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.
