Message-ID: <44459asstr$1064578211@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
X-Original-Message-ID: <20030926024911.56966.qmail@web20503.mail.yahoo.com>
From: Lazlo Zalezac <lzalezac@yahoo.com>
X-ASSTR-Original-Date: Thu, 25 Sep 2003 19:49:11 -0700 (PDT)
Subject: {ASSM} John Carter I 10 (mf mmf ffm ff mm sci-fi)
Date: Fri, 26 Sep 2003 08:10:11 -0400
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d
X-Archived-At: <URL:http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/Year2003/44459>
X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation <story-ckought69@hotmail.com>
X-Story-Submission: <ckought69@hotmail.com>
X-Moderator-ID: dennyw, IceAltar


 
 

__________________________________
Do you Yahoo!?
The New Yahoo! Shopping - with improved product search
http://shopping.yahoo.com

<1st attachment, "JC10.txt" begin>

DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction. If you are offended by 
sexually explicit material or are under the age of 18, stop reading 
now. This material cannot be reproduced for commercial purposes 
without the consent of the author.

John Carter
By
Lazlo Zalezac 
Copyright (C) Lazlo Zalezak, 2003


Part 1: Shield, Staff, and Compass
Chapter 10

John woke up at 4:00 when Dr. Hilbert, Nurse Betty, and Mary 
entered the room. His back hurt from sleeping in a chair. John 
glanced at the clock and saw what time it was. He realized that he 
had missed all of the hospital staff that had come to visit him. He 
shook his head, "Nurse Betty, you should have woken me. All 
those people went out of their way to come up here and you let me 
sleep through it."

Dr. Hilbert answered, "You might be a hero, but you're not a 
superhero. Remember that. When you are tired, get some sleep. 
Your body needs sleep to heal."

"Yes sir." He recognized the validity of the advice. In a way, he 
was actually pleased that he hadn't had to deal with visitors. This 
hero worship thing was getting very old. He didn't feel like a hero, 
although he had no idea what a hero felt like. He felt bad that he 
had let down people that helped so many patients.

"Now lets get those bandages off so that I can see how you're 
doing."

Nurse Betty came over and removed the bandage. Mary stared 
open mouthed at how calmly he took the removal of the bandages. 
Dr. Hilbert stepped up and examined the burns. The healing rate on 
this guy was phenomenal.  Nurse Betty was about to replace the 
dressing, but Dr. Hilbert stopped her. "Dr. Capstone will be here in 
a minute." 

While they were waiting, John explained that he would like Mary 
to assist him in working with the patients. Dr. Hilbert was a little 
skeptical, but decided that if John requested it then there might be 
a good reason. It was then agreed that Mary would go on the 
rounds with him. Mary was extremely surprised at the ready 
agreement.

Dr. Capstone arrived and greeted them, "Hello John, how are you 
doing?"

"Hello Dr. Capstone, that's for you to decide."

He bent down and looked at the leg giving it a cursory 
examination. He immediately stood up in surprise. He bent down 
and looked at the leg again with much greater care. Dr. Hilbert was 
smiling at the expression on his face. Dr. Capstone stood and 
looked at Dr. Hilbert, "Doctor, I forgot my epidermal probe. Could 
I borrow yours?"

Dr. Hilbert understood that this was a request for a private 
conference. He answered, "Sure, come with me and I'll get it for 
you."

The two doctors left the room. John asked Nurse Betty, "Epidermal 
probe? You have to be kidding! They could have talked in front of 
me."

Nurse Betty shrugged her shoulders. She decided that no answer 
was better than making something up. This guy was scary at times 
with his insights into people and his total lack of self-interest. She 
suggested, "You never know what they talk about."

The doctors returned to the room. Dr. Capstone asked, "John, 
could you sit up so I can see your back?"

John sat up and the bandages were removed. Dr. Capstone 
examined the back very carefully. Satisfied, he said, "Nurse, you 
can bandage his back and the surgical wound. We agree that the 
burn should be exposed to air now."

Nurse Betty nodded her head and got to work. John asked, "So 
where is this famous epidermal probe?"

Both doctors looked a little embarrassed. Finally, Dr. Capstone 
stated, "Well, we were trying to decide what to do with you."

John smiled, "So is it a firing squad or death by hanging?"

"Nothing that drastic. We were considering walking the plank or 
sacrificing you to the volcano."

"I'm not a virgin so I guess it's the plank for me. Sorry guys."

"Seriously though, if you continue to heal at this rate, we won't 
need to keep you in here more than two days. We'll take out your 
stitches tomorrow afternoon and bandage your wounds. We don't 
want you to leave just in case something happens."

"Sounds good to me, Dr. Capstone," John turned and winked at 
Nurse Betty, "Does that mean I'm getting a dozen sponge baths 
over the next two days?"

Nurse Betty had the grace to blush. The doctors looked at each 
other knowingly. Finally, Dr. Hilbert responded, "Oh, I think you 
can handle three a day. You're young and resilient."

John went on the rounds with the doctor, Nurse Betty, and Mary. 
Mary had learned how to distract people from their pain very well. 
John watched her work and let Nurse Betty know when it was time 
to remove the bandage. With practice, Mary's technique became 
better. 

A very attractive black woman sat in the chair. Her posture was 
impeccable. She sat straight up in the chair, shoulders back and 
chest out. Her legs were crossed at the ankles. Her hands rested on 
her lap. She was conservatively dressed in a black dress that came 
down to the middle of her shins. It was plain, but clearly 
expensive. One thing that gave away her sadness; her eyes were 
red and puffy from crying. A knowledgeable observer would 
recognize her as dressed in mourning.

Ms. Smith, having learned the identity of the lady, had warned her 
not to hug him. She explained that he had stitches along his back 
and a hug could rip them. The woman didn't know how to act and 
sat there wondering what to do. She owed this man so much and 
had no idea how to repay him. She was lost in thought when he 
entered the room. 

"Hello, I'm John Carter. Who might you be?" asked the man as he 
extended his hand. 

The lady looked up in surprise. The man looked just like her son 
had described him. She had not believed her son. She couldn't 
believe that some white man would risk his life trying to save her 
children. She answered, "I'm Virginia Hill."

"Oh, that's a nice old fashioned kind of name. You don't meet 
many Virginia's any more. It's a shame; I'm rather partial to that 
name myself."

She smiled, "I was named after my grandmother. She was named 
after her grandmother. That woman was named after her owner."

Her statement might have intimidated some, but John followed up 
with a question, "What did she do for her owner?"

"She was freed before they put her to work. I'm sure you've heard 
of the Civil War," she answered. There was a little tension in her 
voice.

"Ah, she was most fortunate. Of course, the times after the Civil 
War were quite hard for most blacks. Their standard of living often 
went down. They had nothing and usually could only find work 
that paid less than it cost to feed their family for the day. A lot of 
them moved west to try and start a new life in the wilderness 
where color didn't matter. Most people don't know that the 
majority of cowboys were black. It wasn't John Wayne that rode 
herd on the cattle, it was Samuel Blackman."

"You know a lot about black history," she stated. "Not many 
whites know that kind of stuff."

"Well, I talk to a lot of the blacks in the neighborhoods around 
where I live. I listen to their histories. Lots to learn from people 
when you give them a chance to tell their story and you take the 
time to listen. That's why I asked the question about your great-
great-grandmother. It was another chance to learn."

"Oh," replied Virginia. She had not come here with the intention of 
discussing her family history. Her family had a rather checkered 
past. Her mother had been tough on her while growing up. Her 
mother always stressed education and if Virginia made less than an 
A in a subject, she would get beaten. Her mother always told her 
that an education was important. It always meant more money. 
Even an educated whore made more money than an ignorant whore 
did.

"Do you have a picture of her?"

"No, I used to have one, but it burned in the fire last night," she 
replied. The question reminded her of why she was here.

John nodded as he drew the correct conclusion. He asked, "It 
wouldn't happen to be the one that I was at last night?" 

"Yes, sir. It was," her voice was suddenly respectful. 

"Could you tell me the names of your wonderful children?"

"Ryhem and Shawana."

"Well, Ryhem was very polite, brave and obedient. You must be 
really proud of him."

She laughed, "Are you talking about my boy?"

"Yes, ma'am. When I set him down and told him to stay there until 
a proper authority came he told me, 'yes sir', and he stayed right 
there. He also told me about his sister still being in the house. He 
didn't panic or anything."

She laughed, "Do you know how he described what happened?"

"No. What did he say?"

"He said that he was standing there staring at the fire and didn't 
know what to do. Then a wizard walked through the flames and 
carried him out of the fire. He knew you were a wizard because 
you had a long beard, long hair, and carried a magic staff. He was 
afraid that he was going to get burnt, but you used magic to keep 
him safe."

John laughed, "Me a wizard? Wow, that's great."

"Shawana said that a skinny Santa Clause rescued her."   

"That's even better. No wonder they both cooperated so well. I 
wouldn't argue with a wizard or Santa Clause," suggested John. He 
thought about the last person in the house. He added, "I'm very 
sorry for your loss."

"He was a drunk. He caused the fire that almost killed my babies. I 
loved him, but I'm mad as hell at him."

"It's hard to carry such mixed emotions around with you." John 
didn't really know what to say. He chose the course of action that 
seemed best. He suggested, "Would you mind standing up?"

She hesitated and then stood. John stepped close to her and put his 
arms around her. He held her close. Her head rested on his 
shoulder. She gently wrapped her arms around him and started 
crying. It was as if a dam had burst. Once she started, she couldn't 
stop. She had lost her lover, her house, and her past all in one 
night. John held her and swayed slightly. The slight rocking 
motion calmed her down. 

It took a while, but she finally collected herself. She stepped back 
and sat down. John handed her the box of tissues from the table. 
She blew her nose, wiped her eyes, and tried to collect herself. Her 
makeup had run. She sniffed, "I'm so sorry. I didn't want to break 
down like that."

"No problem," replied John. He asked, "Are you feeling better?"

She stopped and thought about it for a minute and answered, "Yes, 
I do. I really do feel better. Thank you."

John nodded and suggested, "Why don't you use my bathroom and 
wash your face. I'm sure that you'll feel much better then."

Virginia smiled hesitantly and headed towards the bathroom. 
While she did her feminine magic of transforming her appearance, 
John thought about what she had experienced in the last day. He 
understood her need to be held. She returned looking and feeling 
much better. She asked, "What can I do to thank you?"

He thought about it a moment and then stated, "There is something 
that you can do for me. It is rather personal, though."

Her eyes flicked to his groin. Her estimation of this nice guy went 
down a bit. In her mind, he became just another lowly man driven 
by his sexual urges. In a slightly flat tone of voice she answered, 
"Okay, I guess."

John appeared not to notice her appearance her glance and lack of 
enthusiasm. He sat down on the edge of his bed and motioned to 
her to have a seat in the chair. He stated, "Quite simply, I would 
like to know more about you."

She frowned, as that was not the request she thought he was going 
to make. She sat down. Not knowing where to start, she asked, 
"What would you like to know?"

"What do you do for a living?"

She frowned again. She hated to admit this, "I'm an exotic dancer."

John smiled, "An artist in a very underrated art form. It is such a 
shame, too. It could be one of the most significant art forms and 
yet it isn't. It should be respected like ballet. Society tends to frown 
upon it and the people that engage in it. Even the dancers that 
engage in it look down on it. Of course, polite society is always 
embarrassed by the most basic aspects of life. Are you good at it?"

"Huh?" she was confused.

"Are you good at it?"

"Do you understand what I do?" she asked. 

"I think so. Why do you ask?"

"I give lap dances to horny men," she replied with a hardness in 
her voice that hadn't been there before. She knew that she was 
making herself look like a whore. She continued, "I'm basically 
naked and all they care about are my tits and ass. I work at the best 
club in town."

"You still haven't answered my question. Are you good at it?"

"It is easy enough work. I make a lot of money, so I guess so."

"Hmmm, I would tend to believe otherwise. You are probably a 
little above average, but not good."

Virginia sat back with her arms held tight to her chest and crossed. 
She really wondered what this guy was getting at. She asked, 
"Why do you say that?"

John shrugged and then replied, "Well, most of the time when 
something comes easily to a person, they don't have the discipline 
to become good at it. They become good enough to get by."

She replied, "It is very hard work. I have to exercise, watch my 
weight, learn new things, and practice."

John nodded, "Do you put as much work into it as a professional 
ballerina?"

Virginia shook her head, "No."

"Can you make a guy's fantasy come true while you are dancing 
for him? Can you make him forget where he is? Can you turn him 
on with just a touch?"

"You can't do those kinds of things in a lap dance."

"Sure you can," replied John. He stood up and moved over to her. 
He slowly reached out with his hand and softly brushed her lip. He 
ran his hand down to her chin and then to the back of the neck 
along her hairline. She leaned into his hand with her eyes closed. 
John stopped his action and sat back on the bed, "You see. With a 
simple touch you can transform someone away from the here and 
now."

Virginia sat there staring at John. He had transported her 
somewhere far from the hospital with just a simple touch. She 
asked, "How did you do that?"

John answered, "When was the last time that someone touched you 
like that?"

"Never."

"How long have you wanted someone to touch you like that?"

"Longer than I care to admit."

"I was able to give you something that you've always wanted and 
never had. You can do that with your dance just as easily. If you 
learn how and master it, then you'll be a good erotic dancer, 
perhaps even great."

"You talk as if being an exotic dancer is a good thing."

John lay back in the bed. He was beginning to tire. He stated, "Do 
you know the difference between a pornographic picture and an 
artistic picture of the same subject?"

"Yes, I think so."

"Well, usually in the pornographic picture it is the subject of the 
picture that is presented and that presentation is usually very crude. 
In an artistic picture, the emphasis is on quality of the picture and 
the presentation takes a huge degree of skill to achieve. There is 
the same difference between pornographic dance and an artistic 
dance."

"You're telling me that I can make a lap dance into an artistic 
dance?"

"Yes," he replied. He smiled as he looked over her and added, 
"You can dance so sexy that you can make a man come even 
without touching him. The lap dance doesn't mean you have to rub 
your cunt on his pants until he comes. No, you can sit almost 
motionless on his lap and achieve the same thing."

"So how do I learn how to do this thing?"

"I don't know," replied John. 

Virginia was startled, "What do you mean you don't know?"

"I am not a dancer. Nevertheless, if I had to become one, I would 
learn everything that there is to know about dance in all its forms. I 
would study ballet, belly dancing, folk dancing, primitive dances, 
and Bali dances. You are a smart young lady. I know that because 
you speak well, carry yourself with dignity and act civilized. I also 
believe that if you put your mind to it, you could become an 
extremely good dancer."

"You don't see me as some kind of whore?" She couldn't believe 
this guy. He actually understood her. She was used to being looked 
on as a tramp, ridiculed by people, and generally treated without 
respect. This guy was different. 

"No. Do you see yourself that way?"

"No."

"Good. It is getting late and you've got two kids that need you 
more than I."

Virginia stood and kissed him on the forehead. She smiled down at 
him, "You're a wonderful guy. I think the woman who gets you 
will be very lucky."

John laughed, "You just don't know me well enough. It would take 
a saint to live with me. I'm mean and irritable most of the time. 
You just caught me on a good day."

Virginia left feeling like the debt she owed him was greater now 
than when she had entered. She wondered how he would talk to a 
prostitute and then wondered if maybe there was a difference even 
in that profession. 

John rested for half an hour and then got up. Not used to lying 
about all day, he decided to go for a walk. He stepped out of the 
room and walked down the hall. He saw that Ms. Smith was at her 
desk. She had been treating him like some sort of special beast 
ever since she came on duty tonight. He decided to play a joke on 
her. John got down and crawled to the front of her desk so that she 
couldn't see him. He kept hidden and said, "Ms. Smith, help me. 
I've become invisible."

Ms. Smith looked up and didn't see John. For a fraction of a second 
she believed him and then caught herself. Holding back a smile, 
she looked back down at her paperwork and stated, "John, I swear 
you are eight years old. I didn't fall for that with my kids and I 
haven't fallen for that with my grandchildren. So stand up."

John stood up smiling broadly, "You're no fun at all."

Ms. Smith replied, "It looks like I'm going to have to add you to 
my collection of other bad boys in my basement. Pity too. I had 
such high hopes for you."

They both looked at each other and started laughing. John finally 
stated, "I was wanting to take a walk around the hospital and meet 
people. Is that a problem?"

"You really shouldn't walk around like that. The burn may bother 
some people."

"How about if I wear some surgical scrubs?"

Ms. Smith nodded, "Ok, give me a minute to get one for you. You 
will need to be back by bed time though."

"Yes, ma'am."

John waited until Ms. Smith arrived with the bottom half of a 
surgical scrub. John when down to his room. Dressing, he realized 
that he didn't know how comfortable they were until now. He 
headed off to explore the rest of the hospital. As he traveled, staff 
and nurses came to him and chatted. All of them were very 
interested in meeting him. Some thanked him for things he had 
done for family or friends. As John walked around meeting people, 
he realized that he had become something of a celebrity. The idea 
made him a little uneasy. 

He returned to his room emotionally drained. When he entered the 
room, he was surprised to find a man waiting for him. He took a 
deep breath and held out his hand, "Hello, I'm John Carter. Who 
might you be?"

"I might be Jeff Hunt, the staff psychologist," replied the man. He 
waited to see John's reaction.

"Okay, I guess that means you might not be Jeff Hunt."

Jeff laughed, "Touche."

"Do you mind if I lie down while we chat?"

"Please do if it would make you more comfortable."

"Thank you. It's not that I think it is appropriate to be lying down 
when dealing with a psychologist, but that I'm a little tired."

"I understand that."

"I imagine that you are here to help me work through this 
traumatic experience. So what do we do now?" asked John.

"Straight to the point. I guess you can start by answering how you 
feel about what happened," asked the doctor. 

"I don't feel traumatized."

"You don't?"

"Not at all."

Dr. Hunt sat back in the chair and looked at John. Clearly the 
young man was in some sort of denial about his experience. How 
could someone run into a burning building, encounter a dead man, 
suffer severe burns and not feel traumatized? He asked, "What 
about your wounds?"

"They aren't that bad. The doctors are going to let me out in two 
days. They say that I'm healing very quickly."

The doctor checked the chart and realized that John was correct. 
He read the initial diagnosis and then the notes added to the chart. 
He wondered about the healing rate this guy demonstrated. He 
chose a different tactic, "How about the fire?"

"Well, I'm happy that I was able to get the two kids out of the 
house."

"How about the man that died?"

"Well, I feel sorry that he died. But then, being dead isn't that 
bad." John thought about it for a moment and then added, "I guess 
I feel worse for the family because he is gone. They will miss 
him."

"You talk as if you've had experience with being dead."

"Yes."

The directness with which John replied baffled the doctor. He 
asked, "You died before?"

"Yes."

"When?"

John looked at the doctor realizing that he didn't believe him. He 
slipped the hospital gown over his shoulder and showed him the 
scar from the bullet wound, "I died when I was I shot. The doctor 
revived me and I got better."

"How long were you dead?"

"Four minutes. I know, it's not a long time. I didn't really want to 
come back, but I did."

"Are you disappointed?"

"No, actually I'm glad to be alive. There's still so much to see and 
do."

The doctor sat back and wondered what to think of this guy. If he 
was being honest, then he was about as sane a person as he had 
ever seen. They continued to talk for another hour. John fascinated 
the doctor. He answered every question the doctor asked with 
honesty and thoughtfulness. There were no attempts to evade 
difficult areas of conversation. He answered incredibly personal 
questions about life, sex, and death with complete candor. His 
philosophy of life took into account his own frailties, as well as 
those of others. He saw value in things that others looked down 
upon. Rather than ignore or demean the ugly parts of life, this guy 
tried to understand them. 

It was not that this guy was an optimist. He believed in evil and 
recognized it when he saw it. He didn't see evil as a sickness that 
could be cured or excused by the environment in which one was 
raised. He felt that mistakes could be excused to a point, but people 
that did not learn from their mistakes ultimately had to pay for the 
errors of their way. 

It was not that he was free of guilt, all humans have made mistakes 
for which they feel some responsibility. This guy was balanced in 
that he didn't feel guilty about things that others thought he should 
do, but that he was incapable of doing or that originated from their 
selfishness. If he came in second in a race and ran as fast as he 
could, then he wouldn't feel guilty for not winning. If someone 
wanted him to run to the store for them and made the request out of 
laziness, John was more than happy to decline. If he didn't do the 
right thing or didn't do it to the best of his capability, then he felt 
guilt. That was healthy. He didn't strive for perfection, but 
attempted excellence. It was a rare person that recognized the 
difference.

Their discussion was interrupted by a knock on the door. Jeff 
looked at his watch and realized that he had spent far more time 
than he had intended. John called out, "Come in."

Jeff excused himself as seven adults entered the room. They all 
crowded around John thanking him for the kindness he had shown 
their children. John accepted their thanks and explained how much 
fun he had reading to the children. He told them about the stores 
that had donated the books and the bookshelf that was coming in 
the morning. They thanked him again before leaving. John fell 
asleep almost as soon as the group left.  
<1st attachment end>


----- ASSM Moderation System Notice------
Notice: This post has been modified from its original
format.  The post was sent as an email attachment and
has been converted by ASSTR ASSM moderation software.
----- ASSM Moderation System Notice------

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
| alt.sex.stories.moderated ------ send stories to: <ckought69@hotmail.com>|
| FAQ: <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/faq.html> Moderators: <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
|ASSM Archive at <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org>   Hosted by <http://www.asstr-mirror.org> |
|Discuss this story and others in alt.sex.stories.d; look for subject {ASSD}|
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+