I really lucked out being able to walk away with nothing more than a mild concussion and a few hairline fractures in my right arm and ribs. There is a video circling around online of the accident, and after watching it for the fifth time, I’m thankful to be alive. It looks pretty rough. I put my phone back on the bedside table; I’m still in my hospital bed, bored out of my mind. I’ve been here all night, and it looks like they’re going to make me stay here another night to monitor my head injury. Just my luck. My company is falling apart, and I’m stuck at the hospital. I’ve already spoken to the doctor, and I did my best to convince him that I am fine, but he had been pretty insistent on me staying since I live alone. I have not been able to get in touch with Sylvia; she probably does not even know about the accident yet.

After finishing my sub-par hospital breakfast, I decide to create a game for myself. I tear up the paper napkin I had been providing and begin to ball up the pieces into balls about the size of my thumbnail. There is a trashcan on the far side of the room, so begin to play hoops with my left arm since my right is in a sling. This is what boredom can do to me. I’ve already played on my phone through half the night last night –unable to sleep because of my own discomfort, so that is out now. I’ve watched television, but the hospital only gets a few channels. So now I am playing trashcan basketball with rolled up napkin bits.

The room door opens just as I am making a terrible toss, and I see my nurse-man roll his eyes, probably really glad he is about to get off shift after dealing with me all night. I silently pray for a sexy, female replacement. “Mr. Mont, you have a visitor.” The nurse says with an annoyed pout on his brow after spotting the substantial amount of balled up napkin pieces scattered around the trashcan.

“Who is it?” I ask, “Because I’m not talking to any reporters.”

“A Miss Éclair Beauchene.” He says and completely butchers her last name.

I nod, “Yeah, okay, I know her.”

The man grumbles again when he looks at the trash can before leaving the room. A few minutes later, Éclair enters the hospital room. I’m honestly surprised she has come to see me. Truthfully, I’m glad. It’s nice to see a familiar face. As my biggest business rival who doubles as my side chick, we have a very complicated relationship, so I’m not really sure what to expect from her right now. That beautiful blonde hair of hers is let down, which she rarely does anywhere except in the bedroom, and her unusual purple eyes are sparkling. I can see she has been worried about me, and that strangely makes me feel really happy.

“Are you all right?” she asks as she approaches the bed, putting her hand on the hospital beds hand rail.

“I’ve been better,” I say.

There is a hesitation within her words. I can tell she has been listening to the bullshit reporting about me being suicidal. “Good.” She says, and I can see her taping her fingers.

“I wasn’t trying to kill myself, Éclair,” I say, knowing that that is what is one her mind, “That’s just a bunch of bullshit reporting. Besides, I was the one who was hit –not the other way around. The other car ran a red light, and I was just not paying attention.”

Éclair seems relieved. Apparently I’m going to have to tell everyone I know that I was not suicidal when the accident occurred. I could probably sue over that. “A relative of mine sent me a video of your accident. It’s gone viral, and it’s quite terrifying to watch.”

“I think it’s cute that you were worried about me, Éclair,” I say, and she looks really annoyed.

She gives me a jab in my sore arm, and I flinch terribly. “Ne pas être un trou du cul.” She says, and I know she is insulting me, but that French half of her really turns me on. It always has.

I rub my arm and say in a firm tone, “That hurt! Don’t be like that, Éclair.”

“Fine.” She says and crosses her arms, “I was worried about you. Happy?”

I smile, “Very.”

“I’ve seen what they’re saying about you on the news.” Éclair says, still looking very worried for me, “What is going to happen to your company?”

I grimace, “You’re not going to try to buy me out again, are you? Because I told you, I’m not selling.”

She rolls her eyes, “No, James, I’m honestly just asking. Is Shattered INC. going to be okay?”

“I don’t know.” I say, “We have got to get to the bottom of what happened. The evidence against me is already stacking up, but I swear, I had no idea. I hope that they find out there is something other than my supplements at play here.”

“I hope so too.” Éclair says, “I know I give you a hard time, but I don’t want to see you go out like this. If there is anything I can do for you, let me know.”

I grin, “Well-”

She laughs. “Don’t tell me you’re horny right now?” she leans over and places her hand on my chest, “You’re hurt.” With her other hand, she touches my cheek with the back of her palm, “Look at that pretty face of yours. I might have to find me a new regular until that heals because, I have to say, it’s not a good look for you –the broken nose, I mean.”

“Gee, thanks,” I say, and she surprises me with a kiss, and she latches on hard. She works for one hand up underneath the hospital sheet and starts to play with me.

I feel my breath start to grow warm from the slight panting. Éclair has always been good with her hands. She knows how to get me hard fast –plus, I’m feeling sexually frustrated after my night with Sylvia was interrupted. Her hisses move from my lips to my cheek and then my right ear where she pauses to whisper a few dirty French words. I’m tempted to pull my arm out of my sling and grab her, but the morphine is not strong enough to make me feel comfortable enough to try it. She licks my ear with my tongue as she continues to stroke my one appendage that thankfully did not sustain any sort of injury during the accident. “When you are feeling better,” she says, “You should pay me a visit… I had a swing installed at my apartment.”

Holy shit.

“What?” I ask, quite shocked at what she is telling me. I always knew Éclair would occasionally get kinky, but a swing? I could get down with that.

The door to the room opens; it’s my fucking male nurse. “Oh!” he slaps himself in the face with his clipboard in a desperate attempt to cover his eyes, and he does so way to fast; I can hear the wooden clipboard make contact with his nose, and I hear him mutter, “Shit.” Under his breath. It does not faze Éclair. She just stands upright and straightens herself up. “I’m, uh, sorry,” the nurse says, “I did not realize I was… I mean… I’m going to leave, but you really shouldn’t be doing that in here.”

Well, this is embarrassing. I cover myself up quick. “Don’t bother.” Éclair says, “I was just leaving.” She heads to the door, stopping right next to the poor guy who is still holding his clipboard over his face. She touches his hand and lowers the clipboard so that she can look him in the eye, “Keep this to yourself, would you, sweetheart?” she winks at him and boldly gives him a peck on the cheek before leaving.

The poor guy looks like Éclair stole his breath; he’s standing there by the door with his mouth wide open. “Yeah,” I say to snap him back into reality, “She has that effect on people. Now close your mouth before a bug flies in there, man.”