Page 12 of Carnal Risk

“It looks like the bleeding has slowed. Just keep it under the water a second while I get a towel.” As he slowly released her wrist, he noted that she never took her eyes off him. Yet she submitted to his request…this time. No fighting or arguing. He couldn’t be certain if she was acquiescing because he’d scolded her or if she truly understood he’d meant what he’d said.

Garrett slid open a cabinet drawer and retrieved a clean washcloth. After turning off the spigot, he wrapped the fabric around her hand, keeping pressure on the wound. He opened the bathroom closet door, and began to rummage through, in search of a Band-Aid. As he glanced back toward Selby, he noticed the look of shock on her face.

“You have a lot of injuries around here?” she asked, her eyes wide.

“Yes. No. Oh hell, okay, yeah, sometimes. Look, Selby, we really need to talk,” he hedged. He knew his bathroom supplies made it look as if he was stocking an ambulance. Accidents happened. Granted, usually not on the executive floor, but he liked to be prepared. And out in the field, he was more likely to play down an injury than run to get first aid in front of co-workers.

Selby diverted her eyes, bringing her hand to her chest. The bright red stain on her shirt had begun to crust over into a deep shade of brown.

“Your hand should be all right.” Garrett smiled as he set the butterfly bandage into place. “The patient will live. This time.”

“Thank you,” she said, shifting on the counter.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asked, placing his palms onto her knees.

“Um, out of the bathroom, I guess.”

“No.”

“No?”

“Nylons in California?” he asked.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“You may be a transplant but I didn’t think these,” he tugged at her stockings, “were very comfortable. But you know what’s even more troubling?”

“What? No wait, how come you know so much about what women wear on their legs?”

“Many reasons.” He smiled. “But I think I’ll go with business. Yeah, that sounds good.”

“Business?”

“Fabrics. Plastics. Metals. Some materials, you want them hard, impenetrable. Others,” Garrett brushed the back of his fingers softly against her cheek, catching a stray hair that had come loose from her bun. His eyes fell to her soft lips and then met hers. “They’re designed to be soft but strong.”

She smiled, silently watching him.

“And these,” he pinched a stretchy section off her thigh and let it snap back into place, “hold particles. Like glass.”

“Oh,” she replied softly. “I don’t think…well, I don’t feel a cut or anything.”

“Let me have your shoes.” Before she could protest, Garrett inspected her pumps. He carefully removed each one and shook it over the trash bin. A ping resounded as pellets rained into the tin container. He set them on the toilet seat and then evaluated his next move.

With her soft pink lips within inches, Garrett yearned to touch Selby, and not just a little bit. He briefly closed his eyes, and his recurrent fantasy flashed through his mind, of her bent over, while he slammed inside of her. He fought a smile.

“Is something funny?” he heard her ask and his gaze beamed up to hers.

“No, not funny. Something to look forward to, perhaps.”

“What?”

“About these.” He ignored her question and glanced to her legs. “They need to come off.”

“What did you say?”

“I think you heard me quite clearly. And since you aren’t going to be able to get them off without the tiny bits of glass digging into your skin, the question is, ‘How should we get these torturous things off of you?’”

“Do you really think that’s necessary? Maybe if I lift up you could help me pull them off?” She raised her legs, and several tiny fragments reflected under the light. “Well, fuck. What am I supposed to do?”