I worked at a large hotel to support Dottie. Forever it seemed. She was older by at least ten years, but she was missing her left leg. I always thought we shared something special. Often she would welcome me home wearing nothing. Sex was great; all forms shared, often to excess. She left me for another woman a year ago.
I moved away to a huge costal city and began working in a large swank hotel facing the ocean. I had hopes of finding someone new among the flocks of tourists.
-
I push the form across the marble counter and watch as Leah rests the shiny metal hook of the prosthetic arm to steady it before signing the bottom holding a pen in her real hand. She smiles wantonly at me for a moment before taking the cardkey and pushing it between the halves of the hook.
"Let know if I can do anything," I tell her.
She continues to study me for longer than necessary, and then says in a sensual voice that makes me think of the sirens of the Odyssey, "You know my room number."
I have no wax for my ears and hear the words echo in my mind. I watch her hips sway under the black designer jeans as she walks towards the elevator. The hook dangles beside her. I remember fondly the vision of the deep valley between her breasts and wonder what she looks like naked and without the arm.
Seeing what I am looking at, Dave says quietly, "Poor woman." He then waits for the next customer in line to step forward.
For the next hour, I check people in and out with less enthusiasm as I remember Leah.
"What's wrong?" Dave asks when no one is at the counter.
"Nothing. Just a long day I guess. You know how that is."
"Yeah, man. Did you see that last babe I waited on? Whew, legs from here to China ... and a rack to boot."
A man steps up to the counter and the conversation ends abruptly. Dave takes care of him as I go into the back to clock out for the day.
As I walk into the lobby, I see Leah step from the elevator without the hook. She has changed into a sleeveless black t-shirt and loose fitting white cotton slacks that drape over her black running shoes. I look at the way the t-shirt grips her body, as a lover should. Her breasts jostle with each step. The left arm ends midway to the elbow and hangs casually.
I wait and watch. She sees me.
"Oh, hi Mark." Her voice is sweet and inviting.
I am impressed she noticed my nametag, or remembers my name. "Hey! Another day over."
"I was just going to have a late lunch. Join me." She glances towards the hotel coffee shop then back at me.
"Sure."
I follow her to a booth by a window near the back and sit across from her. I enjoy her face in silence for a while as the hostess places opened menus in front of us then walks away. Leah's face is sweet and her lips beg for kisses. The ice blue eyes hold my attention.
"You're staring," she playfully teases.
"Sorry. I guess I was just taken with your loveliness."
She moves her stump slightly and looks intently at my face. "Perhaps this interests you." Her voice is not accusing, but teasing as if she is baiting me.
"Well, of course. It's not every day I have a late lunch with a beautiful woman with one arm." I chuckle softly.
The older, chubby waitress is standing by the booth tapping her pad with a pencil. "Should I come back?"
"No Martha," I tell her. We place our orders and she walks away.
"Is she more your type?" Leah laughs.
"No, no, not at all. You're my type."
"What, you dig chicks with one arm?"
"Would that be so bad, especially if you are the 'chick'?"
She reaches across the table and holds my hand. "No it would not. I guess I just needed to test you a little. Some guys, well, they don't treat me as nicely as you are. They ... they think I'm desperate. Older guys, old enough to be my father, they just want to take care of me. I just want a man that will be with me, be a good lover. Is that you?"
"Sure ... I'd like to be yours. We just met though."
"I know, and there is no rush. Just, things to clear out of the way ... you know."
"I think I understand. Believe me; if it is only about your arm, don't worry. I love the way you look without it."
"Thank you. I appreciate the vote of confidence."
She looks at me for a while in silence. Our order comes. She covers her fries with salt and ketchup then takes a bite of her burger. I watch with interest how well she does things with just one hand.
"Sometimes the hook helps hold things while I cut or pick something up. It didn't take long to learn to do things with one hand. It's not so bad."
"You look comfortable that way."
"Listen, you probably didn't notice, but I'm missing both legs ... below the knee. I wear prosthetic legs."
"Wow. I don't mind."
"'Wow' as in the more stumps, the merrier?" She grins and a moment later, takes a bite of a fry.
"Sorry. I was just showing a little.... I don't know what happened, but if I said anything that upset you...."
