"The surgical site is healing nicely," Lynne Casey said, handing Blair back his clothes. "Everything seems headed back to normal."
"Great!" Blair enthused, hopping off the exam table.
"Slow down there a minute." Lynne grabbed his arm as he headed toward the door and turned him back facing her. "Restricted activity for another week." At the crestfallen look on her patient's face, she added, "You can be up and around, take some short walks, but be really careful not to over exert yourself. What happened to you was a major event. Your body is going to take time to heal completely."
"How long?"
"You can increase your activity a bit each week, but not beyond what feels comfortable. I don't want you pushing yourself, or to hear you've entered any marathons. I suspect things will be back to normal around Christmas." She grinned and shook a finger at both men in turn. "And no sex."
"What?" Blair blurted out. "Oh, come on, Lynne. Have a little mercy here."
"Okay, here's the deal: foreplay and petting's okay, but no orgasms for this one," she said, pointing at Blair, "and definitely no penetrative sex until I've given the all clear. I want to see you again in three weeks. We'll reevaluate from there."
Jim studied his partner. "Can you live with that?"
"Do I have a choice?" the younger man groused.
"No, you do not," the doctor answered emphatically. "Now get dressed and get out of here. I'm sure you have better things to do than hang around here. Oh, and have a happy Thanksgiving," she called to the retreating pair.
Thanksgiving morning:
The early hours of the chilly November morning found Blair spooned warmly up against his lover's larger body as he held their daughter to his breast while she nursed. The family was buried under a fluffy down comforter, dozing, enjoying the thought of sleeping in.
A key rattled in the front door which soon swung open. Sentinel hearing caught the noise, and Jim was instantly alert. He sat up in bed, slipping a hand under his pillow for his service revolver.
"What is it?" a muzzy voice asked from beneath the comforter.
The intruder bustled in, a large roasting pan securely gripped in tiny, wrinkled hands, and pushed the door shut with her foot.
Jim pulled his hand from under his pillow, leaving the gun where it hid. "Mrs. McGinty!" he called over the railing. "What are you doing here?" . . . so early? his thoughts added.
The old woman clucked. "You and your young man just go back to sleep. I've got a big bird here. Have to start roasting early if we're going to eat before midnight." She continued to bustle around the kitchen for a few minutes before heading back to the door. "I'll be back in a couple hours to baste the turkey and get the fixings started," she called from the doorway.
As the door clicked shut, Blair rolled over, eyeing his partner. "How'd she get in?"
"When you were in the hospital, I gave her a spare key. She was helping out over here so much. . . . I guess I just forgot to ask for it back."
Blair grinned up at Jim. "Well, do you want to take her up on sleeping in, or. . . ?"
"Or what?" Jim asked when Blair stopped speaking.
"Or take Lynne up on that clearance she gave me yesterday?" He grinned mischievously as he reached over, lightly grazing his partner's morning erection.
Jim quickly scooped the sleeping Laurene into his arms and deposited her in the bassinet they kept in the upstairs bedroom for when the need arose, and returned to the waiting arms of his lover.
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