A new heat strummed through my body as I watched his arm move under the blanket. And I helplessly rubbed at my pussy, which was heavy and aching between my legs.
The way he looked at me across the bed with his hand still heavy on top of my head made it even hotter. He was forcing me to look at him. Forcing me to stay there with him as we did this thing apart, but somehow intensely together.
Eventually, his hand came down from my head and pressed his thumb into my lips. I opened my mouth wordlessly, sucking his thumb into my mouth as I rode my hand. He was no longer holding my head in place, but he didn’t have to anymore. We stared into each other eyes, magnetized until the pleasure became too much and morphed into a climax.
Only then did my gaze fall away. I threw my head back as an orgasm rocketed through me. A flower violently blooming to greet the spring.
As I fell apart, Victor did too, his body shaking. He didn’t throw back his head or even close his eyes, though. No, his gaze stayed glued on me as he came. And that made my climax ride out even longer.
Eventually, we both recovered. He disposed of the tissue he’d used to catch his cum, calm as a Buddha. Then he signed, “Good night.”
“Good night,” I whispered back. But it felt like a lie.
There was nothing good about this night. The intense cloud of desire continued to hang over the bed, even thicker than before.
Four more months, I reminded myself as I finally drifted off into a fitful sleep. I just had to hold out for a few more months. And then I’d be free.
22
DAWN
No time for awkwardness the next morning. I had to get up bright and early to drive my mother to the hospital for her surgery.
I expected Victor to use this opportunity to slip away to the comfort of the Four Seasons. But over a breakfast of dakjuk, the Korean chicken porridge my mother made for us even though she was unable to eat, he asked for the keys to her car.
So that’s how he ended up driving us both to the hospital in my mom’s fourteen-year-old Kia Forte. And the surprises kept piling up from there.
I was planning to ask if they had any nurses on staff who spoke ASL so that my mother wouldn’t have to read lips to understand everyone when I wasn’t there. But no need. A representative appeared in the lobby shortly after we began the check-in process. She spoke sign language and assured Mom she’d be by her side until they put her under for the surgery. Then she escorted us herself to my mother’s hospital room.
I was a little confused as we followed her to the elevator bank. I mean, how had they even known that mom’s implant wasn’t working, and that she’d need further assistance?
“Is this the standard protocol for all hard of hearing patients?” I asked in the elevator, trying to get some clarity.
“I wish it was,” the translator answered carefully. Then she glanced at Victor.
And if that didn’t let me know he had something to do with his better than usual treatment, I figured it out when we walked into my mother’s room. What turned out to be a large, tranquil suite with dark bookshelves, several pieces of well-made furniture, fine art on the walls, and huge windows that displayed panoramic views of the Dallas skyline and the Trinity River.
My mom took one look at the space and demanded to see the bill.
“Insurance didn’t pay for this big room,” she insisted. “I’m not going to let you upcharge me! That’s not what I agreed to!”
Maybe because mom was getting so upset, Victor stepped forward and signed, “Not insurance. Me.”
My mom’s angry expression immediately collapsed into soft shock.
“Why did you do that for me?” she demanded. “You shouldn’t have done that! This is too much!”
Before he could answer, though, she turned to the translator and bragged, “This is my son-in-law! See how good he treats me!”
Victor once told me that he didn’t remember his mother. She had died when he was so young, and he only had a single picture of her, taken before her marriage to his father.
She wasn’t a model or actress like the wives of so many Chinese mafia bosses. His father had met her on a visit to his hometown in Macau. She’d been a freshly hired cigarette girl and twenty to her future husband’s forty-six. Before that, Raymond Zhang had no desire to settle down. Didn’t want kids or any of that, he’d told his son. But one look at the new cigarette girl had been all it took to change his mind.
Sadly, she had died less than four years after having Victor. But clearly, Victor still had a talent for handling mothers.
After we were settled in, the surgeon himself came down to visit. This wasn’t the same guy who had been listed on the paperwork my mother had given me. That guy had a long last name of Indian origin. This one’s last name was only three letters, Kim.
“You’re Korean!” my mother said, switching to her native language as soon as she saw his name tag. Luckily, she was still signing, or I might not have understood.
I surreptitiously looked him up online as they shared small talk about his parents, who had immigrated here back in the 80s. According to the internet, this guy was the best oncology surgeon in Texas. Not Dallas—the whole state of Texas. In fact, from what I could tell, he worked out of a hospital in Houston.
There were a bunch of sentimental stories online about how he’d saved one person or another from certain death by cutting out malicious tumors and cancerous tissues. Many of these grateful people had driven and flown in to Houston from other states and countries to have him perform their surgeries.
But here he was in Dallas. I wasn’t even sure how he’d gotten privileges at this hospital.
Actually, I was sure.
I looked over to where Victor stood on the other side of the bed, impassively watching my mother’s hands as she spoke with the doctor. With the view of Dallas framing him from behind, he looked like an all-powerful titan of the industry. Untouchable and cold.
Yet, here he was, going above and beyond to help someone I loved…again. Confused thoughts swirled around my head, trying to settle on how I should feel about all of this. And Victor.
Dr. Kim had a warm bedside manner, and my mother visibly calmed down as he went through the procedure with her. After he finished his explanation, he asked in English, “Do you have any questions?”
“Yes,” my mother answered, also in English. Her voice was gravely serious. “I noticed the rainbow flag pin on your lapel. Does that mean you’re gay? If so, I have a son. Very handsome police officer. And he dates men sometimes.”
“Mom…” I warned. But then, I made the mistake of glancing over at Victor. His shoulders were shaking with silent laughter, and I had to clamp my lips to keep from doing the same.
The doctor blushed. But then admitted, “I am gay. But I’m already dating someone.”
My mom looked legit disappointed. “That is too bad. I would forgive Byron for liking men, too, if he married a doctor like you. Are you happy with this other man? He’s probably not as handsome as my son. Here, I’ll show you a picture so you can see.”
“Wow. Mom, please stop,” I snatched her phone away before she could shove my brother’s picture in poor Dr. Kim’s face. I’m pretty sure he hadn’t come here from Houston to get bombarded with my mom’s dating schemes.