The Interpeter

Her demeanor softened slightly. "Hmmm. Because you just said I'm most beautiful woman on earth, I won't be as mad at you for suggesting this. I'm still upset, but I can't be so mad."

Langston reminded her he wasn't suggesting anything. He was only sharing a fantasy.

"Honestly? I'm glad you share this with me. I asked and you told me. This is true. But I can never do this cheating, Keith. I am your wife. I am only yours. And for always. Okay?"

He kissed her again and said, "I have just one more thing to say and then I won't mention this again. Is that okay?" Oksana nodded. "If you and I both agreed to do this, then it wouldn't be cheating, right? It's only cheating if you sneak around and hide it from me. But if you did it with my permission, with me standing next to you holding your hand or kissing you while you do it, then you're not betraying me. You'd be making me happy. And as happy as it would make me, you have to be honest and admit it would also be very pleasurable for you, too. So again, I'm not asking you to do this. I'm only letting you know how I feel because you asked. I'm not even asking you to think about it so it shouldn't be an issue." He paused then asked her, "Is it? Does just knowing this bother you, honey?"

Oksana took his hands and said, "I'm not sure. At first it did because I didn't understand how you feel or know exactly what you want. Even so, that would be lot to ask but I can tell you're serious and you have always been completely honest with me."

Oksana lay back down beside him and put her arm over his chest. "If this is really important to you, I will at least consider it. Since I met you, the most important thing I have learned is that I can trust you in every thing. I know you're not asking me but now I have to ask you. Is that something you would really want me to do for you?"

Langston ran his hand along her back. "I feel bad for even mentioning this. It wasn't my intention to..."

"Keith. That wasn't my question. I told you I'm not upset. You were just being honest. My question is would you really like me to do this for you? And if I did, would you look at me differently after? I could never stand such a thing to happen so you must tell me truth."

"I couldn't possibly look at you differently unless it was with even more love. Again, this wouldn't be cheating but cheating would destroy our marriage. I could never do that to you and I don't believe you could hurt me like that, either. So I would not and could not look at you the way you're imagining if you agreed to try this."

"Okay. Now I understand that, too. But you are still not answering main question."

"I would never, ever ask but if you said you wanted to do that, I would be very happy and very excited. Now can we talk about something else?"

"Yes, but not until I say two more things. First, I will think about this but only think. Second, tell me what is favorite thing of all my clothes to wear for you?"

Langston gave her a puzzled look when she looked at him while saying that. "What do you mean?"

"Just tell me. I have huge walk-in closet full of beautiful clothes. What is your most favorite of all my things to see me in?"

Langston thought and said, "Well, you have a ton of things I really, really like. I guess if I had to pick one it would be the iced-pink sweater with 3/4 length sleeves and the square neckline and that really short black skirt. Why?"

"Okay. So if I ever decide this is something I can do.... No, if this is ever something I want to do, then I will wear that for you. But unless I do that, no more talking about this after tonight, okay? I brought it up, you were honest, and I will give thought to it. If I decide I would like it, too, I will wear pink sweater for you. Then we will have to find the right guy, no?"

As she said that, she slid her hand back down to his crotch and began bringing him to life. "But for now, I am wanting right guy to fuck me hard again. Talking about sex makes me want to have more sex." She looked at Langston and said, "You have turned me into sex monster, Mr. Langston. I am really bad sex addict. So I need fix." He was almost fully erect when she slid toward his cock. Before taking into her mouth she said, "And big cock is drug of choice so give me!"

Another six months passed. Nothing more was said after "The Talk." Life with Oksana was fantastic. Life in the bedroom was amazing with the exception of that stabbing pain. It had gotten worse over time. Slowly but definitely worse. Langston finally came to the realization he was going to have to get it checked.

Life in the gym was as also good. In fact it was as good as it had ever been. He'd been tearin' it up the last month or so and this day was no exception. He'd just killed it on his first set of squats so on his second set, he was feeling so good he decided to add more than his normal 25 pounds and put on another 45-pound plate to both sides of the bar. He'd completed a set at this weight his last two times in the gym and he felt particularly strong. He got underneath it and slowly lowered it down. Back straight, head up. So far, so good. As he went to stand back up, he felt something in his lower back give way. The weight of the bar was crushing something in his spine which caused him to reflexively let go of the bar. Thankfully, the bar was on a sliding rack with a safety catch or it might have crushed him. It held but Langston's back didn't. The damage had already been done. He fell to the floor like a giant rag doll. One of the regulars ran over and said, "Keith? You okay? What the hell happened?"

Langston had never felt anything like this. "My back," he groaned. "Oh, fuck. This is bad. I'm gonna need an ambulance. Shit!"

The technician was handing the x-rays to the doctor when Oksana literally came running into the ER. "Where is my husband? His name is Keith Langston." Just then, she saw him and ran to him. "What happened, sweetheart? Are you okay?"

He was flat on his back and in pain. The doctor was just putting up the x-rays as Oksana came running in. He acknowledged her then said, "This doesn't look good, Keith."

"What is wrong?" Oksana demanded to know. "What has happened to my husband?"

"Ma'am, I'm Dr. Winslow. Keith has ruptured two vertebrae in his lower back." He pointed to them on the x-ray. "He's almost certainly going to need surgery but for now he has to stay immobilized. We'll keep him here overnight and do a CAT scan. After that, I'll know for sure."

"Can he walk?" she asked.

"Yes and no. For the next couple of weeks or so, no. After that, he should make a full recovery. By that, I mean in terms of being able to walk, ride a bike, drive a car, and generally get around. The good news is the spinal cord wasn't impinged so as long as we take care of this as soon as possible, he will be able to lead a normal life again." The doctor looked at Langston and said, "However, the bad news is I'm afraid your days in the gym are numbered, Keith. At least for the foreseeable future."

Langston was unable to move even the slightest bit without causing excruciating pain. He croaked, "I'll never stop working out, doc. See that beautiful young woman? Yeah, that one. She's my wife. I'll move heaven and earth to make her happy and I have to be able to you know...do certain things for her."

Oksana took his hand and said, "You don't need swollen biceps (that had become an inside joke once her language skills improved and she realized how funny it was) or big pecs or...anything else to swell...to do make me happy, Keith. I love you, not your muscles." She leaned down and whispered, "Well, you do have one muscle I really do love when it swells."

He laughed then immediately cried out in pain, "Oh, fuck that hurts!"

"Sorry! I was just trying to make you feel better." Oksana felt terrible.

"It's not your fault, honey," he managed to spit out. "Can someone get me some morphine or something for Christ's sake?"

Later that afternoon, Dr. Winslow brought in an orthopedic specialist who informed Keith and Oksana that he'd have to have surgery to correct the ruptured disks and that he could perform the procedure the following morning.

Langston was in surgery for about three hours. When he awoke, Oksana was by his side holding his hand. "Hey, handsome. Are you in pain?" she asked.

"No. I'm feeling pretty good actually," he told her airily.

"Oh, that's the morphine." She pointed to it. "Just hit this button when you need more." She stood up and smoothed his thick dark hair which now had a healthy amount of gray in it.

"What did the doctor tell you, sweetheart?" he asked.

"The good news is the surgery was a success in that they repaired the damage."

"That sounds like there's a 'but' so lay it on my. What's the bad news?"

"You'll be in bed for at least a couple of weeks. After that, you'll be able to get up but only for very brief periods. You'll be wearing a brace for as long as six weeks. And the doctor really made emphasis on NO lifting for foreseeable future. He said maybe someday you could do some very light lifting and maybe work back up to half of what you do now but your days of what you call 'moving iron' are done. I'm so sorry."

"Anything else?" he wanted to know.

"You're going to have to be extremely careful the rest of your life. The spinal column wasn't pinched but there is very real chance you could be paralyzed if you hurt this area again. So let me say one more time. For now, at least, lifting is out of question."

"Honey, I....

"Shh! No buts. Not this time. You're going to do as your told. NO lifting. No running. No bicycling. You might be able to ride your bike again in a few weeks—maybe. You'll be able to swim and do some very light work with weights but your lifting days are over. I'm sorry, honey. That's just how it is. I know this is terrible news but I'm just so glad you're alive and will be okay but I will be there for you every minute of every day. I promise."

"I know you will. Okay, so what about...you know..."

"Sex?" she said with a wicked look. "Sorry. That's out too, for first six weeks at least. After that, we'll see. Your back is really screwed up, Keith. This surgery put it back in place but it will never be the same. We may have to make some um...modifications...in the bedroom."

Maybe it was the morphine but Langston couldn't help it. No matter how hard he willed himself not to, he couldn't stop himself from crying. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to..."

"Sorry? For what? Listen. This isn't your fault, Кит," Oksana told him. "I don't care how big your arms or chest is. I don't even care if things are...different...in bedroom. I'm just glad you're okay. So we'll take this one day at a time. Together. Okay?"

Langston nodded and soon felt overwhelmed with fatigue. He mumbled something incoherent then drifted off to sleep.

They let him go home two days later but not before they put a surgical bed in his room and a walker next to it. "Isn't that just fucking wonderful!" he mused to himself as they wheeled into his bedroom. He wouldn't be able to even turn over on his side for several days let alone sit himself upright. He'd have to let an electric motor do all the heavy lifting, no pun intended.

After a week, the pain was much more bearable and he was switched from morphine to oxycontin. By the end of the second week, they weened him off that, too. He was now able to very slowly turn over but sitting up was out of the question. When he lay still and flat on his back, there was no pain. Motrin was enough for everything else. That meant 800mg but at least it wasn't addictive.

That night, Oksana crawled into bed and snuggled up next to him. "So, are you ready to try something?" she asked playfully.

"Sure. What do you have in mind?"

She slid her hand down his stomach and then into his boxers. "This," she said. After a full minute of attempted arousal, nothing was happening. "Hmmm. Seems like you might need than helping hand," she cooed. She carefully pulled the sheets back then even more carefully removed a very limp Mr. Johnson. She wriggled it around like a worm and said, "I guess I have work cut out for me." She smiled then lowered her warm mouth onto his flaccid member.

"How does that feel?" she asked as she worked to get him 'up' to the task.

"Very nice," he said. "Keep going."

"I plan to," she said. "I haven't had visit from this guy since the accident and I'm going crazy."

For the next two minutes, Oksana bobbed, sucked, stroked and did everything Langston had taught her to no avail. This was a first. Oksana was clearly frustrated but she did her best to put on a strong front. "It's no problem. We will get there. Besides, they have blue pills if you need a starting jump," she teased. She made far fewer mistakes but some things still got her. English depended on syntax. Word order was essential. Subject, verb, then predicate. Always. Not in Russian. Word order had almost no meaning. It was a language of cases and depending on the case, the ending of the words changed and that, not the order of the words, determined their meaning.

For the next week, she tried every day to get, well, a rise out of her husband, but the results were the same. There were no results.

When the doctor came to check on him at the two-week mark, he mentioned the problem. The doctor told him there was no physiological reason connected to his back injury that would affect his plumbing. It was most likely some kind of mild post-traumatic effect that would go away on its own with time. Just in case, he gave him a sample of Viagra and wrote him a prescription for more with one caution. "Sex isn't the issue, Keith. It's your back. As long as you stay flat on it, you two can do whatever you two um...do. Just do not under any circumstance, try to have sex with you on top. For now, the pain itself will stop you. Later on, when your lower back has healed, just be very careful, okay?"

Oksana gave him his first magic pill at 6pm with dinner and by 8pm, Langston should be ready to rise to the occasion. She came in wearing a very sexy nighty with heels and a string of pearls. "So? Is someone ready for best blow job ever?" she said as she exposed his lower body.

Two minutes later, she (and Langston) had her answer. "Fuck me," Langston said dejectedly.

"Oh how I wish," Oksana said ruefully. "That's okay, though," she said bravely. "We'll get through this. I promise."

He asked her to lay down beside him which she did. "Just lay still, okay?" Langston was able to use his right hand to stroke her clit but that's all he could do. Even so, Oksana had never gone more than two days without sex since their first time and she was beyond needy. In less than a minute she came as hard as he could ever remember. He had to quickly remove his hand because just her body shuddering like that sent pain across his body and into his lower back. She lay there panting then turned over to kiss him. No sooner had she put just a fraction of weight on his chest than he flinched. "Oh, my God! I'm so sorry! Did I hurt you?" she asked.

"No. That wasn't too bad," he lied. "I'm okay. Really." She lay next to him and could do nothing but gently put one arm over his still massive chest. After a few minutes he said, "Actually, no I'm not okay. This is not okay. I can't even get a hard on let alone make love to my wife. And the doctor said it isn't my back. This is definitely not okay."

Langston had permission to get out of bed and with the help of the physical therapist who'd been assigned to him for an hour a day, seven days a week, he was able to slowly and painfully make his way first to the kitchen and then as far as the mailbox—with the walker. He swore when the therapist whose name was Terrence, pushed him to go a little bit farther each day. "There you go, Mr. Langston! You got this!" Terrence said.

Soon, Langston was able to shuffle to the kitchen without the walker where he had a but he was heavily dependent on the cane with four feet he'd been given. Through sheer force of will, he was hobbling out to the mailbox with just the cane. Terrance then took that away and made him complete each trip with no help. After a month, Terrance announced his job was done and wished Langston well.

Just like that, Langston was on his own except for Oksana who was there most of the time. She loved to go shopping but loved spinning at the gym even more. She also enjoyed hanging out with her best friend, Lindsay Kline. Her husband had been killed in Afghanistan in 2008. He was an F-18 back seater, a Weapons Systems Officer or WSO. He was serving with the Marine infantry as a Forward Air Controller or FAC when his Humvee was hit with an IED just six weeks before his unit was scheduled to come home. He was killed instantly living Lindsay and her two boys to fend for themselves. She loved Beaufort and decided to stay. Oksana met her at the gym shortly after moving to Beaufort. She was always trying to set her up with some new guy but Lindsay just wasn't ready to date again. Other than that, she was generally there with him.

"So now what?" he asked her rhetorically after Terrence left.

"Next? You keep walking. You get on your bike. You swim. You keep stretching. That's what's next."

Langston shook his head. He grabbed her hand and said, "Honey? I'm not talking about me. I'm talking about you."

"What do you mean 'me'? I'm fine. I didn't have 400 pounds crush my spine." She looked down at her husband who was sitting in a special chair designed to keep his back straight and his lumbar supported. He'd lost about 20 pounds already and there would be more to come.

"Oksanochka," he said to her in Russian. "I love you more than anything. But I've got a serious problem that goes far beyond my back. You know and I know it. My finger can only go so far in satisfying you. Hell, you even tried gently straddling me so I could lay flat but even that hurt my back. Even worse, not even the sight of your beautiful face over mine or your beautiful bald little pussy could get Mr. Happy to perform. You're a young woman with needs and I'm an old..."

"Заткнись!" she yelled at him. "Shut up! I won't hear it! We're in this together, mister, and somehow we'll figure out how to make that part of our marriage work again. But until then, not another word about my needs. Got it?"

Langston had never once heard her talk to him like that. While he was grateful for the strong front she was putting up he knew that wasn't enough and it certainly wasn't a longterm solution. No woman could live like this indefinitely. He had additional tests scheduled the following week but he was pretty damn sure this was all psychological. This was all in his head. His big head. And unless he could figure out what was wrong, his little head wasn't going to be able to get back in the game and as badly as he wanted to fuck his hot little wife, she had to be absolutely desperate.

Solutions. Langston was a problem solver. There had to be a solution. He didn't have any earthly idea what the solution would look like, but it had to be out there—somewhere. "Think, Marine. Think," he told himself.

Two days later he got a surprise phone call. "Colonel Langston?" the voice on the other end of the line asked.

"In a former life, yes," he replied.

"Sir, this is Captain Mike McCarthy. I'm the aide to the Commanding General at Marine Corps Recruit Depot, Parris Island. General Anderson is holding on the line to speak to you, sir. Please stand by."

There was a brief pause followed by, "Ivan? Dave Anderson."

"Holy shit! Dave? How the hell are you and congratulations! I had no idea you made general. For the most part, I've lost touch with the Corps since I retired. How are things?"

"From what I hear through the grapevine, better than you. What's going on with your back and this injury, my friend?"