英文原文

Part of the Firm

by M. Knight

(Kathryn Borman, completely limbless and heiress of her father's stores gets acquainted with Ken Johnston, a confident employee of her mother. They have some sex, and the result is a happyend...)

I had never enjoyed the annual company outing. The casual dress and the outdoor atmosphere didn't remove the irritating ego and demands for control that should have been (but weren't) left at the office. The old man, H.G., had run a 'tight ship' to use a favored phrase, and his son Lawrence had continued the tradition.

Lawrence had died of cancer at a relatively young age this past year and with his wife as figurehead, the board had continued running the chain of stores in the family tradition. Consequently, even on a Saturday afternoon

at a reserved section of the park, supervisors continued to supervise and the pecking order never was allowed to disappear.

A few things made it worthwhile, even if attendance hadn't been the next thing to compulsory. The softball was fun and in warm years a dip in the lake was refreshing. There was something else, too. Someone else, I should say.

Across the grassy slope a few family members watched the games and nibbled on hot dogs and potato salad. Some sipped drinks. Some just watched. Older women, mostly, and a girl in a wheelchair.

Kathryn Borman was Lawrence's only child. I had seen her a few times at the meetings that Lawrence Borman held at his home and at the annual holiday get-together for senior store managers. Although I was just out of college, I had been put in charge of one of the smaller stores and had enjoyed some

success. Lawrence appreciated that and before he died we had been on a first name basis. Mrs. Borman, a slender, worried looking woman knew me but continued to refer to me as 'Mr. Johnston'.

Mrs. Borman and her daughter Kathryn watched the games quietly. I had never been introduced to Kathryn but in the few times that our eyes had met she had smiled. Not just a polite smile, either, but a charming, inviting kind of smile. There was something both odd and appealing about her. She was always in a wheelchair, either parked or being moved by her mother. Her hands lay in her lap, covered with a large cloth napkin... Although her arms and legs were motionless, there was a vital, radiant quality about her. Even in her wheelchair you could see she had a great figure. Her blue green eyes sparkled in the sun and strands of her honey blonde hair floated on the summer breeze. For all of her disability, I found her very attractive.

The last portion of three-bean salad had been devoured and the bats and balls were being packed away as I headed up the slope to pay my courtesy call to Mrs. Borman and perhaps say hello to her daughter. As I approached, Mrs. Borman blinked in my direction. She seemed almost disoriented and adjusted her footing like someone experiencing dizziness.

"Hi, Mrs. Borman," I called out as I approached. "I wanted to tell you how sorry I am about Lawrence."

She blinked again and then as she recognized me she spoke. "Thank you Mr. Johnston. It has been difficult, but we at the company appreciate all that you've done."

She adjusted her footing again and as I approached I caught the distinct aroma of alcohol. Strong. I looked down at Kathryn. She looked up at me with a look of anxiety and embarrassment.

Hi," I said, "Your name's Kathryn, right? We've seen each other but we've never actually met. My name's Ken, "and without thinking I stuck out my hand.

Her eyes fell to my hand and she looked back up again.

"It's nice to finally meet you," she said without moving. "I'm... I'm sorry I can't shake hands. "It is nice to meet you, though." A smile didn't disguise the anxiety or the embarrassment.

"Mr. Johnston runs one of our stores, dear," Mrs. Borman said. Even outdoors her breath was nearly overpowering. "You must come by and visit us one day soon," she said, "We have cocktails at 4:30, why don't you come by, say Monday or Tuesday?"

Kathryn looked up at her mother with increasing anxiety and said, "Mother, don't you think we should be getting home? Everyone's leaving. Are you OK to drive?"

"Oh, so they are," Mrs. Borman observed, grasping the handles of her daughter's wheel chair. "I'll be fine, dear as soon as I get to the car. I'm just a little woozy. It must be the sun." She abruptly pulled the wheel chair around, with Kathryn grimacing as she was knocked about, the straining harness that held her in place.

"Would you like to walk us to the car?" Kathryn asked, nodding hopefully.

"Please?"

"Sure. Happy to."

The parking lot was only a little way but Mrs. Borman's steps were unsteady and I was concerned for the pair's safety if she tried to drive. As we reached the Volvo station wagon, Mrs. Borman fumbled in her large bag for the keys.

"Must be in here somewhere," she muttered. "Here, Mr. Johnston," she said, handing me her bag, "Would you mind? I do feel a little woozy."

"Not at all. The keys were easy to find and I returned the bag. I opened the car doors and Mrs. Borman, much to my relief and Kathryn's too, seated herself in the front passenger seat.

"Can I help you in?" I asked Kathryn. She nodded for me to come closer.

"Mom's really out of it. I'm very sorry."

"It's OK," I said. "Glad I was here to help."

"I'm pretty heavy, I guess, with my prosthetics and everything, but I'll tell you what to do."

"Prosthetics?"

"Yes. My arms and legs. They're all artificial. Ready to start?"

My heart was pounding. I had supposed that she was paralyzed or something. Artificial arms... and legs!

"Sure. What first?" I asked.

"Get me right next to the car, OK? Along side, just behind the door."

Mrs. Borman had already dozed off as I maneuvered the chair into position.

"OK, now undo the safety harness," she said.

I reached down beside her and found the clasp. My arm brushed her bosom in the process and I realized that while her limbs might be artificial there was nothing make-believe about her very sizable chest.

"Now, then," she said, a smile on her lips, "Mother usually takes me apart to lift me, but you might be strong enough to lift the whole package."

"Takes you apart?"

"Right. She lifts me out of the legs and puts them in separately. What do you think? All in one piece?"

"It's going to be pretty clumsy, but I can try," I said. "Do your legs fold up?"

She laughed a delightful musical laugh. "No, not really. There's a little button on the side of the knee that unlocks them, but they only go back a little bit more. Why?"

"Just trying to figure this out. Maybe it would be better to move you in two parts."

"Actually, if you don't mind, I'm more comfortable that way anyhow."

"You're more comfortable?"

"Yes. Prosthetics may look pretty, but comfort isn't one of their strong points."

I nodded. "What do I do?"

"You'll have to pull my blouse up." She saw my reaction and laughed again. "Not all the way, please, just around my waist, so you can undo the belt that holds me into the bucket."

I did what she asked. Her body, at least at waist level, was trim and firm.

I unfastened the broad strap.

"Now help me put my arms over your shoulders, OK?"

I nodded again and lifted the cover from her lap, revealing plastic hands with painted nails. They looked like the plaster hands we have on the glove counter at the store. I lifted both of the artificial arms and leaned forward, slipping them over my shoulders and holding her at the waist. Her face was next to mine and she smelled delicious.

"Now," she said softly into my ear, "lift me over onto the back seat."

I leaned back, lifting her body clear of the device that wore her slacks and shoes and settled her on the leather car seat. As I lowered her arms I could now see that she had no trace of legs. In fact, hardly any hips. Her body simply tapered to a prominent mons and what in grade school the girls referred to as their private parts. Tiny white panties with pink hearts had twisted to one side, caught in the bare pink cleft below.

"Perfect," she smiled. "You can put the legs over there, she said, nodding at the seat beside her. "Oh, and would you straighten my panties? They always do that and it's kind of uncomfortable."

I found no words to say and simply did my best to rearrange the offending little bit of fabric hoping that she didn't notice how much my hands were shaking. She watched me intently.

"I'm sorry about Mother. She usually does all this for me. I really appreciate your kindness."

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