Title: A Friend in Need is a...
What Was Lost is Found
For additional impact, play the songs that title each chapter.
-- Chapter 1: Stay With Me
"Oh, won't you stay with me? 'Cause you're all I need..."
"I didn't stay because he needed me. I stayed because I didn't know how to leave."
-- Dr. Lynette Takeyuracuma, PhD.
Bill had been battling a disabling, flu-like illness for nearly ten days and was finally beginning to feel better. Lynn, Dr. Lynette Takeyuracuma, PhD., had been by his side through the entire ordeal, comforting and caring for him without hesitation. At first, she'd only come by during the day, checking in and bringing him groceries. But as his condition worsened, she took a brief leave from the university and temporarily moved into one of his guest rooms.
Staying with him around the clock, Lynn fed him, changed his sweat-soaked and soiled clothes, and swapped out bedding without complaint. She helped him to the bathroom, cleaned him when necessary, and never once flinched. Most nights, Lynn didn't sleep in her guest room. Instead, she curled into the armchair beside his bed, dozing lightly, always listening. Through the worst of it, she kept cool washcloths on his burning forehead and lifted his limp body into cold baths to lower his fever. When coughing fits wracked his chest and left him gasping, she helped him sit upright. When his stomach gave out, she held the bucket. When his bowels failed, she carried him to the toilet and cleaned him afterward.
The fever spiked again the night before, just like it had the last three nights. This time, the cold towels weren't working. In a blur of urgency, he remembered Lynn running cold water, then dumping ice into the tub. Her voice... soft, worried... reached him through the haze. Around 4 a.m., the fever finally broke. When he felt strong enough to stand, she helped him out of the bath and back to his bed. He shivered violently, teeth chattering, and Lynn dried him gently, her hands warm and sure. Then, without a word, she stripped off her wet clothes and climbed naked into bed beside him, her soft, warm body molding to his. Her heat flowed into him like sunlight through cold skin. He remembered how peaceful it felt... the way their bodies fit, the way she held him... and then, sleep.
They had been longtime friends... Bill and Lynn. They met years ago when he was in grad school and she was just a freshman. When his vision began to fail, Lynn was the first to step in. She drove him to appointments, took him shopping, and helped him navigate the world with quiet ease. Their friendship had waxed and waned over the years, but somehow, they always found their way back to each other.
Now, months later, their bond had grown stronger. Though Bill's eyesight allowed him to function, it was often the finer details that eluded him. Lynn began to help more: cleaning his house, folding his clothes, even helping him dress for formal events. Slowly, their friendship had evolved. Lynn became a fixture in his home and his life. Nudity, once something to be guarded, became matter-of-fact... Bill no longer flinched when she saw him bare, and Lynn never looked away.
That morning, Bill woke to the sound of his shower running.
Golden sunlight filtered through the cracks in the drapes, and tiny motes of dust danced in the beams. It was still early. He was in clean, dry pajamas, and for the first time in days, he felt clear-headed. His body no longer ached; the fever had broken. His breath came easily.
The memories, though, were murky.
He knew Lynn had been there... always there. Moments surfaced like dream fragments: the cool touch of a washcloth, the soft hush of her voice, the warmth of her body in his bed. But other things... moments of mess, of sickness, of weakness... clung to him with shame.
A wave of embarrassment crashed over him.
Had she really carried him? Was he hallucinating when he vomited on her? How many times had she wiped his face, or worse?
Bill winced and turned his face into the pillow, trying to hide from the shame. No matter how hard he tried to reconstruct the week, it slipped away in fog and flickers... except for one thing:
Lynn never left him.
-- Chapter 2: Fever
"You give me fever... when you kiss me, fever when you hold me tight..."
"The heat wasn't just in his body. It was under my skin... and I let it burn."
-- Dr. Lynette Takeyuracuma, PhD.
A vivid memory surfaced, and Bill wondered if it had been a dream... or just a hallucination. But it felt too real. Too specific. He could feel it again: the slick dampness of the towels, the cool press of her hands, the shape of her body hovering just out of reach.
It had been two nights ago, his fever raging, and Lynn working tirelessly to bring it down. He remembered being naked in bed, Lynn draping cold towels across his chest, legs, forehead... replacing them again and again as they warmed.
He remembered vomiting on her. How she peeled off her soiled clothes, leaving her in nothing but a sheer bra and panties that quickly became soaked with water and sweat. And then, with quiet resolve, she removed them too.
She never put anything else on.
And in his fevered haze, Bill stared.
Even now, awake and lucid, the image was vivid: Lynn's firm, grapefruit-sized breasts rising with every breath, and the soft, thick triangle of brown curls between her thighs. He had seen her naked long ago; back when they were new and wild, when their love was still untamed... but that was a different time. They had drifted from lovers to close friends and stayed there. Safe. Platonic.
And now, Bill cursed the feelings that resurfaced the moment her bare body entered his vision. Long-suppressed, never forgotten.
He remembered his fever breaking. Lynn's visible relief. The way she removed the towels, gently dried him, and sat on the edge of the bed, stroking his forehead, smoothing back his hair. Her hip brushed his side; warm, supple skin meeting his bare waist... and Bill had stared at her breasts again, unable to stop himself.
He'd reacted.
His cock, despite days of exhaustion, had risen, full and urgent. Lynn, tending to his face, hadn't noticed.
He began to speak, his voice thick with exhaustion but laced with something deeper. "You're my angel," he murmured. "You're so beautiful."
She laughed it off. Tried to, at least.
"Oh, Bill, you're still delirious from your fever," she said, shaking her head. "Close your eyes and get some sleep."
But Bill wasn't finished.
"No, really," he insisted. "I love you, Lynn. I've always loved you. You've got this amazing mind, a kind heart... and a sexy-as-hell body." His hand lifted and, trembling slightly, cupped her right breast. "I'd almost forgotten how incredible your body is."
A shiver passed through her.
Lynn's breath caught in her throat. Her pussy quivered.
Did he just say that?
her mind screamed.
No... the fever. The meds. He doesn't mean it. Does he?
But his hand... large, warm, reverent... sent sparks down her chest, all the way to her core.
"Bill," she murmured gently, taking his hand in hers and easing it away. "You really are delirious. You need to sleep. We both do."
But he didn't stop.
"You're so beautiful," he whispered, taking her breast in his hand again, more confidently this time. He squeezed softly, fingertips kneading the soft weight of her flesh. She gasped when his thumb brushed her areola, then again as he began to tease her nipple, gliding, circling, flicking with maddening precision.
She hadn't realized she'd closed her eyes until she heard herself sigh... long and low, a sound of need she hadn't made in years. Her nipple hardened under his touch, and her body leaned subtly into his hand.
