1. The Last Flight. Chapter 15


    Date: 4/20/2016, Categories: Lesbian, Author: Annamagique, Rating: 5, Source: LushStories

    “Françoise! What on earth? I mean...” I was so astounded to see her there that my jaw literally fell open. “What do you mean, 'with us'?” She smiled broadly as she replied. “Your f..., she paused, glancing sideways at the director, “Monsieur Farmer,” she quickly corrected herself, “telephoned me yesterday afternoon and explained what had happened. Although it is short notice I have agreed that you can stay with me and my girls for a time where you can relax and recover at your own pace.” “Really?” I said, still unable to believe this amazing turn of events and looked at both my dad and the director for confirmation. They were both smiling and the director spoke first. “It seems the best option for the immediate future,” he said, “Matron Blanchard has the space and experience to look after you until you are able to return home.” “I don't know what to say, I am in your hands. Thank you,” I answered. “There is something else,” Françoise continued. “I talked with Doctor Harlow before I left last night. He said he had been afraid that something like this may happen and he will help as much as he can to make you better.” I nodded. “He did say he had considerable experience with such conditions,” I agreed. “Then it is settled then,” the Director confirmed, “An ambulance will take you back to the station for the train to Limoges and I will personally liaise with Matron Blanchard for your treatment.” The journey back to Limoges was uneventful. The two nurses who had accompanied me on ...
    the outward journey remained with me for the return trip, along with my father and Françoise. Another ambulance met the train and took us her house after diverting to the hospital to drop off the nurses. By the time we arrived at Françoise' house it was quite late in the afternoon. It was a nice house, sitting on its own with secluded walled gardens and the nearest neighbours some fifty yards away. It was a peaceful suburb, seemingly untouched by the ravages of wartime. Françoise and my father helped me down from the ambulance and along the short drive to the steps up to the front door. “Do you think you can manage these?” she asked. There were five stone steps leading up to the porch and then the front door. “I think so, with your help,” I answered, a little worried that they would be difficult should I wish to go outside when there was no-one at home. Françoise must have seen my concern. “Do not worry,” she said with a knowing smile, “The back door opens directly out into the garden. There are no steps there.” “I think you can read minds!” I said with a little chuckle. As I spoke the front door opened and just inside stood two very beautiful young women, both smiling widely. “Bonjour , Mademoiselle, Monsieur. Bienvenue. ” the older one of the two greeted us. “Merci ,” I answered, using my stock reply when I wasn't sure of what was said. “Karen ne parle pas le Francaise ,” Françoise told her and she smiled at me. “Pardon,” she said, “Welcome,” and stepped back to allow us to ...
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