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Miss Porter

Rating:; Genre=Fiction; Pages=3; Characters=5,787;
I was hired by the human resources director, so I had not met the boss, even though I had worked for the company for several weeks. It hadn't seemed important, since she was almost never in the office.

So I was excited about meeting her. Some reports I had written had gotten her attention and she wanted to talk to me. I had been assured that she was impressed, and that this meeting was a very good thing for me, but I was still a bit nervous.

I was ushered into the huge office on the 35th floor by a georgeous woman who introduced herself as Trisha, Miss Porter's assistant. Two things struck me simultaneously as I entered the room. First, Miss Porter had a stunningly beautiful face, and second, she was in a wheelchair.

I judged her age at about 40, possibly just old enough to have had polio. She wore an expensive looking dark blue business suit, her legs crossed, black high heels on her feet, and plenty of gold jewelery on her neck and fingers.

She told me my work had caught her eye, and that she wanted me to tell her how I had managed to see what so many others had missed. We talked for what seemed like a few minutes, but what was actually more than two hours. She asked me to accompany her to her home and then dinner, and I accepted, although I felt I should change since it was Friday and I had dressed casually for the office.

She wheeled herself to her lift-equipped van, then drove us to her estate just outside of town. Once there I was told to relax and have a drink while she took care of some things.

She returned about twenty minutes later in a sundress, walking in very shiny legbraces with forearm crutches. Her dress was mostly white with a blue and green pattern in it, and her shoes were white patent leather mary janes with a strap across the instep.

"I thought the braces would make me a little more mobile when we go out," she said as she made eye contact with me and walked toward me stopping just a few inches away. She was about six inches shorter than I in those almost flat shoes, and looked extremely vulnerable as she looked up at me, leaning on the crutches.

We decided we were both hungry, and I watched her move from behind as she walked to the garage to get in her car. She swung both legs at almost the same time, the left one a bit ahead of the right, and her ass looked great in the thin cotton dress.

She opened the passenger side and shoved her crutches in the back seat, then sat and released the locks at her knees. She then lifted each leg into the car with her hands and placed them where she wanted them, then handed me the key to drive.

I was enraptured by the sight of her. My eyes were on her legs whenever possible. I noticed also that her skin was silky smooth, and that she wore hose and her nails were a perfect French manicure. It was after she was seated in the car, and I sat beside her that I finally noticed her breasts, which were large for such a thin woman. I mean she was not skinny, her upper body was rather athletic looking actually. And her breasts were large and firm in the tight fabric of the bodice of the sundress.

"Use the hand controls if you like," she said. "I think you will find them very easy to use." She gave me directions to the restaurant, and we drove in silence for awhile. Then she said, "Polio." I looked at her without speaking. "When I was a baby, two months old. I never walked unassisted, so I never missed it. Daddy, the war-hero businessman, bought me the very best of medical care, and I can stand without the braces, even walk a short way, but not far without them."

I didn't know what to say, so I said nothing.

"Don't you have anything to say?"

"Yes. I do. You are very attractive and the braces only add to your beauty."

She turned in the seat, lifting one knee with her hands, "You like the braces on me?"

"Yes. I'll tell you the truth. I have been attracted to women with mobility limitations since I can remember."

"You mean crippled women"

"Yes. Braces mostly, wheelchairs, you name it."

"Where have you been all my life?" she said as she kissed my cheek and dropped her hand on mine. Then she took my hand and placed it on her thigh, between the strap around her leg and the leather knee pad. I could feel the warmth of her skin through the nylon stocking and the smoothness of the leather and cold steel of her brace.

I really ejoyed watching her walk and helping her to sand and get through doors. Dinner was wonderful, and she gave me every opportunity to see her walk and lend a hand whenever possible, even when it wasn't necessary.

Back at her house, she asked me to remove her braces, which I was only too happy to do, slowly unhooking the velcro staps at the tops of her thighs, and then the buckles of the knee pads and finally her shoes. To my surprise she stood up and began to walk acorss the floor to the kitchen. Her knees bent way backwards as she walked, looking very painful, and she exaggerated each step, lifting her knees too high to allow for the dangling lifeless-looking feet. She started walking back into the den, then said, "That's enough, and she dropped to the floor and dragged herself back to the couch on her hands with her motionless legs dragging behind her. "This is why I use the braces," she said.

By now I was extremely turned on, and we kissed very hot kisses and caressed each other as we sat on the couch. I began to stroke her legs with my hands and she told me that her legs are very sensitive, and the stroking was making her wild.

My advance through the corporate ranks has been amazing. More about that later . . .

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