "I ... I didn't mean for any of that to happen..."

"You brought a mobster into Heather's home. He almost killed me ... almost raped Heather ... shot E'dan ... almost killed Emily." That last one made her wince. "What were you thinking?"

"He ... he threatened to kill me."

"You could have warned us ... called the police ... done any number of things ... but you WANTED him to 'fix' your problem. You were more than willing to ignore the obvious and turn a blind eye to who and what he was."

Brittany couldn't deny his words and simply looked down into her lap.

"I just wanted it all to end."

"You just wanted it to end? Are you kidding me? Do you think the pain you've caused other people ever ends? Those you've trampled on your way to power and prestige? Do you think the professors whose marriages and lives you've ruined with your blackmail didn't want it to end? I don't think anything we've done to you amounts to one iota of the suffering you've inflicted on other people."

Brittany couldn't deny his words yet again, but only now was she beginning to see the consequences of her actions.

Gregg had one final stinging blow. "To be honest, Brittany. I'm starting to get tired of our little games, and frankly the sight of you has begun to turn my stomach. We thought to teach you a lesson, but all you've done is pile on more misery." He pulled out a post-it pad and wrote down an address. "Mistress Cheryl still wants to meet ... and what Mistress Cheryl wants, she gets. Be there, and don't be late. But I'll be honest ... the sooner Mistress Cheryl is done with you, the better."

Gregg stood and left the room. As he closed the door behind him, he could hear her sobbing. For once, he felt no pity.

As per the instructions on the note Laura had left him, Gregg stood in the parking lot behind the Omega Xi sorority house later that evening. The crisp October air was causing him to shiver and he paced back and forth, wishing he'd brought a heavier jacket. The door finally opened and a stunning vision of loveliness filled the doorway.

Laura was wearing a very elegant black cocktail dress that was mostly backless and held in place with a wide black belt with a silver buckle. The front was not much more than two wide pieces of pleated silk that started at her belt and went up to tie around her neck, leaving her sides as naked as her back as well as showing off a generous swath of skin between her breasts almost down to her belly button. Black high heels put her at a height almost eye-to-eye with Gregg. Her diamond earrings, silver bracelets, and perfect makeup helped radiate a poise and beauty that would be the envy of a New York socialite.

Gregg approached, suddenly feeling stifling hot in his windbreaker ... and significantly underdressed. She pulled him inside into a scorchingly-hot kiss that made his toes curl. He was reluctant to let go, but needed to ask a question. "Did I miss something? I thought tonight you wanted to take care of your Natalie-problem."

"Patience, Master. We'll get to that later ... First, I need your help with a little class I'm teaching." She kissed him lightly on the nose and turned toward the staircase in the back entrance and started up the steps. "Follow me."

Gregg watched her shapely ass sway as she climbed the steps, her skirt swishing to and fro with each step. When she was several steps ahead, Gregg noticed when her skirt gave a particularly big swish, that she was not wearing anything underneath.

Coming to his senses, he took the stairs three at a time to catch up and met her in front of a closed door at the top of the landing. She gave him one more mischievous grin before inserting the key and opening the door.

The door clicked shut behind him and Gregg suddenly felt like the lamb led to the wolves' den ... or more accurately: the foxes' den. Sitting in leather couches that lined the walls of the sorority house's social room were ten stunningly gorgeous young women, all dressed to the same level of elegance as Laura. He scanned the veritable schmorgasborg of female flesh and only recognized one lady: Natalie. She seemed as stunned as he was that he was there. She had hair as blonde as Laura's, now longer since Laura got hers cut. She also had a considerably larger chest than Laura but wasn't nearly as pretty. Given that Gregg now surrounded himself with amazingly beautiful women like Laura, Heather, Charli, Rivkah, and Emily (not necessarily in that order), his benchmark for "beautiful" was now considerably higher than it used to be.

Laura let the girls drink him in for a few moments before leading him by the hand to the center of the room. Snapping her fingers twice above her head, she announced, "Omega Xis, eyes on me ... if you can." She imagined she could hear the sounds of rusty hinges as the women painfully turned their gaze away from Gregg.