With steady rain falling, Jack was glad to be in the cafe rather than getting soaked. He decided to spin out another coffee and do some writing, something he did often, to keep his mind active.

Jack was soon busy with his latest erotic story, creativity being unlike memory, dexterity, and mobility, which had all been affected by his neurological issues. His imagination was still in full working order.

Jack concentrated on his creativity; he always did, but it was broken by the creak of the cafe's door opening. Jack glanced up, smiling immediately, as his mind spun back twenty-four hours. Her shopping bag had split as Jack had been tying his shoelace, and as she had bent down to gather her items, her buttocks had brushed against his face.

Rose had blushed at the incident, and Jack had apologised, but she had smiled as he helped her put her items into the carrier bag he had used to carry his story notebook.

Rose was delighted to see Jack in the cafe. She had felt embarrassed by her mishap and she realised later she had forgotten to thank him for his kindness.

"Hello again. It's me, Rose, the bag lady," Rose said with a smile. Jack returned the greeting, wondering if he was about to say something he shouldn't, as he often did.

"Hello, Rose. Yes, I remember. My face and your bottom met briefly," Jack said, raising his eyebrows theatrically as he introduced himself.

When Rose felt her face warming, it didn't surprise her; it happened often, but when she heard the sound of her own giggles of laughter that Jack had brought forth, this certainly did.

'I haven't giggled like that since...' Rose thought to herself, her mind awakened by Jack's cheeky comment.

Rose decided to sit next to Jack; her mind focused again on thanking him for helping her the previous day.

"Thank you so much for yesterday, Jack," Rose said after asking a waitress for a coffee.

"You're welcome," Jack replied, noticing that Rose appeared curious about the paper and pen on the table beside him.

"They're just stories I write to keep me busy. I have to exercise my brain. It's like doing physio on your mind when it's been damaged."

Rose liked to escape with some reading in the evening. She loved a good crime story, despite being robbed at night leaving her chronically shy and fearful of darkness.

"I love a crime novel. My reading helps me to feel less bitter about being trapped by fear. Perhaps it will be the key to overcoming it. I hope so. I'm not the sort of person who gives in easily, and it sounds as if you're not either." Rose said, realising she was talking to Jack with an openness she hadn't shown for a long time.

"It seems we've both found a way for the written word to have a positive effect," Jack said in reply.

It came as no surprise to Jack that the next thing he heard was Rose asking him about his writing. He had been in the same situation before, although he always tried to make his answer appropriate to the situation in which it arose.

"My stories are erotic fiction. They're never designed to shock; just entertain those who find such adventures pleasant to read. Many of them are quite gentle with the ground they cover. It reflects my own love of emotions over graphic extremes and taboo topics." Jack explained.

Although Rose had spoken truthfully about her passion for crime stories, she also enjoyed the escapism of erotica from time to time. Whenever she had made reference to her preferences when chatting with fellow readers online, she had always tried to explain her love of gentle erotic stories using the same distinctions Jack had just done. Hearing his words was, in itself, a very erotic moment.

"I love to be gently excited by an erotic writer," Rose said, feeling her burden of shyness floating into the distance magically as she spoke.

Jack put the stories he wrote onto a website for people who enjoyed reading them. His style varied, as did the level of the action, and he enjoyed the idea of being able to offer people a choice in how graphically everything was described.

"Gentle is fun to write because it gives you more time to spend on emotions, anticipation, and descriptions, at least it does for this enthusiastic but inexperienced hobby wordsmith," Jack explained.

Rose was drawn to the words she heard, although her shyness restricted her to a smile. Jack felt if he offered Rose an opportunity she could take safely, it might be what she was looking for. but that she didn't feel able to voice.

"I could write a piece and send it to you, so you could get a better flavour of what I'm about, I'd tell you to look at the stories I've uploaded to the erotic fiction website, but they haven't been put there with you in mind. It's just a thought; if it's not one you're happy with, you'll just change the subject, and we can agree it's a closed topic," Jack said.

Rose felt the care and consideration Jack had put into his words would be reflected in anything he did for her. The ease with which she decided to give him her email address felt like a triumph to her, and she told Jack she would look out for his message as long as the subject field made it obvious the content was from him.

"'Escapism from a kissed bottom owner.' How does that sound?" Jack asked.

Rose smiled and nodded. It was all she could do; she was giggling too much to say 'perfect' out loud.

Jack explained that Rose should have her message in a few hours and that he hoped what she read would make her smile in the way he hoped.

"I'm not very confident by nature, but I'm quietly optimistic," Rose said with just a little flutter of her eyelashes.

Jack wrote often, but something made him want to put his best game into his latest effort. He was an enthusiastic amateur and did not pretend otherwise, but Rose had stirred a desire in him to show any skill he had.

Rose returned home from the cafe thinking about the small piece of escapism that would be coming her way. In many ways, it was the fact that Jack wanted to write for her that she found to be the most satisfying part of everything, although she realised reading his words might change what held the top spot in this regard.

Jack wrote his personalised short piece on his computer. He hoped it would be something Rose would enjoy. He knew he would find out one way or another in due course.

When Rose saw a message with the agreed-upon title arrive for her, she wanted to lie on her bed to read it. She understood it was a taster, just to test the water, but by the time she had finished reading, she knew she wanted more.

"Thank you for the taster, Jack, It was just right. I'm imagining getting a full story already, but I'm sure you're in demand," Rose typed with a very nice feeling indeed.

"You've got a VIP pass, so there are no queues for you. I'll give you an update on my progress tomorrow if you slip in for a coffee," Jack replied, with 'slip in' and a smiley emoji at the bottom of his message.

As Jack began work on his priority order, Rose was talking to her best friend, Jess, on the phone, She felt a little guilty about keeping the news about Jack quiet, but she felt she needed to trust her instincts and share the joy of having done so with others, if all went well.

Jack's ideas and words flowed as he typed his story, and he soon had a complete effort typed up. He checked it several times to make sure he had kept within the boundaries he wanted to and was eager to get Rose to give her permission to send it to her the next time he saw her. Rose just wished it was tomorrow already.

Rose woke the next morning to the realisation she had enjoyed a very vivid erotic dream in her sleep. She did have them from time to time, but this was especially vivid, and she felt sure the previous day had prompted everything.

When Rose and Jack met in the cafe, Jack showed her his phone and sent his story to her email before her eyes. Once this had been done, the conversation was filled with topics other than erotica, which Rose appreciated, even though she desperately wanted to read Jack's tailor-made story.

Once she had returned home, Rose stripped naked and made herself comfortable on the bed. Her fingers were poised for action, and she looked at her computer and began to read.

Rose began to read, and her heartbeat raced almost immediately. Jack set the scene with his words in a way that escalated the feeling of anticipation in her body. She could feel her cheeks redden as Jack described a slow, full-body massage in beautiful detail. It was wonderfully erotic, gentle, and slow, just as Rose needed it.

Rose read of Jack's touch on her shoulders and the slow kiss on her lips. She felt them both and read the paragraphs several times. She could see his fingertips stroking her as she read. It was deeply erotic for her.

The slow pace of Jack's massage in the story filled Rose with belief and optimism. She would need to remember to tell Jack of her growing certainty that she wouldn't need a toy or her fingers to complete her journey, but her focus was on the words she was reading, for now.

Rose marvelled at the way Jack had chosen his words. They were beautiful; the only ones used outside those of everyday speech were ones selected to emphasise the building of sweet arousal she was beginning to enjoy in reality. Rose wasn't just smiling; she was purring and sighing continually.

"Beautiful, Jack," Rose said in a whisper to her empty room.

Rose felt the touch Jack described falling on her breasts and aroused nipples as if it were so much more than words on a screen. To Rose, it was. Her mind and body were at the mercy of Jack's story, and she loved every second of her escape.

Jack's words described a touch that smoothed across Rose's breasts and nipples and detailed the emotion attached perfectly. Rose was now wet with excitement, and her body tingled with arousal as pictures swam inside her head to sounds of contentment from her lips.

Rose could bring herself to climax easily now, she knew that, but the idea of Jack's words being the sole provider was something that could make her release from her pain even more memorable. It would not be a failure, should fingers or a toy be deployed, but what if...

Jack's massage dwelt for age on Rose's breasts and nipples in the story, and Rose had no complaints about that whatsoever. He had written about erect nipples, sensations on her torso, and a wet excitement thumping inside her body. Rose had them all.

"I'm getting so, so, close," Rose said as she spoke to the empty room again and prepared to read herself to heaven.

Jack had built in some clear markers for pause and reflection into his story, although Rose was now finding it difficult to disrupt her appetite for his words. Her body was now hot with arousal, and she felt rivers of desire washing over her hard clit and her plumped lips with a moan.

Rose read Jack's description of fingertips slipping down her body and deep kisses on her lips with intensifying excitement. She felt every touch of the massage's descent and each fresh kiss shared. The pictures in her mind were clear and beautiful to see.

"Take me there," Rose said, feeling Jack's presence beside her as she read.

When a light touch parted her lips and slipped into her body, Rose filled the room with erotic noise. As she read of fingertips circling inside her and brushing her eager clit, she moaned and writhed with joy.

Rose read of fingers pumping inside her and her body gripping them as they thrust. In reality, she felt her body ignite and go into spasm with a loud shriek and a toss of her head; her arms and legs flailed as she felt the surge of erotic energy explode.

She writhed, she cried out, and she climaxed beautifully.

The moment Rose felt herself reach the glory of her treasured goal was like a re-birth and discovery of the person she thought she could never be again. Forces of delight swept away every negative barrier in her mind and she felt her hot cheeks soothed by tears of joy that ran from her eyes.

Rose twisted, yelled, and shouted her way through a liberating climax she knew she would treasure forever. She spent an hour lying on her bed, re-living it all in her mind, finally rising to her feet, feeling ecstatic.

That night, Rose sent a long email to Jack, telling him she would always remember what he had done for her and that he had asked for nothing in return. Jack felt the message had a feeling of closure to it, and when he didn't see Rose on his next visits to the cafe, he had the confirmation his belief had been correct.

Jack's routine remained unchanged. A week after Rose had read his story, a young woman approached Jack as he was writing in the cafe.

"Hello, you're Jack, aren't you?" the young woman asked.

Jack said nothing, feeling a little more information was needed before he replied.

"I'm sorry, how rude of me. I'm Jess; Rose is my best friend, can I talk to you for a moment? It's nothing bad, quite the opposite, but I'd be so pleased if you'd let me just have five minutes to tell you something," Jess said hopefully.

Jack invited Jess to sit with him, and she wasted no time.

"Rose asked me to talk to you. She told me all about your story. She also spared no details with her description of the fun she had enjoyed with it. I know she told you that she had a bad time in the past, and she certainly did. What you did for her was special, Jack, and, like Rose, I will always remember this. She told me she felt sure you'd understand that her place is in the real world now, but she explained that whatever happens, she will always look back at this time happily." Jess explained.

Jack listened to what Jess had to say with no sadness or regret, and his response reflected this.

"I'm so pleased to know Rose has someone like you around her who would go to the trouble of helping her in the way you are doing now. I just came along at the right time and feel privileged to have done so."

As Jess got up to leave, she passed Jack the details of a media link Rose had asked Jess to give to Jack if she got to speak to him.

Jack waited until he got home to access what Rose had wanted him to see. It was a video of Rose smiling as a sound file of her enjoying her climax after reading Jack's story played in the background.

Jack smiled, nodded his head, and felt that it was just the perfect way to move on.