Molly Stewart I tell people when asked my name. These days it is rare as I find myself become more of a recluse preferring to stay either at my house at the ocean or the one on Lake Wendell. Thirty-eight and still nice looking, at least I like to watch myself in the mirror. The novel falls from my hand as I drift into a nap. The afternoon is warm and the ocean breeze has a particularly pleasant sedative-like effect on me.
"Madam," Estelle gently calls. She has been my housekeeper for less than a month since Louise left to follow some silly dream in another country.
I stir and stretch then look around slightly startled. "Yes?" I call out still not completely awake. Wearing only an unbuttoned denim work shirt now draped along each side of me, I struggle to sit. "Give me a hand please," I say holding my hand out.
She sits the cup and saucer on the table and helps. "I'm impressed with the way you handle not having legs. You rarely need help."
I laugh at myself. "Yes. Sometimes I find myself in an awkward position." I laugh again.
"Forgive me...." Estelle pauses and watches me sitting with an arm propping me up from behind.
"Yes?"
She stands a little straighter, her feet tight together and her hands clasped in front. "I know my position here and I shouldn't presume to be treated as a, ah, friend. Would you mind if I ask about your legs?"
"It's a nice day, isn't it?" I scan the empty stretch of white sand and the turquoise waters. Slowly I look back at the woman younger than I am. She is tall, long bare legs, slim firm body with tight khaki shorts and black tee shirt tight against bare erect nipples, and quite attractive. "No I don't mind ... unless it is out of pity." I smirk then frown. "May I ask the nature of your curiosity? Do you find me attractive this way? Perhaps you might like to be this way." I smile and point at the chair next to the lounge chair where I sit.
She repositions the chair as she sits facing me. She casually crosses her left leg atop the right and lets her foot slowly swing a few times before letting the sandal fall to the floor. A small cough clears her throat and her hands fidget in her lap. "Ah," she stammers to collect her thoughts. "I guess I should be honest. Yes, I find you very pretty and your lack of legs is strangely exciting to me. After I first met you on the interview, I probably would have worked for free just to be around you." She laughs nervously and becomes quiet.
"Am I the first?"
"First amputee? Yes. You are the first that I have known. At the university, there was one, a senior when I was a freshman, but I only saw him twice from a slight distance."
"Was he missing both legs?"
"Yes. I don't know why I never made an effort to speak to him. Maybe I was too shy. Anyway, I didn't. A woman at church when I was young had one leg and walked on crutches. I've never forgotten the way she looked as she moved so gracefully about. My mother wouldn't talk to me about her and a few Sundays later the woman stopped attending."
"Since we're being honest...." I giggle. "Have you ever thought about what it would be like to be missing a leg ... maybe both legs?" She nods and squirms in the chair. Her foot swings a little faster for a moment and her chest swells as she takes a deep breath. "Really?" I ask her, more to reassure myself as I think about what to tell her.
"I hope you don't think I'm crazy." She re-crosses her legs with the right on top and lets the other sandal fall from her foot. A moment later she half stands and settles back with her left foot underneath her. "Excuse me, this is an area I've never discussed with anyone. Guess it had been something I've considered a dark side of myself. Your questions are making me think you might understand though." She relaxes slightly and lets her body drape casually over the chair with her leg still folded underneath.
"Does the fact that I'm almost naked bother you?" I laugh as I twist my hips and move to a regular chair like the one she is in. "There, that's a little more comfortable. Sometimes my butt hurts." I laugh again and adjust my shirt leaving most of me exposed. "Guess not." I smile and watch Estelle smiling back. I reach over and pat her hand lying on the table then take the cup of tea and sip.
"I had a boyfriend that was a nudist." She sighs. "We'd go camping with others. It was great."
"What happened to him?"
"One night after some particularly great sex, I asked him if he would still love me if I were to lose my legs. The conversation quickly went down hill as I got near to confessing my needs. We split up a few days later without me ever telling him. Is that why you are not married?"
"Sid died a few years ago."
"Oh, sorry. At the university, I, ah, experimented with my roommate."
"I assume it was a she." I smile as though I don't mind."
