Chapter 3

Her hand felt soft and warm in his. She had found some comfort, and was reluctant to let him go. John could sense her pain and tension, her misery. He was kneeling before her, as if in prayer, desperately wanting to make her feel better. But there was nothing he could do for her.

"You were so kind to me," she said and smoothly withdrew her hand.

For a moment, he felt useless and empty. Then, he realized how important she was to him. He reached out and gently touched her cheek. Reflexively, her face assumed a startled expression which was quickly replaced by a quizzical look.

"I didn't want to offend you," he said, drowning in her green eyes.

"I still flinch when someone touches me unexpectedly. Immobility makes me feel vulnerable."

"I will never do that again. I sympathize with your predicament."

"Yes, I am to be pitied. The poor woman, whose body was crushed, who can do nothing but complain, and can't even pee without help," she said angrily.

"Abby," John whispered and watched her anger crumbling, dissolving into sadness.

"I want to be left alone."

He started wringing his hands, and then said:

"Abby, I want to kiss you."

"I don't think it's funny to..." she stopped, then her lips parted to complete the sentence.

Unable to curb his feelings, he kissed her passionately. Her eyes bulged and her good hand shot up to stop him. For a second, he thought that she was about to hit him. Her lips were stiff and unyielding, her face flushed. Then, slowly and unexpectedly, she responded to his kiss. Their tongues met with a pleasant tickle. He cupped her cheeks, taking care not to touch the device that supported her head.

"Are you crazy?" she asked softly.

He caressed her forehead and smoothed her hair back from her face.

"Yes, but I can control my craziness," he said and smiled.

"It feels a bit strange to be treated this way. Since I lost my attractiveness..."

He placed his forefinger on her mouth, muffling her words.

"You are beautiful."

"Really, how could you know that?"

"To be honest, your plaster shell doesn't hide much, you know."

"Hey, you almost made me feel like a princess," she said sarcastically.

His hand moved down and rested on her bare shoulder. Caressing her soft skin, he stared at the cast encasing her torso. The plaster cast was moulded nicely around her rounded breasts, emphasizing their shape. It looked as if she was wrapped up in a tight corset. He traced his finger over the padded edge of the cast, then curiously touched the hard shell.

"What are you doing?" she asked, turning her eyes down in a futile attempt to see his hands.

"Touching your breasts."

"Ha! Some other time maybe. They are very well protected now, too protected," she said, laughing.

He slipped his forefinger under the cast and into the barely visible slit between her breasts. She gasped and her left foot moved convulsively. Subsequently, her brow furrowed with pain. He took his hand back, then looked anxiously at her pale face. Gradually, her features relaxed and she tried to smile.

"I'm such an idiot!" John said.

"Please, do it again!" she said with unexpected twinkle in her eyes.

"Are you sure?"

She just took his hand and placed it on the cast. He did what he was told, while at the same time scrutinizing the peculiar expression on her face.

"In some respects, I still function properly," she said.

"Glad to hear that."

"But we will never be able to finish what we started."

"Everything will be fine one day. You will recover..."

"My left thigh is cramped."

"What can I do?"

"It needs to be massaged."

"Ok."

John stood up and reached out between the horizontal bars of the frame. His hand rested on the back of her thigh, then squeezed it gently. He noticed with surprise that despite the immobilization her muscles were still toned.

"Have you been into sports?" he asked.

"I used to play tennis three times a week."

He started kneading her flesh with slow, circular motions.

"It feels good," she said, moaning softly.

He rubbed her butt cheek, enjoying the softness of her immaculate skin. His eyes lingered on the cleft separating her buttocks. For a moment, there was a hesitant look on his face. Then, he slipped his hand between her legs. He found her clit and teases it with his fingertips.

Mrs. Tandy felt a pleasant tingling, and then a hot wave of desire washed over her. Her vagina moistened even further. Under the plaster prison, her muscles tensed in a futile attempt to respond. But only her good hand moved spasmodically. A high pitched moan slipped out of her lips and she felt weightless, as if she was flying.