The Man with No Legs (TM)

“Got one for you at the Marriott,” the man from her service said. “His name is Dan. Call me when you get to the lobby and I’ll give you the room number.”

Room 312. Every time she knocked on a hotel room door, she declared herself a channel for God. She rarely knew who was going to open the door, especially in the early days of her career, before she developed repeat clientele. This particular evening, it was a man with no legs.

Swinging the door open from the childlike stature of four feet tall, he gestured to indicate the room. “Please come in. I’m down here.”

He moved into the room ahead of her with his powerfully developed upper body. He wore only boxer shorts, pinned around the stumps of his upper thighs.

She noticed that he had ordered cheese and wine. “I’m recently out of rehab and ready to see how my mojo works with an actual woman. I’d like to spend three hours with you so we can take our time. Will you join me for the evening?” He had a sweet smile and a sparkle in his clear green eyes that she recognized as youthful lust.

“Yes, absolutely,” she said. “I just need to call my service and let them know how long I’ll be here. The fee for my time will be $600. Are you using a credit card? Let’s take care of business first, so we can relax and get to know each other.”

He swung over to the desk and took his wallet from a drawer. Counting out six $100 dollar bills, he grinned up at her and added six more. “Just to be sure we are both well-taken care of,” he said gallantly.

“Wonderful. Let me make the call. Just so you know, the phone will ring 10 minutes before our time is up.”

“That’s fine. Glad to know someone is keeping tabs on you. I think three hours will be perfect, but if we decide we want to extend our time, will that be OK?” he asked.

“Yes, she smiled. She already liked him. After the call was placed, she turned to him. “Would you like me to undress?”

“Not just yet,” he replied. “I want to tell you some war stories first. Will you join me in a glass of wine?”

“Yes, I’ll sip a glass, but have just one, in case I have another client after you.”

“You’ve probably guessed I’m a Vietnam vet. I was maimed by a land mind. I lost both legs all the way to the top of my thighs, but my genitals were undamaged, thanks to a helmet under the seat of the vehicle I was riding in. At least I’m grateful for that.”

He took a solid swallow of wine and she noticed that his hand was shaking.

He continued. “I was engaged, and the wedding was being planned for May. We met in 6^th grade and I was sure she was the love of my life. She always called me her Sweet Loverboy. I was injured in early March, due to be discharged at the end of the month. I was so close to getting out. Instead, this happened. She couldn’t deal with it. The wedding was cancelled, the engagement called off. She came to see me a few times in the hospital, once they got me back to the states, but the time between visits got longer and longer. The last time I saw her, she told me she was in love with someone else and had to quit seeing me. It was too hard on her, she said. She wanted to focus on the new man, the new relationship. Too hard on HER? How about how hard it was on ME?” He’d raised his voice and she felt his outrage. She saw that he was visibly trying to control his breathing.

“Now I’m having a hard time believing in love. I want to move on from here, but I’m not sure I can. I think I’m too broken by this. I feel so cynical now. How could anyone ever love me like this?” He’d said all this in a rush, with a lot of energy behind it.

She noticed the tremor in his hands again. She impulsively reached over and took his hand. He turned to her. She touched his cheek and looked deeply into his eyes. “I’m so sorry you’ve had to go through this. The injury was hard enough, but now you’re dealing with this broken heart.” She moved her hand to the area over his heart. Leaning in close, she whispered, “You deserve to love and be loved. You are not defective.”

His eyes filled with tears. “Please hold me,” he sobbed.

“Of course.” She lay down and opened her arms to him. He swung onto the bed and moved into her embrace. She held him close to her body. “I’ll hold you while you grieve,” she said. “You need to be held. You are doing just the right thing, asking for what you need. Cry as much as you want.”

The sobs intensified and convulsed his body. She held him tight, waiting for the necessary storm to move through. Minutes passed. His crying slowed, but he did not open his eyes. Finally, she stroked his cheek and said, “Dan, look into my eyes, please.” He slowly raised his gaze. “You have just had a huge release. You’ve shared your burden with me and now we can lighten up. I’m privileged to be a witness to your healing. I want us to make love so you’ll remember your manhood, your strength, your Sweet Loverboy Self.” He grinned at her through his tears.

Again she noticed the emerald green of his eyes, their depth and sparkle. He drew her closer and kissed her deeply. Her hand slowly ran down to his groin and she found a beautiful erection. “Tell me what position you think will work best to start,” she whispered in his ear.

With a big sigh, he said, “Ah, I’ve thought a lot about this. Let’s start here.” He swung himself to a chair beside the bed and slipped out of his shorts. “But first, undress for me, slowly, and tell me what you like best about your beautiful body. Show me.”

She sat on the edge of the bed directly in front of the chair and slowly removed her heels, dropping them out of the way at the foot of the bed. She stood and raised her skirt just high enough for him to see the top of her stockings. Turning sideways to him, with one foot on the bed, she released the clasps of the garter belt that held up her stockings and slowly rolled the black hose down and off her foot. Turning the other way, allowing him to see that she wore no panties, she repeated the movement with her other leg. Sitting back and placing her feet on either side of the chair he was in, she leaned back and spread her legs. “I’d love to introduce you to my sweet pussy; definitely one of my favorite body parts.” She reached for pillows and lay back, beginning to touch herself and spread her labia open, noticing how wet she was.

An hour later, each of them had fully explained their favorite body parts, and demonstrated what felt good. She smiled to herself as she slowly lowered her body onto his cock. She imagined writing about the evening in her journal the next day, and knew that someday she would write the story about this evening, this man and the part she played in his healing.