Don and Jackie – Part III

By Robert N.

One of the things that had been puzzling Don about his wife, Jackie, was that when she sat down she invariably kept the full-length brace on her left leg fully locked, even though it was equipped with a perfectly good hinge mechanism. He had meant to broach the subject earlier, but the opportunity never seemed to present itself – until now.

They were sitting out on their patio, enjoying the warm, sunny afternoon, relaxing after a somewhat busy morning.

“Darling. I don’t want you to take this the wrong way. I am not being critical, simply curious,” he ventured. She looked at him quizzically. He continued: “I have noticed that when you sit, you invariably leave your brace in the locked position with your leg sticking straight out. I was wondering if there was a reason for this, since the knee lock mechanism seems to be in good working condition.”

“You know how much pleasure we both get out of my wearing the brace,” she began. “Well for me, I get the added pleasure of seeing it when my leg sticks straight out, which I wouldn’t get if it was bent and out of sight. I think of it as leg jewelry; something to be admired.”

“I hadn’t quite thought of it in those terms, but I agree, it is most delightful,” Don replied. “I understand what you are saying and it makes sense. I was, however, concerned that the hinges were broken and that you were reluctant to say anything about it,” he added.

“Do you like the way it looks when it sticks straight out?” “I do, I do” he choked. “Well then, relax and enjoy it,” she concluded.

“Yes I will, but just let me say one more thing,” Don rejoined. “You know how much I love you, and how much I appreciate seeing you wearing a leg brace.” “Yes,” she said, pursing her lips. Persisting, he continued: “Once in a while I would like to see how your brace looks when your leg is bent.”

He continued, “One of my fantasies is seeing you sitting in a straight chair with both your feet on the floor. We are at a dance and I come into the room and there you are, sitting alone, looking quite forlorn.”

“May I have this dance?” I ask.

“Thanks, but I can’t,” you reply.

“Oh! Why not?” You pull your dress up high enough to reveal the brace on your leg, secured into the heel of your shoe. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t notice. I mean, I don’t mind,” I stammer.

“Nobody has asked me to dance before; I don’t know how,” you reply,

“Then let me show you,” extending my hand to help you up.

You have difficulty getting up from the sitting position so I step forward and assist you. I take you by the arm and lead you to the dance floor. As we walk I become aware of the creaking of the brace and the extent of your limping gait.

Obviously I am not going to swirl you off your feet, so I put one hand around your waist and hold your hand with the other. Ignoring the tempo of the dance, we do a little shuffle step in one corner of the room, which seems to satisfy both of us. As we sway back and forth, I become aware of how pretty you are, despite the leg brace.

You have a slim waist and your breasts are starting to flower, although your loose fitting dress does nothing to enhance the fact. I get a sense that you are embarrassed about having to wear a brace on your leg, hence your dress’s unfashionably long length and cut. (Most of the young women on the dance floor are wearing mini skirts).

After the dance we sit and talk. “How long have you had to wear a leg brace?” I enquired.

“Since I was five,” you reply. “I got polio and was in hospital for some time. When I came out, the doctors told my parents that I would have to wear the thing to help me walk. Otherwise I would have to use a wheelchair. I was seven before I started going to regular school and I hated it. The kids picked on me and made fun of how walked. The only friend I had was this boy who really seemed to like me.”

“What a coincidence,” I exclaim, “I like you too. Perhaps we could be friends. Would you like to go for a soda?”

“Yes, I would like that,” you say hesitantly, “but I‘m being picked up by my parents at 10.”

“That’s fine,” I say. “I have a car and will make sure you get home safely before they leave.”

Evidently your parents had driven you to the dance and dropped you off, hoping you would meet some nice boys. They tried to encourage you to go out and have fun, rather than hiding yourself in the house all the time. You had reluctantly agreed.

When we eventually got to your house their car was still in the driveway, so we sat and chatted for a while.

“Thank you for a lovely evening,” you say.

“My pleasure,” I retort and add: “Before you have to go in, do you think it would be possible for me to take a look at your brace?”

“You mean here?”

“Yes.”

“Why would you want to do that?” you enquire incredulously.

“I have never been with anybody who wore a leg brace before, and I am curious. I wont touch you, I just want to look.” Hesitantly you pull your dress up to your knees as you take a quick glance towards the house. Nobody is coming. As you inch the hem above your knees, I catch the first glimpse of the metal upright bars and hinges on either side of your leg, held in place by the restraining cuffs and leather supports. What an incredible piece of equipment – strong enough to support your leg as you walk, but designed to bend when you sit down.

“Does it go all the way up your leg?” I venture.

“Yes.” Another quick glance towards the house as you pull your dress up to reveal the top of the brace, with its unforgiving leather and metal attachments.

“That is a remarkable piece of equipment,” I remark. “Thank you so much for showing me. I had no idea how much engineering went into the design and making of leg braces.” I quickly kissed you, ‘Good night’, just as the porch light came on.

I will never forget how the street lights glinted off the metal uprights of your brace as you limped towards your house Nor the enormous swelling inside my pants as I watched you leave.

***

“Well that’s a fine story. Did you make it up?” Jackie wanted to know.

“As I said, it was one of my fantasies and one of the reasons I would like to see you with your braced leg bent. In my fantasy I never touched the young woman’s leg, but I was intrigued by how she was able to sit with both feet on the floor, and without my noticing her leg was braced. It was the sudden realization that she was wearing a leg brace that got me excited. It was so unexpected,” I explained.

“M-mmmm”, Jackie murmured.

“Don’t get me wrong, darling,” I continued. “I love it when I see you sitting with your beautiful braced leg sticking straight out, but once in a while I was wondering if we could pretend that I didn’t know you needed to wear a leg brace.”

“Do you have any other bright ideas?” Jackie asked.

On a roll now, Don continues, “Perhaps we could pretend that I was just leaving this restaurant when I spotted you sitting alone at a table. I thought I recognized you, but couldn’t quite place you. Coming over to your table I say: ‘Hi, my name is Don, I feel as though I know you from somewhere.’ ‘Hello”, you reply, ‘could it be in high school?’ ‘I graduated from Jackson High about 15 years ago,’ I say. ‘Me too,’ you counter. ‘You’re not Jackie, with the cheerleader team by any chance?’ ‘The very same.’ ‘I thought I recognized you,’ I continue. ‘May I join you, I have a few minutes?’ ‘Please, be my guest.’ you purr.”

“It is so good to see you again after this long. Do you live locally?” I ask.

“I’ve been away for a while, but I am back now. Hopefully for good,” you add.

“What do you do for a living?” I enquire. Your response is hesitant, but then you say: “I am actually between jobs. I was in hospital for a while, so now I am searching for work.”

As a senior partner in a computer company, I am in a position to offer you work. “What are you trained to do?” I ask.

“I worked for a number of years as an Executive Assistant, so that’s what I feel most qualified to do,” you respond.

“It just so happens that I am looking for such a person to fill a vacancy at my office. Here is my business card, give us a call and I will make sure our Personnel Manager arranges to interview you.”

“Wow! Thanks a lot.”

“I must go now,” I say reluctantly. “Be sure to call.”

Several days later my intercom buzzed and the Personnel Manager said he would like to introduce me to my new Executive Assistant. ‘What’s her name?” I asked. “Jackie,” he responded. “OK. Give me five minutes, then bring her over.”

I was not surprised when you walked into my office, I was expecting that. What I didn’t expect, was to see you standing there with a metal brace supporting your leg. I realize you were not given an opportunity to tell me why you had been in hospital when we first met, but I felt the reason was quite obvious to me now.

It did not escape my notice that you eased yourself into the office chair with care, using the arms to steady yourself and to make sure that you were properly seated before releasing the hinge locks on your brace. With both hands, you carefully lifted your leg to allow your foot to rest on the floor. Pleasantries were exchanged before the Personnel Manager took his leave.

The shock of seeing you sitting there with a metal brace on your leg sent a quick response to my manhood, and I quickly sat down behind the desk before I embarrassed myself.

“It is so good to see you again,” I say. “Let me congratulate you on being selected for the position. I know we had a number of well qualified applicants, but yours seems to have met with our PM’s stringent requirements,” ‘Thank you,’ you say, ‘I am sure you must have put in a good word for me’.”

“Yes, well, I’m glad to be able to help an old school friend and I am sure you will fit in well. Why don’t you leave your things in my office and I will take you around to meet the others.”

Using the arms on the chair, you carefully push yourself up into a standing position, straighten your braced leg and allow the hinge locks to fall into place. I notice that you reach down with both hands to make sure the locks are secure before taking your first stiff-legged step. I must admit that I am intrigued by the way in which you swing your leg to clear the floor as you carefully walk across my office. I sense that you are aware of my staring, and you stop and face me at the doorway.

“You will remember when we met, that I told you I had recently left the hospital,” Jackie volunteered. “I had polio as a kid, but managed to overcome it with exercise and a strong will. That was until recently, when it reared its ugly head again and the doctors tell me I have what they call post-polio syndrome. My left leg has become weak and the only way I can walk is with the help of this brace.”

“No problem,” I say. “It just took me by surprise; I was not expecting it. Let’s go meet the others.”

Introductions are made all around and we finally arrive back at my office. We talk about your work responsibilities, then I show you into a small adjoining office, where you will work as my Executive Assistant.

“Would you permit me to take you out for cocktails, and perhaps dinner to follow?” I ask.

“That would be wonderful,” you reply. “But are you sure you want to be seen with a cripple?”

“All I see is a beautiful young woman who is making the best of a bad deal. Give me fifteen minutes to clear my desk,” I request. “Perhaps you would like to familiarize yourself with your new office until we are ready to go,” I suggest.

Our evening together led from one thing to another – you know the rest – I married you.

***

“And did I always bend my braced leg when I came and sat in your office?” Jackie enquired.

“Yes, and you always seemed to make sure that your skirt rode up above your knees when you sat down. Just enough, so that I could see the knee pad and part way up your leg. You have no idea how many times I was unable to get up from behind my desk because of the rigid bone in my pants. You never failed to turn me on.”

“And you say this is because I bent my leg and you could see up my skirt?” she quizzed.

“Partly, I suppose. But I think it was the anticipation of seeing you stand and hearing the sound of the hinge locks as they dropped into place. Then your reaching down to make sure your brace was secure.”

“I guess I’ll have to remember that,” Jackie said, thoughtfully. “Whatever turns on my ardent lover. The only trouble with that story is that I was not wearing a brace when we first met.”

“Oh, I realize that. I just made up the story to illustrate how seeing you sitting with your braced leg bent is a turn-on for me. And especially how carefully you have to be when you first get up, making sure the hinge locks are secure before you take a step. But don’t get me wrong,” I added, “I have no complaints about your leg brace activities at all. I just wanted to draw your attention to another aspect of being a leg brace user, and how others may see it.”

“Okay,” she smiled, “I will bear that in mind. By the way. What happened to the young woman you met at the dance? Jackie wanted to know.

“Oh, yes. We started dating and fell in love. I taught her how to dress fashionably and not worry about people seeing her braced leg in public. We married; had four beautiful kids and eleven grandchildren. We both lived to a ripe old age and met again in that Paradise, where only Pretenders and their Admirers dwell. How is that for a happy ending?”

Jackie’s reply was a delightful grin.

***

One of the changes Don had noticed was how the real Jackie seemed to be more comfortable around other people. Having got over her initial concerns about going out in public wearing a full-length brace on her leg, she was now happier and more content than he had seen her in a long time.

Whenever she sensed that someone was feeling a little uncomfortable in her presence, she did not hesitate to broach the subject of why she was wearing a leg brace and readily answered their queries about, “Why she needed to wear it; how did it feel; was it heavy; did she have to wear it all the time and would she have to wear it for the rest of her life?” Jackie responded to all of these questions, and many more, cheerfully and openly. It was amazing how quickly she was able to put people at ease.

This would probably stand her in good stead for what happened next.

Be sure to read “Pamela and Richard” for the continuation …………