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Sara kept repeating the same wondered over and over…I can not believe this is happening…

Nothing at all had happened, not yet anyway, but the anxiety was definitely growing, like an itch you COULD scratch.

What happened to that stupid button?

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Nearly all her adult life Sara had been managing complex problems with little regard for her own needs.

It wasn’t that she was particularly brave or fearless, though it helped that she was educated and considerate.

It’s just that the people that needed her help, that really needed her help, well that meant there was no time for self pity.

And then the cancer had come.

She wasn’t a vane person, and the plastic surgeons had made her nearly whole.

But she had just been – drained – over those two years, and with no time for self pity there was no need for self soothing right?

Even so, a few months after declaring victory (remission!), she’d determined to try celebrating with in a bubble bath with candles, wine, the works, and….there’d been nothing.

Not even a little nothing, nothing nothing.

And that’s where Medtronic came into the picture.

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After discovering the nerve damage, her medical team had offered a efficient solution – clinical trial.

Ironically what had convinced her wasn’t the desire for restored feeling or pleasure.

Medtronic’s headquarters was only ten minutes from work and twenty minutes from home.

She’d agreed mostly because the trial had the potential to help many other people besides herself.

Veterans, children, the disabled, you name it.

Medtronic was a sprawling campus like so many others in the area.

When she’d visited two Fridays ago, the place had been nearly deserted.

But the implant required a minor surgery, which of course required am in person procedure.

So she had treked to the sterile facilities available on site, mask and paperwork in hand…

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It was all that little asshole Mr. True Romance’s fault…Sara glared at him as he tried for an apologetic leg rub.

Instead he starred off into the distance with his one remaining eye and sauntered off to lay in the setting sun.

She’d needed to activate the implant at precise intervals overs the last two weeks.

This was apparently crucial for the best chance of repair.

So – this morning just like every morning she’d hidden the button in her loose change jar.

Who would even give a second glance at a change jar on a shelf?

It was a perfectly fine hiding spot, that is until Mr. R had apparently come along sometime during the day.

Fortunately the container was an old coffee can so it hadn’t shattered.

She was on her hands and knees sorting through the spilled change for the capsule sized button.

But it had been half an hour already and no button.

And if she didn’t deactivate it soon she had no idea what would happen…

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This is a waste of time she huffed … in Mr. R’s direction.

Then she remembered, Medtronic’s support number was right there on the counter!

Surely they’d have a way to handle something like this, they made pacemakers, surgical stents, high technology everywhere you turned…

No answer.

She made three more increasingly frantic calls and was finally forced to leave a voicemail.

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With the sun finally set she decided to make the most of things.

She set about preparing her favorite (pasta alfredo) and uncorked a bottle of red wine; perhaps not the wisest decision on an empty stomach but it calmed her nerves.

Honestly apart from some slight tingling in the evenings, she hadn’t noticed much of a difference in feeling.

Maybe her body just planned to remain uncooperative.

No bother, she wondered.

Dinner was a jovial affair, Mr. R seemed to know he was forgiven once he received a conciliatory belly scratch.

And with a few more glasses of wine behind her Sara’s anxiety seemed to dull.

She even felt like splurging a little and took brief but enjoyable bath (including her favorite dead sea salt addition).

Wrapped up in her terrycloth robe, she drifted off to sleep watching an old episode of Doctor Who on her couch…

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Sara awoke to a presence directly in front of her, and nearly jumped out of her skin – it was a man.

She couldn’t seem to speak or even move, and yet the mysterious stranger seemed to sense her concern.

He laid both hands on her feet, gently, and tensed. Who the hell was this?

He smelled like menthol aftershave and in the dim light of the TV he appeared fit but otherwise unremarkable.

She couldn’t make out his face.

Oh God, oh god she panicked instead – the figure seemed to have no expression and then, gently, parted her thighs and robe.

In one fluid motion, he leaned forward and stopped – but only long enough to take in her natural scent with an audible breath.

Soon thereafter he start to give butterfly kisses directly on and around her vagina.

Why the hell couldn’t she move!

She wanted to scream, to fight, to …

In spite of the libations, she was barely wet given her fear, in fact she was mustering all her strength to kick…when suddenly a wave of heat traveled from her center down to her feet and back up to her head.

He sensed her slight simmering and paused, a smile spreading on his nameless and undefined face.

His kisses lasted none too long after that.

Soon they were full blown licks, neither fast nor slow, just wet.

He seemed to be in no hurry – his hands still gently but now more firmly pressing down on the tops of her feet as he leaned into her center.

Eventually…he parted her lips with a few well angled licks and commenced eating.

She distantly thought why the fuck she couldn’t move or even speak and was surprised to learn that she didn’t care.

After many minutes of the most intimate of tastings, the stranger shifted his left hand under her buttocks as if to pull her into his mouth and inserted the middle finger of his other hand inside her.

Without any further prompting, he began to lick and then savor her clit with gentle sucks as he massaged her tailbone and simultaneously finger fucked her.

She orgasmed once and then again with the addition of another finger inside her…

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Sara woke up the next day completely refreshed, right on the coach where she’d fallen asleep.

The sun was streaming in through her automatic blinds, which meant she was late for work.

So she yawned, scratched Mr. R, made herself eggs with toast, showered, and hit the road.

She otherwise felt unremarkable.

She finally remembered once she hit the highway to check her voicemail, and found one new message to play on speaker.

“Sara this is Malcolm with Medtronic device support.

I sincerely apologize for not getting back to you last night.

Unfortunately our overnight support desk was unstaffed due to an emergency…

However, there’s no need to worry!

Your implant will auto deactivate after 12 hours.

If you need further help or replacement, please call…”

She breathed a sigh of relief.

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Not long after listening to her voicemail, she pulled into a parking lot in front of a large brick building.

The sign out front proclaimed “Caring Hands Children’s Home” in faux hand painted letters.

She smiled through misty eyes and parked her car in a spot labeled “Director”.

NSFW: yes

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