Talent.

The truck was moving over. I had a pocket to lay in to as he crossed the line so I did my scan and moved across too. The eighteen-wheeled car transporter held it's path but then the shape began to seem wrong. The geometry of the wheels gave the illusion of pressing in towards each other and I realised the trailer was in some sort of skid. The cab was snaking back towards the left and the trailer was beginning to move across - a classic jack-knife. Ahead of the transporter was the cause, a small Fiat was being trashed against the central barrier by the front bumper of the truck. Most of the rear end was gone and the windows were crumpling in on themselves. The Ford behind me was out of harms way, if the old lady at the wheel was at least fast enough to jam on the anchors, but the Range Rover next door had a family of four in it...

I had two choices, either beat the cab to the gap at the concrete centre bar or cut back to the edge of the shoulder. Both were good options for me but which would the Rover choose? I toed-and-heeled the car to give me a slide to the right, heading to the back end of the trailer as it began to smoke from the edgewise tires. Rover, give him his due, made a good try at going for the best line for both of us. He was supposed to pass to my rear and follow me around but at the last moment, he bottled out and jammed over to the left. There was nothing for it but to take the punch.

And when it came it was a beauty; Full on the back passenger-side tire and heavy too. I tried to use the steering to hold the vehicle down but it managed to lift me, like being gored by a bull. The flip was enough to let the front dive into the roadway and that was it.

A friend of mine, with whom I often drove, used to talk about the vehicles ahead 'suddenly getting bigger' when we accelerated towards them. It was a good way to think of the field of view especially when one had to keep a picture of the other users around. Now the trailer very suddenly got very big. I had tipped a few cars in my time, but mostly intentionally and mostly in circumstances I was able to control. This time was definitely not a well-controlled moment. The major support beam to the back of the trailer was now directly in my path and I was approaching it fast, tipped over and almost broadside on. I cringed instinctively as our two vehicles met, but like it or not, I was totally unprepared for the noise. I saw the trailer, the road, the Rover (as I was upside down), the sky and then the green slope of the cutting which edged this part of the road. Two or three massive smacks to the side as I tumbled and then, upside down on the roof, I made out a white concrete post which suddenly got to be the very biggest concrete post I had ever seen. The glass and gravel and the plastic 'fixtures,' the grass and mud and noise and dust immediately came to a stop together with me. I remember seeing the steering wheel leap up to knock me a good one across the top teeth and I recall my feet kicking the crap out of the dash board. My blood came out in a fine scarlet spray, sort of like a bar room sneeze when you have a mouth-full of beer. I was well interested in its red colour contrasting with the green of the grass which piled through the front window.

The seat belts held me well. They certainly saved me the dubious pleasure of waggling out the window like a rag doll, they just didn't bother to keep my ribs from snapping. I felt the weight of the car squeezing in on me and then 'pop!'

At times like that, I guess I would have expected to find that everything suddenly went black as I passed into unconsciousness. But that really wasn't the way things went. All along, I thought quite clearly about the events and the fact the other cars must have had quite a time of things too. I knew it would be a matter of only minutes before somebody, anybody would be down to see me. I was hanging upside down in a banged-up motor with my best pearly whites mostly on the outside of my face. I knew my legs had something stuck pretty deeply into them and I had some sort of 'hibachi thing' going on in my chest. I guess the feelings I experienced could have been put down to the way my blood seemed to be leaving my body at a steady and probably unhealthy rate but the situation was never at all clouded by my condition.

There was no pain and because of that I started to panic; there was obviously something bad going on. Surely I should be feeling something?. Perhaps I'd broken my neck? I hurriedly checked myself mentally but I couldn't identify anything wrong with my body at all. It was like the old Dickens line: 'I think there is a pain in this room, but I can't be sure if it is mine or not.'

What I did notice was something out of the ordinary, something out of even the extraordinary. I first saw it in the concrete post which now occupied most of the engine compartment and as a result, most of my field of vision. My nose was only inches from its grey surface. It was like one of those pictures which were so popular in the early eighties, the 'hyper-realism' stuff done with airbrush which were supposed to look like really detailed photos of a scene. The concrete had pores which I could actually see and I could even make out the grains of the sand which had gone in to forming the mix. I saw the strata of the different pours of the slurry which had gone into the post. Even in my rather unpleasant state, I realised this was something which was 'unusual.' I looked at the grass and there too, saw the depth of detail. It was as if I had placed the leaves under a fairly big magnifying glass and had a good old peek at the thing. I carried on for several more long moments (I was told later I was alone there for no more than thirty to forty seconds) and watched, fascinated, as the blood which was pouring quite liberally out of me, gave up it's details too. The platelets, the corpuscles, the plasma contents; at which point I reached some kind of 'critical mess' and the central core seemed to throw a few switches, one huge wobbler and it was 'good night from the band, thanks for coming.'

After such a feeling of academic detachment which accompanied my crash, the next experience was, in my humble opinion, a bloody nasty way to come back to the world. Every one of my shallowest breaths was accompanied by one of the four painful horses of the apocalypse (carrying a cart load of pain behind it), my face was falling off into a bucket and, if there were hells especially for naughty knees, mine had done something really, really bad. There were bandages over most of my upper body too and it would appear my arm was in a sling across my chest. But I was obviously alive and although I was not too happy about the fact at that particular moment, I knew somewhere in the back of my mind that I guess I should be grateful.

I spent the following three or was it four days getting to know the inside of my hospital room, the visits from the police taking statements (and telling me I'd not be charged -- oh, thank you very much Mr. Plod Sir.) and the joys of regular pincushion sessions with a male nurse who'd evidently done his training on horses. He was there to begin the assessments for my recovery, I was glad to find there was no spinal damage and although I did have some fractures, things weren't life threatening. My face was pretty badly cut up and I had the devil's own job to get intelligible sounds out of my mouth. However, with a couple of small casts, one on my left ankle and one on my right elbow, I was pleased when I could get upright enough to hobble off to the can by myself instead of having to endure the ignominy of having Gary 'do for me.'

When Gary informed me he was changing to a new shift rota and I would have to get used to someone new. I had mixed feelings, damn I'd probably have to learn to despise some other sadistic bastard all over again...

Of course, I was being too pessimistic as usual and even though I'd tried to set my face in a mask of bored determination, I'm sure I must have had a look of surprise when my new daytime nurse arrived on her rounds.

Even though my cheeks and brows were trying to see if they could swell enough to touch each other, I could still see through both my eyes. She was your typical nurse, meaning she was gorgeous. Well, OK, so it's a thing I have. Even some right old dogs can look rather attractive when you put them in a nice starched uniform. But believe me, she would have been worthy of a good few second glances even without the uniform. (OK, especially without the uniform!)

She leaned across me to check the needle leading into the back of my hand and then flicked a couple of switches on the monitor at my bedside. She had a hand on the bedsheet next to me and I could detect the fresh scent of the soap she used to wash her hands.

"Shoo shmell nysh" I offered in an attempt to let her know I was awake and she did indeed smell lovely. I especially liked the way the scent seemed to form a halo around her neck and ears and a glow which formed a necklace down the front of her unifor.... Wait a moment! I felt sure I was seeing things!

After checking; I was positive; I was seeing things and, what's more, they were really there too. I was struck it wasn't just that I could smell the scent, I could also see it. There was a sort of diaphanous glow surrounding her body!

"Shh" she said, obviously pleased to see I was conscious. "You'll hurt your mouth, the surgeon has had to do a bit of stitching in there to help you to heal better." The halo wafted around her and I could see it being drawn towards my nostrils as fine wisps.

"I know" I lisped, "..s hurt's a bit... Will I be here f' long?"

"We've been trying to find out if you have anyone who can look after you when you get home Mr. Harvey. I think there's some sort of problem getting a contact." She looked at me to see if I could she any light on the matter.

"M' wife'sh out of th'country" I explained, "on business.. the kids too.." oh God, I hoped this wouldn't go where I thought it might. "She'sh no' c'mming back.." I gave her 'the look' and she decided to drop it.

"OK, no more talking now." She put down the clipboard on the end of my bed, "let's take a look at your chest ."

"I'd rather take a look at yours.." I mumbled, and she looked down the length of her nose at me and gave me one of those 'tolerant' looks I attempted a grin back but the cracking of my lips was enough to make me wince.

As she started to unbutton the pyjama top I was in, I felt it really would be nice to see what the cause of that lovely curvaceous chest actually looked like in the flesh, as it happened, I couldn't look anywhere else anyway so I gave in to myself and had myself a blatant stare.

It began without any feeling of physical change, but I registered something akin to a refocusing of my eyesight. Nurse Martin (as her name tag told me) was standing to the side of my bed, the light from the window framing her figure. She stood about 5'5 or 5'6 and if I had to guess her age, and recognising her authority on this ward, I would put her in her mid to late twenties ("just a few" years younger than me). From where I lay, she had a slope to her chest which indicated a proud bosom at least a "36C" or maybe even a firm "D" cup. Hazel eyes and long lashes, she had a face which hinted of a Celtic ancestor somewhere in the past, something which was likely since she spoke with a soft Southern Irish lilt.. Her dark hair, the colour of chestnuts, was up in a bun and which showed off the beauty of her long neck. A quick glance showed no band on her left hand.

As I looked at her it was as if her clothes began to become less and less distinct. I gasped slightly as, at first, her tunic became softened, the way the objects in (say) a drop of pond water under a microscope come in and out of focus. With my eyes blinking , I followed her around the room, totally intrigued with the vision of beauty who was finishing her checks on the equipment. She was used to this sort of ogling attention from her male 'customers' and so it was nothing she was bothered with. She simply ignored me and got on with her work. I gently 'removed' the layers of her dress like unwrapping a Christmas present. The cotton tee-shirt underneath, the nylons and there she was, in all her glory.

Her skin had a light golden colour which was almost completely without blemishes. Her figure was statuesque but not overly muscled. Rather, it was evident she took her fitness very, very seriously. The magnificent globes of her breasts were encased and supported by a pretty lace bra which although worn for simple functionality, was perfectly fitted and lifted her assets to provide a deep cleavage (I did have a peek at her nakedness, but I happen to think a woman can look her best in such sweet underwear; anyhow, quick peeks were nice to be able to tantalise myself with). The matching pink cotton panties were cut high and cupped her mons closely. I could see how delicately trimmed the dark curls of her sex were inside the fabric, around the slight cleft of her labia. Fuck, she was good!

As far as I was concerned. she was completely gorgeous and could have even been moonlighting as a model. I could feel my mouth filling with saliva as I lay there drinking in the vision. It must've been difficult for her to avoid seeing the bump in the bedclothes. I could see her eyes were darting more often towards the lump my cock was making. She smirked and it was evident most guys she dealt with would greet her thus. I could see the scent from lower down her body and began to actively attempt to get the smell of her sex. The glowing wisps began to drift towards me and soon I was certainly able to make out the lovely musky flavour of clean cunt.

As I began to concentrate on the source of the lovely smell, I noticed I could actually affect the control of the juices she was making there. By causing an increase in her arousal, the flow increased subtly, accompanied by an increase in the blood flow to her pussy-lips. They began to slacken and peel apart. The moisture was beginning to show on the front of her panties as a tiny, darker spot. Looking closely, I could make out the tiny bud of her clitty just beginning to push out of its hood. As I watched her crotch and defined more and more, the increased arousal there, she began to show more signs of agitation. Her wet tongue made movements along her top lip and left her mouth glistening. Her eyes sparkled with a realisation she was getting turned on. Her thighs began to squeeze together as she stood in front of me, checking the wiring to the monitors. Her breath was deeper than before and I lay basking in the glorious scent of her arousal and the sight of her body. I was laying there with a direct connection to her sexual response and simply pushing the hormones into her. She was having trouble keeping her breathing under control and it was obviously upsetting her normal composure to be so attracted to a patient and especially on her first encounter.

"Are you feeling OK nurse?" I asked.

"Wha..? oh sure, sure" She shook her head as if to clear things. Finally she seemed to get a hold of her emotions and forced her professionalism to the fore.

"That's all at the moment Mr. Harvey" she pronounced as she shakily slid the pen into the top of the clipboard and hooked it over the end of my bed. She obviously wanted to keep things on a professional basis and although she allowed herself the luxury of one longer-than-necessary glance at what was evidently my growing arousal, she fought hard to concentrate on me as a patient.

I grinned and held out my one good arm to shake her hand. She was warm and had a firm grip.

"Nice to meet you" I said and she smiled back warmly. She busied herself with re-tucking the covers at the side of my bed, bending away from me slightly. "And I like that shade of pink in your undies" said I with a grin.

She stood quickly and turned to face me, smiling at my outrageous behaviour, slightly blushing.

"Enough of your cheek, get some rest and try to get better."

It was certain though, she quite enjoyed the flirtation. Her ass had tipped up almost imperceptibly towards me as an apparent offering as she turned to leave. She pulled the door closed behind her and I could see her looking back into the room through the door's window. She was probably wondering how it was I could make such a heck of a good guess; she tried to take a quick peek over her shoulder to see if she was showing too much detail through her skirt. She shrugged and probably supposed she must look like the sort of girl who wore pink. As it was, I realised I could at that moment, tell her the exact shade of pink better than she could herself.

I lay there under my sheet, making a tent. This crash was definitely not without its benefits. I realised something had certainly happened to my head but what it was, I had no idea. Strangely enough, there was no feeling of surprise I could do these things. I simply knew I could make some things happen and it was just a question of just what limits these powers might have.

It was a long night, I lay back and let my mind explore itself until sometime in the wee small hours I drifted away to sleep.