The Chair

Chapter 4

Then I felt it.  His tongue, moving around.  The feeling got stronger and stronger.  He was playing with that sweet spot, that special bundle of nerves, then licking around the sides, then darting his tongue in and out.  It was heaven.  “How are you feeling now?” he asked.  “Wonderful,” I moaned out.  I could barely speak.  He grabbed my hips with both hands and pulled on me to where I was laying flat on my back.  I gasped in surprise.  Then I started feeling something harder and rougher going in and out of me.  “That's my finger.  Can you feel it?” he asked.  “Yes,” I panted.  He started slow and soft, then progressed to faster and harder, to where I was bouncing on his hand.  I was a panting sweating mess.  Then he stopped.  I whined.  “Oh don't worry.  I’m not done,” he told me.

I sighed as I felt his tongue again.  He worked in a rhythm around my sweet spot.  I put my hands on his head, fully into it now.  I could feel myself panting as his rhythm was slowly bringing me to climax.  I fisted my hands in his hair as he brought me over the edge and kept going.  There was some slight soreness but I didn't care.  “Please.  Don't stop,” I begged as he worked his tongue, bringing me to another climax.  “Oh, I won't stop until your done,” he told me, slipping a finger in again.  He started moving his finger in and out and around in a rhythm.  Slowly and softly at first, then progressing to harder and faster again.  I moaned.  He was bringing me to a harder, more intense orgasm now.  Something deeper inside of me.  Then he stopped and I let out a cry of disappointment.  He started working me with his tongue again, this time in the same pattern he was using with his finger, in, out and around.  Lapping at me like I was an ice cream cone.

Then I felt it, that deeper climax.  It was way more intense.  I shivered but I didn't spasm like that other woman.  I was getting tired, but felt that I needed another one.  He did too because he didn't skip a beat.  He just kept going.  He would speed up and slow down and changed his rhythm.  It was harder this time, but he didn't waver.  He just kept going and going.  I was about to give up, then I started to feel it.  Softly at first, but growing in intensity.  Then it hit me all at once, like wall.  I cried out as I went over the precipice, then like the other woman, my body shook uncontrollably.  He stopped then and lay with me for a few minutes.
Then he got up and covered me with a blanket.  He kissed me on the forehead, “Rest now.”

I watched as he walked over to the bed a few feet away.  On it waiting was Angelique, fully naked, sitting up with her legs folded under her.  He took off his underwear and got on the bed, standing on his knees, sideways, in full view of me.  She licked his fully erect penis up and down, then took him into her mouth.  He put his hands on her head and stared down at her as she bobbed her head up and down.  After a little while, he threw his head back and groaned.

She stopped, “Not yet,” I heard her say, like it was a command.  She shoved him lightly and he landed laying on his back, staring up at her.  She reached up and played with her nipples for a moment , staring at me.  Then she climbed on top of him, straddling him and guided his penis into her.  I watched as she rode him until she threw her head back and cried out, collapsing onto him.  I waited for his groan of completion, but it never came.  I don't know if he got to finish or not.  I started to doze , exhausted, and fell asleep.

I awoke with a slight headache.  My eyes slowly opened to morning light streaming in through the windows.  I looked around with a strange feeling of detachment.  I was in my bedroom, laying in my bed.  I threw my familiar flower patterned, pastel comforter off of myself and looked down.  I was wearing a white, satin, lace-trimmed nightgown that wasn't mine.  Proof that it wasn't all just a dream.  To the right of my bed sat my wheelchair with all of my belongings from last night.  On my nightstand sat a bottle of aspirin, a cup of water and a folded piece of paper.  I took the aspirin first, knowing how my headaches get.  I reached for the paper and felt a wave of dizziness.  I laid back down and closed my eyes.

When I awoke, the headache was gone and I actually felt great.  I was still in the nightgown and uncovered.  Yep!  Still real!  I slowly sat up, using my arms and realized that I was using my lower back muscles too.  I felt a thrill and squealed with delight.  I felt a stab of panic, afraid to look for scars on my legs.  I slowly looked, full of trepidation.  I squealed again when I saw no scars.  I actually had some muscle definition.  I fell back on the bed a smile on my face.

Then I remembered the note by the aspirin.  I reached over and grabbed it.  It read: Thank you for the incredible night.  Be careful when you try to walk.  It will only last for at most two days, so keep your chair close.  Take some time to think about the offer and call me.  555-9576.  Evan.

I held the letter to my chest, closed my eyes and smiled again.  I don't know what he was thanking me for.  He did all of the work.  Be careful when you try to walk!  I sat up quickly, using my arms and my back muscles.  I swung my legs down, using my back and leg muscles, and sat on the edge of the bed.

I sat to think for a minute.  What if it doesn't work?  What if I fall flat on my ass?  I guess I had fallen on my ass before.  More times than I could count.  I had a feeling that the disappointment would hurt more than any physical bruises.  I felt a tear slip down my cheek.  There I was.  I had the opportunity to possibly do the impossible, and I sat crying, over-thinking it.  Finally, I wiped my tears and took a deep breath, resolving myself to at least try.  If I couldn't walk, I would be no worse off than normal.

I scooted to where my feet rested flat on the floor and slowly stood up, holding onto the bed.  I was standing, a little wobbly, but standing.  I smiled again, slowly walking to my wheelchair.  I took hold of the handles on the back.  I started out slow, pushing the wheelchair around the room.  Then went faster, then faster.  Then I left it by the bed and started walking without it.  I walked and walked until I was a panting sweaty mess.  I collapsed on the bed giggling.

What now?  I want to stand in the shower.  Or better yet, soak in a bath.  I have a large garden tub that I have never been able to use.  I got up and WALKED to the bathroom.  I turned on the bath.  I put in bubble bath and collected soap, shampoo and conditioner.  Usually I dreaded bathing.  Not this time!  I took off the nightgown and slowly lowered myself into the bathtub.  I washed and conditioned my hair, then washed every inch of my body.  Feeling every bit of it.

I touched myself between my legs, remembering, feeling that thrill of anticipation.  Something that I had never done before.  I wanted to feel that again before I lost it.  I gently felt around for that small bud of nerves and found it easy enough, throbbing.  I lightly rubbed at it, then rubbed around it like Evan had done with his tongue.  I imagined that it was his tongue as I rubbed and slipped a finger in then out.  I began to get frustrated because it wasn't the same.  An expert, I wasn't.  I was also sore and this wasn't helping.  I decided to just focus on that bundle of nerves.  I lightly, slowly rubbed until I started to feel desire build.  Then I started rubbing harder and faster.  I felt exhilaration as I was able to bring myself to climax.  It wasn't as good as with Evan, but it would do for now.  I relaxed back against the bathtub to soak for a few minutes.  I didn't want to spend too much time in the bath.  I wanted to walk some more.

After a few minutes of soaking, I stood up, twisted my hair up in a towel and wrapped another towel around myself toga style.  I put the shampoo, conditioner and soap back in the shower.  I might stand in the shower before I go to bed.

I dried off completely and put on underwear, shorts and a t-shirt.  It was amazing how effortless it was just to get dressed.

I walked to the kitchen.  I was famished.  I hadn't ate in I don't know how long.  It was time to cook. STANDING UP!  I giggled with excitement.

I opened the refrigerator door.  “Well, it looks like we have chicken, chicken and more chicken,” I said, out loud, to myself, “Chicken it is!”  I pulled the small package of chicken out and set it on the counter.  I busied myself with cutting it up with scissors and put it in the pan to simmer.  I pulled a pepper and a couple of carrots out of the refrigerator and set them on the counter.  I got an onion and a package of fajita seasoning out of the pantry.  I mixed the seasoning in with the meat then set about chopping up vegetables.

I turned on some music and danced around while I set about chopping vegetables.   Half way through the second carrot, I cut my finger.  “Oh no!” that hurt.  I rushed to the sink and washed the blood off with cold water.  I stared at the cut in amazement as it began to heal, rapidly sealing up until it was gone.  What just happened?  I inspected it closely, cooking momentarily forgotten.  All gone.  I jumped up and down, squealing yet again.  This was just unbelievable.  But I had seen it for myself.  What is going on?

Then I remembered my cooking and went back to chopping carrots.  I was more careful this time, but knew that it would be okay if it happened again.  When done, I put the vegetables in the pan and stirred.  I stared at the knife, seriously considering cutting myself again, just to see, then decided against it.  I’m sure there are plenty of accidents waiting to happen without me helping it along.

When the chicken mixture was done, I put the tortillas in the microwave and set the timer.  I got out the shredded cheese and sour cream.  When the tortillas were ready, I made myself a fajita and ate it standing up at the counter.  Then made myself another and ate it.  The whole time glancing at the knife in the sink.  I finished eating, then started rinsing the dishes to load the dishwasher.  I came to the knife and paused.  One little cut, just to make sure that it really happened.

I did it.  I felt the sting as cool metal sliced into my finger.  I had never intentionally hurt myself like this before.  It was a different kind of feeling.  I didn't understand the draw for cutters and others who self-harm.  I guess it's just not for me.  Even in my darkest days, after the accident, I had never attempted suicide or any type of self-harm.  Not that I could've.  I was never left alone.

The cut was throbbing now.  I put my finger under cool water and watched as the blood washed away.  Then there it was.  It started sealing up.  It took a little longer than the last time.  I think that this cut was deeper than the first.  How could I possibly ever go back to normal after this?  I just stared at my finger in amazement as water poured down the drain.  Even if this goes away, I will still never be normal.  I chuckled to myself.  When have I ever been normal?  Maybe, during the time before the accident?  Even then, was I normal?  What is normal, anyway?

I knew, in that moment, that I did not want my normal to include a wheelchair.