This story contains graphic sexual scenes between males. If material of this nature offends you then you should not read this story. Additionally, if you are under 18 years of age in most states you are not allowed to read this story by law.
This story is purely a work of fiction. Any resemblance to person's living or dead, or to events that may have occurred, is purely coincidental.
The author claims all copyrights to this story and no duplication or publication of this story is allowed, except by the web sites to which it has been posted, without the consent of the author.
Mark Stevens Jetdesk2@yahoo.com
The Nurse and the Patient, Part 3
Jonathan opened his eyes. For a moment he was disoriented and hadn't a clue where he was. Where the hell was he, he wondered? Then it all came back to him. He looked at his watch and the illuminated face told him it was four a.m. He thought about his patient in the other part of the house and jumped out of bed. He threw on his robe and headed out to check on him.
He hurried down the hall and into Lance's bedroom. He found his patient sitting up in bed watching television.
"Can't sleep?" he asked walking over to the bed.
"Pain's back."
"You should have called me. You could have had something an hour or so ago."
"Well, you're here now."
Jonathan walked over to the dresser where he kept all of the meds. He took out a pill and went to the bathroom for a glass of water.
"Here you go," he said coming back.
Lance took the pill and popped it in his mouth, followed by a swallow of water. He handed the glass back to Jonathan.
After sitting the glass on the table beside the bed, Jonathan took a seat. "Have you been sleeping?"
"Some. I've been awake for about an hour."
"You need to call me when the pain starts in," Jonathan told him. "After all, there is no need for you to hurt. That's what I'm here for, to see that you are comfortable as possible."
"I'm sure you wanted to hear your telephone ring in the middle of the night."
Jonathan put his hands in the pockets of his robe and leaned back in the chair. He looked over at his patient and asked, "Lance, why do you have such a problem with me trying to help you? I really do want to help you."
"I have no problem. If I need you, I need you, and if I don't, then I don't. That's pretty simple, don't you think?"
To himself, Jonathan thought, "Nothing about you, Lance Thompson, is simple." Aloud he said, "Just remember, it's my job to make sure you are comfortable to see that your body is allowed to heal itself."
"God forbid you not do your job." The words came out in a sarcastic tone.
When he didn't respond to his comment, Lance said, "What, nothing to say?"
"I wasn't aware it required an answer."
"Whatever."
Lance lay back against his pillow, and it appeared to Jonathan that the medicine was starting to relax him. He remained in the room until he saw Lance's eyes close. A few minutes later he returned to his own bed and fell to sleep almost immediately.
He woke up sometime later. This time when he looked at his watch, he saw he had only been back to sleep for about an hour. He decided that since he was awake he really should go check on his patient. He jumped to his feet and once more threw his robe on and headed out the room.
At the door of Lance's room he stopped. He heard something. He stood perfectly still trying to decide what he had heard. He heard it again. Taking a step closer, he stopped just inside Lance's bedroom.
He quickly stepped out of the room. At first he thought Lance was talking, either on the telephone or maybe in his sleep. He suddenly knew what the sound was. Lance was crying. He moved to go to him and then suddenly stopped. He wanted to comfort him, but something told him it would be the wrong thing to do. As he stood there just outside Lance's door, he listened as his patient sobbed as if his heart was broken. Yes, he wanted to go in and comfort him, but he knew that if he was going to be able to knock the wall down that seemed to be between them, he needed to leave Lance alone, let him deal with whatever it was causing him to be so full of bitterness. For some reason, Jonathan didn't believe the accident was causing all of his patient's grief.
He remained outside Lance's bedroom until he heard the sobbing stop. He waited a few more minutes and then peeked through the door way. He listened to the even breaking coming from across the room and decided his patient had fallen back to sleep.
Jonathan thought about sitting in the chair for a bit so he could keep an eye on his patient but decided to head back to his own bed. Maybe now Lance would sleep the rest of the night.
<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<
Jonathan's cell phone went off beside the bed. He reached for it. "Yes?"
"You awake?"
"Do you need something, Lance?"
"The pain's back."
"I'll be right there."
Jonathan threw his robe on and went to his patient. When he came into the room, he asked, "Is the pain bad?"
"It's pain."
"My reason for asking is, because I want you to eat at least some toast before I give it to you. Other wise, it will up set your stomach."
"Get the toast then."
Jonathan hurried out to the kitchen, found the bread and popped a piece in the toaster. When it popped up, he hurried back down the hall.
"Here you go."
A few bites into the toast and he gave Lance his medicine.
"Are you a coffee drinker?"
"Yes."
"Good, I'll go brew us up some. Be back shortly."
Later over coffee Lance actually carried on a conversation of sorts. He seemed actually almost pleasant as they enjoyed their coffee.
"Lance, I don't mean to pry, but you already know what it is I do for a living. What is it you do?"
"I guess you could say I'm retired," Lance answered.
"Wow, let me know your secret. "I'll be working until I'm a hundred years old, I'm afraid."
"Have you ever heard of Smyth Oil?"
"Who hasn't?" Jonathan asked.
"My mother is the `Smyth' of the company. My grandfather started the company some fifty years ago."
"You work in the company?"
"Hell no I don't work in the company. Besides, they wouldn't have me."
"I see. Then,"
When Jonathan didn't continue, Lance said, "You're wondering how I can afford to live the way I do if I don't work."
"The thought has crossed my mind."
"A couple of years ago my mother died. Guess what? She left her part of the company to me. My father and I are equal share holders. A fact that pisses him off," he added.
Jonathan was amazed at the conversation the two of them were having. It was a definite change, he decided.
Lance soon changed the subject by asking, "Are you going to fix some breakfast?"
"I'm thinking about it. Are you getting hungry?"
"I could eat a little."
"Then I'll go fix us something to eat. After that, we need to think about getting you cleaned up."
"I'm not going anywhere."
"Maybe not, but just the same, a wash job is due, I think."
Jonathan hurried out to the kitchen and fixed a meal. He returned soon with a nice plate of eggs and bacon, plus more toast and coffee. He sat Lance's tray across his lap, once again taking care not to bump his legs.
During the meal neither one talked much. The food tasted good to Jonathan. He hadn't realized just how hungry he had been. Lance remained silent eating the food on his plate and remaining quiet.
The cell phone rang in Jonathan's pocket. He looked surprised and said, "Who can that be? You're right here?"
It turned out to be Doctor Todd who wanted to know how the patient was doing.
Jonathan walked out of the room. He spent a few minutes on the phone and then returned to the bedroom.
"What did he want?" Lance asked.
"Just checking to see how you were doing. He's coming tomorrow morning to check on you. He's hoping that you will be ready to sit up in a wheel chair."
"I'm not so sure about that."
"Let's see how things are tomorrow when he comes."
Jonathan took the dishes to the kitchen and added to the dishwasher. He cleaned up the kitchen and returned to the bedroom.
"Time for your bath," he said.
"I'm okay."
"You want the medical board turn me over to Social Services for letting you rot? I think not."
He went into the bathroom and ran warm water into a plastic pan that had come home with them from the hospital. Then he returned and sat it on the table beside the bed. He squeezed the wash cloth out and handed it to Lance. "Here, clean yourself up. I'll get you a clean shirt from the drawer."
Lance took the cloth from him and started washing his face. "There, are you happy?" he asked when he was through.
"Not yet. Here, let me pull your shirt off."
Suddenly Jonathan was holding the shirt and staring at Lance's chest. He had a thick mat of brown curls than ran down his entire chest. Jonathan couldn't help himself. He let his eyes follow the hairy trail all the way down. He had certainly seen a lot of male bodies in his time, but he thought Lance was by far the hairiest he had seen. He forced his eyes to look up. He tried not to watch as Lance took washed his stomach and then worked down to his lower body.
"When you're finished I can wash your back if you like," Jonathan said.
He took the rag from Lance and gave him the towel. After wetting the rag again in the soapy water, he began washing at Lance's shoulders and slowly made his way down. He cleaned his entire back as he made his way down to his ass cheeks. When he finished, he took the towel from Lance and quickly dried his back.
"Here, put this on," he said handing Lance the clean shirt.
Lance actually co operated with the bath which encouraged Jonathan. He was beginning to have hope that his patient was finally coming around somewhat.
The day went well, and for whatever reason, Lance was in a fairly good frame of mind. He was actually pleasant throughout the day. At lunch time Jonathan fixed them a sandwich, and that evening another meal. Afterward when he had cleaned the kitchen up and returned to Lance's room, he was asked to stay and watch television.
"Unless you have other things to do," Lance said.
"I'll watch a little TV with you. I think I'll get my shower over with first. Then I'll join you."
Jonathan hurried to his room, hit the shower, and was dressed and back in Lance's room in no time at all. When he joined his patient, he was actually greeted with a smile of sorts.
"Anything good on this evening?" he asked.
"There's a good movie on HBO in a few minutes."
"Cool. You need anything before it starts?"
"Don't suppose I could have a beer?"
"I'm afraid not. As long as you're taking the pain med it's not safe. When you're able to cut back on that, then we'll talk about it. I know, a cold beer does sound good."
"Whatever."
"You do seem to like that word, don't you?"
"What word?"
"Would you like a coke? I stocked the frig with plenty."
"That'll do, I guess."
The rest of the evening passed with the two of them watching a movie. When it was over, Jonathan helped his patient get ready for bed, and after he had given Lance his medicine, he went to his own room.
Later, as he crawled between the sheets of his bed, he thought about the day. Although he still had a long ways to go, he felt that Lance had began making progress, and that gave him an air of satisfaction.
<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<
The next morning Jonathan and Lance had finished breakfast and Jonathan was in the kitchen clean things up when Doctor Todd arrived. He let the doctor in and took him to see Lance.
"Good morning, Mr. Thompson," the doctor greeted his patient.
Lance looked up at they came into the room. "Morning," he answered.
"So, how are you doing?"
"All right, I guess."
"How's the pain?"
"It's manageable."
When Doctor Todd looked over his way, Jonathan said, "He's been taking his pain med about every four to six hours while he's awake."
"That's okay for now. I would like to see him start to cut back, say three or four days from now. Continue at bed time. It's important he rests well."
"All right," Jonathan answered.
The doctor looked over at Lance and said, "Now, how do you feel about sitting up in a chair? I think it would be good for you to, at least part of the day."
"I'm not so sure about that," Lance replied.
"Why don't you at least give it a try? I'm not saying for you to stay there the entire day, of course not. I think maybe you could start in for half an hour at a time and gradually work your way up to a longer time."
"I guess I can give it a try."
Doctor Todd smiled. "Good, I hoped you would say that. I brought a chair with me. It's in the car. I'll go get it."
"I think you will like being up," Jonathan said. "At least you can move around in the house. I would think you would be glad to leave this room."
"Whatever."
The doctor soon returned rolling the chair in front of him. He pushed it up beside the bed.
Jonathan took the sheet from the bed. "You can cover with this while you are in the chair," he told Lance.
"Let me help you," the doctor offered.
Lance looked at Jonathan and asked, "How are you going to be able to get me in this chair by yourself?"
Jonathan laughed. "Listen, I've helped much bigger guys than you. This will be a piece of cake."
He made sure the brakes were locked in place on the chair, and he and the doctor each took a side and helped Lance to swing around in the bed. Next they slid him into the chair.
Lance closed his eyes and just sat there.
"Are you okay?" Jonathan asked.
Lance nodded. "Just a little nauseous," he said.
"Take a deep breath," the doctor told him. "It will soon pass."
Doctor Todd stayed there until he was sure his patient was going to be okay sitting up. Before he left, he wrote a prescription for the nausea and left it with Jonathan. "You might get this filled just in case he needs it," he told Jonathan. To Lance, he said, "Both your legs seem to be healing nicely. It's just going to take some time, but I think you're getting there."
As Jonathan was walking the doctor out to his car, Doctor Todd asked, "So, Jonathan, how are things really?"
Jonathan thought for a moment. Then he said, "Well, it hasn't exactly been easy, but I think we're making progress here. He seems very bitter, and I don't think it all comes from his accident."
Doctor Todd gave his shoulder a pat as he opened the car door. "I knew you were the one for this job. You're going to do fine."
"I hope you're right, Doctor."
"I am." As he sat behind the wheel, the doctor said, "And don't worry about a thing. I have talked with the Powers to be at the hospital, and your job will be waiting for you when you're done here."
"I appreciate that."
Jonathan watched as the doctor's car pulled out of the circle drive. Then he came back inside the house. As he walked though the den, he was surprised to discover Lance there.
"Wow, I'm impressed."
Lance shrugged his shoulders. "Don't be," he said. "Anyone could roll themselves this far," he added.
"Not if their arms were broken."
"What the hell does that mean?"
"Think about it." Jonathan walked into the kitchen to pour a cup of coffee. "Would you care for a cup?"
"Sure, why not."
Jonathan came back carrying two steaming cups of coffee. He handed one to Lance and took a seat in one of the big chairs.
He took a sip from his cup. "Tell me," he said, "I'd like to hear more about your oil company."
"Not much to tell. I told you, my grandfather started the company some fifty years ago. When my mother and father married, my mom retained ownership in the company but let my father take care of her share. My grandfather died about ten years ago and left everything to her. Then about two years ago she died and left me her share. My dad hates it like hell, but there's not a fucking thing he can do about it."
Jonathan was thinking, "Damn, that's the most words he's spoken at one time since I've been here. Aloud, he said, "So you don't work at all in the company?"
"Nope, not at all," Lance said. "I did before my mother died. After I graduated from college I was actually head of the accounting department. However, when my mother died, he literally fired my ass. Said I didn't know what the hell I was doing."
"Did you? Know what you were doing, I mean?"
"Fuck yeah, I knew. My dad cannot stand the sight of me, so I was fired even before my mother was buried."
"I'm sorry, Lance."
"You don't need to be sorry." A grin appeared on his face, the first that Jonathan had ever seen. "I make just as much money as he does, and I don't even have to get up off my ass to do it. Literally now," he added looking down at his legs.
"You heard Doctor Todd. He says your legs are going to heal nicely", he reminded.
"Yeah, I know."
Jonathan was surprise at how quickly the time passed. He was actually enjoying the time he was spending with Lance. However, he looked at the clock on the wall and said, "You probably should get back in bed for a while. You don't want to over do it."
Surprisingly enough, Lance didn't object. He let Jonathan roll him back to his bedroom. The bed was actually the same height as the wheel chair, so Jonathan had no trouble getting his patient back in bed. He had Lance lean forward in the chair, and he wrapped his arms around Lance and lifted him as gently as he could back on the bed. The shirt Lance was wearing slipped up a bit, and Jonathan could feel his hairy chest against his arms. A shudder went through his body, and he placed his patient quickly on the bed and helped make him comfortable.
Lance asked, "Everything okay?"
Jonathan nodded. "I was afraid I had hurt you getting you back in bed."
"You didn't, but I think I'm going to take a nap."
Jonathan covered him back up with the sheet. "That's a good idea. "Are you in any pain?"
"Not at the moment."
"Good. "I'll be in my room if you need me."
"Would you stay here?"
"Sure, if that's what you would like me to do."
Lance didn't answer. Instead he closed his eyes and seemed to drift off to sleep.
Jonathan hurried back to his room and picked up the book he was reading. He returned to Lance's room, and for the next little while, he bounced back and forth between reading his book and keeping an eye on his patient.
Jonathan was soon deep into his book, lost in the excitement written on the pages, and he jumped when Lance suddenly yelled out, "I hate you, you son of a bitch!"
He put his book down and stood to his feet. When he walked over to the bed he found Lance was awake. "Bad dream?" he asked.
"Yeah."
"You okay?"
"It was just a stupid dream."
"Sounded pretty real to me," Jonathan said. "Care to talk about it?"
"Not particularly. Like I said, it was just a dream."
"You need anything?"
"Pee," Lance told him.
Jonathan handed him the urinal. When he had finished, Jonathan dumped it down the commode. "How's the pain?"
"It's starting to come back."
"I was thinking about getting that prescription filled. You want some medicine before I leave?"
"Can you leave a pill on the table beside the bed?"
Jonathan nodded. "I can do that." He took a pill out of the bottle and placed on the table along with a fresh glass of water. "Will you be okay until I get back? I'll have my cell with me."
Lance nodded.
"All right, I shouldn't be gone long. I noticed a pharmacy in the market the other day. I'll go there to have it filled."
"There's a cookie jar on the counter in the kitchen," Lance told him. "Should be some money in there. Take some with you."
"You're going to tell me where your secret stash is?" Jonathan gave him a grin.
"There's not that much."
Jonathan found the money and headed out. As he drove down out of the drive way he took a deep breath. How good it felt just to be out in the open air even in the middle of a hot summer day.
He took the main road leading out of the housing addition, and soon he was pulling into the super market. He left the prescription off at the pharmacy and went to pick a few things up inside the store. That done, he picked up the medication, paid for his things and drove back to Lance's house.
He put the things away in the kitchen he had purchased and went down the hall to Lance's room. "I'm back," he called seeing that Lance was awake. "How are things going in here?"
I'm ready to get back in the chair if you have the time," he informed Jonathan.
"That's good." Jonathan looked over at the bedside table. "I see you took your pill."
Lance nodded. "I was beginning to hurt."
"I'm glad you had it close by. What time did you take it?"
"About thirty minutes ago."
Jonathan rolled the chair back over beside the bed. He took the sheet once more from across Lance and placed at the foot of the bed. Again he struggled to keep his eyes from wondering down from the edge of Lance's shirt downward. He helped Lance to move his legs around so he could slide into the chair. This time when he placed his arms around Lance's middle the shirt did not rise up. He kept his arms in place until Lance was sitting securely between the arms of the chair, his body resting against the back. Just as he started to remove his hands he felt a hand on top one of his arms. Surprised, he looked at Lance.
"Thanks."
"For what, Lance?" he asked.
"I know I'm an asshole."
"You've had a lot to contend with."
"Yeah, whatever."
"You want to stay in here or go out into the den?"
"The den would be nice."
Jonathan rolled him out the door and down the hall to the den. "You want to watch television?"
Lance shook his head and said, "I don't think so. I see enough of that while I'm in bed."
"I understand."
"I guess I still can't have a beer?"
Jonathan shook his head. "Not until you start to cut back on your pain medication. In a few days perhaps," he added.
"Sure would be nice to have one."
Jonathan was thoughtful for a moment. Then he said, "Tell you what, I'll split one with you, okay?"
"What, you're going to drink while on the job?"
"Okay, no beer for you, then."
"I won't tell," Lance said.
Jonathan went to the refrigerator and took out a bottle of beer. He poured some in a glass and handed to Lance. "Here you go, enjoy."
Lance looked at the bottle his nurse held and said, "I think your half is bigger than mine," he complained.
"Maybe, but I'm not the one taking pain medication."
"Forget the damned medicine then."
"You say that now."
"I guess it's better than nothing," Lance said. He took a sip from his glass. "Ah," he sighed.
"You drink a lot of beer?"
"I'm not a drunk."
"I didn't say you were. I just ask if you enjoy drinking beer."
"Now and then," he answered.
"Were you drinking the afternoon of your accident?"
"Now that was a dumb ass mistake," Lance said. "A big mistake," he added.
"Why?"
"Why what?"
"Why were you driving if you had been drinking?"
"I'd like to blame my father, but I know I can't."
"That's big of you."
"My old man's an ass," Lance said through tight lips.
"He may be, but he didn't make you get behind the wheel of your car if you had been drinking."
"I don't need a fucking lecture."
Jonathan looked across the room at his patient. "You're right, you don't."
"My old man can't stand the sight of me, and I have to admit, the feeling's mutual. I could spit in his face and not give a flying fuck."
Jonathan didn't know what he should say, so he remained silent. Perhaps his patient just needed to talk. At least he was making an effort now to try and work with him.
Lance asked, "Don't you want to know why he hates me so much?"
"That's up to you whether you wish to tell me," Jonathan said.
"You even care?"
"Care that your father and you hate each other? I will say, I think it's really sad, especially now that your mother is gone and there is just the two of you. As for caring, I care for you and want you to heal and get well."
"So you can get on with your life?"
"Do you honestly believe I feel that way?"
"I really don't have a clue. After all, isn't this just a job for you?"
"It is a job," Jonathan agreed.
"That's what I thought."
"What are you getting at, Lance? I'm not understanding where this is coming from. Or going," he added.
Lance tipped is glass up and drained it. "Can I please have just a bit more?"
"I'm not so sure you should."
"Please, just a small glass."
Although Jonathan thought better of it, he couldn't resist the plea he saw in Lance's eyes. He went to the frig and took out another bottle. He refilled his glass and handed it back to him, and watched as Lance drained about half the glass.
"Take it easy. I can't let you have any more to drink."
Jonathan finished his bottle and picked up the one he had just opened for his patient.
"Don't you go getting drunk on me," Lance warned.
"This is it for me," he assured him.
Lance finished what was left in his glass and sat it down. Looking at Jonathan he said, "Now, your want to hear about my fucked up life?"
"Only if you want to tell me," he assured him.
"You know why my old man hates my guts?"
Jonathan didn't answer, so Lance went on, saying, "He can't stand the fact that I am gay."
Jonathan couldn't find any words to say. He sat there studying the tip of his bottle.
"Did you hear what I said?"
"I did."
"I'm gay, mother fucker. Do you know what that means?"
"Evidentially it has caused you a great deal of grief."
"Do you want to continue nursing a queer back to health?"
"Who you are, or even what you are has nothing to do with the way I will care for you."
"You say that now. What about later, after you've had time to think about this shit?"
Jonathan looked across the room to where Lance was sitting, and he wished with all of his heart he could share some things with him, yet, he knew it wasn't the time. Not just yet, he thought.
"You're finding it disgusting to nurse a fag, aren't you?"
Jonathan stood to his feet. He said, "Lance, I could never find it disgusting to care for any individual who needed my care, my help, and I certainly do not find it disgusting to care for you." Saying that he went to his room, leaving Lance to sit there alone.
He closed his door and sat down in the chair. So that was it, he thought. That was the cause for all of the bitterness in Lance's life. He had been right in assuming that the accident had contributed very little to the situation.
The fact that Lance had just admitted he was gay created a whole new situation for him. He would have to be very careful. Things could turn sour here in a heart beat, and he knew it. One wrong move and Jonathan's nursing career could fly out the window.
There was a knock on the closed door. "Jonathan, you okay?"
Jonathan opened the door and stood back. "I'm fine. I thought you might need a little time alone."
"Are you being honest with me?"
"I did think you needed some time," Jonathan defended himself.
"Do you forgive me?"
"For what, being gay?"
"That and the way I've treated you."
"Well, you can't help being gay."
"Perhaps not, but I also can't help but hate my father."
"That's understandable, I will give you that."
"Will you come back out to the den?"
"Sure," he answered.
"Are you positive I can't have another beer?"
"I am positive about that. I tell you what. When you drop way down on the pain medication you can tie a huge one on, and I will even join you. We'll pretend I'm off the clock and party big time. However, not until then, and not until you do not need the medication," he added.
"All right, I won't bug you any more. You can have another one on me. At least I could watch you drink it."
"I'm good."
"If you would let me have one more, I would probably spill my guts to you."
"You were doing a pretty good job of that as it was," Jonathan assured him.
"I guess I was, wasn't I?"
"So, tell me about your father," Jonathan said. "Did you have a good relationship with him before you came out?"
"Not the best, but definitely better than now."
"Did you enjoy working for the company?"
"I actually did," Lance said. "I felt like I was actually worth something."
"And now?"
"The only pleasure I get is that I'm drawing the same amount of money my father is, and I'm not doing a damned thing to earn it. Serves the bastard right," Lance added.
"I know I don't have the right to voice an opinion here, but it seems a shame that the two of you can't get along, especially if there is no one else, no other family for you."
"There is no one," Lance said. "My mother was an only child, and so was I. It looks like the end of the line. When I'm gone there won't be anyone to leave the company to."
"Well, I'm going to give you such good care that's not going to happen for a long time," Jonathan teased him.
"You have been good to me," Lance agreed.
"Just doing my job, sir," he laughed.
A dark look came over Lance's face that Jonathan couldn't read. Lance said, "I'm sure of that."
"Hey, it was just a joke," Jonathan reminded him.
"Whatever." Lance rolled out of the room, calling over his shoulder, "I think I'll lie down for a bit. Mind helping me?"
Jonathan was baffled. What had just happened? One minute Lance had been talking and carrying on a decent conversation, and the next, his mood had changed. He came into the room and helped Lance get back in bed. He pulled the sheet up and asked, "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine. Just want a little nap before dinner."
For a time Jonathan sat in the chair beside the bed watching as his patient slept. Later, as he went out to the kitchen to start dinner, he thought about Lance. Something had definitely taken place between the two of them, and Jonathan had no idea what had happened.
End of part 3...Tell me what you think guys. I know lack of sex is there, but hang on.
Mark