Recluse

Molly Stewart I tell people when asked my name. These days it is rare as I find myself become more of a recluse preferring to stay either at my house at the ocean or the one on Lake Wendell. Thirty-eight and still nice looking, at least I like to watch myself in the mirror. The novel falls from my hand as I drift into a nap. The afternoon is warm and the ocean breeze has a particularly pleasant sedative-like effect on me.

"Madam," Estelle gently calls. She has been my housekeeper for less than a month since Louise left to follow some silly dream in another country.

I stir and stretch then look around slightly startled. "Yes?" I call out still not completely awake. Wearing only an unbuttoned denim work shirt now draped along each side of me, I struggle to sit. "Give me a hand please," I say holding my hand out.

She sits the cup and saucer on the table and helps. "I'm impressed with the way you handle not having legs. You rarely need help."

I laugh at myself. "Yes. Sometimes I find myself in an awkward position." I laugh again.

"Forgive me...." Estelle pauses and watches me sitting with an arm propping me up from behind.

"Yes?"

She stands a little straighter, her feet tight together and her hands clasped in front. "I know my position here and I shouldn't presume to be treated as a, ah, friend. Would you mind if I ask about your legs?"

"It's a nice day, isn't it?" I scan the empty stretch of white sand and the turquoise waters. Slowly I look back at the woman younger than I am. She is tall, long bare legs, slim firm body with tight khaki shorts and black tee shirt tight against bare erect nipples, and quite attractive. "No I don't mind ... unless it is out of pity." I smirk then frown. "May I ask the nature of your curiosity? Do you find me attractive this way? Perhaps you might like to be this way." I smile and point at the chair next to the lounge chair where I sit.

She repositions the chair as she sits facing me. She casually crosses her left leg atop the right and lets her foot slowly swing a few times before letting the sandal fall to the floor. A small cough clears her throat and her hands fidget in her lap. "Ah," she stammers to collect her thoughts. "I guess I should be honest. Yes, I find you very pretty and your lack of legs is strangely exciting to me. After I first met you on the interview, I probably would have worked for free just to be around you." She laughs nervously and becomes quiet.

"Am I the first?"

"First amputee? Yes. You are the first that I have known. At the university, there was one, a senior when I was a freshman, but I only saw him twice from a slight distance."

"Was he missing both legs?"

"Yes. I don't know why I never made an effort to speak to him. Maybe I was too shy. Anyway, I didn't. A woman at church when I was young had one leg and walked on crutches. I've never forgotten the way she looked as she moved so gracefully about. My mother wouldn't talk to me about her and a few Sundays later the woman stopped attending."

"Since we're being honest...." I giggle. "Have you ever thought about what it would be like to be missing a leg ... maybe both legs?" She nods and squirms in the chair. Her foot swings a little faster for a moment and her chest swells as she takes a deep breath. "Really?" I ask her, more to reassure myself as I think about what to tell her.

"I hope you don't think I'm crazy." She re-crosses her legs with the right on top and lets the other sandal fall from her foot. A moment later she half stands and settles back with her left foot underneath her. "Excuse me, this is an area I've never discussed with anyone. Guess it had been something I've considered a dark side of myself. Your questions are making me think you might understand though." She relaxes slightly and lets her body drape casually over the chair with her leg still folded underneath.

"Does the fact that I'm almost naked bother you?" I laugh as I twist my hips and move to a regular chair like the one she is in. "There, that's a little more comfortable. Sometimes my butt hurts." I laugh again and adjust my shirt leaving most of me exposed. "Guess not." I smile and watch Estelle smiling back. I reach over and pat her hand lying on the table then take the cup of tea and sip.

"I had a boyfriend that was a nudist." She sighs. "We'd go camping with others. It was great."

"What happened to him?"

"One night after some particularly great sex, I asked him if he would still love me if I were to lose my legs. The conversation quickly went down hill as I got near to confessing my needs. We split up a few days later without me ever telling him. Is that why you are not married?"

"Sid died a few years ago."

"Oh, sorry. At the university, I, ah, experimented with my roommate."

"I assume it was a she." I smile as though I don't mind."

"Yeah-h," she drawls.

"Did you enjoy it more than with the nudist?"

"It would be hard to compare. It was just different. I guess I don't have a preference. There have been others but I never really stayed all that long with anyone of either gender."

"I've experimented too," I whisper, almost ashamed. "I even lived with Georgia for a year before I met Sid. I had legs. She never knew. I doubt she would have understood."

"And Sid did?"

"Oh yeah-h-h." I let the word drag out forever. "Hell yeah." I giggle and smile. "Hell yeah." I laugh.

"Is that how you had your legs amputated?"

"Guess it's obvious from the direction of the conversation."

"Yup."

"The Internet, what would life be without it?" I laugh and sip my tea. "A dating group I stumbled upon linking amputees and those who wanted to be with them ... well after a month of sneaking to my computer so Georgia wouldn't catch me, I got a message from Sid. My profile was simple - woman wishes to be legless. I never thought it would interest anyone. Oh, I'd seen and read all kinds of articles about people wanting such things, mostly gay men. I don't know why I should be the only one allowed to feel this way, but I guess that's the way I felt."

"So you just let it all hang out. Good for you." She pumps her arm with her hand in a fist.

"Well, yeah. That was all Sid could talk about and I stayed aroused listening to him. We'd ... well we enjoyed each other at night." I snicker. "I moved in with him after a month ... quit my job, moved here."

"And the legs?"

"Not long after that we flew in his private jet to a clinic in Asia. We rented a large villa with warm tropical winds and luscious young bodies to help with every whim." I giggle as I think about the experience. "Wow." I open my eyes and glance at Estelle. "I sometimes forget how wonderful it all was. I know most people don't feel that way about losing their legs ... it was special to me."

"Both legs, both that much?"

"Yes. There are just a few inches of femur to help keep the shape of my hips."

"Wow-w," she moans. After a moment of silence, she asks, "More tea?"

"Please." I watch her walk into the house and then absorb the view of the ocean and the beach. I pull my wheelchair against the chair and flip my hips towards the cushion. As I land, the wheelchair rolls a few inches and I reposition myself. I pull the shirt closed and button the middle button then roll closer to the railing.

"Lovely wheelchair. I like the yellow color."

"I struggled picking the color. There was a dark blue that was pretty."

"I might go for a dark green unless I got a titanium chair. I think I'd go for a painted chair though."

As she talks, she moves about the patio eventually stopping next to me. I put my arm around her waist and she reaches down then pats my hand making no effort to remove it. "It is a lovely day, isn't it?" Her hand now rests atop mine pressing firmly against her side then letting the fingers intertwine.

I say nothing for some time, just enjoying the budding friendship. "Thank you," I finally say while giving her side a slight rub with my fingers.

"I don't presume to...." she begins.

I cut her off shushing her. "No. I should be the one to not presume. I sometimes get lonely. Guess this is one of those times. I miss contact." My fingers continue to massage her side for a moment longer and I remove my arm. I roll to the table and sip my tea looking away from Estelle. I hear her walk into the house. I slip from my wheelchair and crawl to the edge of the pool then dive in.

-

I know she demands to talk about that conversation. She does not speak of it for the next week. I choose to let her make the next move. My life is comfortable alone even though I hinted of needing contact. I do not know where that thought came from and I ignore it. Today I am dressed in a short skirt and tee shirt as I lean against the railing with a strong shore breeze blowing my hair while watching a pair of sea gulls diving for fish in the shallow water.

"Such freedom," Estelle whispers as she too leans against the railing next to me and looking at the gulls. Her hand then lays over my shoulder in a strangely familiar way. It remains in the same place for a moment. "Sorry," she moans as she removes her hand.

"It is okay dear." I use the word in a more casual manner than many people do and I believe she will understand. Her hand returns to the same place but we remain silent.

"I've thought a lot about last weeks conversation," she eventually says as she removes her arm and turns to face me. Her arms cross. "Forgive me, but...." She turns back towards the ocean, her hands on the railing, and is quiet looking like she is somewhere else.

I turn my wheelchair and watch. "The amputee stuff, the lesbian stuff, or just talking about such personal stuff?

"Yeah." She pauses. "All of it. I'm just an employee of yours. I shouldn't presume to mix work with friendship." She turns and walks to the house. I watch. In the doorway, she turns back. "Maybe I should find another place to work." She turns and whispers, "I'll be in my room for a while," then disappears into the house.

"Stay," I say softly not knowing if she hears. She is gone from view. "Let me help you. Let you help me too."

-

Estelle lives in the guesthouse. A tiled roof loggia connects it with the main house. I can see it from the deck off my bedroom. I find myself enjoying knowing she is there. Louise was efficient, professional, but never someone I could connect in a personal way. There had been other help, all like Louise. I don't know why Estelle is different. One night I find myself sitting in my wheelchair looking at the light in her window wondering what she might be doing. After a daydream and a glass of scotch, I go to bed and pleasure myself into a deep sleep.

I awake naked and uncovered with the morning filling my bedroom. I stretch my arms and body to awake more while enjoying how there is nothing past my hips.

"Morning," she says as she carries a tray with a cup of coffee towards me.

I roll to one side propping myself up on one elbow. "How sweet of you," I coo.

She sits the tray on the table by the bed and stands with her head down. "I didn't sleep well last night. I've already had my first cup."

I sit upright and pat the sheet. "Tell me," I instruct. My hand continues to pat until she sits next to me. "Not like you haven't seen me naked." I giggle and sip the dark black liquid while I prop myself with the other so I will not fall over. I sit the cup back down and glance at her. "What is the matter?" I reach out and stroke her long hair down her back a few times.

"I ah, I...." she stammers. "Shit," she mutters. She lays her hand against the small of my back and holds her lips just in front of mine. A moment later, they make contact and do not lose grip. Her hand finds my willing breast and kneads it. I lose my balance and we fall back on the bed together. "Need this," she moans and then our mouths consume each other. I nod without losing touch of her lips.

Sid had been the last to kiss and suckle my legless hips. Her lips willingly explore the rounded orbs and kiss along the scars without objection. Her fingers toy with my opening, with my clit, with the wetness forming. I flex my waist forcing myself against her hand. She knows what I am begging for and her fingers fill me. "Oh-h," I moan loudly each time her thumb rolls my clit under it. I ride her hand, her pressure just right. "Oh-h," I roar and moan. It has been twenty-two months since I'd been with Sid, twenty-two months since I'd been with anyone. It fells great. "Oh-h. Oh-h," I grunt reassuring Estelle that she is pleasing me greatly. I can feel my breaths coming with greater difficulty. I gasp. I groan. Strange grunts float above my mouth. Then her lips wrap around my clit. "Oh God-d!" I drawl.

It is noon according to the clock and our naked bodies still press together. I hear her soft breath and her lap cradles my hips. I look at her lovely face and her kissable lips then let her sleep. I fall asleep, again.

-

The year has been good. I watch Estelle crutch though the open French doors to the patio. The one-piece swimsuit cut high over each hip with slivers of fabric more like suspenders across her nipples does little to cover her gorgeous body. I savor the way it reveals the nearly total lack of thigh dangling from her left hip. Our new housekeeper Julie follows with a tray with two glasses of ice tea. She sits the tray on the table and returns to the house with a slight shake of her head. I know there is a smirk on her face because she does not understand.

Estelle leans down and kisses me letting her tongue roll around my mouth. "I love you," she blows around her tongue into my mouth.

I pat the cushion of the lounge chair and she settles as she lays her crutches neatly on the floor.

"How can I ever thank you?" she whispers as her finger roams my chest partially covered by the denim work shirt I wore that day this all started. "I'm glad I can be reclusive with you."