I was at the Seattle airport with several hours to kill before my flight left. My business meeting in town went well and wound up very early. I was walking around watching people when I spotted her.
A very attractive women, she was possibly mid thirties, about 5-8, wearing a light grey business suit, her skirt came down to just above her knee. She was gliding along, very gracefully on crutches. She wore a grey, pointed toe, sling back pump on her right foot with a three inch heel. She wore black stockings, the right was sheer, and the left, opaque so that it was not transparent as the left, but it did show every curve of her foot as well as outline her toes She did not wear a shoe on her left foot which appeared to have very little movement.
Trying to appear that I was wandering to kill time, I decided to follow this woman and enjoy how she walked on her crutches with grace and ease. At one point, while crossing a large open area, I noticed that the strap on her shoe had fallen off of her heal, and it appeared as if she would walk out of her shoe. She took about ten steps and then stopped, looking perplexed as what to do next.
I approached her from the rear and came along side of her and said; “You look like you need a hand.”
In a slightly startled voice, she said, “Oh, - yes, the strap on my shoe slipped down and I’m afraid that the shoe might come off, and having only one good leg, cause me to fall.”
“I can fix it for you, if you want,” I replied, trying not to sound too eager.
“That would be wonderful, if you don’t mind,” she answered.
I bent down and very carefully slid the sling back up on to her heel. She had beautiful legs, the left, was just as fully formed as the right. It made me wonder why she was using crutches.
As I got back up, I said, “That should hold you for a while, if you wish, I can walk with you just in case it slides back down again.”
“Tell you what,” she answered, “why don’t you walk with me to the bar, my treat for you being so kind? I have a couple of hours until my flight leaves.”
“That sounds good, but it is not necessary for you to treat,” I said.
“Don’t worry, I can expense this,” she said.
“Well, if you insist, I haven’t walked with a pretty woman yet today,” I said.
Then she said, “Pretty from the waist up, but we can continue this conversation over a drink.”
“That’s fine,” I said, “but I still think you are pretty,” and we headed off to a bar that was about fifty yards from where we were standing. Again, she seemed to float effortlessly on her crutches. Her left ankle was bent down slightly so that her toes were only an inch off of the floor. This probably was why she wore a heel, or she thought it was sexy, and it was.
We entered a bar and chose a high table in a corner. I pulled her stool out and turned the seat so that she could climb on.
“Would you hold these?” she said as she handed me her crutches. With one hand on the seat of the bar stool and the other on the table, she bent her right knee slightly and then hopped up on the stool. During all of this, her left leg hung motionless.
I then leaned her crutches against a vacant stool and sat next to her, and said, “You do that very well, like you have had a lot of practice.”
“Pretty soon, it will be a year,” she said, “By the way name is Carol Jean, but most people simply call me CJ.”
A waitress took our drink orders and I introduced myself, and said, “Are the crutches permanent?”
“No, at least I hope not,” she replied.
CJ then went on to tell me how she was riding a motorcycle while going through a gentle left turn, a car from the other direction crossed the centerline and struck her exactly on her left leg. She then swerved toward a car on her right and instinctively tried to avoid it by holding out her right foot. The cycle did contact the car on the right, and then she bounced off and went into the oncoming traffic where she was struck again, in the left leg.
“My left leg was shattered, and my right ankle was broken in two places,” she said. “Other than some bangs and bruises, those were my only injuries. At first, the doctors wanted to take my left leg off at the hip, but we agreed to at least try to rebuild it for now. They then took me to surgery, and when I woke up, both legs were casted from toe to top, the cast extended up either side and then it circled me from hip to breast.”
“You poor dear,” I blurted out, and then I wish I hadn’t said that because of what she was to say next...
“I still have the leg,” CJ went on, “if we can only get it to work. I just got out of a full length cast two weeks ago, but there is some paralysis, and the muscles have atrophied from being casted for almost a year. I have a brace that permits me to walk slightly, because I cannot move the leg very much. I am doing some heavy therapy which will get me walking again. I got used to crutches, and since they are faster than what I can do with the brace, I like to use them. Besides, I like to wear high heels, always have, although with the way my leg hangs down, it is a necessity.”
“I give you a lot of credit,” I said. “How long were you in the double casts, unless you are not comfortable talking about it.”
“Not at all,” CJ said, “the worst is behind me now. I had the two casts for two months. They took all of that off and did surgery on the left leg and then put it in a full length cast again. My right leg was good, but I did therapy to regain the strength in it.”
CJ went on to tell me that she was a sales rep for a cosmetics company and traveled a fair amount. “I’m sure that you use you employer’s products, the must be very good, you are very striking.”
“Thank you,” CJ said, “ I do use them. In fact, when I had my accident we were in the end of a development program for foot care. I tested a moisturizing cream on my casted toes to see how it would help the skin from drying out.”
“How did it do?” I asked.
“Fabulous,” CJ exclaimed, “In fact, I used to wear a sock on the cast while I was working, but when the president of the company saw how good the skin was, he suggested that I not wear a sock to show off my sexy toes and wear a sandal on my good foot. I had several surgeries after that, each time being put back in a full length cast with crutches.”
I could not resist the opportunity to ask: “Why do you wear an opaque stocking on your left leg? Would you not want to show your pretty toes now?”
“That’s a good question,” CJ said. “The toes are still very nice, but the leg is a mass of scars and discoloration, so it is best that it not be seen for now.”
“That was a cruel question, I am sorry that I asked it,” I said.
CJ went on, “It is not a problem, you are curious, and that is cute, and I do not mind talking about any of this, so don’t feel bad. Like I said, I still have the leg.”
Our glasses were empty when the waitress came by, and CJ said: “Bring my friend another Martini, I’ll have club soda so that I can maneuver my crutches.”
CJ lifted her left leg onto a stool opposite her, and then crossed her right leg over. She flexed her ankle a couple of times and the heel strap on the shoe came down causing her shoe to dangle. I had all I could do to control my excitement of this gorgeous sight. She knew that I was enjoying the show and gave me an impish grin.
We talked about things in general for a few minutes, while she swung her right leg with the dangling shoe. She said that she was from Chicago.
“No kidding,” I exclaimed, “so am I.” Her flight was at seven PM to Midway, and mine was at 8:30 to O’Hare.
I was curious, “What was it like when you first started on crutches?” I asked.
“To be honest,” she began, “I was a little afraid, but once I got used to them, it wasn’t bad. I only needed to build up some more upper body strength, which I did at the hospital, and now its like they are a part of me. And, I must say that I enjoy the attention, for example, from someone next to me.”
CJ continued to flex her right ankle until the shoe fell to the floor.
“I’ll get it,” I said, wanting to get a good look at her right foot, since her toes looked great from a distance.
“No, sit still,” she said, “although that shoe is very comfortable, it won’t hurt to go without it for a little while; and besides, I think that you are enjoying the show.”
I felt sheepish and said, “you are right, sorry, I just enjoy the beauty of the female foot.”
‘There is nothing to apologize for,” she answered, “You are honest, and I sort of like having someone admire my foot.”
“It is beautiful,” I shot back. “But what about this pretty from the waist up?”
“Well,” she started, “Having a leg that does not work, and needs to be covered so the damage cannot be seen isn’t taken as pretty.”
“I don’t agree, I answered, “Pretty encompasses the whole person, and since the leg will work eventually, it does not detract from the whole person.”
“Okay, I will take a man’s word for it, you are very kind.”
CJ then began, “I’m going to go to the customer counter across the lobby to check-in, why don’t you stay her and hold our table? I’ll be right back.”
Quick as a flash, CJ hopped off of he stool, grabbed her crutches, slid back into her shoe, then asked: “Will you pull the strap up over my heel?”
I willingly complied.
About ten minutes later, I spotted CJ gliding across the lobby with a disgusted look on her face. “Mine was the last flight out to Midway and it is cancelled, so they are putting me up for the night at the Marriott. They wanted to put me on a 6 AM flight tomorrow, but that’s too early, especially since it takes longer to get ready in this condition, and I need to call a bellman to handle my bag at the hotel,……Waitress…….two more Martinis please.”
“How will you handle your bag here at the airport to the hotel shuttle?” I asked.
“The airline gave me a courtesy voucher that I can give to a skycap to handle my bag to the hotel shuttle, its for $10.”
Our drinks arrived, and I said: “Tell you what, if you are interested, if my flight is in a overbook situation, I’ll take the bump and give you a hand to the shuttle, what do you think?”
“That would be sweet, and thank you,” CJ cheered up. “But why only to the van? See if you can get a room at the Marriott, and if not, you can bunk with me.”
Was this a dream? Spending the night with this beauty? Did she offer so as to get my assistance, my company? Did she have other interests, I hopped so, but did not push that issue.
“Your turn to watch the table,” I said. “I’m going to check in and try my luck.”
I arrived at my gate and the agent was making an announcement that she needed ten volunteers to give up their seats in exchange for a future round trip. No one got up, so I approached and said: “I will volunteer, but, lets do this now instead of waiting.”
“No problem, Mr. Williams, I know that I have a problem with this flight and I need your seat right now.”
“Where will I spend the night?” I asked.
She looked in her computer and said, “Usually, Hilton, but there others.”
“How about Marriott?”
“Well, we normally fill Hilton first, and then go to others, but for you, we will choose Marriott.”
Again, was this a dream.
I returned to the bar and from a distance saw CJ staring into space with no expression on her face, until she spotted me, the she was beaming.
“How did you make out?” she asked.
“I, my dear will be at the Marriott, and more than happy to assist you in anything that you need. Just tell me how I can make it easier for you.”
CJ stopped and thought for a minute; “I assume that you are not married,” she stated.
“Right,” I was eager to answer, “Are you?”
“I was, for a short time,” she said, but he got weird and was running around, so we split; I’m really happy to hear that you are not.”
“Thank you,” I answered, feeling that I was making progress. “Would you like another drink, or shall we split for the hotel?”
“I better not,” CJ answered slowly, “remember, I have to navigate out of here on crutches, retrieve my bag, and get to the hotel shuttle.”
CJ had already taken care of the bill, so we headed for the tram to take us to the main terminal. Once there, I said, “If you give me your claim check, you can wait here while I get your bag, I’d be happy to,”
“I’ll wait by the newsstand.”
After getting CJ’s bag from baggage service, I approached the newsstand and saw her slowly swinging among the aisles looking and magazines and paperbacks. It was amazing how gracefully she wove her way around other patrons, sometimes sidestepping on her crutches, all in an effortless manner, and that poor left leg hanging motionless. I just hoped that it would be temporary as she had said.
She did not spot me at first as I admired her fluid motion, but about one minute later she did, and said: “Oh hi, I was just looking for something to read on the airplane tomorrow; but nothing caught my eye.” She then came closer to me.
“Are you sure you weren’t putting on a show for some poor guy who will have to buy a magazine, have it put in a bag, so he can hold the bag over his fly to conceal an erection?” I asked.
CJ paused for a few seconds, and said in a mocking voice, “Darn, you read that right, are you angry?”
“Not at all,” I shot back, “if doing that helps you get over the discouragement of having only one good leg, so be it.”
“You really have me pegged, don’t you,” CJ answered. “Yes, that does ease some of the emotional pain, and I’m glad that you realize that, other wise you might think that I am a tramp.”
“No way, let’s go. I can get you a wheelchair to make it easier,” I said.
With emphasis, CJ said: “Definitely not, I spent two weeks in a wheelie, and never again, but thank you for offering.”
As we went our way, CJ talked of how her friends always wanted to fix her up with a man. One in particular called and said her got her name and number from a friend. He asked if she wanted to meet for a drink. She said OK, but asked if the friend told him that she was on crutches. The guy said, that he would call her in a month or two. She told him not to bother.
CJ climbed into the hotel bus ahead of me. The seats ran the length along either side. CJ went to the rear where she could grab hold of a pole. She handed me her crutches, grabbed the pole and sat. The floor of the bus was somewhat dirty, after all it was the end of the day. CJ moved her right foot under her left ankle and lifted her left foot so it was not on the floor, a brilliant maneuver. She noticed that I was watching.
“Nice move, don’t you think?” she asked. “I’ve had a lot of practice.”
I gave her a wink and a smile as the bus started to move.
We arrived at the Marriott, and four male passengers indicated that we go ahead of them. CJ graciously insisted that they get off so we would not hold them up.
The female clerk at the check-in desk watched us approach, and as we neared her position she said, “Wow, aren’t crutches a royal pain.”
“Not really,” CJ answered, “They are my best buddies, otherwise I’d be in a wheelie.”
The clerk then replied, “Yeah, I guess you are right.” She wasn’t the brightest light in the package.
We presented our vouchers, and she said: “I can give you adjoining rooms, but they are not in the price covered by the voucher.”
CJ responded, “That’s not fair, when I was given this voucher, the airline rep saw that I used crutches and made no mention of charges for special needs.”
Another clerk, possibly a management type heard the conversation and intervened, “Let me handle that, Miss Brown,” he said, and Miss Brown left the counter. “We will not charge the additional amount, and let me apologize for Miss Brown’s insensitivity. I am going to give you vouchers for two drinks each in our lounge, and again, my apologies.”
“Why, thank you,” CJ said.
I took our key cards and we started off for our adjoining rooms.
Once inside CJ’s room, I unlocked her side of the door to my room, and then went around through my room and unlocked it from my side and joined CJ who had kicked off her shoe and was sitting on a bed.
“How about if we go down for dinner in an hour, I need to make some phone calls,” CJ said.
“Fine with me,” I said, “I need to make one or two also.”
I completed my calls, and must have dozed off to be awakened by the room phone ringing. “Hey, sleepyhead, this is CJ next door, how about dinner?”
I jumped up slipped into my shoes and went next door. CJ was standing next to her bed, somewhat awkward putting all of her weight on her good leg, and zipping up the jeans that she had changed into. She had removed her hose and was now wearing white cotton socks on both feet.
“Hi,” she said, “here catch.”
She tossed me a shoe, blue suede clog with a four inch spiked heel and a pointed toe. There were laces on the instep area.
“What do I do with this?” I asked.
“Well, if I had the mate you could wear them,” she answered as she sat back down on the bed and held her right foot out, “you can do the honors, foot lover.”
I bent over and took her ankle with my left hand and slid the shoe on her foot with my right hand, “ready for drinks and then dinner?’ I asked.
“You bet,” she said as I helped her up.
“Do you ever wear a shoe on your left foot?” I asked.
“I tried,” CJ answered, “Both shoes should match other wise it doesn’t look good. Right after I got out of the cast, I put a black pump on the left foot, it hurt like hell but I tried it for a little while at home. The heel kept catching and digging into the carpet. I went to a shoemaker who removed the heel and put plastic cover where the heel was. That made it ok for walking but my foot hurt too much. After being casted for so long it probably will be l little while before I can wear both shoes. Do you think it would look better if I wore a shoe?”
“In fact,” I began, “I like your left foot shoeless, with that black stocking, all of the features of your foot and toes were visible, although the scars and such were not.”
On the way down to the restaurant, we talked of what we did in the past hour, mostly business.
The hostess at the restaurant did not have any tables ready, so we went to the bar. Just as before, CJ hopped up on a stool as if she did this all her life. She leaned her crutches against the bar as I mounted my stool and we faced each other.
I noticed that the left leg of her jeans had a zipper, almost concealed, running from the bottom to just above her knee. She saw that I had noticed it and said: “Oh, that. It made getting into these jeans a lot easier if I unzipped the left leg and slid it over my cast and then running the zipper down. I had zippers put in four pairs of jeans or pants that were tight on the cast other wise I probably would never get them on or off.”
“I’m curious about something,” I said.
“What’s that?” CJ inquired.
“Your doctor knew that your leg was not functional, did he not realize that with a flat shoe it would drag on the floor?”
“He did,” she answered, “He gave me a work order to take to an orthopedic technician for a shoe with a thick sole, but I never had it made. Maybe its pride, or whatever, they are heavier than my high heels, and besides, I like heels. Sounds a little vain doesn’t it.”
I took a sip, and said that it wasn’t vain at all, as long as she could handle wearing a heel all of the time.
Later, during dinner, CJ was seated across the table from me, when I felt a shoeless foot working up my inner thigh. “I hope that that is your right foot,” I said as I closed my thighs together to stop her from going up higher.
“It would be a miracle if it were my left,” she said, “and no fair stopping it from coming closer.”
With that, I relaxed my thighs to allow her lovely foot to explore as far as it wanted to.
“I feel some movement up here,” she said, I have a place for him later on, okay?”
“Definitely,” I said, only if you are sure you want to.”
“Your mother did teach you a lot of manners,” she went on, “yes, I do want to.”
After dinner we proceeded to our rooms. I unlocked CJ’s door, let her in, and went to my room, sat on the bed, and kicked off my shoes.
“There was a voice coming from the adjoining doorway, “Can anyone here help a crippled girl get undressed?” she said.
Without speaking, I got up, she was still in the doorway, we kissed, and CJ tuned and went next to her bed. She unbuttoned and unzipped her jeans, let them fall, sat on the bed and held up her right leg. “Socks first,” she said.
I first removed her right sock and lowered her leg to the floor. Then taking the left, raised it and removed that sock. This was the first time I saw those toes and they were as lovely as the right foot. There were two scars near the ankle bone, I gently lowered her foot to the floor.
I then took her jeans and pulled them off. There were three more scars on her calf, one on either side of her knee, and another just above her knee.
“I hope that seeing that mess doesn’t upset you,” she said.
“Not at all,” I answered, “I am carried away by the whole person.”
CJ was unbuttoning her blouse, and I said that I was going to my room to undress and hang my clothes so they would not look a mess in the morning.
“Hurry back!” she said.
When I returned, CJ was naked except for an oversized T shirt that came down to her upper thighs and lying on the bed on her left side. She was moving her right leg as if exercising. I took a position facing her and she started stroking my legs with her foot.
My erection popped up instantly as I massaged her breasts. She was turned on almost instantly as we kissed.
“You have done so much for me, why don’t you lie on your back and let me do the work,” she whispered.
“If you want to, and if you are able, that’s ok,” I said.
I went on my back and CJ rolled over me with a little difficulty. “Can you use your foot and move my bad leg to the side?” she asked.
I slowly moved her leg to my right until she said stop. Planting her hands on the bed below my shoulders, and using her right leg, she rose up and slowly lowered herself until I was inside her. She moaned with pleasure and some how began rising up and down , but I knew that she was tiring because she had some difficulty rising, and she came down hard. With only her right leg to provide the movement, she sagged on the left side as that leg was of no use.
“I’m sorry, I don’t think that I can do it this way,” she said. The dead leg is no help rising and then is like a weight pulling me down.”
“That’s all right,” I said, “let me do the work.”
CJ rolled off and went to her back. I got up off of the bed and went to move her left leg to the side again.
“Thank you,” she said. I climbed aboard, and it did not take long for us to reach ecstasy at the same time.
After about a minute or so, we rolled so that we were on our sides, I with my right side on the bed.
“That was incredible,” CJ said.
The next thing, I was awakened by CJ’s phone, she had left a wake-up call for six AM..
We both dressed in our own rooms, then I went to CJ’s to see if she needed assistance. She was ready to go, bag packed, wearing a dark blue suit with matching pants and a black pump.
We went down to the lobby and checked out. At breakfast, CJ said, “You are a little quiet this morning, is anything wrong?”
“Maybe,” I said, “I feel as though I took advantage of you last night.”
“Advantage?” she shot back. “If you remember, I started it at dinner, and it was I that called you to my room and my bed.
“That’s right,” I said, “but…
CJ cut in, “Do you mean, poor crippled girl, never has love because she is not like everyone else, she needs crutches to walk, can’t carry her bag on trips, has to camouflage her leg because it is ugly, has to……
“Please stop, you are none of those and I did not mean to imply that,” I broke in.
“You are a sweet sensitive person, please do not feel guilty about last night, as I said, you, it, were/was wonderful, and I wanted you badly,” CJ shot back, “so please do not feel guilty, I feel the same abut you this morning as I did last night, maybe the feelings are greater.”
Later, at the airport, I checked CJ’s bag, and going through security, CJ set off the alarm on the detectors. The guard at the detector suggested that CJ go through without her crutches.
“That is not possible,” she said. “You will have to pat me down by hand or with the handheld unit.
After that ordeal, we approached gate area where the agent spotted CJ and called us over to her.
“Good morning maam,” she began, “We will start early boarding and special assistance in a few minutes. “May I see your boarding pass?”
CJ handed the boarding pass to the agent who looked at it and said: “Oh Miss Marino, I’ve been watching for you. You are number one on the frequent flyer upgrade list, I have the first two rows on the left side available, which would you like?”
“That’s wonderful,” CJ replied, “How about the window in the front row?”
The agent asked: “Would the aisle be better with the crutches and all. You might have trouble getting to the window seat. Most people on crutches ask for the aisle, especially those in leg casts. I didn’t notice, are you in a cast?”
“No cast,” CJ answered, “and I can get to the window with no trouble, but I appreciate your concern.”
“OK,” the agent said, “you may board now, is your companion traveling with you?”
“No, I’m on a different flight,” I answered.
“You may accompany Miss Marino onboard and get her seated, if you promise to come right back,” she instructed.
I followed CJ down the jet bridge, again enjoying her grace on crutches, even the hop over the door sill on the airplane. At her seat, she stood facing the aisle seat as the flight attendant took her crutches. Then, CJ. Standing on her right foot, twisted her left side around to the back and gently lowered herself into the window seat.
“Nice maneuver,” I said.
“Will I hear from you?” she asked.
The flight attendant was watching as if to hurry me out of the airplane.
I bent over and we kissed, as I was straightening up to exit, I noticed tears welling in CJ’s deep brown eyes.
As I went back up the jet bridge, I suddenly felt very lonely, like I lost my best friend, like the homesick feeling I got when I was a kid at summer camp for the first time.
Yes, I will call her, and soon.
© 2001-2015 CASTFETISH.COM. ALL
RIGHTS RESERVED. CONTACT JOE CASTER.
Literally, the fastest shipping I've had from any company!