Nandita To Nandini
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John And Julie free porn video
John Shepherd was jolted awake by the ringing of his phone. He fumbled for it, glancing at the time as he did so – six-thirty. Oh, well, he sighed to himself, he was going to get up around seven anyway.
A weak female voice at the other end pleaded ‘John, you’ve got to help me. I don’t know who else to call…’
John struggled to identify the voice. It was somewhat familiar, a little like his cousin Julie, but why would she be calling him? They had never gotten along with each other.
‘Julie? Is that you? What’s wrong?’
There was no answer.
‘Julie?…Julie?…JULIE!…Answer me!’
His voice was met with silence at the other end.
Grumbling, John pulled on his clothes. ‘That little snot better not be playing games with me.’
He looked over at his packed luggage. Today was the first day of his week’s vacation, and he was ready to head out of town, out of the bustle of Manhattan to the far eastern reaches of Long Island. A train ride to the end of the line, a rental car, and a whole week of relaxation. Nothing was planned, he was free to do whatever he wanted. Maybe go to Montauk and do some deep sea fishing. Maybe wind through the Hampton’s and see how the other half lived. Maybe taste his way through wine country on the North Fork.
Another reason he wanted to get out of town was the virulent flu that was rampaging though the country. This new strain resisted all the known vaccines and spread rapidly, especially in crowded cities. Many people had already died from it and many more who had it wished they were dead. He was lucky and hadn’t caught it, but thought if he could just get out of the crowded city he might be safer. Now he’d be late getting off.
As he headed uptown on the subway he reflected on their relationship.
John’s father, Bob Shepherd and Julie’s mother, April Barstow, were cousins, making John and Julie second cousins. Bob Shepherd and ‘Aunt’ April, as John had called her since he was a child, had been part of a close family growing up. Aunt April was widowed when Julie was five. John’s father tried to help her out as much as he could, but the two families lived far enough apart that their visits were not as frequent as Bob would have liked. Whenever Aunt April really needed something done around the house Bob took John, four years older than Julie, with him to help with whatever fix-up was needed.
Julie was one of those girls who was pretty and knew it. She thought herself above anyone else in the family, and spent hours in front of a mirror dressing up and posing, ignoring everyone else. Julie, from an early age, rebuffed John’s, and everyone else’s in the family for that matter, overtures at friendship. She always wanted to be a model, and as she grew she developed the body for it – tall and slender with delicate facial features, a flawless complexion, long blonde hair and blue-gray eyes. During her high school years she actually had a number of local modeling opportunities, and seemed to be good at it.
John went to college when Julie was still in high school, so he thankfully didn’t have to put up with her snotty attitude very much after that. John graduated from college and had a good job offer from a firm in New York City. The position paid enough that he could afford to live in Manhattan – a small one bedroom apartment on the nineteenth floor of an apartment building in an area of Manhattan known as Chelsea, on the west side. The last time he had seen Julie, until last year, was when she was fifteen. She had grown particularly surly and had developed something of a potty mouth, much to the dismay of her mother – another thing that made her not very likeable.
Julie graduated from high school and thought she had what it took to make it big as a fashion model so, against her mother’s wishes, she packed up and moved to New York, also. John heard she had an apartment on the Upper East Side, on the edge of Harlem, but he never had any cause or desire to go see her.
One day last year he had a call from Julie’s mother. Aunt April hadn’t heard from Julie for several weeks and was worried about her. Would John go and see if she was all right? As distasteful as the prospect seemed he felt he owed it to her mother to investigate. He took an extended lunch the next day and headed by subway and cross-town bus to Julie’s place. The neighborhood she lived in seemed to be populated with a lot of immigrants and some artsy types that he guessed were aspiring actors and singers and such hoping to make it on Broadway.
Her building was a small four-story walk-up with a locked main entry door. To gain admittance required buzzing the occupant who could unlock the door remotely by pressing a button.
When he buzzed Julie’s number she answered ‘Who is it?’
‘It’s your cousin, John.’
‘What the hell do you want?’
‘Your mom was worried about you and wanted me to look in on you.’
‘Just fuck off and tell her I’m okay.’
‘She asked me to look in on you and all I’ve seen is a speaker box.’
‘Shit.’ was followed by the click of the door as it was unlocked.
John mounted three flights of well worn stairs. The hallway was filled with the sound of crying babies, mothers loudly scolding children and couples arguing in strange languages. As he reached to knock on the door it swung open, and Julie stood before him, arms crossed and scowling, with her hair in curlers.
‘Here, have a look and then go away.’
The apartment consisted of a one main room with a small bathroom in one corner. There was a sofa and a couple of chairs in the ‘living room’ and a television on a rickety table next to the door. One wall had a ‘kitchen’ with a two burner gas stove, sink and small refrigerator. Counter space and storage space were minimal. The ‘dining room’ area had a tiny table and two chairs. That was it. No bed was visible, nor was there room for one, and an old wooden wardrobe appeared to be the only place to store clothes, as there were no closets, as far as he could tell. The floor was well worn wood that she had partially covered with a couple of small area rugs. She was lucky enough to have a corner room, so there were two windows, one that looked out onto a rusty metal fire escape over a dirty alley, and one onto the noisy street below. The place had not been painted for years. Who knew what the original color was, now the walls just looked dingy, with water stains under the windows. She had brightened it up a little, though, with some colorful curtains framing squeaky clean windows. She had always been a neat freak, so the place actually looked tidy.
‘Very compact, Julie. The whole place looks hardly bigger than your bedroom at home. Where on earth do you sleep? On the sofa?’
‘If you must know there is a Murphy bed that folds up into the wall.’ She pointed to what looked alike a sort of flat cabinet along one wall. ‘When it’s down I have to push some furniture around and there isn’t much room to move around, so I keep it up until bed time. Now you’ve seen it so you can leave. I have a photo shoot this afternoon.’
‘First I need to know why you haven’t called home. Your mother is worried sick.’
‘I’m temporarily out of minutes for my phone. I’ll have a phone again after I get paid next.’
‘Okay…..Is that your portfolio?’ There was a sort of notebook with her name in large letters lying on the kitchen table, so he picked it up.
‘Give me that back!’ she demanded.
‘I just want to see some of your work.’
‘Don’t you dare look!’
Who could resist such a temptation? She lunged for the book, but he held it up and turned so it stayed out of her reach as he thumbed through the pages. Mostly it was straightforward stuff – magazine clothing ads for department stores and some catalogue pages with pictures of what was obviously her showing off various types of clothing and accessories. His eye fell on something else, however, a nude sketc
h of her standing leaning on a chair.
‘Well, well. I see what you didn’t want me to look at. So you actually take your clothes off in front of people?’
‘That’s just a part of what I do, if you must know. I model sometimes for the art schools. It helps pay the bills. That’s a copy of a sketch one student did. Fashion modeling isn’t a steady job, you know. I have to hustle to make ends meet. New York is an expensive place to live.’
‘Tell me about it.’
She sighed heavily. ‘Shit. Now you know about the art school business. You can’t tell mom about that. She would freak.’
‘I’ll tell her you’re okay, but remember that I know your secret.’
‘Fuck you.’
‘I feel a special phone call to your mom coming on.’
‘Please?’
‘Finally something nice out of your mouth. Okay, your secret is safe with me.’
That evening John had called Julie’s mother and told her that Julie was fine and that she’d call when her phone was loaded with minutes again, but left out the part about the nude modeling.
The next week John had received a letter from Aunt April thanking him for checking up on Julie. Included with the letter was a key. The letter stated that April had a spare key to Julies’ apartment to use in case of emergencies. She explained that since John lived close to her daughter, April thought he should have it in case he needed to get in. ‘Not bloody likely,’ he had thought as had had tossed the key into a drawer and forgot about it.
——
Now the key was in his pocket and he was heading into…who knows what.
Reaching her building he buzzed her room and got no response. Using the key he opened the door and sprinted up the three flights of stairs. He knocked several times on the door and called out to her, but there was still no response.
Opening the door he found her on the floor, sitting propped against her bed, with the phone on the floor by her side. She looked like hell – gray skin, matted hair, disheveled pajamas.
He reached down and picked her up to lay her on the bed.
‘I don’t feel so good. I think I’m going to be sick’ she moaned.
John realized that there would be a big mess to clean up if she got sick on her bed, so he lifted her to a standing position and, with one arm around her waist and holding her other arm behind his neck, half dragged her to the bathroom – they just made it. He gathered her long hair in his hands and held it so it wouldn’t drag in the toilet and thought to himself that there certainly was nothing sexy about watching a girl throw up. After it seemed like she had thrown up her insides she collapsed weakly onto the bathroom floor, panting. John grabbed a towel, wet it, and cleaned her up as best as he could, and then carried her back to the bed, stretched her out, and covered her up.
When he got her settled he looked around. The place was an uncharacteristic mess – dirty dishes in the sink, open takeout containers on the table, and clothes draped over chairs.
‘I’m so cold,’ he heard, and noted that she was starting to shiver. Rummaging around in the wardrobe he found another blanket and an old quilt that he knew had come from great-great grandmother. His family had a similar one handed down through the generations. He wrapped her up and sat by her side as she curled up into a ball and shivered.
When she finally seemed to be asleep John threw out the food containers and washed the dishes, eventually figuring out where things went, and put everything away. Finishing that chore, he sat on the sofa while he waited to see if anything else needed to be done, and eventually dozed off.
He was awakened by writhing on the bed, and saw her thrashing around trying to throw off the covers. Sweat was pouring off of her, soaking her pajamas. He felt her forehead and thought he could fry an egg on it, and her breathing had become shallow and ragged as well. A call to the local clinic brought news that all medical facilities were overwhelmed, but they gave instructions on how to cool her down.
Picking her up, he carried her into the bathroom, filled the small tub with cold water, stripped off all her sweaty clothing and plunged her into the tub. Using a washcloth he sponged water over her head and face. He eventually had to drain the water and refill the tub with more cold water. He patted her hand and encouraged ‘Come on Julie. Hang in there.’ He caressed her arm when he wasn’t sponging her. Occasionally her eyelids would flutter open momentarily.
When the fever seemed to be down to a manageable level he drained the tub, dried her off and carried her back to bed. He tried to get her to sip some water before he laid her down, but taking anything for the fever was out of the question at that point, as he didn’t think she could swallow anything solid. He didn’t even try to wrestle any clothing onto her, but just covered her up lightly and laid a cold cloth across her forehead. Looking down at her he saw her for the first time as a vulnerable young woman.
For the next two days he napped on the sofa and periodically propped her up to sip some liquid. She was never fully awake, but sometimes she would rant about something in her sleep. Sometimes he brushed stray hair from her face and held her hand.
At last the fever broke and she slept soundly. Relieved of the need to listen for changes in her breathing he also fell asleep. Between listening for signs of distress from her and the noise of the downstairs tenant yelling and banging on the radiator pipes, he was exhausted.
He was awakened by her stirring, and turned a half-opened eye in her direction. This time she sat up and looked around. Seeing him on the sofa she said ‘What the hell are you doing here? How did you get in?’
‘Is that the thanks I get for saving your life?’
She looked puzzled and fell back on the bed, breathing heavily, exhausted from the effort of just sitting up.
He got up and reached for some water and offered her some.
‘Did you spend the night here?’ she demanded.
‘The night? I’ve been here for three days. You’ve been one sick puppy.’
‘Three days? You’re making that up! Aren’t you?…Hey, where are my clothes? Did you take my clothes off? You pervert!’
‘Your pajamas were soaked with sweat. I took them off when I put you in a tub of cold water to bring your fever down.’
‘Water. I seem to remember water. It felt good. Something soft was against my face, too…God, I’m so weak, I can’t even sit up.’
‘At least you’re not talking and raving nonsense like the other day. What happened with George Watts?’
Her eyes popped open. ‘How did you know about that?’
‘You told me all about it during one of your rants. I thought you were going to hit me. I had to convince you I’m not George.’
‘Oh, God. In high school he tried to grope me when we were on a date. I slapped him silly.’ She pointed at herself. ‘Nobody touches this body without my permission!’
‘Well, I did. I guess it’s a little late to ask permission, and you weren’t in any condition to grant it, anyway. I had to make some executive decisions.’
Her eyes closed again. ‘I think I’d like something to eat.’
‘That’s my girl! An appetite means you are on the mend. You just lie back and I’ll fix you some soup and hot tea. We’ve got to start you off slowly.’
He raised her up a little and fluffed the pillow behind her back so she could prop up. Since she hadn’t eaten for several days, and she was of such slim build to start with, the weight she had lost made her look terrible. Her eyes were sunken into her head and every rib was visible. She looked like a scarecrow.
‘John, have you really been here taking care of me for three days? I don’t remember much of anything. I think I remember calling someone on the phone. I remember being cold and then hot. I remember something about water and something cool on my forehead. I think I heard a voice. It’s all jumbl
ed up in little bits and pieces.’
He brought over some soup and tea. ‘Here, take it easy at first. You haven’t had anything on your stomach since you tossed your cookies Saturday morning.’ He brushed some matted hair out of her eyes.
‘That’s another thing I remember feeling.’
He rubbed his face. ‘Now that you’re awake I think I need to find a razor and get rid of this beard I’ve grown since I’ve been here. I didn’t want to leave you unattended to run down to the store while you were sleeping. I thought you might have some disposable razors somewhere that I could make do with, but couldn’t find any.’
She nodded and pointed vaguely toward the wardrobe, then closed her eyes and dozed back off. He rummaged around in the drawers again and eventually found a new razor under her underwear.
By the time he finished shaving she was awake again, so he told her ‘I put your phone on the charger in case you needed it. While you were unconscious you got a phone call.’
‘Who from?’
‘It was your agent. He thought I was your boyfriend and that you had spent the weekend screwing around. He blessed me out and said you missed an assignment and that the client was very upset and had lost a lot of money. He said you divas were a bitch to work with, and that interfering guys like me only made things worse. His words, not mine.’
She sat bolt upright and her hands flew to her face. ‘Oh, my God! I was supposed to do a photo shoot for a magazine Monday morning! Oh, no! They’ll think I’m unreliable, and I’ll never be offered a good job like that again.’ She shook and her eyes were suddenly wet.
‘Calm down. I explained that I was a cousin, not a boyfriend, and that you were deathly ill. You were, you know. After we talked a bit he seemed less upset and said he’d try and patch things up with the client.’
She flopped back onto the pillow, tears streaming down her face. ‘Thank you. You didn’t have to do that, you know.’
‘It seemed the decent thing to do. I may not have liked you growing up, but I would never sabotage your career,’ he said as he wiped her cheeks with a tissue.
For the next two days he helped her eat until she got the strength to sit up for an extended period of time and feed herself. She had lost so much weight that she had no energy reserves and was very weak. Eventually he helped her with short walks to a chair, and even managed to help her wash her hair.
By Friday she was up and about enough to want to take a walk outside. He took her arm and they made their way slowly down the stairs to the street. There was a neighborhood park two blocks away where they sat on a bench in the sun for an hour or so, watching the children noisily play on the swings and see-saws.
‘John. Something has been bothering me the last couple of days. Why did you come and help me? You even gave up your vacation week for me. After all the shit you took from me I wouldn’t have blamed you for letting me die.’
‘I couldn’t let you down. You’re family.’
She started to sob and threw her arms around his neck. ‘I’ve been such an ass. I’m so sorry. I always thought I was the only one who mattered. I was so wrong. How can I ever make it up to you?’
‘You just get better and maybe we’ll go out to dinner when you are up to it.’
‘I’d like that.’
She clung to him for a few minutes until she regained her composure, then they got up and slowly made their way back to her building. Looking at the stairs she hesitated, already worn out from the walk. He scooped her up and carried her up to her apartment, where he stretched her out on the sofa, as the bed had finally been put away.
‘I’ll need to get back to my place and change clothes,’ he announced. ‘I think I’m going to have to burn these. The sofa was okay, but it would be nice to sleep in a real bed.’
‘Please spend one more night here?’
He sighed. ‘Okay. I’ll fix us some supper.’
After they ate she got ready for bed, but they sat on the sofa for a while before pulling the bed down. As they sat he took a hairbrush and brushed her fine, golden hair while she leaned on him and closed her eyes. When he finished brushing he put an arm around her slender shoulders and she reached up to caress his face.
Alessandra
- 14.11.2022
- 6
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