Steffie... 2.0 chapter 2

 Steffie... 2.0

Chapter 2

When Ethan came home later, he found me on the couch, wrapped in a soft cashmere throw, the crutches hidden away again. I had poured myself a glass of red wine, its deep crimson reflecting the low, flickering candlelight. My hair was loose, falling in soft waves around my shoulders, and I had changed into a simple black slip dress.

I smiled at him, playing the role of the perfect, older girlfriend, leaning in just enough to seem engaged in the moment. But my mind was elsewhere, spinning like a carousel of forbidden fantasies.

My fingers rubbing my left leg, slow and deliberate, as if savouring the feel of it in a hard cast again. A soft warmth spread between my legs, my pulse quickening with each memory replayed from earlier that evening, the rhythm of me on my crutches, the subtle sway of my lean body as I balanced, the gentle thud of rubber tips against the floor.

I imagined the weight of the cast, its firm, inescapable embrace around my broken leg, and the vulnerability that came with it. I felt a flush creep over me as the thought of my own future broken bones and the accompanying sensations danced through my mind. The muted ache, the stillness, the undeniable restriction... yes...it was intoxicating.

Each detail sent a thrill down my spine, making my breathing shallow, my chest rising and falling just enough to catch Ethan's fleeting glance. He wouldn't understand, not fully. But that only made the secret sweeter, like a flame I was desperate to keep alive.

The whisper had become a voice, and I knew it wouldn't be silenced.

The following night, Ethan, noticed the change in me almost immediately. He's always been attentive, sometimes too much so, as though problems were puzzles he was eager to solve instead of allowing them the space to breathe.

I sat on the couch again, my left leg stretched out in front of me, stiff and unmoving, as though in a long pink cast this time. The pose felt natural, comforting in a way I couldn't yet explain to him, but my heart beat a little faster when Ethan walked into the room.

"What's going on, Steffie? Are you okay?" he asked, his tone curious but tinged with concern. His eyes scanned me, looking at my leg, looking for some visible injury, his instinct to fix things already kicking in.

I hesitated, my fingers grazing the seam of my yoga pants, imagining the thick, unyielding texture of a cast beneath them. How could I even begin to explain this pull, this sexual desire that had taken root again, yet felt like it had always been there.

I shrugged, forcing a small smile. "Just thinking about how fragile we are."

Ethan sat down next to me, his presence warm and steady, his brows drawing together in that way they always did when something didn't add up. I could feel his attention zero in on me, but I wasn't ready to look at him while his long fingers caressed my pretended broken leg.

I kept my gaze fixed on the faint pattern of one of my crutches on the area rug as I said, almost too casually, "One of my employees, Amelia, came into work with a broken leg. Tore her Achilles too. She has this full leg cast, black, all the way up her leg and she will be using crutches to get around for 12 weeks possibly."

Ethan's brow furrowed, and I could sense the gears turning in his mind. He leaned back slightly, giving me space to continue.

"The poor thing looked so vulnerable," I added softly like any normal person would, my voice trailing off as the image of Amelia replayed in my mind, naked on my bed wearing only her black cast in my dreams.

"But also... strong. Graceful, even, despite the ugly cast on her leg." Almost testing the water.

He studied me for a moment, his head tilting from my leg, just enough to show he wasn't entirely sure where this was going. "That must be rough for her," he said finally, his tone cautious, careful not to say the wrong thing.

I nodded, my heart pounding, though I wasn't sure if it was from relief that he didn't press further or disappointment. There was a strange comfort in the idea of sharing this part of myself, but I wasn't ready. Not yet.

Ethan let the conversation drop, reaching for the remote to turn on the TV. I exhaled slowly, grateful for the reprieve but still lost in the quiet storm of my thoughts related to my future broken leg.

Ethan had been gone for only two days, and already, the quiet of the house seemed to amplify the restless energy inside me. A week alone, the perfect opportunity to indulge in the urge I had buried for so long. I couldn't resist any longer, even if it meant starting with a recreational cast.

I reached out to Nicole Boudreaux, a nurse I knew all too well, not just as a former client, but as an ex-girlfriend. We had shared a brief, intense relationship years ago, one filled with moments of tenderness, passion and pain, though it had ended amicably. Nicole was a petite blond hair woman with a lovely smile that had always drawn me to her.

When I explained what I needed, her response was immediate and without judgment. "Come by my place tomorrow. I'll take care of it," she said, her tone warm but laced with curiosity.

The next afternoon, I found myself in Nicole's cozy home. The air smelled faintly of lavender, and her living room was just as I remembered, simple, with a soft beige couch and framed family photos on the walls. A portable medical kit was already set up on the coffee table, next to a roll of black fibreglass casting tape.

"You haven't changed much," Nicole said, giving me a small smile as she set up her materials.

I laughed softly, settling into the couch. "Neither have you. Still as confident and beautiful as ever."

Her smile deepened and she leaned over kissing me. She gestured for me to stretch out my left leg on the ottoman. She knelt beside me, her hands brushing against my skin as she positioned my leg. The contact sent a familiar warmth coursing through me, and for a moment, the years melted away.

She began wrapping my leg in soft cotton padding, starting at my toes and working her way up to my thigh. Her hands were steady and deliberate, her touch both professional and intimate.

"You're still so good at this."

Nicole glanced up at me, her blue eyes sparkling. "I've had a lot of practice. But I have to admit, it's been a while since I've done one for fun. You were my last one"

When she picked up the roll of black fibreglass, she hesitated for a moment, looking at me with an expression I couldn't quite read. "Are you sure about this, Steffie?"

"Absolutely," I said, my voice firm but breathless.

She dipped the roll into a bowl of water, and the sound of the fibreglass activating sent a shiver down my spine. As she began wrapping the material over the padding, smoothing it with her gloved hands, I felt an intoxicating mix of exhilaration and sexual tension.

"You're staring," Nicole teased, her voice tinged with amusement.

I smiled, unable to look away. "I can't help it, I remember when those same hands broke my ankle."

Her hands paused for a moment, and she looked up at me, her face inches from mine. There was sexual tension in the air, thick and electric, and before I could think twice, I leaned forward. Our lips met, soft and tentative at first, then deepening into something more as the familiarity of her taste and touch washed over me.

When we finally pulled back, her cheeks were flushed, and she was smiling. "Some good things never change, I remember so clearly the sound your broken ankle made my love" she murmured, brushing her fingers lightly against my cheek.

I licked my lips softly, my pulse racing.

Steffie... 2.0
Chapter 3 to come