Love UnCharted (Love's Improbable Possibility) (3 page)

He yelled through the door, “Can I get you anything? Do you want me to call your doctor?” It was more a shriek and I could tell he was concerned. My body worked hard to expel whatever foreign object that had invaded it, scarcely leaving energy for me to speak.

“No!”

I screamed not to be rude, but forcing the word out that otherwise wouldn’t have budged. Immediately, I regretted opening my mouth because I felt
it
coming up. I quickly jumped on the toilet looking for a receptacle when I found a trash can with a fresh bag—not that it mattered. I hurled inside of it.

Oh, my god! It’s coming out from both ends!

I heard a bang at the door. “Rayna, I’m coming there!” Azmir yelled.

“Don’t you dare!” I screamed and discharged again—
from both ends
.

I was miserable. I felt weak and sleepy! I had no idea what I’d eaten to throw my body into such a fit. I was deathly desperate for a relief. Once the stomach spasms and head spinning had stabilized, which was nearly twenty minutes after being in there, I cleaned myself up and found comfort on the cool marble floor. When my face met the chilled tile, I sighed in relief.

Minutes later, Azmir’s back at the door. “Rayna, I can see you’re on the floor. Do you need help up?”

How can he see me!?

It then hit me that the entire apartment, with the exception of the master suite, was monitored through a surveillance system.
How embarrassing!
Azmir could see my bare backside plopped up in the air.
Where would my dignity lie with him after this experience?

“No! Leave me alone. This is horrible! I don’t want you to see me like this, Azmir…please—”

With that, I jumped up feeling another round of spewing forcing me to take my seat back on the toilet and to shove the garbage can back to my face for dumping. That went on for the next two hours. Azmir respected my wishes, I didn’t hear from him again. It was the most miserable physiological experience of my life.

When I treaded out of the powder room, I could see the sun setting on the marina from the balcony and floor-to-ceiling windows of the living room, across from me. I was woozy, sore, and completely spent. I closed the door behind me just as Azmir charged towards me lifting me up in his hard arms. I slapped him weakly because I had no strength.

“I stink. Please don’t! I’ll walk.”

He didn’t respond. He marched toward the back of the apartment, we entered the master suite and then the bathroom. He sat me on the chaise and walked over to start the shower. When he ambled back toward me, he began removing my booties tossing them into the corner before grabbing the hem of my shirt and pulling it over my head. I had little resistance to his quick movements, I was that weak.

“Stand,” he ordered while he held my waist to assist. I did, but when he went for the elastic tip of my leather leggings to remove them, I panicked.

“No! I’ll do this. I smell horrible.”

“I haven’t smelled any foulness yet. Don’t be so prideful. You’re weak and damn near trembling. We’re adults here.”

I shook my head. “But you’re no nurse who is accustomed to body secretions of the waste type. No. Go out and I’ll take it from here,” I spoke in susurration. 

Azmir sighed heavily in exasperation.  “Rayna, I take advantage of your body for pleasure, I can take care of it when it’s ill, too. Let me help.”

His broad shoulders sunk in disappointment and frustration. He was earnest in his desire to take care of me. While the thought was hugely endearing, my body odor was not. There was no way I was exposing him to the ugly of it. Menstruating was something that we could work around; defecation and vomit we couldn’t survive—
I couldn’t survive!
I respected Azmir’s willingness to cross this boundary in our relationship, but I was not prepared. This was god-awful and exceptionally embarrassing.

I shook my head with sulking expression. I had no energy to fight with him, but there was no way I would forfeit my appeal in his eyes. Azmir worshipped my body—that I had to give him. I was not willing to compromise that. This was all too much. I couldn’t even look him in the face. I just extended my arm, telling him to go.

“You have two minutes to disrobe or I’ll be doing it for you,” he hissed before walking out of the bathroom, leaving the door open.

I held on to the pillar stand that mounted a fern plant pot as I pulled off my bra, leggings, and underwear. I kicked them into a corner and slowly sauntered to the shower. I was winded at the door of it. Azmir’s shower could comfortably fit five people and stuff seven. There were at least a dozen jet nozzles in there so I knew that I’d catch water somewhere, but looking at the massive space inside overwhelmed me. I didn’t have the strength to wash. No sooner than that revelation hit, Azmir was right back at my side, placing my shower cap on my head, lifting me into the shower, and setting me on the bench.

I eventually noticed he was naked and gathered he was going to wash with me. As much as I was discomfited by my torpid state, I was relieved that he understood my needs without me having to express them. It was as if he’d read my mind. Azmir was always good at anticipating my needs. He knew that much of them would never be lodged if left to my own devices. I was not yet programmed to reach out for assistance. It was now clear to me that he understood this.

He took his time washing me until I adamantly told him that I would take care of my private parts and that he had to turn his head. He then began washing himself, providing me privacy. I knew that task would require no sensitivity, but a thorough and aggressive sweeping instead. When we were done, he dried himself off, returned to turn off the shower and carried me out to the center rug and dried me off. I sat back on the chaise when he hurried out of the bathroom and quickly returned, holding a short silk slip in one hand and one of his clean white tank tees in the other.

“I figured you’d need easy access in case you’re not done and will need something cool to help with the hot flashes.” He gave a soft smile.

He was being sensitive to my disgusting situation. If I wasn’t so sick, I’d lick him from head to toe. His body was still dewy, exposing his stony abs, masterfully sculpted shoulders, and muscular arms. He wore only a Supmia towel, also affording me a view of his strong columnar legs and bare feet. Azmir was a work of art, worthy of the highest bid. 

I opted for his tee, seeing nothing sexy about this ordeal and therefore the slip should be spared. He helped me with it on. As I brushed my teeth, he stood close behind me, slipping on his boxers, basketball shorts, T-shirt, and black ankle socks. I couldn’t ignore the muscular contour of his lengthy frame. I was beyond content with his mildly slender, yet solid physique. Azmir wasn’t bulky like body-builders, but was cut up so well that nearly every muscle was defined.

Once out of the bathroom, he led me over to the sitting room. I insisted that I walked no matter how slow I had to wander to get there. He gathered pillows to set up a comfortable spot for me to rest in. As he handed me the remote, he stood over me to assess my disposition.

“I’m starving and I know you need to eat something, too. I saw you had leftovers from Chef Boyd’s meals this week in there, so I can find enough scraps to make myself a meal. For you, it’ll be BRAT.”

He must have read the perplexity in my face. “Bananas, rice, applesauce or toast. I called a physician friend of mine and gave him a rundown of your symptoms. I assured him it wasn’t likely pregnancy since you’re still within your normal cycle.”

What the hell? How does Azmir know my cycle? Did he count days?
Even I wasn’t that good! I was too shocked by his sheer confidence in my bodily schedule to ask.

I continued to listen. “He says by the sounds of it, you have some sort of stomach virus and can be miserable for the next twenty-four hours, at least. So, that’s probably about all your system can handle right now. And the biggest challenge is going to be keeping you hydrated.” Azmir paused for my selection.

Errrrrrrr!
“Toast.”

“Dry,” he informed me before leaving for the kitchen.

Twenty minutes later, Azmir returned with three pieces of wheat toast for me and a huge plate of delectable food for himself.
God, my guy could pack it away without consequence!
He set up a tray for me that included water and ginger ale and sat across from me on the L shape sofa. It took some time for me to consume the toast, but I got at least one slice down before I gave up on eating all together.

Just as Azmir put down his tray and mounted his laptop onto his lap, I had the urge to go to the bathroom. I practically jumped from my seat and made a dash back to the powder room, out near the great room. Azmir was on my heels until I left the room. He watched me from the door of the master suite down into the hall. I stayed in there for nearly forty-five minutes, dispelling the toast and liquids I’d just eaten, causing me to feel dirty all over again. My ribs throbbed all over again, my mouth reeked of foulness
all over again
.

I made my way back to the suite and stopped at the door in exhaustion from the commute. Azmir sensed my presence and quickly jotted from the sitting area to the en suite bathroom and started the shower process
all over again
, yet again reading my mind.

Once we were done, he carried me to the bed, but I explained that I didn’t want to spread my germs to our coveted resting place and I’d preferred sleeping on the floor, next to the bathroom instead. Azmir graciously made a huge pallet of plush blankets for me on the floor in the region of the master suite between the bed area and the bathroom. I didn’t need all the space, but didn’t question his kindness. I eventually learned the extra spot was for him when I felt him crawl under the sheet next to me when he came to bed. His kissed the back of my neck as he always did before falling asleep. I couldn’t understand how he was still able to express adoration after my disgusting illness today.

That night was spent in complete restlessness from me getting up a half a dozen times to visit the bathroom with the last being just before six in the morning when Azmir was up at his usual rising time. He helped me shower again and set me up on the sofa in the sitting room where I finally slept for nearly four hours and more restfully than I did that night before. My body was completely depleted from being internally overworked.

When I awoke, it was almost noon. I challenged myself to walk and discovered though I was still weak, my head didn’t spin, leaving me to find my equilibrium as the previous day. I slowly walked the hall in search of Azmir who was in his office working at his computer. I stopped and rested against the
door frame. He had a pencil in his ear and writing with a pen in his hand while checking something against the computer. His head rose almost immediately, landing his beautiful eyes on me.

“You’re up.” His expression was like a deer caught in headlights. “How are you feeling?” I was so appreciative of his attentiveness to me over the past twenty-four hours or so.

I smiled softly. “I’ve seen better days.”

“I think it’s time for you to try to eat something…at least drink something. You look wan. Let’s try you on some broth…maybe with tofu or something with substance. I’ll call and order it from the Japanese spot.”

“Okay,” I nodded. I felt embarrassed and vulnerable. “Did I keep you from something?” I asked as he made his way towards me. “…like work?” I hated to be a bother.

With his eyebrows furrowed he scoffed, “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m just glad this went down on my watch. I would’ve gone crazy knowing that you were here sick while I was out of town.” He reached for the small of my back and softly kissed my forehead.

“I just hate to be a burden and keep you from work or anything you had planned this weekend,” I muttered apologetically. It was true. I now, more than ever, understood how busy a man Azmir was. He was responsible for and depended on by countless people.

He looked me in my eyes. “You were my weekend agenda. You are always my weekend agenda, Rayna, unless
you
plan otherwise.” He was annoyed, according to his tone.

He strolled to the kitchen.
Did I manage to piss him off again?
I followed him at a reserved pace and crawled into a chair at the kitchen table and watched as he placed the order for the resident concierge to pick up and deliver it to our door.

The broth was gentle on my stomach and I could assess that the virus was easing up on me. We spent that Sunday relaxing, watching television, and Azmir got some work in. My trips to the bathroom came to a halt that afternoon. I even felt up for a walk on the marina. It was a beautiful evening breeze out on the water. Azmir continued his quest to learn more about the woman I was before moving out to California. I answered his questions to the best of my trusting abilities. I’d even gotten more information on his childhood. We talked about his current business projects and he offered to have me travel with him.

The following morning, after having Chef Boyd serve me toasted croissants to spruce up my breakfast considering my dietary restrictions, Azmir hesitantly left for work and insisted that I stay behind to get some rest. He was right. Although my bathroom needs had ended, I was slightly dehydrated and needed to take it easy for at least one more day. I called in and let the staff know that I’d be available via telephone should they need me. Chef Boyd left around nine that morning and informed me that he made a special broth soup for me considering my bug. I returned to bed after seeing him out.