Author’s Note: The original version of this was written about 20 years ago and had a limited exposure on one of the now defunct yahoo groups. I have done some tidying and rewriting to maybe make for better reading as well as clearing up some ragged punctuation. Hope you enjoy it – it is pure fiction

*

Part 1

Bridgette sat back, relaxed and sipped the scotch in front of her. Her mind was actually in a faraway place – dwelling on events nearly a year before which, it seemed to her, were as fresh as if they happened yesterday. She absently hauled her cigarettes out of the bag draped over the adjacent chair, and lit it, inhaling deeply.

She glanced at the well-worn crutches leaning against the same bench next to her, and noted that a few people who had come in after her, glanced at them and then at her. Some were openly inquisitive glances which drifted down to her legs, and then back up again, usually with the same look of, “I wonder why she needs crutches?” A year ago the look would have been somewhat different on the return journey – enlightened usually.

She knew the looks were not at her as a young, gorgeous, sexy woman – she was pragmatic about the fact that she was going on 40, more pretty than gorgeous, with a significantly larger upper body create than most women would desire – it was the crutches that drew the glances. Her legs were very nice though – she wondered back to a year ago when this was quite different ……….

It was raining – actually it was starting to piss down – and Bridgette cursed under her breath as she heaved herself forward on her trusty crutches – her other two legs, as she liked to call them. She felt the left crutch tip begin to skid out, and forced it down with an instinctive jerk of the well-formed arm, which had very little fat on it. The tip stopped its wayward slide, and she swung her torso and legs through. She cursed the bag guy at the supermarket again, for leaving a packet behind when he so nicely helped carry her purchases to her car yesterday. “Damn him! Why the hell did he have to leave the sugar and the butter behind! Any of the other packets, I could have gone without!”

So here she was, getting out of the bus one stop early so that she could pass the minimart to pick up just those two little items – and then it started pouring. Now a person with Bridgette’s physical state can do a lot of things, but an umbrella plus two crutches – no chance! Getting out one stop early on the bus route meant she had to crutch nearly 300 metres further to get home, but it was the logical thing to do, as her apartment was just before the next stop. The sky had just a few clouds floating around when she boarded the bus and this storm had come out of nowhere – guess that’s why they are called thunderstorms. She had less than 50 metres to go to the minimart, and had stopped to catch her breath, and rest her aching arms, when suddenly a rather battered umbrella popped open above her head.

She turned to look up at the owner – he was a decent looking guy, in his early forties she guessed and he had a smile on his face. “Can’t have you getting your hair wet” he stated in a matter of fact way.

“But you are now getting wet!” She replied, blushing slightly.

“Ah! But then I have a lot less hair than you, and I drip dry! Please don’t send me away?” This brought a smile to her face – he was very determined to keep the rain off her she could see. “Where are you headed?” he asked and she told him where. “Well let’s go then because the rain is getting heavier by the minute – anyway can I provide some help to you?” She smiled wryly and told him that she had to manage the walking part on her own. She realized grimly that he had probably spotted her disability even though her legs were disguised inside long trousers, which covered most of her special shoes as well – but then only someone with a seeing eye dog might have missed the stiff-legged crutching action.

As she crutched on, he got himself in a position slightly behind her and to one side so as to be clear of her crutches, but protecting her from the rain, by holding the umbrella in front of himself. She realized how thoughtful he was being, as so often people simply walked too close, and got in the way of the crutches which carved an imaginary path about half a metre wider than that usually taken by a pedestrian.

As they got to the minimart, he took a side step ahead of her, and whipped open the door for her so that she could go straight in without breaking her rhythm. She expected him to leave her at this point but he asked her if he could “have the honour of carrying her basket for her?”

What the hell she wondered – “Thank you – that would be nice” she said.

She duly got the sugar and the butter and explained to him what had happened the previous day. In the aisles, he had walked behind her and she felt both slightly uncomfortable, and slightly excited by this. On the one hand he could possibly make out the braces on the outside of each leg, when the trousers were up against the leg, and the deep ridge the top of the braces made in the back of each leg when she put weight on the legs. So maybe he was feeling sorry for her, as a poor cripple, but maybe he was finding her voluptuous curves a little attractive too? She shook her head slightly to dispel the last wildly optimistic wondered – “Christ!” she said to herself, “my big arse sticks out, my legs are thin sticks and are encased in steel and leather, and I have the arms and shoulders of an East German female weight lifter!”

Bridgette inhaled deeply again, and took a swig of her scotch – she thought what would have happened at that point, if the weather had simply cleared up, and the sun shone again? Would it have been better if they had then discovered it had stopped raining, and each went on their separate methods – maybe not? No point in playing out those infinite scenarios she wondered, shaking her head a little to dispel the thoughts.

At the counter, she carefully spread her legs a bit and, resting on one crutch only, put her bag on the counter, extracted her purse, and dexterously hauled out the money to pay for the few groceries in the basket, all with her free hand. After she had paid, and got her change, she asked him to hook the packet over the handle of her crutch, assuming he would now go on his way, but he looked straight at her, and said he was hoping he could escort her to her destination, and provide an “ongoing gallant effort to keep your hair dry”. Well she wondered – it’s only about another 250 metres to her apartment, and it was raining quite heavily.

“Look” he said, “at least let’s get on first name terms then I won’t be a stranger – I am Warren Baker”. “Now I am now longer a stranger – and you are?”

She laughed and said “Okay – I am Bridgette and yes I will accept your offer Sir Warren!” He extended his hand, and she let go the crutch to shake it but started slowly toppling over as she did not have her legs spread. He held her hand, and applied a little pressure to steady her, without making a single opinion – all the while with his eyes locked on hers. She saw an almost amused little look in his eyes, which kind of said “Its ok – I realize you have paralyzed legs, and that you need those crutches to walk – but I am ok with that”.

Bridgette put out the cigarette, and remembered vividly the warm glow that went through her, when he had held her hand. It had been totally irrational at the time, after all he had not given the slightest indication of any intentions, other than being chivalrous to a woman in the rain, up to that point. Maybe he had held it just a few seconds longer than was necessary – what was it that had ignited that spark in her? Anyway she had felt feelings stir in her, which she had almost forgotten, and to her embarrassment, her breasts had suddenly felt very tight in her bra.

She looked away, while grabbing her crutch to steady herself, hoping he did not notice the slight red tinge she was sure she had. He turned and opened the door for her, and again followed her out into the street at just the right distance. By now it was raining heavily, and she saw that the coat he was wearing was quite probably not gonna provide much more protection from the downpour. She reckoned that at her top speed it would take her around 15 minutes to get to the apartment, including a few rest stops, and by that time he would be soaked!

Just then the sound of the downpour changed, and little white hailstones started bouncing off the umbrella and smashing on the pavement. Above the clamour, he asked her if they could stop at the pub right next to them, and wait the storm out – she agreed poste haste, and they made for the pub. It was there that she realized that she was now gonna show another limitation – there were 3 steps leading down into the pub – and no bloody handrail! After all these years, she was still a little nervous of steps without a solid handrail – especially in a downpour with little hailstones lying all over the place!

Bridgette paid for the second drink that the waiter put in front of her, and smiled to herself – well it was different now, but she still was uncomfortable tackling stairs, with or without the comfort of a handrail! Especially after what happened 11 months ago! One of the guys who had walked in gave her a glance – saw the crutches and looked quite obviously at her legs. He indicated whether he could buy her a drink, she mouthed back “no thanks” and smiled a little smile to herself, remembering how that night had progressed.

Without being asked, he stepped up behind her and carefully put a hand under her armpit, while still holding the umbrella and parcel in the other. She immediately felt his unstated strength, and realized he was saying that no matter what, he would hold her up. She glanced back at him and flashed him a grateful smile, and then carefully placed first one, then the other crutch on the first step. The hailstones were like ball bearings and as soon as she placed her full weight on the crutches to lift her body down to the step, she felt the one starting to slide. In a flash, he somehow managed to get the other arm under her elbow, and took her entire weight off the crutches. The hail beat a tattoo on both them for an instant, as she moved the crutch to a better position, and he returned the umbrella to protect her. The next two steps went without incident, although he kept one hand just under her armpit as a precaution.

The pub was quite busy, but there was a little corner table free with an L shaped bench behind it – he pointed at it and she nodded assent, and she carefully moved between the tables to it. “Oh shit!” she wondered “now I have to make an arse of myself to sit down – fuck these braces!”

Warren had folded the umbrella, and hung it on a peg, where it hung, looking vaguely like some wet escaped piece of silk rag. He was about to take off his somewhat damp overcoat, when she leaned one crutch against the side of the bench, and then placing her free hand on the table started to put the other crutch down too. Just as the disaster started to happen – the table was not fixed, and being an old perverse table anyway, decided this was a good time to topple over, given the newfound weight being placed on it – he jumped forward to grab her under her arms, to prevent her from falling forward as the table canted towards her.

Bridgette took out another cigarette and lit it. As she slowly exhaled, she let her mind run through the scene again – he had intended to get this hands under her armpits, but she had started to twist on the way down, so he had grabbed mostly her breast, which had placed itself in the direct path of his hand. At that point, chivalry was not at problem – stopping her falling flat on her face was the priority. As she remembered how strong, and yet how gentle that hand had been, as he once again took her full weight, squeezing her breast, she felt her nipples harden, and absently her free hand moved slightly on her lap to let a finger trail down between her smooth legs.

He gently straightened her into a vertical position, and then quietly asked her what the next step was? He acted so fast, and in such a casual manner, that virtually no one had noticed the entire episode. She could have died of embarrassment, and was quite frankly close to tears. He just took a short step forward, and then held her against him. After a minute, he asked if she was feeling better – she nodded, and heard him say softly “Pity, I was enjoying that!”

“Well” she said, “I have to unlock the things on my legs so I can sit down”.

“Okay – what if I put you down like this, and then we unlocked the ‘things’ afterwards?” He kept a straight face but deliberately followed her lead in describing her braces as “things”.

“Oh God!” she wondered “then they will stick up straight in the air!” She explained this to him, blushing bright red at all times – she had been wearing braces for near on 40 years and now suddenly she was embarrassed about them!

“How do I release the locks?” he asked still holding her. They just looked like a couple having a quiet hug to the rest of the patrons – who didn’t take much notice anyway, although she felt every eye in the place was staring directly at them.

“Oh Shit! I can’t have him touching my braces! It will freak him!” The wondered spun through her mind, and she tried to work out a way to sit down gracefully without any support handy – aside from his arms – and without recovering her crutches first as well, and still managing to bend down to release the locks!

Bridgette took a sip of the new scotch, and laughed to herself as she recalled the quandary she had been in then, and compared it to what happened later – why the hell had she been so concerned at that little action? So what if he felt her braces! She looked down at the offending table – which was still not stable – in fact the year had not treated it well at all! It was now permanently lopsided – without her applying her weight at any point!

“There is a ring behind each knee, which has an elastic keeping it pulled down, if you pull it up, it releases the lock on that leg” She mumbled this so fast, and kept her face averted, that he only got half of it.

He smiled and turned her face toward him – “Hey – this is not a big deal – but say it again slow, and then I can hear you!” So she repeated the procedure. He turned to be next to her, so he had an arm around her from the left side, bent down still holding her, and before she could even think of saying anything, he unlocked the right leg and lowered her to the seat, and then quickly unlocked the left as well. He then lifted her onto the seat properly, and carefully pulled up her knees slightly so that her legs were vertical from the knees down.

She sat there for a moment quite speechless, but he casually took off his coat, hung it on the peg, and before sitting down, moved the table back into the right position. As he sat down, his leg came into contact with the outer bar and knee mechanism of her right leg, and she automatically dropped her hands to move it out of the way. His hand fell on hers, and he said to leave it, as he wanted to feel her touching him!

Bridgette remembered how she stuttered something about it being a lump of leather and steel, and he surely couldn’t enjoy that! His response was a bit shattering – “But it’s like clothing – you don’t mind me holding your arm through your sleeve do you? So sure it’s a bit unusual, but the concept is the same!” Later on these words took on a deeper meaning, and as she sipped her scotch, she felt the same relaxed feeling she had felt then.

They ordered drinks and she hauled out her cigarettes and he said “thank God – you smoke too!”

The storm carried on, and they talked about what they did, and he asked her straight out what had happened – and she replied frankly as well – how she got polio as a very young child right at the end of the epidemic, possibly as one of the few who contracted the disease via the inoculation. She also told him that she had all the time had to wear braces and had never walked without them, how the paralysis had affected her spine – this was after the third drink – “And I am not pregnant – just the curvature has made my belly stick out and my bum too!” He laughed at this, and said he had guessed that.

Bridgette ran her hand over the seat next to her where he had sat, and subconsciously she spread her legs a little as she reminisced on what followed. She really wished things had run a different course – actually she wished just to know what the hell went wrong!

Warren had kind of moved a bit closer to her during the period they were chatting, and after a while he put his left hand on her thigh. As it was, it came to rest on the top of the broad thigh band and only the fingers were actually on her skin through the trouser pants she was wearing. She stiffened, not sure how to react. He sensed it, and asked her whether she objected to his putting his hand on her thigh? “But my braces….”

She started to respond, but he cut her short “Look either you want me to or you don’t – the issue of what is between my hand and your thigh, is a separate one”. Bridgette remembered how she was torn between her assumption that he would discover the feel of the straps and leather and steel to be revolting, and her inexplicable desire to have the hand above the thigh strap, and further round the thigh too! It was the way he had held her breast she decided, that had “undone” her, and suddenly she realized with a jolt that her hand was now quite far between her legs! The table cloth formed a fairly effective screen, but she withdrew her hand guiltily, and glanced furtively at the other patrons, to see if any of them had noticed anything at all.

He added “I really am attracted to you, and your “thingies” are not an issue at all. I assume from the way you reacted, you can feel my hand there – I was not sure whether the polio deprived you of sensation, as well as the muscle control”. At this point he had fully awakened all the sexual feelings she had suppressed for so long, so she shyly reached down and shifted his hand above the top of the thigh cuff – which meant that it was really right in her crotch anyway,

So she said to him -“Well I can’t really feel it through all that leather, so you will have to put it there!” Bridgette remembered giving him a naughty smile at the same time, and saw his eyes widen a bit.

She also remembered how embarrassed she was, when she attempted to reciprocate with him, and because he was sitting at right angles half facing her, and she was a little tensed up, she had made a “slight” misjudgment and instead of putting her hand on his thigh, she put it smack on top of his dick! And what was worse it was hard and big! She tried to hastily withdraw saying “oh my God! I’m so sorry – so fucking clumsy too!” but he held her hand and said if she liked it there, he loved it there. She nearly had an orgasm then and there!

Part 2

Things happened quite quickly after that – they had had a few drinks by this time and the rain had stopped too. He said -“You live close by don’t you? Either we get a taxi, and go back to your place, or we go to my hotel. You agree?” She did not know quite how to handle this – she had never had a guy get her so hot, and him also be so hot in such a short space of time – but she wasn’t gonna let this one get away!

So she said – “My place, but it is just down the street so a taxi isn’t worth the hassle”. He squared the bill, and they left, and she let him lift her straight up the stairs this time! They were both single minded, and knew where this was going, and once outside, he stopped her and gave her a long kiss. She dropped one crutch and clung onto him, as she felt her whole being respond and want him. She realized she was wet where it counted, and thought if it showed on the back of her dress.