The Getaway

By Ed Carlson


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This story is purely fictitious. The names used herein are for character

identification and should not be construed as real people, alive or dead.

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Chapter 1


“John, please let me help again. I feel so useless just sitting around this damn apartment,” I said.


“OK Suzzie. What’s a one-armed girl going to do during a bank heist? Lose your other arm?” John replied in his sarcastic way.


“I could drive the getaway car. Come on. It’s been two years since I was shot,” I retorted.


“I know how long it’s been. For your sake, it was just lucky that Sam knew a doctor who could patch you up. Your shoulder was pretty much hamburger after that guard shot you at point blank range with his twelve gauge shotgun,” he said.


“I still wake up in the middle of the night after a dream of me just standing there, looking at my right arm on the floor, still holding the gun. I’m still surprised that my arm, or what was left of it, didn’t hurt until I got back to the car. I’m grateful that Sammy put that tight bandage on it, or I probably would have bled to death,” I continued.


“I didn’t know until then that Sam had been a medic on the front lines in Nam,” John said. “He apparently had patched up a lot of wounds just like that, where an entire arm or leg had been completely blown away. He sure knew what to do.”


“The last thing I remember is doing the car switch,” I said.


“We had to help you into the other car. That’s when you passed out. You were out, and we drove to Sam’s doctor friend’s place out in the country. The doctor did the best that he could with the stump that was left. He had to almost remove your upper arm bone at the socket, but he was able to save about an inch of bone. The muscle was gone, and he had to settle for just a small ball for your right arm.”


“The first thing I remember is waking up at that doctor’s place and how scared I was to see my arm missing,” I said.


“That was three days after the holdup. Sam took off during that time. That’s when he got caught,” John said.


“I wish Sam would have stuck around. He’d probably be free today,” I replied. “John, I’m glad that you stayed with me.”


“Suzzie, you’re a very special person. You know I wouldn’t leave you,” he said sweetly. His tone of voice was almost sickening.


“Until someone else comes along,” I said.


“You know I really like you, baby.”


“Even if I only have one arm?” I questioned.


“Sure. You’re still the same Suzzie who I hooked up with five years ago. You still turn me on. I love it when you rub that little ball that once was your right arm on my chest,” he said convincingly as he reached over and touched my armless shoulder.


I moved closer to him and said softly and seductively, “I love it when you gently touch my scar or caress it with your tongue.”


He began to unbutton my blouse.


“Not now John. I want to talk about the next job,” I said sharply.


He continued to unbutton my blouse.


“John, not now,” I said with less force. “You’re just trying to distract me.”


“I thought you liked it when I touched your scar?” he said softly as he continued to unbutton my blouse.


“John, please not now,” I said weakly, in the tone of voice that sounded like I was giving in to him again—the way I always give in to his manipulations.


He began to pull my fully unbuttoned blouse out of my jeans. I tried to stop him, but he grabbed my wrist with a firm grasp. I was powerless to stop him.


“You love it, and you know it,” he said as he pulled the blouse off of my armless shoulder, exposing the little ball that once was my right arm.


I struggled briefly to get away. My actions only accelerated the complete removal of my short sleeved blouse. He pulled the sleeve down around my left wrist and let go to completely remove it. I struggled to grab at the blouse as he quickly pulled it past my hand. When I tried to grab the blouse a second time as it flew through the air on its way to the floor, he grabbed my wrist and pulled it around behind my back. I was powerless against him again as his free hand felt for the clasp on my bra.


“John. Don’t. Damn it, don’t unhook my bra,” I demanded to no avail.


I could feel the weight of my breast shift as he deftly unfastened the hook with one hand and pulled the shoulder strap over my right armless shoulder. He released his grasp on my wrist and almost instantly had both hands cupped around each of my more than ample breasts. I began to melt almost immediately and asked almost breathlessly, “Please run your tongue over the scar on my shoulder.”


He silently did as I asked. Soon it was all that I could stand. His touch on my breasts and his tongue on my amputation scar almost had me screaming in ecstasy. I was getting more excited by the minute as I felt the wetness began to seep from my most private parts—private parts that I suddenly wanted to be violated. He continued to fondle my breasts and caress my very sensitive scar on my shoulder. Suddenly I could feel an orgasm coming on. I began to breathe deeply. Then, unable to catch my breath, my body began to writhe and convulse. I wanted to scream, but I couldn’t. It was as if my throat was paralyzed. Soon I was able to moan as the rush began to subside.


“John. Take me into the bedroom now,” I said softly now, just barely able to speak.


We both got up off of the couch and started down the hallway to the bedroom.


“Sometimes I wish that I didn’t have any arms at all. I think that the pleasure might be doubled,” I said as we reached the doorway.


“Would you like to pretend for a while?” he asked.


“Pretend to be what?” I asked.


“Pretend to be armless for a while,” he replied. “I’ve often wondered what it would be like screwing you if you didn’t have any arms at all.”


“Funny that you would say that,” I said. “I’ve often wondered that too. What do you have in mind?”


“Finish undressing and I’ll show you,” he said as he walked into the utility room.


I went into the bedroom. I had just finished undressing and was standing there nude.


He came into the room carrying a roll of duct tape.


“Lie down on your stomach while I tape your hand to the middle of your back,” he instructed. I sat down on the bed and quickly rolled over on my stomach. I put my arm in the middle of my back in anxious anticipation of experiencing armlessness. He securely taped my hand flat against my back between my shoulder blades.


“How’s that?” he asked.


“I can’t move my hand,” I said as he continued to apply tape to my only arm. “Now I can’t move my arm at all.”


He rolled me over. I lay there unable to move my arm. He quickly undressed. He began to lightly run his finger over my body, paying particular attention to the amputation scar on my shoulder. All the time, the wetness was increasing between my legs as I wiggled and squirmed, unable to use my only arm. Then he gently began to use his tongue to do the same thing. His hands were cupped around my breasts and my legs were wrapped around his waist when his tongue began to touch my scar. I was so turned on, that almost without me knowing, he had inserted his manhood into my most private parts. The sudden realization that we were coupled, and with his tongue on my extremely sensitive scar, sent me into an orgasm the likes of which I had never experienced. It was terribly exciting not to be able to use my only arm.


The orgasms were good for both of us. All too soon, they subsided. He rolled off me and said breathlessly, “How was that?”


“I wish I could be armless all of the time,” I replied. “That was by far the best orgasm I’ve ever experienced.”


“I enjoyed it too,” he said. “Here, let me take off the tape.”


“No, leave it on. I want to experience armlessness for while longer. The thought of no arms has me really turned on a lot,” I said emphatically.


He got up and came back with a damp washcloth. He carefully cleaned our love juices from me.


“I don’t mind playing armless for a while, but if you want to be armless, I don’t want to become your servant,” he said as he finished cleaning me, then cleaned himself.


“Thank you for taking care of me. I especially like it when you touch my private parts,” I said as he put on his boxer shorts. “So you wouldn’t want me to be armless?”


“That’s not what I said or meant,” he said as he slipped on his pants. “I meant that if you were to become armless and totally helpless, I wouldn’t want to be the one to take care of you all the time,” he snapped.


“Maybe I could learn to do things with my toes,” I replied. “I saw some pictures on the Internet of women who didn’t have any arms, and they used their toes. I bet I could do it.”


“I bet that it takes years of practice, or maybe they were born that way and have never known what it’s like to have arms and hands,” he said coldly.


“I still want to try it for a while,” I demanded.


“OK Suzzie. We’ll give it a try and let you get it out of your system,” he said reluctantly. “Remember, I’m not your servant.”


“I want you to help me get dressed though,” I said. “I don’t think that I’m ready for that.” We sat up, and he helped me with my panties. “I don’t want to wear a bra,” I told him. “I want to be a liberated woman. Besides, they stand up by themselves pretty well.”


He slipped my short sleeved blouse over my shoulders and began to button it. The blouse was snug fitting because the bulk of my arm was taped to my back. My very erect nipples made two very distinctive bumps on my blouse.


“I like it when your headlights are turned on,” he said as he lightly fingered each bump in my blouse. I only smiled at him. When he finished, I stuck out a leg and he started to help me with my tight fitting blue jeans. He pulled the first leg part way up and then started the other. I stood up, and he finished pulling them up. He tucked my blouse in before he fastened them. “These jeans sure are tight,” he remarked.


“I thought you liked them that way,” I responded. “They show off my ass better.”


He stepped back, looked me over thoroughly, and said, “I must admit you do look damn sharp like that. You look balanced again.”


“So you do like me armless then?” I quizzed.


“I said you looked balanced. You’d be OK, but I like you the way you are now. That way, I don’t have to be your servant,” he said coldly.


I stepped close and rubbed my breasts on his still bare chest and teased: “I’d like to be your love slave. You still have me turned on you know.”


I stepped back, then walked over to the full length mirror to admire myself. “You’re right. I do look quite convincing and pretty damn sharp this way.”


He came up behind me and cupped his hands around my bulging breasts. He kissed my neck a little. He moved his left arm around the front of me further and stuck his left hand up the short sleeve of my blouse, then began to lightly finger my scar on my right shoulder. Then he unfastened my blue jeans again and stuck his hand down inside my pants and began to massage my crotch. Almost immediately, I began to feel another orgasm coming on as I spread my feet further apart in an effort to assist him.


“Do you like it when I rub you like this, armless little girl?” he whispered in my ear.


“OH, God yes!” I gasped. “Here comes another orgasm! Oh John! Oh God, it’s like I’m on fire! Don’t stop rubbing me! Oh, this is exciting!” I gasped for air and wanted to scream. “I’ve never had an orgasm like this before! It feels so good.” Eventually the orgasm subsided. He quit massaging me and held me against him with his hands still in place as I began to relax and said, “Wow, I’ve never been turned on like that before.”


“The only thing we’ve done differently is to tape your arm to your back so that you can’t move it at all,” he said.


“I know. This feeling of bondage is driving me wild,” I replied.


“Well, how about pain to go with the bondage?” he said with a sinister voice as he simultaneously pinched my pussy lips and jabbed his thumb into the amputation sore spot on my shoulder.


I screamed in pain as I struggled to free myself from his iron-like grasp. “John, quit it!” I sobbed. “You know I don’t like pain!”


“But pain is part of real life,” he said as he pulled his hands out of my pants, then pushed me hard onto the bed face first. “Now how do you defend yourself, armless little girl?” he snarled.


I rolled over on my back and tried to kick him. I missed, then tried to stand up. “What’s the matter, can’t even stand up?” he said as he pushed me back down onto the bed.


This time, I landed on my back and taped arm. A pain shot up my shoulder as I landed.


I tried to kick him again. This time he grabbed my ankle and began to vigorously tickle my foot—something I can hardly stand. “Stop it John! You know I don’t like to have my feet tickled! Quit it!” I demanded as I managed to kick him in his private parts.


He stopped and stepped back holding himself. “OK, that’s enough of that,” he said coldly as he fastened my blue jeans, then slipped on a tee shirt. Obviously, his mood had changed, like it did so often. He walked into the living room.


I lay there on the bed for a moment, remembering the ecstasy of the sex and how wonderful it felt. I also thought of the feeling of the temporary bondage and how exciting it was for me to be helpless and under his control, even if I was able to fend him off eventually. I wondered if I would feel the same way if I were to meet with an accident or something and really lose my only remaining arm. I hoped that he would feel the same way if it ever did happen.


I struggled to get up off the bed and walked out into the living room. John had just finished running a line of coke.


“How about a line for me?” I asked.


“Well, how about a line for you? Just how in the hell are you going to do it without arms?” he snapped.


“Oh, forget it. I don’t need that shit anyway,” I replied in less than a pleasant tone. “I want to try and do something with my toes—like try and write my name.”


“I don’t think you can,” he said as he got up and went to the desk. He slid a pad and pencil out to the edge. “Here you are. Go at it,” he challenged as he sat back down on the couch.


I walked over and bent down, then picked the pencil up in my teeth. Then using my chin, I slid the pad off the edge of the desk. As luck would have it, it landed upside down on the floor. I sat on the chair, and using the toes of both feet, I managed to turn the pad over. Next, I crossed my legs so that my foot was near my knee. I managed to grasp the pencil in my teeth and position between my first two toes. I straightened up and tried to make an ‘S.’ Part way through, the pencil slipped out of the grasp of my toes and rolled across the floor. I got down on my knees and picked the pencil back up in my teeth. I got back to the chair and this time managed to complete the ‘S.’


“How’s that?” I asked proudly.


“Where’s the rest of your name?” was his surly reply. “That seems like a lot of contortions just to write your name.”


He got up and went into the kitchen.


“John, open me a beer while you’re out there please,” I asked.


I heard John rustling around in the refrigerator and a beer bottle pop and fizz just as John asked, “Who was your waiter last week?”


He walked back into the living room and got his coat out of the closet. “I’m going out to get a pack of cigarettes,” he announced as he started for the door.


“John, please take off the tape before you go,” I asked.


“You wanted to be armless for a while. Be armless,” he snapped back.


“I’m pretty much helpless this way,” I said as I walked over to him. “Please don’t leave.” Without another word, he opened the door.


“John, don’t leave me like this. I’m helpless,” I pleaded.


He walked out and slammed the door behind him.


“John, please come back and release me,” I pleaded as I leaned against the door.


I sat down on the floor and tried to turn the doorknob with my feet. I couldn’t get a firm enough grip to turn the damn knob. I began to panic at the thought of not being able to get out of the apartment. What if there was a fire or something? I’d be trapped.


I lay there for a moment trying to regain my composure. At least I could still drink the beer that John had opened I thought. I struggled to my feet and walked into the kitchen and tried a technique that I saw a guy in a bar use. He only had one hand, which protruded from his shoulder; other than that, he was armless. I wrapped my lips around the top of the long-neck bottle of beer, grasped it as firmly as I could, and tossed my head back. The beer bottle ended up balanced directly above my mouth. I began to choke immediately on the beer and quickly returned the bottle to the counter. When I finished coughing, I studied the situation. I put my lips firmly around the neck of the bottle, this time putting my tongue in the hole to control the flow. This time it worked like a champ when I tried to drink.


With my lips firmly around the bottle, I carried it back into the living room and set it on the coffee table. I lay down on my back in front of the TV and used my toes to turn it on and then to find my favorite soap. I sat back up on the couch and enjoyed both the soap and the beer. I was able to finish writing the word ‘SUZZIE’ on the pad using my toes to hold the pencil.


When John walked back into the apartment, the first thing he asked was “Well Armless, what were you able to do?”


“I finished writing my name. I watched my favorite soap on TV. I drank the beer and put the empty in the garbage under the sink,” I said proudly.


“Not bad,” he replied coldly.


“John, I drank that beer, and now I’ve got to get rid of it,” I announced.


“Well, you know where the bathroom is,” he snapped.


“Yes, I know where the bathroom is,” I snapped back. “I need your help pulling my jeans down.” We walked into the bathroom. He pulled my blue jeans and panties down, and in the process played with my private parts.


“Keep that up and you’ll have a very wet hand,” I warned, and he quickly jerked his hand away. I did what I had gone into the bathroom to do, and he wiped me. I stood up, and he pulled up my panties and blue jeans.


“I’ve had enough of being armless,” I said as we walked back into the living room. “I want you to untape me now.”


He didn’t say anything. He just sat down on the couch and started watching TV. I knew that in the mood he was in it was useless to beg. I went into the bedroom and admired myself in the mirror again before I lay face down on the bed.


After a while, I got up and went into the living room. “John, I’m tired of being cooped up in this apartment,” I said. “Why don’t you untape me, and let’s go for a ride in the country?”


“Well, you might get caught,” he said.


“I know,” I replied. “I guess that I’m willing to take that chance. Please.”


“Well, it’s your trip up the river,” he said as he stood up.


“Please untape me first,” I said.


“You wanted to be armless. Now, for all practical purposes, you are armless. I think that you should stay that way a while longer,” he said.


“John, please,” I pleaded. “I’ve had enough.”


“Here, wear these sunglasses and this coat,” he said as he put the heavy framed sunglasses on my nose and a suit coat over my shoulders.


“Be sure that my glasses are in my purse in case I have to take out my contacts,” I said.


He looked in my purse and nodded, then put the purse strap around my neck. We walked out of the apartment and to the car quickly. He opened the door for me to get in. I slid into the seat, he fastened my seat belt, then closed the door behind me. It was kind of scary being fastened into the seat and unable to release the belt myself. I had to put my trust in him, a trust I doubted was deserved in the mood he seemed to be in.


He walked around and got in. He fastened his seatbelt before he started the car. We backed out of the parking place and onto the street. Before long, we had left the city behind and were out in the country.


We found a little lake and pulled off the road. We got out and walked along the quiet water for a while. We kissed a couple of times. He was tender and gentle with me. This was the John I liked, not the abusive John.


We got back into the car. He suggested dinner.


“I’d love to,” I said. “I’m starved.”


He started to drive to the restaurant that was on the other side of the lake.


“We should probably untape me now,” I said quietly, trying not to get him in a foul mood again.


“No, we’re going to play your little game a while longer,” he replied.


“OK, but you’re going to have to feed me, unless you want me eating like I’m in a pie eating contest,” I replied as we pulled up in front of the restaurant.


He didn’t say anything as he parked the car. He got out and opened my door. He helped me out, and we walked to the front door. He held the door while I walked in first.


“May I help you?” the hostess asked sweetly as she studied me closely, her eyes stopping at the empty sleeves of my suit coat.


“Two for smoking. A quiet booth if you have one,” John said.


She showed us to a booth in the corner away from most of the other patrons. John saw that I was seated in the booth so that my taped and still immobilized left arm was against the wall and away from view. The waiter stopped by as soon as we were seated and asked if we wanted a drink.


“I’ll have a Tom Collins,” I said.


“I’ll have a double Scotch,” John said. “And bring her a beer in a long-neck bottle instead.”


The waiter left, and I just glared at him. I knew better than to argue.


He smiled back and said sweetly, “I just want to see how you drank the beer back at the apartment.”


“John, people are watching. Do you want me to put on a show and dance on the table too?” I snapped back.


“No. I was just interested in seeing how you managed to drink the beer back at the apartment,” he said convincingly as the waiter brought his drink and my beer.


When the waiter left, John watched intently as I put my lips around the bottle and tossed my head back. I took a drink and returned the bottle to the table. In the process, the jacket slipped off of my shoulders exposing my blouse with the empty sleeves.


“That’s clever. How did you figure that out?” he asked.


“I saw a guy in a bar with only a hand sticking out of his shoulder do it,” I said. “The trick is to stick your tongue in the hole in the bottle or you’ll drown.”


The waiter came back and took our order. John ordered another double Scotch with dinner. He left me sitting all alone and feeling very vulnerable while he went to the salad bar. I could feel the stares of the other restaurant patrons as I just sat there with my empty sleeves exposed. I looked up and made eye contact with several of them before John came back.


“People are staring at me,” I said softly as he sat back down.


“So let them stare,” he said. “You make a pretty convincing double amputee. I almost like you better that way.”


“Well, I don’t think I want to go through the rest of my life like this,” I said.


“Then you don’t want to be a double amputee?” he questioned.


“I guess I could handle it,” I replied. “If I were to become a double amputee, I want both sides to be the same. I wouldn’t want to be lopsided.”


“Careful what you wish for,” he said as he fed me a bite of salad.


“I’m not wishing,” I replied. “I’m just saying that if my arm needed to be amputated that I want both sides to be the same.”


“OK. I’ll remember,” he said as the waiter brought us our dinner. John ate most of his and let mine get cold before he fed me.


When the waiter came by again, John ordered another double Scotch. He was becoming less in control all of the time.


The waiter brought our check. John paid him with a large bill and told him to keep the change. The waiter slipped my suit coat over my shoulders when I stood up. If he noticed that my arm was taped to my back, he didn’t say anything. John put his hand on my shoulder to steady himself as we started toward the door. He was barely able to walk. The hostess held the door and mouthed ‘Good Luck’ as we started across the parking lot. When we got to the car, John opened the door for me.


“John, untape my arm and let me drive,” I pleaded.


“Hell no. I’m fine,” he slurred.


He pushed me into the seat and slammed the door. He used the car to steady himself as he came around to the driver’s side. He got in and fumbled for the keys. He finally got the car started. He almost hit another car as he backed out. We pulled out onto the main road.


“John, please let me drive,” I pleaded as we weaved down the road. “Damn it, if you get pulled over and get a DUI, they’re going to run a check on both of us and we’ll be spending longer than overnight in jail!”


“Hell, it’s you they want. Not me,” he snapped back.


“If I go to jail because you were drunk, then I’ll sing like a canary and we’ll both go for a long time,” I replied.


He didn’t say anything for a while, then pulled onto a deserted road that appeared to be a driveway to a long unused summer home. He stopped the car and got out. After he relieved himself, he opened my door. I got out and without saying a word he began unbuttoning my blouse. He pulled it out of my blue jeans, slid it off of my shoulders and threw it on the hood of the car. Without warning, he slapped me hard across the face and backed me up against the car.


“Don’t even suggest that you might rat on me!” he snarled before he slapped me again.


“I won’t!” I replied. “Damn it, just untape my arm. John.”


He grabbed both of my nipples and squeezed hard. The pain was excruciating, and I dropped to my knees.


“Please John, don’t hurt me. Just take off the tape,” I pleaded and sobbed.


He pulled me up by the hair and snarled, “As long as we have an understanding, I will.”


“We do,” I snapped back. “I won’t talk.”


He spun me around roughly and laid me face down on the hood of the car. He began removing the tape, much to my relief, even though he was being less than gentle. I bit my lip to keep from screaming as he ripped the tape off. The last thing I wanted him to know was that he was inflicting more pain.


When my hand was finally freed, I straightened up and grabbed my blouse. I put my left arm through the sleeve and pulled the right sleeve over the little ball that was the remains of my right arm. I quickly buttoned it. I’d always been proud of myself for mastering single, left-handed buttoning. I had been very right-handed and hardly what you would call ambidextrous. I didn’t bother to tuck the blouse into my tight blue jeans.


I opened the door for him, and John got in on the passenger’s side. I went around and got into the driver’s seat. I had not driven since the shooting, and I had two arms then. I awkwardly got the car started and began backing out.


John slurred, “Well, Suzzie old gal, how are you doing? Do you want me to drive?”


“No John. I’ll manage. You get some rest,” I replied as I reached the main road. I waited for a car to pass before I backed out onto the road. I put the car in drive and headed for home with John having several levels of consciousness. He finally woke up, and we were having a decent conversation. I was looking at him and talking when suddenly he screamed, “SUZZIE, LOOK OUT FOR THAT TRAIN!”


I swerved the car to the right . . .



Chapter 2

One Month Later


“Oh, my head aches,” I moaned.


“Good, you woke up,” a strange male voice said—a strange voice, but a very kind voice. I opened my eyes and tried to look at my surroundings. Everything was blurry, and the light was subdued. A machine was beeping rhythmically.


“Where am I?” I asked as I squinted in an unsuccessful attempt to see my surroundings.


“You’re in the hospital. You’ve been in a bad accident. You’ve been unconscious for a month,” the voice said.


I turned my head in the direction of the voice. My head pounded as I squinted to try and make out who was speaking. All I could make out was a fuzzy shape and I thought a white coat.


“Why can’t I see you? Everything is real fuzzy,” I said.


“Let me check your eyes,” the voice said. Suddenly, a bright light flashed in one eye and then the other. “Equal and reactive. That’s good. Let me check your chart.”


There was silence as the fuzzy shape became even fuzzier as he moved to the foot of the bed. I tried to feel around, but no sensation. It felt like my hand was asleep.


“I bet this is the problem. Very myopic,” the voice said. “We took your contacts out before surgery. Did you have any glasses with you?”


I thought for a moment. “They should be in my purse. I can’t see a damn thing without them or my contacts.”


The shape moved away and completely disappeared from my little fuzzy world. “Here they are,” the voice said from somewhere. Suddenly from out of nowhere, hands appeared and my glasses were being put on me. I blinked a couple of times, and I could see again. A man about thirty-five was standing there.


“Who are you? Why is my hand asleep? I can’t feel it,” I asked as I looked down. The sheet was tight up around my neck.


“I’m Dr. Morton,” he said. “I was the emergency room physician the night they brought you in. I assisted with the amp . . .”


I kicked the covers off and looked down at my bandaged left shoulder. My scream interrupted him.


“My arm. What happened to my other arm? You didn’t amputate my left arm too. Tell me this is a bad dream,” I said in a panicked voice.


“We didn’t have a choice. You didn’t have an arm when they brought you in. The train took the car door and your arm with it,” he said.


“This can’t be happening. I don’t want to be armless,” I sobbed.


“We didn’t have a choice,” he said. “Your boyfriend insisted that we do reconstructive surgery to make your left shoulder match your right, if that’s any consolation.”


“John. What happened to John?” I questioned in a panicked voice. “Is he all right?”


“He didn’t have a scratch,” Dr. Morton said calmly. “We sent him home in a cab right after you were out of surgery.”


“When can I see him?” I asked.


“Any time you want, if you can find him,” he said. “He’s nowhere to be found, but he keeps calling from a cell phone asking about you. There are some people who are anxious to talk to you and him both.”


“What do you mean?” I quizzed.


“Because of the train accident, the state called in the feds,” he said. “There’s an FBI man who is anxious to talk to you Suzzie Capon, wanted bank robber. They want me to call them as soon as you are conscious.”


“Oh shit. Can’t you just tell them that I died or something?” I said.


“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” he said sympathetically. “If I tried something like that, they’d have my hide.”


“Oh well, it’s inevitable. I knew I’d have to face them someday,” I said. “At least, then I had one arm. Can you delay calling them?” I asked, “at least until I get rid of this headache.”


“I’ll get you something for the headache,” he said. “We can wait until it subsides before I call them.”


“Thank you,” I said. “Can I sit up?”


“Sure,” he said as he pushed the button on the bed.


My head raised up, and my headache subsided a little. “I’d like to look at myself in the mirror,” I said.


“Let’s get you up if you feel like it,” he said. “I’ll disconnect you from all these machines.”


He went to work disconnecting all the wires and hoses that were attached to me. When he was finished, the only thing left was the bladder catheter.


“I’ll have the nurse remove that catheter,” he said. “Are you ready to sit up on the edge of the bed?”


“Sure. Let’s do it,” I replied.


He took my feet and gently turned me around before he helped me sit up straight. I told him that I was a bit dizzy, and we waited for it to pass. Next, he had me slide forward until my feet were touching the floor. We waited like that until I told him that I was ready to stand. When I was ready, he put both arms around me like a bear hug and helped me stand erect. We stood that way for a minute before he slowly released his grasp. I took a step toward the dresser with the mirror. I felt much lighter—a similar feeling that I had when I lost my right arm—but now I felt balanced again.


“How are you doing?” he asked as we approached the mirror.


“I’m doing fine,” I said as I examined myself in the mirror. “I feel lighter, my hair is a mess, and I hate wearing glasses.”


I saw what I expected. I was now balanced but didn’t have any arms sticking out of the short sleeves of the hospital gown. I shrugged each shoulder to make the sleeves flop around.


“You are lighter. You don’t have the weight of that arm anymore,” he said. “We’ll get someone in to take care of your hair.”


“Dr. Morton, could you please take off the hospital gown?” I asked. “I’d like to have a better look at my shoulder.”


He untied the back ties of the hospital gown and removed it completely. I was standing there nude in front of him and wanted to cover myself. Of course I couldn’t. I looked closely at the bandage.


“We had a difficult time trying to make a match,” he said. “Your left arm was mangled worse than the right one probably was. We had to use a cadaver bone to match what the other doctor had done. I think you should have a pretty good match. Luckily, you were unconscious during the most painful part of the ordeal.”


“I remember how much pain I was in when I lost my right arm,” I said. “I’m glad that I missed it this time.”


As I stood there looking in the mirror, I suddenly began to cry. The reality of my situation was beginning to sink in. I was going to be armless for the rest of my life. Never again would I ever be able to hold something in my hand. I was armless and helpless, and soon I would be going to prison for a long time. I would be pretty much defenseless; who knows what would happen to me in prison. I was frightened, more frightened than I had ever been in my life.


Dr. Morton slipped my hospital gown over my shoulders again and tied it in the back.


“Doctor, please just hold me for a minute,” I asked.


He put his arms around me and just held me for a while. It felt wonderful simply to be held. He then helped me back to bed and reattached the catheter hose.


“I’ll be in this afternoon to change the dressing. The incision is healing nicely and should only require bandaging for protection a little while longer,” he said.


“Could you do me another favor?” I asked when I had regained my composure.


“I can’t put your arms back on if that’s what you want,” he joked.


“I wish you could.” I said. “That’s not what I was going to ask. I hate these glasses. Could you have someone put in my contacts for me?”


“I’ll do it. Let me find the case,” he said as he looked around for my contact case. “Here they are. These are the same brand that I wear.”


“I can’t see a damn thing without glasses or contacts,” I said as he removed my glasses and my little world became fuzzy again.


“I just bet that you can’t see very well. I’d guess about a –10D for a prescription,” he said.


“Not bad Doc,” I said. “–12D for both eyes. I’ve needed correction since I was five. I’ve always hated those darn thick glasses. They make my eyes look so small. I started wearing contacts as soon as I could, and I love these extended wear ones.”


“You certainly do have pretty light-blue eyes,” he said as he put in first the right, then the left contact. I blinked and suddenly the world was in better focus again. He picked up the phone. “Please send nurse Goodbody into six-eighteen please,” he said with a smile.


Almost immediately the door opened. A beautiful young lady walked into the room. She walked with a noticeable limp. But what was more noticeable were the two shiny hooks that replaced her hands. I looked closely and could see her mechanical elbows below her short-sleeved nurse’s uniform. She had to be a double above the elbow amputee. She smiled broadly as she limped over to me.


“Suzzie, this is Sally Goodbody,” Dr. Morton said. “She’s been here with you most of the time that you were unconscious.”


“I’d shake your hand but it looks like we both have a problem,” I said with a smile.


“It’s a problem only if you let it be,” she retorted with a smile. “We’ll have some larger problems to solve.”


“Sally, I’d like you to remove her bladder catheter please,” he instructed. “Then maybe you can do her hair and some makeup before her visitors arrive. Let’s keep an eye on her input and output for a few days to be sure everything’s working all right.”


“Certainly, Dr. Morton,” she said cheerfully as he began to leave the room.


“What are my chances of getting prosthetic arms?” I asked.


“I hate to say this, but the prognosis is not that good,” he said. “We’ve found that people without stumps, such as you, have a very difficult time trying to manage them. Why don’t you have Sally tell you about them? I have other patients to see. I’ll hold off the police for a while.”


“How about five years,” I joked.


He chuckled to himself and walked out, closing the door behind him.


Sally looked at the bag hanging under the bed, then walked around to the foot of the bed. Using the hook on her right arm, she pulled a ballpoint pen out of her pocket. She used the left hook to position it and click the button. Then she used her left arm hook to pick up the chart and hold it while she made a notation. She put the chart back and the pen back in her skirt pocket. I was fascinated with her ability to maneuver her hooks.


She walked up beside the bed and said, “Now let’s get you unplugged from this bag.”


She grasped the sheet that was covering me and pulled it back. She moved my gown up slightly until I could see my pubic hair.


“Now Suzzie, if you spread your legs apart, I’ll release the little balloon that keeps the catheter in place up in your bladder,” she said.


I spread my legs as I was told. She used one hook to hold the catheter tube and the other to remove the plug. I heard a whoosh of air, and I could feel something happening in my bladder. She slowly started removing the catheter. It kind of hurt but felt good at the same time. One of her hooks touched my spot, and I squirmed a little.


“Are my hooks cold?” she asked.


“No. You just hit my sensitive spot,” I said.


“I didn’t mean to,” she said apologetically. “It can be kind of fun with these hooks though.”


“I’ve been wondering what it’s like to wear artificial arms,” I said.


“I’d let you try these, but they wouldn’t fit you,” she said as she finished pulling out the catheter.


“If you don’t mind me asking, when did you lose your arms?” I asked boldly.


“I didn’t,” she replied. “I was born with one leg and two arm stumps.”


“Gee, that’s one less than me,” I replied.


“The major difference is that my arm stumps are useable. My stumps come to about here,” she said and used a hook to indicate that her arm stump ended about four inches above her elbow. “I don’t think that your stumps will be that useable. Your prosthetic arms would need to be designed differently and include a shoulder harness to hold them on. Mine are held in place by a strap that is part of the hook and elbow operating cables.”


“I never knew that prosthetic arms were that complicated,” I said. “I’ll probably just have to learn to live without them.”


“Maybe so,” she said as she picked up a comb and started to comb my hair. “I can show you how to do things with your toes if you want. The other thing is once they arrest you, you’ll become ‘a ward of the state,’ and they need to take care of you. Maybe you could talk them into getting some prosthetic arms made up for you.”


“Those hooks look like they could be real weapons. I bet they wouldn’t let me have anything like that in prison,” I observed.


“I’ve had to defend myself a couple of times from attackers,” she said. “They got the worst of it. If they let you have them at all, it would be for limited times when you are closely guarded.”


“Well, maybe I should just learn to do things with my toes,” I said. “I’ll have plenty of time to practice.”


“If you want, I can come back later and show you how to do a few things with your toes,” she offered as she finished combing my hair.


“That would be great,” I said as she got ready to apply some makeup on me. I was still amazed at her dexterity as she used her hooks as hands. Before long, she had me looking almost human again. That is, a human without any arms.


She had just finished when someone knocked on the door. Without waiting for us to acknowledge, the door opened and a man dressed in a brown suit walked in.


“Miss, will you excuse us please?” he said to Sally with an air of authority.


“Certainly sir,” Sally said. “I’ll be back later.”


She quickly limped out of the room. He shut the door and locked it. He walked over to my bed and said, “Suzzie Capon?”


“Yes I am,” I replied.


“I’m Agent Goodcop with the FBI. I would like to talk to you,” he said as he produced a small tape recorder but didn’t turn it on. He set the recorder on the bed tray.


“Go ahead and talk. I sure as hell can’t get that door unlocked like this,” I said as I wiggled my shoulders and made the empty sleeves of my hospital gown flop around.


“I’m sorry about your arm,” he said without emotion as if it was the right thing to say. “As I’m sure you know, you are a wanted fugitive from justice for bank robbery. Specifically, two years ago at the uptown branch of the State National Bank.”


“I’ve heard about that,” I said. “Isn’t that the bank robbery where a woman had her whole right arm blown away by a guard with a shotgun at point blank range for no reason at all?”


“Well, I wouldn’t say no reason at all. She was holding up the bank with a gun when the guard fired,” he said. “The FBI would really like to prosecute John Spumoni for that robbery and several other things, including murder. The state does not especially want to prosecute an armless woman. We are willing to make a deal. If you tell us where we can find him, we will drop all charges against you.”


“Thanks, but no thanks. Hell, he’d kill me or have me killed if I ratted on him,” I replied.


“Do you know what prison is like? Especially for someone as defenseless as you. They’d love you in there,” he said. “We could fix you up with a new ID.”


“I’ve given that a lot of thought, believe me,” I said. “One question. Does the offer still stand anytime? Even if I get sent to prison?”


“It would be more difficult once you were sentenced because we would have to convince the court that your release would be in society’s best interest,” he replied. “Yes, the offer would still apply at any time.”


“I just can’t rat on him,” I said.


“I understand,” Agent Goodcop said as he turned on the tape recorder. “Suzzie Capon, you are under arrest for bank robbery. You have the right to remain silent. Anything that you say can be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to have an attorney present during questioning.”


“I understand my rights,” I interrupted. “I don’t think I want to say anything without first consulting my attorney.”


He turned the recorder off.


“That’s a good move Suzzie,” he said. “I will be going now. Because you are under arrest, a uniformed officer will be stationed outside your door. Is there anything that you need?”


“Yes, some arms,” I joked.


“We can schedule an exam by the people who make artificial limbs,” he said. “We’ll examine their report. You never can tell. Is there anything else?”


“I believe my eyesight is getting worse. I haven’t been able to see well lately,” I said. “How about an eye exam too?”


“I’ll talk to Dr. Morton,” he said.


“Thank you,” I said. “That’s a lot more than I expected.”


He put his card on the table next to my purse and started for the door. “Think over the proposition and the new life,” he said as he unlocked the door.


“I will,” I replied as he walked out the door. When the door was open, I could see him talking to a uniformed officer.


A few minutes later, Sally came in carrying a tray of food and asked, “How about some lunch?”


“Great, I’m famished,” I replied.


“Well, how did it go with that good looking FBI agent?” she asked as she set the tray on the table and began to uncover the food.


“He offered to drop all charges against me if I turn in my boyfriend,” I said as I took a sip of juice through a straw.


“You mean John. I met him the evening that they brought you in,” she said as she picked up a fork using one of her hooks. “I thought he was a nice guy. He was sure worried about you and if the doctors could make your shoulders match. He was quite adamant about it.”


“I just can’t bring myself to turn him in like that,” I said as I ate a small piece of meat from the fork that she held out for me in her right arm hook.


“Yes, but it’s your chance to go free,” she said as she picked up a roll with a hook.


“Free from the cops, but not free from John’s friends,” I said as she fed me the roll. “Hell, they’d chop my legs off and leave me along the side of the road, as a torso, unable to move.”


“They sound like some real nice guys,” she remarked as we started dessert.


“Those guys would just as soon shoot you as look at you,” I replied.


“It sounds like you have some real tough decisions to make,” she said as she picked up the tray with both hooks and started limping toward the door. “I’m going to go have my lunch. Why don’t you try and catch a nap? Dr. Morton should be around in about an hour.”


“Thanks Sally,” I said as she tapped the tray on the door. The guard opened it, and she smiled at me before she left.


‘Now what are you going to do Suzzie?’ I thought to myself as I started to drift off to sleep . . .


“Suzzie. It’s Dr. Morton,” a voice way off in the distance said.


I felt something touching my leg. I opened my eyes and blinked a couple of times. Dr. Morton came into focus.


“Good afternoon Doctor. I was just catching a little nap.”


“You would think a month of sleeping should be enough,” he joked. “Seriously, I want you to get all the rest you need. It will help get your strength back. I also want you up and walking around the room as much as possible. Maybe I can arrange for the guard to walk you around the floor.”


“Maybe I can get him to walk me to the front door,” I joked.


“After you get your strength back,” he replied. “Now I’m going to change your dressing—probably for the last time.” He untied my hospital gown and exposed my left shoulder and began removing the bandages. When he had the bandages removed, he let me get up and walk to the mirror by myself. I looked closely at the shoulder. It was still puffy and discolored, but it looked to be almost a perfect match.


“That looks like almost a perfect match,” I said, “Even the scar is in the same place.”


“Thanks, you were a bit of a challenge,” he said.


“I only wish that you could have left me a stump like either one Sally has,” I replied as I walked back over to him.


“Did she show you her stumps?” he asked.


“No, not yet. She’s going to come in this evening and show them to me,” I said. “I bet that she had a hard time growing up.”


“She did,” he replied as he began applying only a band aid to my shoulder. “Her parents abandoned her to an orphanage. The hospital did all of her prosthetic work pro bono. The hospital also gave her a full scholarship to nursing school. Her positive attitude is infectious and is good to be around.” He finished applying the band aid, then said, “The FBI agent has authorized an eye exam and prosthetic recommendation.”


“Sounds good to me,” I said.


“I’m also trying a brand new consultant on you. You will be her first patient here at this hospital. She will be doing a retraining evaluation. Her name is Arlene. She is also an amputee. I’ve scheduled the eye exam in fifteen minutes and Arlene when you finish the eye exam,” he said. “The prosthetic evaluation is scheduled for the day after tomorrow. If you’re ready, I’ll get the guard.”


“Let’s do it,” I said as I slid off the edge of the bed.


Dr. Morton put a hospital robe over my shoulders and tied the waistband. The sleeves were tucked under the waistband. He looked at it, kind of puzzled.


“It works for me,” I said with a smile. “I sure don’t have a need for the sleeves anymore.”


He summoned the guard and gave him instructions on where to take me on the second floor. We all walked out into the corridor. The guard and I walked to the elevator without a word. He pushed the call button. When the elevator got to our floor, three people got out. I felt very self-conscious when they all looked at the empty robe sleeves and the way that they were held in place. We got into the elevator by ourselves. “You’ll have to push the buttons,” I said.


He didn’t say a thing. He just glared at me as the door closed for our trip to the second floor. We got out of the elevator and walked down the hall to the eye center. The guard opened the door, and we walked into the waiting room. There were several people in the room, all of whom stared at me. The receptionist was waiting for me. She escorted me down the hall. The guard took a seat where he could see the exam room door.


The optometrist came in and introduced himself. He asked me a series of detailed questions before he took out my contacts. When he did, the whole world became an indistinguishable blur. I requested no dilating drops, and he agreed. He gave me a very thorough exam. As I had suspected, my eyes had gotten worse and were now at –15D. He put my old contacts back in and wrote out a prescription. I had him put it in my robe pocket.


He escorted me back out to the waiting room and the guard. The guard and I made the trip back up to my room without a word.


When I got back to the room, Sally was just making my bed. I sat in the chair and watched her finish up. I told her that my eyes had gotten worse. I was still fascinated with the way she used her hooks. I guess I was envious of her. She finished and said that she would be back at suppertime. She told me to push the large call button if I needed anything. Before she left, she took off my robe for me and hung it up.


She had just gone when the door opened, and I saw a crutch tip start to appear. The door swung all the way open, and a woman crutched her way into the room. She was a dishwater blond and a little on the plump side. She had only one leg, and I couldn’t see any sign of a stump through her short skirt.


The guard closed the door until it latched.


“Hello, my name is Arlene,” she said as she crutched her way over to me. When she was close, she leaned her crutches against the wall and hopped over to the other chair. She lowered herself into the chair by supporting herself with her arms. “I’m going to be your rehab counselor,” she announced in a tone of voice that told me we wouldn’t be hitting it off at all.


“So just what are you going to counsel me about?” I asked snidely.


“Our limitations and getting you out of here,” she said softly. “John sent me.”


“There’s a guy around here who would love to talk to John,” I snapped.


“That’s the reason he wants you out of here as soon as possible,” she said in a hoarse whisper.


“What if I don’t want to go?” I asked coyly.


“John says no screwing around,” she snapped back. “He wants you away from the cops one way or the other.”


“You mean have me killed?” I asked.


“Stranger things have happened in hospitals,” she said with raised eyebrows.


“OK, what’s the plan?” I asked as I leaned back and crossed my legs.


“I’ll create a distraction with the night guard,” she said softly. “John will bring you some clothes, dress you, and we’re out of here. We drive a long way away. Simple.”


“When is it going to happen?” I asked softly.


“Shortly after two tomorrow morning,” she said. “The guard will be bored, and the nursing staff at a minimal level. That’s also when security is most lax.”


“I’ll be ready,” I said.


“We need to kill some more time,” she said. “How did you lose your arms?”


“My right one in a bank holdup and my left in a train accident,” I said flatly. “How did you lose your leg?”


“First I broke the femur, the big bone at the top of the leg in a car accident,” she said as she pointed to her thigh. “It wouldn’t heal, and it turned cancerous. The doctors found that I had a rare bone disorder. They had to amputate my entire leg to keep it from spreading. They didn’t even leave me a stump. There is no known cure, and if I were to break another bone they would have to do the same thing.”


“Gee, if you go around breaking bones, pretty soon you’ll look just like me,” I said as I wiggled my shoulders to make my hospital gown to flop around.


“God, don’t even say that,” she said. “I would be in trouble, and I know it.”


“How long have you known John?” I asked.


“John and I go way back,” she said. “I met him again a couple of days after the train wreck.”


“What’s he been up to?” I quizzed.


“Mostly getting ready to get out of town,” she said. “He packed up all of your things and had them sent ahead. All of his things are packed too. The apartment is pretty much cleaned out.”


“Where did he have my things sent?” I questioned.


“I don’t know,” she shrugged. “He wouldn’t say when I asked him.”


“I’m dying to know,” I said.


“Well then, just be ready tonight,” she said as she struggled to get up on her single foot. She hopped over to her crutches. She crutched over to the door and knocked. The guard opened the door.


“I’ll be back in a couple of days when I get a plan worked out,” she said for the guard’s benefit before she crutched out the door and he shut it again.


I walked over to the nightstand, and using my teeth, I was able to get the side pocket of my purse open. I slid agent Goodcop’s card to the edge of the table with my chin. Using my teeth again, I slipped the card into the pocket. Next, I went over to the robe that Sally had hung up. I was able to fish the prescription out of the pocket. With the prescription for my new contacts in my mouth, I managed to get it into the same pocket of the purse. Closing the purse again proved to be more difficult than I thought it would be, but I finally managed to get it closed. I was exhausted by the time I sat back down in the chair. God, I missed my arm and hand. Life was going to be a real challenge.


I must have dozed off because the next thing I knew Sally was standing there and dinner was on the table. “Hi,” I said. “How long have you been there?”


“I just walked in,” she said. “I brought my dinner in too, if you don’t mind.”


“Not at all,” I said.


She sat down at the little table with me and removed the covers from the plate. My glass had a straw, and I took a sip. Sally picked up a fork with her right arm hook and fed me a bite. “How did your eye exam go?” she asked as she fed me another bite.


I chewed and swallowed before I replied: “My eyes have gotten worse. He gave me a prescription for –15D glasses or contacts.”


“Wow. That’s pretty strong, isn’t it?” she asked.


“Yes, I’m blind as a bat without glasses or contacts,” I said. “Without my contacts, I couldn’t be sure that it’s you sitting across the table.”


“Now that you don’t have any hands, how are you going to put your contacts in?” she asked as she fed me another bite.


“I’m stumped on that one,” I said. “I guess I’ll need to find someone to do it for me. Dr. Morton put them in this time. I’m glad I have extended wear contacts.”


“You sure wouldn’t want me doing it. One slip and you’d need a seeing eye dog,” she said.


“If I don’t have glasses or contacts, I almost need one now,” I joked as she finished feeding me.


She started to eat her own dinner. “How did you like the rehab counselor?” she quizzed.


“I can’t stand her,” I said coldly. “She and I will never be friends. Did you meet her?”


“Yes, briefly,” she replied as she repositioned her fork with her other hook. “I had the same feeling. There was just something about her that I didn’t like.”


“Oh well, she’ll set up my program when we get the prosthesis report and hopefully be gone,” I said.


“They’re going to do the prosthesis evaluation the day after tomorrow, aren’t they?” she asked.


“That’s what Dr. Morton said,” I replied. “I hope they have something good to say.”


“Don’t get your hopes up too much,” she said as she finished eating. “I heard the doctors talking, and it doesn’t sound too promising for prosthetics for you.”


“Oh well, I didn’t think that they could do anything,” I said dejectedly.


She got up and cleared the dishes. “I’m off work now,” she said as she managed to pick up both plates in one trip. “Would you like some company for a while? My busy social calendar is empty this evening.”


“That would be great,” I said. “Maybe you could show me your stumps.”


“Sure. I’ll be right back,” she said before she took the plates out into the corridor. She came back in and closed the door and locked it. “Now we won’t be interrupted,” she said.


She started back across the floor with her usual limp. When she got near me, she put her right hook in the ring that was hooked to her zipper that ran down the front of her dress. She pulled the zipper down and wiggled her shoulders free of the dress. She first used the right, then the left, arm hook to slide the sleeve off. The dress fell to the floor. She was standing there in her bra and panties.


“Take a good look at my prosthetics if you want,” she invited.


I studied both arms and how the harness worked. She made her elbows move and showed me how she locked them in place to be able to open her hooks. She stepped out of her dress and backed up to the bed. She unbuckled a belt around her waist that was attached to a form around part of her butt. She shifted her weight and hopped away leaving her prosthetic leg leaning against the bed. It was easy to see why her limp was so noticeable. She had no stump of a leg at all.


“I limp because I don’t have a leg to pick up my prosthesis. I have to rotate my hip to make it work,” she said.


“You get around quite well with it,” I replied.


“Thanks. I do OK on level surfaces, but I have a difficult time on sloping walkways. I would never think of going on a hike in the woods,” she said as she hopped over to me.


I looked closely at the sock-like material that covered the leg opening in her panties. I had a sudden urge to reach down and touch her crotch, but without arms or hands, I just sat there unable to do anything.


She hopped over to the bed and leaned out over it. She opened both hooks and then closed them when they both had grasped some of the bed sheet. She tucked her chin down by her chest and leaned back. To my amazement, both of her arms were left lying on the bed and she was hopping about the room with no prosthetics at all. The only operational limb she had was her one leg. She struggled for a moment and soon had both stump socks off and lying on the floor exposing the pink flesh of her arm stumps.


“Well, it’s the real me,” she said. “What you see is what you get.”


I didn’t know what to say. The only thing that popped into my mind was “You have really good balance.”


“Like I said, this is the real me. I’ve had all my life to practice.”


She hopped over to me so that I could study the stumps of what should have been her arms. Their length was as she had indicated, about three inches above where her elbows should have been. The tips were bony and began to gain muscle as they approached her shoulders. The taper was almost linear and without bulges.


“I don’t have any muscles in the lower part of my arms because they have never had anything to be used for. Because they never have been developed, I couldn’t make a muscle down there if I tried,” she said. “It’s also the reason that I’m not a good candidate for myoelectric arms. The nerves never developed to give off the electrical signals to trigger the motors.”


“Well, at least you can use mechanical arms. I don’t even have that option,” I said dejectedly.


“Don’t lose hope,” she said as she hopped over closer and put a stump on my shoulder. “Maybe the prosthetist might have a different answer. She’s pretty damn good.”


“She?” I questioned. “I never thought of a woman prosthetist.”


“She’s probably the best in this part of the country,” Sally said. “If she can’t make something work for you, then there probably isn’t much hope.”


“That’s encouraging,” I said as we gravitated to the chairs. It was intriguing watching Sally hop over to the chair. I sat down and Sally hopped a couple more times to get into position before she sat down.


We had a good conversation. We talked a lot of girl talk. We talked about men and love affairs. We talked about sex and what effect our limitations had on how we could perform. We confided a lot with one another. I even told her of the sham of being armless shortly before the accident.


All too soon, it had gotten late and she had to leave. She struggled to her foot and hopped over to the bed. She had me pick up her stump socks. I was able to get them with my toes and to put them on the bed. She struggled to get them back on. I stood there helpless, wanting to help her. Once she had her stump socks on, she hopped over to her prosthetic arms lying on the bed. She crouched down and managed to get the harness over her head at the same time that she stuck her arm stumps into the sockets of the artificial arms. She hunched her shoulders and released the bed sheet that the hooks had been holding all this time.


“My back strap is twisted. Can you straighten it?” she asked.


I used my teeth to grab one of the straps. I gave a gentle tug and it straightened itself out. I finally felt useful for something.


She moved her arms around and made them operate. She hopped over to her leg, which was still leaning against the bed, and slid into her hip socket. She used her hooks to fasten the waist belt. Next, she walked over to her dress and stepped inside it as it lay on the floor in the same position as she had dropped it. She bent down and grasped the shoulders with her hooks and pulled it up around her waist. She managed to get each hook through the armholes and up around her shoulders. I used my teeth to help her straighten out the collar.


She gave me a hug and said that she would see me in the morning. I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want to lie to my new friend. I walked with her to the door; she unlocked it and opened it. The guard was sitting there about half asleep. She gave me a little hug, then left.


I did not close the door, and the guard didn’t get up to close it either. I walked back to the bed and climbed in. The late news was just getting over. I used my chin to push the large button that turned off the TV. I settled back and waited, wondering what was going to be in store for me now.


I didn’t think that I had been sleeping, but I must have been, because I jumped when I heard the guard say, “I’m sorry lady, you can’t be down here.”


Then I heard Arlene say, “I’m lost. Which way to the emergency room?” I couldn’t see her, but it sounded like she fell by the racket that her crutches made on the hard floor.


“Are you all right?” the guard asked.


“I think I twisted my ankle,” she said.


“Let me look,” the guard replied as I stretched to see him. “It doesn’t appear to be broken.”


“I just recently lost my leg, and I still have problems with these damn crutches,” she said so sweetly that I wanted to throw up.


“You shouldn’t be wearing such a high heel . . . ,” he started to say as John hit him from behind.


“You didn’t have to hit him that hard,” Arlene scolded. “Help me up.”


“Get up yourself,” John snapped back. “Keep a sharp lookout.” He dragged the guard into my room and then went back for a small duffel bag. He closed the door behind him.


“God, it’s good to see you,” I said, all smiles as I got out of bed.


“I’m sorry I wasn’t here when you woke up,” he said. “I’ve been a little busy, and you had some guests who I didn’t especially want to meet.”


I gave him a kiss. He kissed me back, but it was cold and unfeeling. Something had changed. He untied my hospital gown and threw it on the bed. I was standing there nude in front of him.


“Well, how do I look?” I asked.


“At least you look balanced again,” he replied coldly as he put a tank top over my head. He pulled it down, and then got my short leather skirt out of the bag. “I’m sorry that I forgot panties and a bra. This will have to do.” He helped me get into the skirt, then he fastened the waistband. Next, he got a pair of black high heels out of the bag and set them on the floor.


“I don’t know if I can walk in those,” I said.


“You’ll have to. They’re all that I brought,” he said.


I teetered as I slipped into the heels, but I made it.


The last thing John got out of the bag was my leather motorcycle jacket. He draped it over my shoulders. The empty sleeves hung stiffly by my sides.


“Is the coast clear?” he asked Arlene.


“It’s all clear,” she replied in a hoarse whisper.


“Let’s go,” he snapped as he started for the door.


“I need my purse,” I said. “It’s right there on the nightstand.”


He went back, grabbed my purse, and put the strap over my neck. He helped me to the door. He looked both ways as the three of us started down the hall to the back stairs. He opened the door to the stair tower. He took Arlene’s crutches and shoe so that she could quietly hop down all six flights of stairs.


I only had a little problem navigating the stairs. I only stumbled once or twice, but Arlene was exhausted when she finally reached the bottom. He gave Arlene her crutches and shoe back, then opened the door when she had caught her breath. He led the way to the car and opened the back door and told me to get in. I slid in on the seat. He had me lie down on the seat and covered me with a blanket. He took Arlene’s crutches from her and put them on the floor of the back seat. She hopped several times, and then got into the front passenger’s seat. He came around to the driver’s side and got in. He started the car and started to drive.


Arlene said: “John, watch the speeding. We wouldn’t want to get caught with the armless wonder in the back seat.”


“Just watch who you’re calling an armless wonder, you one-legged bitch,” I snapped back.


“Both of you just knock it off!” John snapped in an elevated voice.


There was nothing but silence in the car as we drove along through the night. Just before dawn, we pulled into an all-night gas station. Arlene and I went into the bathroom around the back. She pulled up my skirt so that I could use the toilet. When she wiped me, she was less than gentle.


We continued on our way, stopping only occasionally for fast food. They bought me a hamburger and just left it on the back seat for me to unwrap and try to eat. I felt so helpless as I struggled just to eat a simple hamburger.


The second night we stopped late at a motel. The place kind of reminded me of the motel in Psycho. John helped me shower and get into bed. Arlene took a shower and then got into the other bed. John crawled into bed with me. The only advances he made toward me was a cold goodnight kiss, even though I wanted much more from him.


I woke up in the middle of the night and tried to feel for him with my left arm. I quickly realized that it was missing and tried to find him with my foot. The bed was empty. It was then that I heard them in the other bed. I saw his silhouette in the dimly lit room. By the movement and his position, there was no doubt in my mind what was happening. I lay there motionless wondering what to do next.


After a while, John went into the bathroom. I heard the toilet flush, and he crawled back into my bed. He made no advances toward me, and I sure as hell didn’t make any toward him.


In the morning, he turned on the old TV with the green tint. The story of my bold late night escape was on the national news. An old picture of me was being shown. They said that they didn’t have any leads and that the guard could only vaguely describe the one-legged accomplice. He had no idea who had hit him from behind.


Arlene combed my hair while John went next door for doughnuts. When he got back, he set mine on the table and left me to fend for myself. Arlene went out to the car while John helped me get dressed.


“It’s over, isn’t it?” I said.


“What do you mean?” he replied.


“You haven’t even tried to touch me, and I saw you in bed with her last night,” I said.


“I suppose it is. Hell, I’m not going to deny it,” he said.


“Why don’t you just leave me here and go on with her?” I said.


“I had planned on leaving you when we got to the little town up in the mountains where I shipped your things,” he said as he reached into his bag. “Here is one hundred thousand dollars. Take this for spending money until you get settled. The rest of your split is in the offshore bank. Here is a credit card that can’t be traced. Use it to get the money out of the account when you need it. Any bank will honor it without question. You know the other way of accessing the account.”


“I remember,” I said as he put the stack of bills and credit card in my purse.


“Your things are in a mini storage unit in a little town up in the mountains. It’s the kind of place that you said you always wanted to live,” he said as he put a key in my purse. “The storage unit number is on the key.”


“I wanted to live there with you though,” I said. “How am I going to get along without any arms? Hell, I’m still wanted.”


“You’re a bright girl. I’m sure that you’ll figure it out,” he said as I stepped into my high heel shoes, and he draped my motorcycle jacket over my shoulders.


He opened the door, and I went out into the crisp morning air. He held the door while I got into the back seat, which I shared with Arlene’s crutches. He didn’t say anything as he closed my door and then got in and started the car. I only glared at him as he turned around to back out of the parking spot. He pulled out of the parking lot and drove through the still closed up small town, past the local hospital, then onto the highway.


Arlene and I had been sniping at one another most of the morning. It escalated when I managed to kick her in the back of the head. John pulled the car off the road and down a heavily rutted driveway into some trees. He stopped the car and got out. He opened my door and yanked me out. I fell down, and in the process, my motorcycle jacket fell off.


“That’s it. I’ve had it with you,” he snarled as I struggled to my feet.


“Why are you always taking her side?” I snapped back. “Aren’t I as good in bed as the one-legged bitch?”


“She’s a lot better than you ever thought of being. With that missing leg, she can do things that you only dreamed of doing,” he replied.


Arlene came hopping around the back of the car still mad that I was able to kick her. She lunged at me, but I stepped aside. She came at me again, but this time she connected as she slapped my face hard. As she hopped trying to keep her balance, I stuck out a foot and tripped her. As she fell, the upper part of her leg was across one of the deep ruts in the road. She grabbed me around my ankles and pulled me down. As I fell hard, with no arms to stop me, I landed squarely in the middle of her leg. All three of us heard the pop as her leg snapped. She immediately let go of me and began screaming in agony and pain. I managed to roll off of her and struggle to my feet. She continued to writhe on the ground and scream. John reached in and pulled my coat, purse, and shoes out of the car. He threw them on some low bushes nearby. Then he helped the still screaming Arlene into the back seat.


“Sorry about your good leg,” I called snidely. “Be sure to get big wheels for your chair, legless bitch.”


“What did you mean by that?” John snapped.


“Ask Miss Greatest in Bed,” I snapped back.


John got in the car and sped backwards out onto the highway. He headed back in the direction we had been driving.


Chapter 3

Mountain Retreat


I managed to retrieve my things, and after many contortions, I finally managed to get my motorcycle jacket back around my shoulders as well as my purse. I slipped into my high heel shoes and started walking back toward the highway. I started walking in the direction we had been traveling. As I walked, I began to formulate a plan.


I had been walking about five minutes, and my feet had already begun to hurt. The highway was deserted. I was in the mountains somewhere, but I didn’t know where. A very tall pickup truck came down the road toward me. It pulled over and stopped when it got opposite me.


“Is anything wrong?” a kindly voice from the pickup said.


“How far is town?” I asked.


“Back about ten miles,” he replied. “Can I give you a lift?”


“No thanks. I can walk,” I replied.


“You’re not going to walk that far in those shoes, are you?” he asked.


“I suppose I could use a ride,” I replied.


The pickup turned around and stopped beside me. The driver got out and came around the front. He was a tall, good-looking guy. He wore a baseball cap and had a long, but neatly trimmed beard. He was wearing a plaid shirt and bib overalls. He had a nice smile and a gentle voice.


“My friends call me JB,” he said as he stuck out his hand to shake mine.


“My friends call me Helen,” I replied. “I’d like to shake your hand, but I have this little problem.” I shook my shoulders to make the empty sleeves move, but my jacket fell off exposing my armless shoulders.


The look of shock on his face was almost indescribable. He quickly bent over and picked up my jacket. “I . . . I . . . I’m sorry,” he mumbled.


“That’s OK JB,” I said as I tried to comfort him. “A lot of people don’t know what to say or do around me. I’m just like anyone else, except I don’t have any arms.”


He opened the door to the tall four-wheel drive pickup. “Do you need help getting in?” he asked.


I managed to get up on the running board and leaned over the seat. I wiggled and managed to get up onto the seat.


He closed my door and walked around to the other side, still holding my motorcycle jacket. Soon he was sitting in the driver’s seat with the jacket between us. “What are you doing way out here?” he asked.


“It’s a long story, but my boyfriend dumped me,” I replied.


“Where are you headed for?” he asked.


“I don’t know,” I replied. “All my stuff is in Littletown, wherever that is.”


“That’s the next town I was telling you about,” he replied. “Do you have a place to stay?”


“I haven’t thought that far ahead,” I said. “I need to get to a phone before it’s too late.”


“You can use the cell phone here in the truck if you want,” he offered.


“That would be great,” I said. “Where is the nearest hospital?”


“That would be Fairview General.”


He pulled the pickup off onto a wide spot and took the handset out of the cradle.


“The number is on the card in the front pouch of my purse,” I said. “You’ll have to dial it for me.”


He took Agent Goodcop’s card out of my purse and dialed the number. When it started ringing, he held the phone up to my ear.


“Agent Goodcop, This is Suzzie Capon. Yes, I’m sorry about the guard. Is he going to be all right? Good. The reason that I’m calling is to let you know that you can find John Spumoni at Fairview General Hospital, as well as the one-legged woman. I don’t think I want to tell you where I am other than I’m calling from a cell phone. Thanks for keeping your part of the bargain. I have the new ID’s. Goodbye.”


He turned the phone off and put it back in the cradle on the dash. “That sounded serious,” he remarked.


“I just turned my boyfriend in to the FBI. Now I’m free from the cops, but now John’s friends will be after me. I’ll need to find a secluded spot to hang out for a while.”


“I don’t want to sound forward, but my place is quite secluded, and you are welcome to stay,” he offered.


“What will your wife say?” I asked, hoping for the right answer.


“I’m single now,” he said. “My wife died about two years ago.”


“I’m sorry to hear about your wife,” I said. “I suppose I could take you up on your offer if you realize what you’re getting into.”


“What do you mean?” he asked.


“Well, the mob is after me now, and as you’ve already discovered, I don’t have any arms. I haven’t had any training on how to get along like this. You’re going to have to do just about everything for me, including giving me a bath and wiping my butt,” I said. “I’d be willing to pay you for your trouble.”


“I’d like the company. It gets pretty lonely up there. I’d enjoy having you,” he said. “I won’t take any pay.”


“Well then, I’ll take you up on your offer,” I said. “I’ll need to get some clothes somewhere. What I have on is all that I have.”


“Well, there is no place to buy clothes in Littletown,” he replied, “but my wife’s clothes should fit. She was about your size.”


“That will be fine with me, if you don’t mind.”


“It will be OK,” he said solemnly.


He turned the pickup around again and started back up the highway. We were about a mile past the road where the fight had taken place when he turned off onto a well-maintained gravel road. The further we went down this road, the less it was maintained, until the road was deeply rutted and passable only by high trucks like four-wheel drive vehicles.


“The road gets worse from here,” he joked.


“I didn’t think they made roads any worse than this,” I replied.


The road continued on up the canyon, following a beautiful river studded with large boulders. I was fascinated by all of the little waterfalls. We turned off the ‘main’ road onto a one-lane road in the tall trees. He stopped and dropped the chain gate, drove through, then refastened it. He put the pickup into four-wheel drive as we started into a series of deep mud holes. At one point the water was up to the running boards. When we cleared the puddles, he stopped and fastened my seat belt. The road became very steep for a short while. It flattened out, then we dropped down into what appeared to be a dry river bed. He made a sharp turn to the right, and we went almost vertically up the steep riverbank. I gave a sigh of relief when we broke over the top. The road continued into deep woods again. The tree canopy was so heavy that he turned on his headlights. After driving through the heavy woods for about ten minutes, we broke out into a clearing around a lake. A beautiful log house was across the lake nestled next to the trees. A large meadow was in front of the house and sloped gradually to the little lake and the dock. Mountains soared skyward all around us.


“That’s the place,” he said nonchalantly.


“JB, the place is beautiful,” I exclaimed. “The setting is breathtaking.”


We continued on around the lake, and he parked in a garage, which was separate from the house. He got out and came around and opened my door. He unfastened my seatbelt, and helped me down out of the tall pickup.


“Now I see why you drive this kind of pickup,” I said.


“Well it might be old, but it’s dependable,” he said. “Follow me this way.”


He led the way into the back door of the beautiful log structure. He opened the door, and I walked into what appeared to be a large utility and mud room. Coats were hung neatly on pegs on the wall. The room had a washer, a dryer, and two large freezers. He kicked off his shoes, and I stepped out of my high heels. He led the way into a beautifully equipped gourmet kitchen.


“You must be quite the cook,” I remarked.


“I enjoy cooking,” he replied.


“I’m afraid that I can’t help you much in here,” I said.


“You will in time,” he remarked as we walked into a large room. The room had a dining room at one end and the living room at the other. The table was solid cherry and had a finish that you could see your face in. The other end of the room had a massive rock fireplace. Comfortable looking leather furniture faced the fireplace and entertainment center. The floor was pine and finished naturally, with southwestern style rugs.


“JB, the way you talked, I thought that you just had a little cabin out in the woods,” I exclaimed. “This place is beautiful.”


“Thank you,” he said modestly. “We worked several years building it. The house was my wife’s design. The bedrooms are this way.”


He led the way into a small hallway. The large bathroom was straight ahead.


“This is the bathroom, and my bedroom is here off to the right,” he said as he motioned toward the rooms. “You can use this bedroom on the left or the other one up on the balcony.”


“This one down here will be fine,” I said as we walked into the cheerfully decorated bedroom.


He took my motorcycle jacket and hung it on the peg by the door. I set my purse on the double bed and wiggled away from the strap. I followed him back into the living room and then out onto the deck, which ran the full length of the house and overlooked the meadow and lake. He motioned for me to sit down in one of the two Adirondack style of chairs.


“Can I offer you anything to drink while I unload the supplies?” he asked.


“I’d love a soda,” I replied.


He left and came back with a diet soda with a straw. “I hope you don’t mind diet,” he said as he put mine on a small table where I could reach it before he left.


I sat back and relaxed. The warm noonday sun felt wonderful. As I sat there, I reflected on how my luck had changed. Maybe this would be the place that I’d always been searching for.


Soon he came back out onto the deck with another soda and sat down in the other chair.


“Thank you for the pop,” I said. “JB, tell me about yourself.”


“There’s not too much to tell,” he said. “I grew up down in the valley. My wife and I were high school sweethearts. We got married while I was in the Army. I got into computers, wrote a game, did quite well, and sold the business for cash. We both were tired of the rat race; we owned the property, so we built the house. We lived here about three years before she died. After that, now all I do is survive.”


“You must have loved your wife very much,” I said. “If you don’t mind me asking, how did she die?”


“She died in the center car of a three-car pile up. They said she died instantly,” he said. “It happened a little over two years ago. It was the same day as some girl got her arm shot off trying to rob a bank.”


I didn’t say anything for a minute; then I said quietly, “That girl that got her arm shot off was me.”


“Oh my gosh. I didn’t mean to sound cruel and cold,” he said very apologetically.


“Don’t apologize,” I said. “Robbing banks is a tough way to make a living.”


“So you’re a professional bank robber?” he said.


“Was,” I replied. “That phone call was to the FBI. I just turned my ex-boyfriend in. They’ve given me complete amnesty, but now John’s friends will be looking for me. That’s why I need an out-of-the-way place to hide for a while, a long while.”


“You’re welcome to stay here as long as we can put up with one another,” he said. “Tell me about you, Helen.”


“Well, Helen Hidden is my new name. The FBI has given me a new identity. My old name is Suzzie Capon,” I said. “I was born in the city. I’ve lived there all of my life. I met John while we were both in college. I was an electrical engineering student. When I graduated, I got a job and quickly got bored with it. One night, John approached me about disarming an alarm system in a bank. I helped him with a couple of them. I got a real rush, sneaking in and disarming the systems while John would clean out the safe that he opened. I moved in with John and continued to help him. I was leery of doing the daylight job, but John insisted it was the only way. It was that job, the only one where I carried a gun, that my arm was shot off by a guard with a twelve-gauge shotgun at point blank range.”


“That’s quite a story,” he said when I paused. “What did you do after that?”


“One of the other accomplices had been a medic in Nam. He stopped the bleeding and took me to a doctor friend’s place. The doctor cleaned up what was left of my right arm,” I said as I pointed my right shoulder at him. “John and I stayed in an apartment for two years. We only went out occasionally because I was on the FBI top ten wanted list. A little over a month ago, John and I were playing around with me being totally armless by taping my hand to the middle of my back. We went out for a drive with my arm still taped up. He stopped and fed me dinner that way. In the process, he got really drunk. He finally untaped me and let me drive. I wasn’t paying attention when we came to the train crossing. When I woke up a month later, my left arm was gone too. The FBI arrested me and offered me a deal if I’d turn in John. John and his new girlfriend pulled off my great escape three nights ago. We’ve been driving ever since. His new girlfriend and I got into a big fight. John left me about half a mile from where you came to my rescue.”


“In other words, you just got out of the hospital,” he said. “I bet you’re exhausted.”


“I am,” I admitted. “I need rest and exercise to get my strength back.”


“Well you’ve found the right place,” he said. “You can rest all you want, and there are miles of trails to walk or run. Are you ready for some lunch?”


“I’m starved,” I said. “All I’ve had to eat today is a donut.”


“You stay here, and I’ll fix lunch,” he said as he got up and went into the house.


I leaned back and enjoyed the warm midday sun. Soon he brought out a heaping plate of sandwiches. We sat at the table on the deck. He fed me one first and then ate one himself. We alternated like that until I was stuffed and all the sandwiches were gone.


He got up, and I followed him into the kitchen.


“I wish there was something I could do to help,” I said as I stepped close to him.


He turned and faced me. We were standing very close. “By just having you here, I can almost feel my life coming back,” he said.


I moved even closer and ‘reached’ up and kissed him. Our first kiss was a bit tentative. The second was very passionate on both of our parts. When we finished and he was holding me in his strong arms, I whispered: “Thank you for taking me in. I was so scared. I didn’t know what to do or where to go.”


“This is going to be a good arrangement for both of us,” he replied as he relaxed his hold on me.


I stepped back. “I hope you didn’t think I was too bold kissing you like that,” I said.


“Not at all, or I wouldn’t have kissed you back,” he replied as we started walking back into the living room.


“I would really like to get out of these clothes,” I said. “They’re all I’ve worn since they got me out of the hospital.”


“I think my wife’s clothes should fit. You wear about the same size,” he said as he led the way to his bedroom. He opened one of the two walk-in closet doors and turned on the light. The room was dusty and obviously hadn’t been used for a while.


“Are you sure that it’s all right for me to wear these? They were your wife’s clothes,” I said.


“It’s OK. I think she would want it that way,” he said as he took some short bib overalls off the hanger and a tee shirt out of the drawer. “How do these look?” he asked.


“Those will be great. Do you have any panties?” I asked.


He opened another drawer and took out a pair of plain white panties. We walked into the bedroom.


“I hate to sound like a nag, but I’d love to have a bath too,” I said.


“How about a swim in the lake instead?” he countered. “The water is clear and warm this time of year.”


“I haven’t been swimming since college,” I replied. “I sure haven’t tried it without arms.”


“Are you game or not?” he asked.


“Sure, I’ll try it,” I said. “You do have suits, don’t you?”


“We never did use them,” he said nonchalantly. “There’s no one around here for thirty miles. I’m not embarrassed if you’re not.”


“Well, when in Rome, do as the Romans do,” I said. “Undress me. You’re going to see it all sooner or later.”


First, he removed his bib overalls and was down to his shorts. Then shirt and tee shirt, then my tank top. Next, he removed his shorts and my skirt. We were both nude as we could get. He reached out and drew me close to him and kissed me again—this time more passionate than the last—to the point that I felt weak in the knees. He relaxed his grasp, and I stepped back.


“If we keep this up, we never will get that swim,” I joked and smiled broadly. “I did enjoy it though.”


“So did I,” he confided.


He led the way out of the bedroom. He opened the linen closet door and took out two large beach towels. He continued to lead me out onto the deck and down the steps onto the large grassy area that led down to the lake. When we got to the dock, he set the towels down, and we both waded into the water about up to our knees. The water was crystal clear and surprisingly warm. He waded a bit further, then dove and popped up quickly. He was standing in water about mid-chest deep.


“Dive on in,” he challenged. “You can do it.”


“I’m just trying to get up my courage,” I replied.


I waded in up to my waist and then tried to dive. I was soon floundering around and struggled to touch bottom with my feet. I came up sputtering and spitting water.


“Well, I know I can’t do that anymore,” I said.


“Why don’t you try floating on your back until you get the hang of your new self?” he said.


I lay back and tried to float toward shore. It worked. I added a little flutter kick and soon was propelling myself. Before I knew it, I ran out of water and was on the beach. Without getting up, I turned around and floated out to him. He caught me and held me as I got my feet on the bottom.


“This is wonderful,” I exclaimed. “I had almost forgot how much fun it was to swim.”


“I’m glad you are enjoying it,” he said. “I try to swim just about every day once the water warms up.”


“I’ll be right here with you then,” I said. “That is, if you don’t mind.”


He pulled me close as we engaged in another passionate kiss. I wished that I had my arms back to hold him too. All I could do was wrap one leg around his.


We swam a little longer and then got out. The swim was wonderfully refreshing. He dried me off first with the large fluffy towel. His touch was gentle, and I loved every minute of it. I think that he wanted to be sure that my breasts were completely dry as he dried them a little longer than the rest of me. He draped the towel around my neck when he finished. He dried himself, then we walked back to the deck.


“Can we sit out here for a while? The sun feels so good,” I asked.


“Sure,” he replied. “Do you want to get dressed first?”


“I’m fine like this, if you don’t mind,” I replied.


“No. Not at all. I enjoy looking at a nice figure like yours,” he said as he took the towel from around my neck and spread it out over the Adirondack chair that I had been sitting in. He put his towel over the other one.


We sat down and leaned back and took in the beautiful scenery. I began to relax almost immediately.


“That swim completely relaxed me. I could take a nap right now,” I remarked.


“Why don’t you lie down on the bed for a while?” he suggested.


We got up and went into the house. I lay down on my bed, and he covered me with a blanket. He leaned down and tenderly kissed my cheek. I drifted off to sleep almost immediately.


When I awoke in my new surroundings, I had a bit of trouble figuring out where I was. I got up, still nude, and went into the deserted living room, then into the deserted kitchen. I called for JB.


“I’m up here,” he called back.


I walked up the stairs to the balcony that overlooked the living and dining room. I walked down the balcony and into the office where he was sitting at the computer. His chest was bare and he was wearing some cutoff blue jeans. He looked up and smiled.


“How was your nap?” he asked.


“Great. I really needed that,” I replied. “What are you up to?”


“Oh, I’m just finishing up some online stock trades,” he replied.


“Cool,” I said. “Do you have phone service out here?”


“I have a fixed cell site, but this is set up through a satellite dish,” he offered.


“You must have pretty fast access then,” I observed.


“Yes, it’s about ten times faster than land lines,” he said as he logged off and got up.


“I guess my computer days are over,” I said dejectedly. “Not having arms has its drawbacks.”


“Why don’t you try to learn to type with your toes?” he said. “I saw a site on the Internet where a woman with cerebral palsy was toe typing because she could control her feet better than her hands.”


“I’ll have to give it a try,” I replied.


“I’ll set up one of my old computers for you to practice on,” he said as we walked back onto the balcony. “Do you want to get some clothes on?”


“Yes, if you don’t mind,” I said as I led the way down the stairs. “I’m starting to get a little on the chilly side.”


I used the bathroom and had him wipe me. We walked into his bedroom where the clothes that he had chosen before were still lying on the bed. He picked up the tee shirt and put it over my head. He pulled it down over my breasts and then pulled my hair out of the collar. He had me sit on the king size bed while he put the panties on over my feet and pulled them up to my knees. I stood up, and he pulled them the rest of the way. I sat back down while he started helping me with the cutoff bib overalls. When he had them pulled part way up, I stood up so that he could pull them up the rest of the way. He fastened the straps over my shoulders and adjusted them. He stepped back and looked at me.


“Well how do I look?” I quizzed.


“A lot like Bridgett,” he said sadly.


“Let’s put my other clothes back on me then,” I said quickly.


“No, this will be fine,” he replied. “It’s just that you remind me a lot of her. She was about your height and build. She usually wore glasses, and she had arms. Do you want me to tuck the sleeves in?”


“Whatever you like. I have to wear glasses too,” I said. “I have my contacts in now.”


“You wear them very well,” he replied. “Bridgett had contacts and only wore them occasionally. She didn’t even wear her glasses all of the time.”


“I’m so nearsighted that I’m almost blind without contacts or glasses. In low light situations, I can’t see at all without them,” I said. “These contacts are the long wear type, but we’ll have to take them out for cleaning soon.”


“I don’t have any cleaning solution,” he said. “I threw Bridgett’s out because the expiration date had passed.”


“I have a small bottle in my purse. Maybe I could get you to take them out tonight when I go to bed,” I said as we walked through the living room and onto the deck.


“We can do that,” he said. “Are you enjoying it here?”


“I love it. I’ve always wanted to live away from the city and all its noise and pollution,” I said. “This is so beautiful. I could just stay here forever.”


“That can be arranged. Would you like a little tour of the place now?” he asked.


“That would be great. JB, how much property do you have?” I asked.


“All that you can see from the middle of the dock out there,” he replied. “I inherited it from my grandfather. He bought the whole area between both mountains as a timber investment. When he got to looking at it, he didn’t have the heart to cut any of the trees, so he just held it.”


“Where did you get the logs for the house?” I asked.


“We clear-cut a swath for the air strip,” he said. “We also had to take out a couple of trees where the house now stands.”


We walked back into the house and through the kitchen into the utility room. He put some penny loafers on the floor. I stepped into them.


“How do those fit?” he asked.


“They’re a little big, but they’ll be fine,” I said.


He slipped into his shoes, and we walked out the back door. We started down the little gravel path toward the garage.


“You’ve seen the garage for the pickup. You need it in the winter when the snow is about five feet deep. The snowmobile is in the shed over there,” he said as he gestured toward the garage. He opened a side door on the other half of the garage, and we walked into a very well equipped workshop. “This is the workshop,” he said proudly.


“It certainly is well equipped,” I remarked.


“It needs to be if we’re going to be self-sufficient,” he said as we walked back onto the path. We continued on to a building about the size of a one-car garage.


“This is the generator house,” he said as he opened the door and turned on the light. We walked in. There were two generators and a large battery bank. Two large inverters were attached to the wall. I looked closely.


“I assume that the generators charge the battery banks and the inverter supplies one ten,” I observed.


“Right on,” he said. “I use it to supply everything.”


“Why didn’t you use twelve volt DC lighting and just use the inverter for the rest of the power?” I asked.


“I did a cost analysis, and it was cheaper to get the two large inverters than it was to run two separate power systems to the house and out buildings.”


“I guess it would be cheaper,” I replied “You wouldn’t have the problem with DC line drop either. How often do the generators need to run?”


“About every three days,” he said. “The controller monitors the batteries and will start the generator when they need to be charged. It’s pretty well automated. I still like to check the specific gravity of the batteries just to be on the safe side.”


We walked back out onto the path. “How do you power the generators?” I asked.


“They entire place is run on propane,” he replied as we continued down the path and into the trees. Soon the path opened onto a grassy airstrip. My question was answered; two very large propane tanks were sitting at the edge of the clearing on the left side of the path. To the right of the path about a hundred yards away was an airplane hanger. We walked over to the hanger, and he opened the door. A twin-engine plane sat there.


“This is our other way out of here during good weather,” he said. “It’s a lot faster than the pickup.”


“That’s a real nice looking plane,” I said. “When do I get to go for a ride?”


“It’s getting kind of late, and the afternoon thunder heads are building. How about tomorrow morning if it’s nice?” he replied as he began to close the door and we started back for the path.


When we got close to the propane tanks again, I asked, “How do you get the propane out here? You surely don’t haul it up the road.”


“I have a friend who has a large helicopter. Every summer when the price of propane is down, I have him come out and fly the tanks to town to be refilled,” he said. “The tanks are large enough to supply us for about a year and a half.”


“That is amazing. You’ve designed all the comforts in,” I said as we started back down the path through the trees. “I bet you even have a hot tub.”


“It’s right off my bedroom,” he said. “I thought that you might have seen it.”


We continued on around the back side of the house opposite the garage and onto a deck that was off of his bedroom and shielded by the massive stone structure of the fireplace. A covered hot tub sat next to the fireplace wall. It looked like it hadn’t been used in a while.


“I love hot tubs. Don’t you use the hot tub much?” I asked.


“I haven’t used it in quite a while,” he said. “I’ll clean it out so you can use it.”


“Only if you’re in there with me,” I said as I moved in close. “I don’t have any arms and I might drown,” I teased.


He took me in his arms and said, “You’re not going to have to be in there alone.” Our lips were getting close.


“Does the no swimsuit rule apply here too?” I whispered with our lips almost touching.


“No swimsuits are the house rules,” he whispered back with our lips now touching. He held me in his arms, and a passionate kiss and fondling on his part began in earnest. I wanted him to rip my clothes off—the clothes he had just put on me. I had my leg wrapped around both of his as we stood there in the embrace. The long protracted kiss finally ended, and I released my leg hold while he relaxed his hold on me.


We stepped apart. He bent down and folded the cover back. The water was pretty bad.


“It looks like you’re going to have to drain it,” he said. “That will be your job.”


I looked at him in disbelief and said, “How do you expect me to do that?”


He took me down off of the deck and by the tub heater. He pointed to a valve. “Turn that valve,” he instructed. “I usually use my foot.”


I walked over to the large quarter turn valve and, using my foot, easily moved the lever to the other position. I could hear water flowing as the tub began to drain quickly. I stayed there on the deck as he went in to get the cleaning supplies. The water was about drained out when he came back. We kicked our shoes off and got in the now drained hot tub. He put some cleaner on a rag, then I sat on the seat and cleaned the rim by holding the rag with my toes. Of course, I dropped the rag several times in the process, but I was beginning to feel useful. Sometimes it’s the little victories that are the most rewarding.


Soon we had the tub cleaned and refilling. When the water level got above the jets, he started the heater. The heater was good sized, so the water temperature rose quickly.


We went into the house, and JB fixed dinner. He prepared a sautéed chicken with wild rice. While he was preparing dinner, he had me put out the place mats. I opened the drawer with my toes and used my teeth to pick up the place mats, then set them on the table. I used my chin to get them just right. I did the same with the napkins.

 

JB dished up our plates in the kitchen. He cut mine into bite size pieces first, and gave me the first bite. He fed himself a bite, then me again. Before long, we had devoured his wonderfully prepared meal.


He cleared the dishes, and I put away the place mats. He sent me into the living room while he quickly did the dishes. I was able to lie on the floor and turn on the TV. He came in just as the evening news was starting. The headline story was John’s arrest. My name was not mentioned nor any reference to me calling the FBI. The announcer said that the hospital called the police when they suspected domestic violence. I felt off the hook, for now at least.


My eyes began to burn, and I knew it was time to take out my contacts. JB and I went into my room. He took the contact case, small bottle of cleaning solution, and my thick glasses out of my purse. We went into the bathroom. As I instructed, he opened the contact case and put some cleaning solution in each cup. I talked him through the process for getting the contact out of my right eye. Even though things were not too clear, I made sure that he put the cap marked R on the case after he added more cleaning solution. He removed my other contact and the world went away. I could only make out his very fuzzy shape as he put the lens in the case.


“These glasses are really thick,” he said. “You really must be blind.”


“And my eyes have gotten worse,” I said. “I have a prescription for new glasses and contacts that is even stronger.” Suddenly I realized I was standing there all by myself and unable to see at all. “JB, where are you? I can’t see a damn thing,” I said in a panicked voice.


“Your glasses are filthy,” he said from across the room. “I’m cleaning them.”


“Thank God. I thought that you had left me,” I said as I began to calm down. I saw a dim shape moving toward me, then my glasses coming toward my face. “Thank you.”


“You’re quite welcome,” he replied as we started walking back to the living room.


“John used to take my glasses and hide them from me all the time,” I said. “He took great sadistic pleasure in watching me grope around trying to find them.”


“That seems pretty cruel,” JB replied. “He didn’t do it after you lost both your arms, did he?”


“He didn’t have a chance after I lost both. I had my contacts in when that happened,” I said. “He did it a lot when I only had one arm though. I panic when I can’t see and that turned him on.”


“The way you described him, he seems like the type,” JB said as we sat down together on the sofa.


He sat on one side, and I sat beside him and rested my head on his shoulder. He put his arm around me. It felt comforting to have him hold me like that. We watched TV a little longer. I had to squint to be able to see the picture clearly.


Later JB put on some soft music and read me some of his favorite poems. It was a wonderfully relaxing evening. I hoped this would just be the first of many.


We talked for a while. The conversation came up about devising some type of a disguise for me. JB suggested a change of hair color and style, a new style of glasses, and some phony arms that we could put in a jacket or long sleeved shirt. It sounded like it could work.


We decided to use the hot tub. We went into his bedroom, and he undressed in front of me. Then he removed all of my clothes, and we were both totally nude again. He opened the door out to the deck and the now heated hot tub. The light was subdued, and I couldn’t see very well. He stepped in; I sat on the edge, then swung my feet around. I eased into the hot tub and slid neck-deep onto one of the corner seats. Almost instantly my glasses fogged up.


“JB. My glasses are fogged up. I can’t see anything,” I said. “Would you take them off please?”


“Are you sure?” he questioned.


“Yes. I hate trying to see when I can’t with my glasses on. I’d rather just be totally blind,” I replied.


He removed my glasses. Now I couldn’t see anything. I couldn’t make out any shapes at all.


“They’re right over here,” he said.


I felt around underwater for his leg with my foot. When I made contact, he reacted by touching my leg with his other foot. I sat back and relaxed in my totally blind state. I wanted him to make love to me right there in the hot tub. I hadn’t told him how turned on I had gotten when John used to touch my scar. Not wanting to screw up a promising relationship, I just sat there and relaxed. We talked for a while and then decided to get out. JB helped me out of the hot tub and dried me off. I guess he was drying himself off because he just left me standing there for a minute. He led me back into the house and had me sit on his king-sized bed. I could sense that I was alone. It was scary being there alone and not being able to see or use my hands or arms to feel anything.


“JB, where are you?” I called.


“Don’t worry, I’m back,” he said in a calming voice. “I was cleaning the fog off of your glasses. Here you go.”


He put my glasses back on me, and I could see again. “Thanks for taking such good care of me,” I said as I gave him a peck on the cheek.


He put a white terry-cloth bathrobe over my shoulders and tied the waist belt, making sure to tuck in the sleeves under the belt. “You’re more than welcome,” he said before he put his arms around me and we engaged in a very passionate kiss. He relaxed his hold and then broke off the kiss.


We walked into the bathroom. I used the facilities while he brushed his teeth. He wiped me and broke out a new toothbrush out of the package. I stood there helpless while he brushed my teeth. I guess I had never felt more helpless. Now that I was armless, I really missed being able to do some of the things that I always took for granted I could do.


We walked into my bedroom. He pulled back the covers. “Do you want pajamas?” he asked.


“No, I prefer to sleep in the nude,” I replied.


“So do I,” he confided as he took off my robe. He hung it on the peg next to my motorcycle jacket and hung my purse on another. I got into bed, and he pulled the covers up around my neck.


“I usually don’t sleep with my glasses on,” I said.


“I take it you want me to take them off for you,” he said. “Will you be all right?”


“I’ll be fine as long as I know you’re in the next room,” I said. “Yes, please take them off.”


He took my glasses off, and the world disappeared. We engaged in a very passionate good night kiss, and he turned off the light. It was pitch black, not that I could have seen anything anyway.


“Good night,” he said from somewhere over by the door. “I’ll leave the door open if you want.”


“Please do,” I replied. “I can’t turn doorknobs. Where did you put my glasses?”


“I’ll put them right here,” he called from the other side of the room.


I didn’t have the foggiest idea in hell where ‘right here’ was. I lay there thinking of my good fortune. I was almost asleep, when the room lit up and a loud clap of thunder hit. I have been terrified of thunder and lighting storms since I was just a child. I have not grown out of that fear. A second bolt of lightning lit up the room, and an even louder clap of thunder hit. I screamed and jumped out of bed. I started in the direction of the door. I miscalculated my path and ran into the wall with my coat and robe. I found the door and ran into JB. I was crying hysterically by this time.


“What’s wrong?” he asked in a panicked voice.


“I’m terrified of thunder and lightning,” I sobbed. “I’ve been scared of it all of my life.”


“Follow me,” he said.


I sensed he was headed for the kitchen by the sound of his footsteps. I tried to follow him quickly, but I soon was lost in the living room. I stumbled over the footstool, and without any arms to catch myself, I took a hard fall. It hurt and I started to cry again. JB was soon there, quickly cuddling me in his arms.


“It’s my fault. I forgot,” he said. “I should have led you.”


“I’ll be OK now that you’re holding me,” I said.


“It’s going to be all right,” he comforted softly. “It’s going to be all right.”


He helped me to my feet and led me to what felt like the kitchen by the feel of the floor. He sat me on a bar stool and was gone.


“JB, What are you doing?” I asked.


“Here, drink this,” he said as he held a glass to my lips. I drank as I was told.


“I haven’t had a glass of milk in years,” I said. “Thank you. That tasted good.”


“Great, now let’s get you back to bed,” he said.


“I have a favor to ask,” I said softly.


“Sure. Go ahead and ask,” he replied.


“Can I sleep in your bed with you tonight?” I asked. “We don’t have to have sex if you don’t want.”


“Who said I didn’t want to have sex?” he said. “I’d be honored to share my bed with you.”


He put his hand on my shoulder, and I stood up. With his arm around me, he led me to the bedroom.


Sex was wonderful with him. A lot better than it had ever been with John. And yes, my pleasure doubled by having amputation scars on both shoulders. We were both turned on. It was good for both of us. I was glad to be in my new home.



E N D