Note: The first installment of Barcelona beauties describes all the characters and how the story began.
*
On the first day of April, I was alone in the house with Carmen when the phone rang. Carmen picked up and I heard her gasp. From her side of the conversation I gathered that someone was hurt and in the hospital. After a moment, Carmen hung up and filled me in. Bilan had been run down by a moped, and may have broken her leg. As the only ones home, Carmen and I left a note and hoped on the metro to go to the hospital.
Bilan was in a noisy shared hospital room looking miserable. Her face was swollen, her leg in a brace, and there were bandages on her arms. She had a hairline fracture and wouldn't need a cast but would have to stay off the leg for a while and then begin physical therapy. We checked out crutches for her and dealt with hospital business, then brought her back in a cab. Carmen and I helped her up to her room, brought her some juice and some magazines. She thanked us but was sunk pretty deep in her misery. When the others came home they all pitched in to help and tried to comfort Bilan. She was sore in a lot of places and then became nauseous with the after effects of a shot of morphine administered when she was admitted. I think she was probably mortified to become dependent on us.
We made a schedule to look after Bilan's needs. She needed help getting dressed, bathing and going to the bathroom. Since she could hop around a little on the crutches but couldn't deal with the stairs, we stationed her in the living room. She didn't like giving up her privacy but accepted the necessity of the move.
I brought her soup and read short stories to her. Her mood went from miserable to glum to acceptance. She became capable of being cheered up, something I was good at. Toward the end of her first week of recovery came a day that I was the only one home from about noon to six. Bilan and I talked and learned about each other's lives in some detail. She was feeling good enough to feel restless from inactivity and was also bothered by the heat. I got a damp cloth and cooled her face with it. Bilan thanked me and told me it felt really good. I then placed the damp cloth on her neck. Bilan tilted her head back to allow me access and again thanked me. I told her she didn't need to thank me but just to relax and enjoy it.
Next I used the cloth on her hands and wrists. Bilan closed her eyes as I worked up her bare arms to her shoulders, then back to her neck and face. She was breathing softly and murmured a few pleased sighs. She was wearing loose pajama pants and her feet were bare. I now used the cloth on her feet and ankles, being very careful with her fractured leg.
During the whole operation I couldn't help but drink in the sight and touch of Bilan's willowy body. Her dark brown skin shone with the moisture of the damp cloth. Holding and caressing her feet with the cloth put a lump in my throat, and yes, in my pants as well. Her feet resembled her hands, also long, slender and graceful. I had stopped noticing her beauty months ago, put off by her snooty uptightness. She wasn't acting like that now. At the same time, I didn't regard this as a seduction. I had put Bilan in the forget-about-it category long ago and assumed she had done the same about me. In addition, all the indications were that she was going to save herself for marriage or at least for a steady, wealthy boyfriend. I lay her foot back down on the day bed and prepared to stand up.
Bilan opened her eyes. "That feels really good. It's making me feel better. Could you please do it some more?" Bilan placed the foot from the undamaged leg in my lap. Yes, I found this erotic and recognized that Bilan was feeling some level of pleasurable erotic charge with me. But none of this transgressed the boundaries of what non-sexual friends might do for each other. Did it?
I gave Bilan a foot massage without the cloth and reached up to her knee under the pajamas of the uninjured leg. I massaged her hands and lovely bare arms. I massaged her head and face and all around her neck. With her eyes closed, Bilan moaned barely audible sighs of appreciation. I returned to work on her hands some more, appreciating how beautiful and delicate they were.
I felt a temptation to suck her fingers into my mouth but had no intention of doing so. Bilan opened her eyes and watched me. "No one has every done this for me before."
"I take it you like it," I said.
"It's wonderful. You have such a gentle touch, you make me feel so..." Bilan faltered.
"Feel so what?" I gentled prodded as I ran my thumb up the underside of her arm. Bilan said nothing and looked at me with a strange expression: pained? "I'm sorry, did I hurt you? I asked solicitously. She still had some bruises.
"It's not that," she said. Bilan looked down.
"Bilan, what is it? You can tell me" I was very curious.
"It's embarrassing. I didn't mean to think it" she said.
I though this very interesting. "Think of what?" I persisted.
"I'll tell you but don't laugh. You made me feel cared for, like when I was a little girl with my grandma. It's silly," she blushed.
"That's very sweet, Bilan," I reassured her. "I know we haven't exactly been best friends and I suspect you don't approve of me. But the funny thing is, is that I do care for you."
Bilan got that look people get when they won't allow themselves to cry in front of someone. "I did judge you. You don't act the way I was taught that nice people act. So why do I think you're the nicest person I've ever met?" she said. I spontaneously gave Bilan a kiss on the cheek in thanks for the complement.
"You must be tired after massaging me. I wish I could give you a massage too."
"Perhaps when you're better," I suggested. "If you're comfortable sitting up I can rub your back too. You must be sore from the bed." With my help, Bilan sat up and I sat cross-legged behind her. Through her thick cotton shirt, I massaged Bilan's back and shoulders. She moaned a little and let her head loosely roll back and forth. "Does that feel alright?" I asked.
"It's different through the cloth. It itches a little," she replied.
"I'll stop if you like," I said.
