Free Midas Touch by Frankie J. Jones Page B

taking Sandra’s hand. “I want you to know, for a few minutes last night you gave me a glimpse of something I’ve been fantasizing about for years.”
    “What?” Sandra asked, stunned.
    “When you wrapped my hair around your hands and rode my mouth I was able to imagine what it would be like to be totally dominated by you. The memory of last night will provide me more fantasies than any real person ever could.” She leaned forward and softly kissed Sandra’s lips.
    The blaring monitor again betrayed Sandra. “I guess there’s

    something wrong with the machine,” Sandra mumbled as they both glanced at it.
    Lona gave her a wicked smile. “I’m sure there is.” She hesitated before adding, “I hope we can still be friends.” Sandra could only nod.
    Lona turned to leave but stopped at the door. “If you ever change your mind, call me.” Without waiting for a reply, she winked and floated out of the room, just as the now exasperated-looking nurse returned.
    A red-eyed and drawn-looking Margaret arrived soon after Lona’s departure. She came bearing a thermos of homemade chicken soup.
    “Dr. Rayburn told me I could bring this over,” she said, pouring a small portion into a bowl. “I trimmed off the fat, like the doctor said. I knew they wouldn’t be feedin’ you proper,” she continued. She hovered by the bed until Sandra finished most of the bowl.
    Unable to contain herself any longer, Margaret shook her head. “You nearly scared the life out of me,” she scolded and gathered up the soup bowl and thermos.
    “I’m sorry,” Sandra apologized, patting her hand.
    “You’ll not be scarin’ me like that again now, will you?”
    “No. I’m going to be so careful, when I get out of here, I’ll live to be a hundred.”
    “Good. Good.” Margaret blinked away tears. “For you gave me a fright for sure.”
    Sandra could only stare. Margaret was genuinely worried about her. With a start, she realized there were people who worried about her. They were concerned about Sandra Tate the person, not Sandra Tate the successful businesswoman. In a blinding flash of insight, she realized she had walked around in a vacuum her whole life, holding herself apart. With Laura being the only possible exception, she never allowed herself to trust anyone’s friendship.
    She even held a portion of herself from Laura. There was always a part of herself held in reserve.
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    “My heart,” she whispered in surprise. “I’ve never allowed anyone into my heart.”
    “Your heart!” Poor Margaret was already racing to the door.
    “I’ll find a nurse.”
    “No. Wait. Come back. I was talking to myself. I’m fine.
    Really.”
    Margaret eyed her. “For sure?”
    Sandra smiled and said. “Yes. For sure.”
    Sandra felt something change inside of her—a subtle softening which made her smile bigger and made her want to make Margaret smile.
    Sandra squeezed Margaret’s hand. “How could I leave when I have a beautiful woman like you waiting for me at home?”
    Margaret blushed a deep crimson, but smiled in spite of herself.
    “You tell Minnie she’d better watch her step. I’m a single woman, and I might decide to steal you away from her.” Margaret hissed a flustered but pleased admonishment. “Enough of your fancy talk. I’ve work to do. Will you be home tomorrow?”
    “Only if you promise to be there to fluff my pillow,” Sandra said with a lewd smile.
    Margaret shook her finger at her and huffed. “Had the likes of Margaret O’Shea ever fluffed your pillows, lass, you would’ve been home much sooner each evenin’.” With a defiant toss of her head, Margaret made a stately exit.
    Seconds later, Ida Rayburn swept in with Sandra’s chart.
    So much for rest, Sandra thought wearily.
    “Was that Margaret I saw leaving?” Ida asked.
    “Yes. She brought me a thermos of homemade chicken soup.”
    Ida nodded and chuckled. “She called me earlier and made it clear she didn’t trust your health to our