Mercedes
knew she owed Trevor and his care her full attention, but she couldn't keep her
mind from worrying over the situation with Wayne. Word among the office staff
buzzed that Whippy fired employees rather than keep troublemakers. She'd made trouble this morning. Dr. Whipple
didn't sound happy about it over the phone. She followed Trevor outside into
the heat, closing the door behind her.
Things
appeared different under the cabana. She hadn't noticed the change when they
had talked at the fountain. A trapeze of sorts with two supports stood on
either side of the lounger with a bar secured between them.
"What's
this paraphernalia?"
"Cedric
and I figured that since the hospital can provide a medical trapeze for a bed,
they should spring for the same for the lounger. They didn't, so I had Jacob
come by last evening and put this together for me," Trevor explained the
poles and bar with satisfaction.
"I
think he needs to learn to measure a bit better," Mercedes observed.
"Actually,
he built it exactly the way I envisioned it." He had to admit the extra
three feet of length on one end made the whole thing appear like a lop-sided
barbell. Makeshift or not, it allowed him to wheel his chair under it and move
to the lounger.
"Okay,
so you can get onto the lounger by yourself?"
"Not
quite. I need you to lift my feet." Trevor positioned his chair under the
protruding side of the bar. The move from chair to the lounger went smoothly
once Mercedes took hold of his legs and feet.
"See
that? Good exercise for my upper body."
"True."
Mercedes helped him settle on the lounger and began the exercises that involved
moving joints several times within its full range of motion. She used an aloe
lotion to massage his legs, enjoying the feel of the muscles. At first they
were tight, reflecting his lack of physical activity but as she massaged, the
muscles relaxed, becoming pliable to her touch. She found it easy to move from
one side of the lounger, to kneeling at his feet to rest his foot on her
shoulder working the muscles in his thigh.
"Relax
Trevor," she coaxed, trying to watch the plants behind him rather than his
expression or the way his body responded to her touch. She hoped his arousal
wouldn't continue, but it did. Her tongue polished her right eyetooth while
Tiny Porsche swaggered up and down Mercedes's shoulder whispering sexy
innuendoes. Keeping her mind distracted became paramount.
She enjoyed
doing massage, as she worked; the classes she moonlighted in came afresh to her
memory, drowning Tiny Porsche's words to silence. Even the Massage theory class
she'd unintentionally stumbled into niggled her thoughts, repeating the health
benefits.
She would
keep an eye on his muscles and watch to compare the difference, if any, between
the atrophy of his lower body versus his upper body that she didn't massage and
manipulate regularly. He would be her first test subject. She needed to figure
out a method of measurement. The sharpness of the definition of muscles?
Possibly, but she would need pictures. Her cell phone took reasonable photos.
The trick would be getting him to let her take them without thinking she was
drooling over him.
"Trevor?
“ she began tentatively. “How would you feel about helping me with my
research?"
"Depends."
"On?" Mercedes doubted he'd agree but she'd already started down
this path. She really needed to think before she jumped in feet first.
