A Different Kind Of Love 3

I still remember how we met, how that moment was the most embarrassing moment in my recent history, as I looked down at Angela, caressed her silk red hair as she snoozed, enjoying her post sexual nap. Holding, cuddling with Angela, my eyes slowly close as I recall the events of a year ago; barely feeling her soft breaths as she rests her head on my breast letting my mind go back to that evening.

*****

I, we had attended a summer ball, courtesy of the company for whom I work. Being part of the organizing committee, I had stayed at the hotel the night before; to ensure all the final little administration hurdles were ironed out before the guests started to arrive in the late afternoon on Saturday.

It was early evening when I first saw Angela as she gracefully entered the reception area, and headed towards us. I and other members of the organizing committee stood to greet the guests. What struck me was her beauty, her long almost flame red hair flowing in the evening breeze, her necklace, earrings glistening in the lights. She wore a black halter neck dress, the neckline a narrow plunging affair that comes to an end below the breasts, revealing the gentle swell of her breasts, her flesh clearly visible, not obscured by a bra. The neckline is the type that can only be worn by those with small, pert breasts. The dress suited Angela's physique perfectly. She is rather broad across her shoulders, with toned muscles, the definition almost worthy of an athlete, but then she had been an athlete.

"Excuse Me!" Her sarcasm and contempt obvious in her voice as she spoke.

My eyes fluttered, my face burnt as I was strongly bought back to the harsh reality, unaware that I had been staring. I looked ahead, but couldn't quite see the owner of the voice, but rather I saw movement at the periphery of my vision. Quickly, I looked down to see Angela, in her wheel chair looking rather irate with me. Apparently I had been staring; she and her colleague had assumed it was because she was in a wheel chair, what many would term a cripple. Nothing was further from the truth; I had become infatuated by a truly beautiful woman.

I quickly regained my composure as I welcomed her to the Ball, and showed her and her colleague to the table of bucks fizz, sighing with disbelief. I had never been so openly embarrassed, in a very a long time.

For The next hour or so, I completely forgot about that incident as my duties kept me occupied. Finally, with the ball in full flow, I was able to relax, sip my bucks fizz as I collapsed in a chair away from the limelight, wanting to relax briefly before mingling with the guests, my colleagues. My eyes wondered around the room, wanting to see happy faces, to see the guests, and their guests, enjoying their evening.

"You should be more careful Miranda!" the tone of voice conveyed a combination of teasing as well as with a more serious note. Slightly startled for the second time that evening, I turned to see Peter, an old member of the company, one about to retire. He is an old school gentleman, always honourable, yet can be as politically incorrect as they come. Together with his black tie, complete with accompanying cumberbund making him look very much the gentleman.

"I thought you needed a refill Miranda" as he placed another champagne glass on the table, filled with Bucks Fizz.

"Thank you" smiling taking a sip.

"You might have upset Angela with that stare. Everyone is now saying that you have a dislike of disabled individuals."

I looked at him in disbelief, considering how far that was from the truth that comment was and how hurt I felt. I simply nodded.

"Well Peter, to be honestly truthful, I wasn't even aware she was in a wheel chair until she spoke to me and I heard her voice coming from below. I was taken aback by her beauty, and her style. Not that she was in a wheelchair!"

Peter smiled, as he spoke. "I know you Miranda, and like many of those who do know you, I have never seen, or heard any form of prejudice from you. But you were seen staring, and well maybe partly due to the booze the rumour has spread.

Peter and I continued to chat for a while. He knew Angela from another office before she had left the company after her tragic accident. I heard about her athletic potential, her accident and her turmoil afterwards. What hurt me the most was the story of her fiancé; who having faced with the severity and longevity of her injuries, quickly lost interest in her. I learnt more about her from Peter, as he continued to talk about Angela. He told me enough about the incident, but the true gentleman that he is, he never told me any great detail. As he said, "That is for Angela to tell you if she chooses to do so."

Before Peter left, he offered to introduce me to Angela and he made one statement, or rather was it a query? "Since her fiancé did a runner, I have never seen, or heard her refer to a soul mate, or a partner. She has spoken fondly of a couple of female friends that has left me wondering if...." Peter never finished that sentence, as he got up and left. Peter didn't have to introduce me to Angela, but that final comment from Peter had got me thinking as I glanced around the room. If I was asked if I was looking for Angela, I would have said no. In reality the opposite was very much the case I was looking for Angela.

An hour or so later, I met Angela again, out on the terrace. I had gone outside with a group of colleagues who smoke, and went out to join them, chatting and enjoying the oranges and reds of the setting sun on the horizon. Slowly they left, until I and another person were all that remained of that group. David turned and left to head off to another group and I was just about to go inside to refill my glass.

I had not taken more than a couple of footsteps when I heard a voice, "Miranda?" I turned and saw Angela coming towards me. With an embarrassed flush on my cheeks, I smiled and took a couple of steps towards her. Despite being chair bound, she moved gracefully, her shoulders, and upper arms full of strength as she manoeuvred her wheelchair so majestically. Her dress made her look stunning, and the evening sun glistened off her jewels.

I smiled softly, "Angela, I'm sorry about earlier." I paused as Angela smiled. "I had not quite realised, twigged that you were, or rather, are in a wheel chair. I just saw you approached, and became intoxicated by your elegance, and beauty," I said, Smiling softly as I finished my sentence. I paused briefly, you moved so elegantly guess I just saw you.

She raised her right hand, as if to brush something aside, but this time it was Angela's turn to blush as she heard my complement. "No problem Miranda, several people have spoken in your defence, you seem rather popular, and a lot of people are fond of you, it would seem." After a brief pause, she added, "Thank you Miranda so kind of you to say so."

I felt my cheeks flush yet again that evening, as I responded to her kindness "Well thank you Angela, it is lovely of you to say so." I paused briefly before I spoke again "It seems that you also left your mark on the company. I'm sorry about what happened."

Whilst trying to avert my gaze from her, I stood and we sat outside for a while, making conversation. At that point, she didn't reveal too much detail, but basically she confirmed what Peter had told me; how she had been an athlete, a contender for the British Olympic squad before the fateful crash. She described how she had been in hospital for weeks, as tests were carried out, and soon the severity and longevity of her injuries became apparent.

The conversation enthralled me, as I, or rather, as we, lost track of time. Slowly we drifted to a terrace as before I sat on the wall, listening with interest at what Angela had to say. I felt sorry for her and her situation, but did not want to take pity. She was confident, accepting her situation, and trying to make the most of it. During that conversation, we soon became at ease with each other, as we chatted and exchanged our life stories as if we were long lost friends. Finally, as the evening breeze cooled, we both decided to head inside, "I'm heading inside, can I assist you Angela?"

"No thanks, I can manage!" was her rather abrupt response. Finally we parted, almost as friends. We both had other friends and colleagues to meet and socialize with. Unsure as to whether I had offended her, or just that her streak of independence was just strong, I saw some friends and walked over to join them.

As I chatted with colleagues, I could not get Angela out of my mind. Neither Angela, nor our conversation. For someone who had survived such a traumatic series of events, she was so positive, and upbeat about everything. She would did not dwell on her past but rather looked toward the future. The only negative words that Angela had used were in reference to her ex fiancé. But as she said, maybe it was all for the best, after all.

During the next few hours, several times my instinct told me that I was being observed. A couple of times, the stares came from males. But For the most part, I could see Angela looking in my direction. She was confident enough to make eye contact, and to smile; unlike the men who turned away their lecherous gaze, occasionally with a blush, after realizing that they had been caught.

Each time, my mind wondered about what Peter had said. Was she bisexual, or had her fiancé been a catalyst in her to re-evaluate her sexuality? Was she bi-sexual before the accident? Does she suspect that I am? My mind was filled with thoughts about Angela. I had become infatuated with her, it would seem.

Finally, the ball was approaching its closing stages, and the band started to play ballads, as they often do. Couples got up and danced, some were necking on the dance floor. Others were more discrete as they went outside with their partner, old and new alike. I saw Angela sitting alone, her friends were obviously off dancing.

I inhaled deeply, feeling my heart pound as I approached her. I saw her welcoming smile as I sat down next to her. "I'm not sure why I am still here?" pausing before she continued. "Dancing in a wheel chair is not that easy, especially if the other person is able to stand."

I just smiled and reached for her hand and squeezed it, trying to reassure her. I smiled and nodded. Somehow I felt that this was her little whinge; a moan of her situation. She obviously missed the physical touch of a slow dance with a friend or partner. Angela inhaled deeply, before returning the squeeze, she spoke again softly.

"Besides" Angela inhaled deeply "there is only one person who I would like to be with on that dance floor tonight."

"Oh?" I replied "Dare to reveal?"

Angela paused for a moment before she shook her head. "No, it isn't fair to them, I guess, as well as for me if their feelings are not mutual. They often aren't." The last sentence was spoken quite harshly. Obviously, she had been turned down and from my own experiences; I knew how hurtful rejection can be.

"Think I shall retire Miranda..." She paused briefly; obviously her mind was debating before she continued.

"Would you mind helping me, pushing me to my room please? My friends are out there somewhere, enjoying themselves." She glanced towards the dance floor.

"Of course."

With that, I stood up and eased myself behind the wheel chair before pushing her towards the lifts and ultimately to her room. I was rather excited and confused as we headed to her room. Who was this mysterious person that she had referred to earlier? Was it me, I hoped? My attraction towards Angela had grown over the course of the evening as I admitted to myself that I would like to sleep with her. But why, I asked myself over and over? Was it because she is attractive? Was it partially out of pity? No, she is an intelligent, witty person and appears confident with her sexuality, despite her wheel chair. I was attracted to her for what she was and is.

Angela passed me her card key and asked me to open the door for her. I did standing t the side of the door, watching her start to wheel herself into her room before I took the handles of her chair and pushed her the remaining distance into her room.

I looked around the room, as it was rather bigger than the normal hotel room, and realized it was a wheelchair, a handicap room that was designed to accommodate her wheel chair. Additionally there were a series of white handles on the walls, obviously there for those who were able to walk with some assistance.

"Tea, Miranda? I'm about to call room service, would you care for some?"

We sat and made conversation. Angela had eased herself out of her wheel chair and onto the sofa. She made a deep sigh of relief as she eased onto the sofa. "Those chairs can get quite uncomfortable after a few hours."

I smiled, thinking how easy it is for me to stand up and stretch after sitting in an uncomfortable chair, something that Angela could no longer do. The tea arrived, and I acted as Mother as I poured the tea.

An uneasy silence filled the room. My mind kept going back to Peter's comments about Angela, about how that she has not been seen with a male since her and her fiancé had broke up. I just kept wondering, asking myself the same questions I had been all evening. Did she abstain because of her condition or was she leaning towards being gay? I did not know what sexual feelings someone in her state could have, if any. I was totally ignorant on the subject. The only thing I did know was that I was attracted to her, her charm, her attitude, and her sensuality. I sat back and smiled, admired Angela and her dress. She caught me looking.

"You like this dress, don't you?"

"Yes" I simply replied. I paused before I continued, "You have the physique to carry that dress, my breasts are too full, and would burst free with every movement."

Angela giggled softly at my comment as she nodded.

"Yes Miranda, but likewise you can wear certain styles of dresses, tops because you have a real bust, as opposed to my enlarged nipples," she said, joking about her own breasts.

"But there is also something sensually elegant about that dress Angela. It conveys a message, a message of someone who is confident in their looks, their own sexuality. Are you?"

Angela smiled as she spoke, "I'm not sure if I am totally confident. I have had too many rejections recently to really be sure." Was she referring to her fiancé, I wondered, or others, or possibly both? She looked like she needed a hug.

Angela sighed, as she looked at her feet, and around the room. "Sometimes I just like to be held, touched, and comforted. People seem to think being stuck in a wheel chair; we lose those emotions and those needs. If anything, we need more support, we need them even more." I sat down next to her close on the sofa and I placed my hand palm up.

"Will I do?"

Angela nodded softly "I'd like that Miranda," pausing, "very much."

She leant forward, towards me, twisting at the abdomen, as she rested her head on my shoulder, and breast. Her fingers reached behind my neck as mine reciprocated. We just held each other for what seemed like forever. I felt and heard a deep sigh.

"It's okay Angela." I'm not sure what prompted me to kiss her in the manner that I did; but I turned my head slightly and kissed her flame red hair my stomach full of butterflies.

"Angela, you are pretty, intelligent, and witty. I loved being with you tonight."

"Thank you Miranda."

We sat there for several minutes; just holding each other. I felt her fingers start to caress my back as we held each other. I responded, and allowed my fingers to reciprocate. The moment of judgement was almost upon us. The caresses were becoming more intimate; my breathing, my pulse quickened. Neither of us complained.

I gulped, inhaling briefly before my face turned to my right, my lips softly kissing her cheek. I felt her flinch softly, but rather than turning away, and brushing me aside, she leant closer to me. I kissed her cheek again, soft and gentle and she sighed in response. I licked her cheek, tentatively as I moved to her ear, and I kissed her ear lobe delicately. She sighed deeply.

"Ohhhh, that's good Miranda."

Her head turned, as if to offer me her lips. Her lips sought mine, before she brushed her lips against mine. Neither of was seemed sure about our feelings for each other, whether this was the right thing to do? But it felt natural as our lips brushed and nuzzled. I remember softly suckling on her lower lip, before our lips finally merged the kiss soft and sensual but with an underlying of growing passion and intensity.

Finally our lips parted, and Angela smiled and leaned back into the sofa. "I'm getting a crick in my neck Miranda."

I collapsed back into the sofa, as our eyes met. My fingers reached for her cheek, as I felt my heart pound, and I gulped for air. Despite my hesitation, I leaned towards Angela again, my head tilted as I felt my lips brush against hers. I felt her gasp, before her lips met mine. We shared small, soft butterfly kisses, my fingers caressed her cheek. That kiss lingered, the taste of her wine, tea and lipstick upon my lips. Finally the kiss broke and we both inhaled deeply, both of us slightly taken aback by the turn of events. She smiled softly.

"You are so pretty Angela," I stated in a matter of fact manner as I looked across at her. My mind wanted us to go further, but I wondered if hers did as well.

I felt her hand on my thigh, her fingers softly pressing into the silk of the dress, and it sent a shiver through me. Our eyes met in a gaze, neither of us sure of the other it seemed. Despite the kisses, and the caresses, we both seemed unsure of the other's desire, or our need for each other. Was this a lack of confidence that faded as we reassured each other of our mutual attraction? Her lips parted as her head moved towards mine. I reciprocated as I leaned towards her again, tilting my head to allow our lips to press against each other. Her lips parted and I felt her tongue part my lips, hesitantly, as she gently explored as her lips closed around mine. My fingers pressed into her cheek lightly caressing her form. Her response was to move her hand from my thigh onto my breast, cupping it softly. That moment seemed to have relaxed us both, as the kiss deepened. I have no recollection how long we sat there snogging, making out. The kiss was long and varied; long sensual kisses, broken by short butter fly kisses, suckling on each other's tongues and lips. I sucked her lips, bit gently, ran my tongue over her lips, against her teeth. I smelt her food, her breath, her perfume in that passionate kiss.

Angela finally broke our kiss, and she panted, before she inhaled deeply.

"Please stand up, I need some space." When she said that, I thought she was going to ask me to leave. Hesitantly I stood up, wondering what I had done wrong. Was Angela having second thoughts? I stood and stepped back, unsure.

For Angela, that intense kiss had been the moment. That was the moment when she knew something would happen, that she even wanted something to happen; for our friendship to deepen, become more intimate. For that moment to normally occur, she would have seen a woman a few times before becoming physically intimate after the mutual attraction is already evident. Possibly she has already kissed her, maybe even made out a little. That was the moment when Angela would like their friendship to become more intimate, when Angela would want to make love to her. That long kiss between was the moment when Angela knew it was going to happen, when she trusted Miranda; and accepted her as her new lover. For Angela there was more going on in her mind than just the physical aspect? There was that transcendental moment; when Angela realized that her new lover did not see the chair. Rather she sees Angela, sexy horny Angela and that is what she wants; but what Angela found strange that evening was that it just happened during the course of a long day rather than a series of outings and dates.