He was surprised when the attractive girl he’d been watching turned and entered his building. He assumed she was visiting someone and turned his thoughts elsewhere. They shouldn’t be too long now. No doubt his father would have a go at him. But that was to be expected. He’d always been a disappointment to the old man. Not like his brother, the sun shone out of his arse. His train of thought took him to a familiar daydream in which he was shouting at his father, telling him exactly what he thought of him, giving him a few home truths. It was an enjoyable fantasy but it would never become reality. Certain things were best left unsaid.
His trance was broken by a knock on the door.
‘Yes?’ he shouted.
There was the sound of a key in the lock and then an attractive head appeared.
‘Is it alright if I clean your room?’
He was a little taken aback. The face belonged to the girl he’d watched walking up the road just minutes before.
‘Yes, by all means, come on in.’
‘I’m sorry,’ said the girl, ‘I can see I surprised you. I’m Juliette, I’m just covering for a few weeks until we can get a replacement for Linda.’
‘What happened to Linda?’
‘Oh, she moved back up north to be with her boyfriend. Spur of the moment thing so she didn’t give any notice.’
He smiled at her.
‘My name’s Paul.’
Juliette had been pleasantly surprised when she’d put her head around the door. The flats were warden assisted and occupied by disabled people. She’d prepared herself for the varying degrees of physical deformities she’d expected to encounter by visualising herself, trapped in a Stephen Hawking’s type body; gnarled, unable to communicate. She’d imagined seeing herself through the eyes of that body; chatty, happy and bright. And the paraplegic whose body she occupied in this fantasy was grateful that such an attractive girl was being so kind and interested. She liked the fantasy, it made her feel good. The two wheelchair bound bodies she’d seen in reception had not. She’d felt a little repelled. She’d braved herself and said ‘hello’, but neither appeared to have the ability, or perhaps the inclination, to talk; she’d felt distinctly uncomfortable. So, when she knocked on the door she’d expected the worst, she’d braced herself.
The voice responding to her knock was rich and deep and Juliette was further surprised when she pushed the door open and carried in her cleaning equipment. The person she encountered was far from deformed. He was very handsome and she reckoned about twenty-seven. He had a lovely smile. ‘Poor thing,’ she thought, ‘confined to a wheelchair.’ She tried to correct her thoughts ‘…Of course, not that being good looking makes a difference,’ she told herself. But of course it did and his apparent vulnerability added to his attractiveness; it opened a window of opportunity. Juliette pushed her hair away from her face, suddenly aware of her own appearance; she became a little more focussed, a little more alert.
Juliette had taken this job partly to help out her mother but mainly for the money. She would soon be starting her last year at university and was hoping to get a 2:2 in English and Sociology. Her debts were considerable. She was not very careful with money so
the job had come as a bit of a godsend. Linda’s decampment up north had left Juliette’s mother, who was a manager with the cleaning company, in a bit of a fix. She’d asked Juliette to fill in for a few weeks. ‘Please love, you’d be doing me a real favour.’ On discovering that the block she was to clean housed disabled people Juliette was further bolstered by the idea of doing something worthwhile. She liked feeling altruistic.
Paul had also been pleasantly surprised when the face of the pretty girl in the street poked itself around the door and, being an opportunist by nature, his unconscious had already begun forming a plan which his mouth now began to put into action.
‘So,’ he said, ‘if you’re covering I take it you don’t usually do this job?’
‘No, not usually.’
‘I bet you’re a model?’
‘No, I’m at university, coming up to my last year.’
‘Then what’re you going to do? Modelling I bet.’
‘You’re a bit forward aren’t you?’
He winked at her.
‘If you’re in a wheelchair you can get away with anything.’
‘What, anything?’ she said, flirtatiously.
He smiled, a sad smile, and she felt sorry for him. They began a gentle conversation about each other’s likes and dislikes. She could sense his intelligence and felt flattered by his attention.
Whilst talking, Juliette had begun to unwind the flex on the vacuum cleaner. When there was a natural lull in the conversation she reluctantly plugged it into the wall and began to vacuum the carpet. She felt his eyes on her and was a little irritated that she hadn’t made more of an effort with her make-up before coming out.
One of the walls of the room was entirely taken up by bookshelves and when she’d finished vacuuming Juliette put the cleaning hose down and studied the shelves. She loved books and had embarked on her degree with no other purpose than to indulge that love. He had a good collection; Roth, Heller, Vidal, Twain, Steinbeck, Updike and other American writers.
‘You like American writers?’
He seemed amused by her question.
She continued to study them.
‘I’ve never read James Baldwin, what’s he like?’
‘Why don’t you borrow him and let me know next time?’
She pulled the book from the shelf and examined it a little more closely, flicking through a few pages.
‘Sure,’ he said, ‘be my guest.’
‘She slipped the book in her bag.
‘I’m sorry, I’m not doing a very good job, I should have been finished by now.’
‘It’s nice to have the company. It’s not often I get the chance to talk to a woman, never mind a beautiful one.’
She began to laugh, dismissively, but his serious face made her feel superficial so she stopped.
‘Sorry,’ she said, ‘I just felt a little self conscious, I didn’t mean to respond in such a shallow fashion. Thanks for the compliment.’
‘Don’t mention it.’
He smiled again, a sad smile, full of hope and longing and unfulfilled dreams.
‘I’ll never hold a girl like you but I can always dream.’
He spoke with innocent charm and Juliette felt her attraction for him growing. She moved over to his bed and as they continued their conversation she smoothed out his duvet and picked up his pillow to plump it up. Beneath the pillow was a magazine. Juliette stood staring at the cover of a naked woman whose bottom was thrust provocatively in the air. The woman was looking back over her shoulder, her eyes sultry and inviting.
Juliette felt herself reddening.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said, as though she’d discovered some terrible secret. ‘I hope I haven’t embarrassed you, I was just trying to be helpful.’
Paul looked at her and smiled, confidently, unselfconsciously.
‘You haven’t embarrassed me, why should I be embarrassed? I’m no different from anyone else. I have needs and desires that mostly aren’t fulfilled. Visual stimulation helps, although I do find good erotic books stimulating as well.’
He smiled at her and she smiled back. His openness was attractive.
‘May I?’ she said, picking up the magazine.
‘Please, help yourself.’
Paul had watched Juliette tidying the bed and had felt a thrill run through him when she’d picked up the pillow. He was further excited as he watched her slim fingers turn the pages of the magazine. He’d been struggling to find a way of developing the opportunity Juliette’s arrival had presented. Now, an idea occurred to him.
‘Do you not find any of the photos stimulating?’ he asked. ‘It’s always interesting to see whether women get turned on the same as men.’
Juliette glanced at him and then flicked over several more pages.
‘The women are lovely but why don’t they show the men as explicitly?’
She was surprised by her casual response and her lack of embarrassment. Her heart beat had quickened when she’d found the magazine and, despite her efforts to sound casual, it was now thumping in her head. An idea had occurred to her. Perhaps it had something to do with his physical condition. In the normal course of events she would have found a man with such good looks and masculinity intimidating, overpowering, even threatening. But here, in this situation, his limited physical capabilities would keep him in check. He was a man who couldn’t act on his urges. He was no threat at all. Juliette felt aroused and rather powerful; it was a bit like playing with a caged man. She wondered whether his cock was capable of movement. This thought further aroused her. She took the magazine and sat opposite him on the edge of the bed. She crossed her legs and flicked through several more pages.
‘Do you find these pictures stimulating?’
Paul nodded. She carried on flicking through the pages and spoke without looking up at him, as though engrossed in some academic exercise.
‘I think it would be nicer if there were some men involved.’
Paul nodded again. She could sense his excitement and her own increased.
‘I don’t know whether women are the same as men,’ said Paul, ‘but I’m afraid I’m no different from other men. I need a release for my sexual energies, I’d treasure a woman’s involvement but I’m afraid that hasn’t happened since my accident.‘
He said this matter of factly. He wasn’t trying to elicit sympathy. She felt sorry for him, but her excitement remained. She could feel the tension created by their proximity and the subject they were discussing. But physically, she was in charge. Juliette felt powerful and confident.
‘I like this one,’ she said, turning the magazine toward him.
There was a picture of a woman with large breasts. She could have shown him any picture, she was simply interested in his response. He nodded, his face a little flushed. She pressed on.
‘Wouldn’t it be sexier if it showed a man licking her breasts?’
Paul nodded again.
She looked directly at him.
‘Do you think penetration would be erotic?’
My God, she thought I can’t believe I’m talking like this!
Paul let out a faint grunt.
‘Juliette, I’m sorry, but I’m only human, I think we’re going to have to change the subject, I’m afraid this talk’s getting me aroused and I’m getting quite uncomfortable.’
He shifted a little in his chair to emphasise his discomfort and at the same time gave an apologetic smile, but his eyes conveyed a look of mischief and amusement.
Juliette put down the magazine, reached out a hand and pressed her fingers lightly between his legs.
‘My, you are excited, I think we’ll have to do something about that.’
Juliette wasn’t promiscuous. Since starting university she’d had a couple of drunken one night stands and two steady boyfriends. Sex, although enjoyable, had never really lived up to her hopes or expectations. Sexual exploration was generally one sided, she’d acted more as a sexual assistant to her partners as they explored their own sexuality. She’d never felt confident enough to pursue the trail of her own imagination. Her desires and sexual needs had been left largely unexplored. She’d never taken the lead, sexually. But now, she found herself with an opportunity to drop her inhibitions, to be sexually aggressive. The man in the chair would be grateful for whatever she offered, whether a feast or crumbs. She found the situation extremely arousing.
Juliette slipped off the bed and knelt before the wheelchair. She placed her hands on top of Paul’s lap, her forearms resting on his thighs, which were surprisingly firm and meaty. She began to massage, gently, between his legs, until she could feel the outline of his cock. Paul’s breathing became heavier, his breaths shorter. Juliette unzipped his trousers and fed her hand inside. As her fingers grasped the shaft of his penis, her eyes widened and a big smile spread across her face.
‘I do love cock,’ she said, coquettishly, as she eased it free and held it, erect, in front of her. She began to work her hand up and down its length and her own arousal was intensified by the look of gratitude in his eyes. It was a little like torture, sensual torture. She had the power to inflict pleasure. Paul gripped the sides of the wheelchair, an action which confirmed his helplessness, her dominance.
Juliette moved her mouth to the head of his cock and her tongue, fluttering and stabbing like the tongue of a snake, tickled and caressed the purple glans. Paul was gasping now and appeared on the verge of orgasm. Juliette didn’t want this, not yet. She wanted to indulge herself. She stood up and began to undress.
‘Would you like to see me posing like some of those girls in the magazine?’
‘Yes, please, oh yes please,’ said Paul, his voice pleading, desperate.
She watched Paul as she undressed, thrilled by her power to excite.
Now naked, Juliette picked the magazine off the bed and made a show of examining a picture, but she knew exactly what poses she wanted to adopt. She climbed on the bed and knelt on all fours, facing away from Paul. She splayed her legs, raised her bottom in the air, arched her back and looked, provocatively, back towards him.
‘Do you like this pose?’
‘Oh my God,’ he gasped, ‘you look beautiful.’
He took hold of his cock and began to masturbate.
Juliette was thrilled. No one had ever displayed such lust over her, no one had ever openly masturbated over her. She wriggled her bottom and then rolled over into a sitting position, her legs spread wide, feet pointed, breasts thrust forward and head thrown back.
‘Jesus,’ said Paul, his hand moving furiously, ‘I must be fucking dreaming, you are gorgeous.’
Juliette got off the bed, stood up and leaned into Paul, pressing her breasts against his face. His free hand began to caress her bottom as his mouth enjoyed her breasts. Juliette reached down between her legs and began to masturbate. It wasn’t long before the sensations from her clitoris melded with those from her suckled nipples and her body trembled as she enjoyed a fierce orgasm. She’d never felt so powerful. She sank to her knees and gripped Paul’s cock. Her hand moved rhythmically until his body stiffened and the head of his cock spat silky strands of semen into the air and she laughed as it landed on her hands and breasts while Paul sat trembling in his chair.
Juliette helped Paul clean up and as she dressed they chatted amicably, like old friends. As Juliette gathered her cleaning equipment Paul asked:
‘Will I see you again, will you come again next week?’
‘I hope so,’ she said.
As she was leaving, Paul added:
‘Make sure it’s the same time I don’t want to miss you.’
Paul couldn’t believe his luck. So often, just when things aren’t going so well, another opportunity comes around. Of course every opportunity has its possible problems, but he’d just have to deal with them when they arose. He stood up, threw himself on the bed, picked up the magazine and began thumbing through the pages. He laughed to himself. Shit, he’d nearly lost it when she’d wanked him, he’d nearly bucked right out of the chair. He wondered how his brother managed but the thought was only fleeting.
About fifteen minutes later he heard voices outside the room, a key in the lock and then the door opened. His father pushed his brother Mark’s wheelchair into the room. It was Mark’s old wheelchair and, unlike his new one, it fitted comfortably into his father’s car where it was usually stored. His father looked at Paul, contemptuously.
‘Couldn’t you have been on time, just once?’
‘It’s alright, dad, it was only a swimming session.’
The father pursed his lips. After years of feeling guilty he’d only recently admitted to himself that he had few feelings for his eldest son. Paul was feckless, irresponsible, lazy and not very bright. Well, he was bright but not clever like Mark. Paul was sly, he was the complete opposite of his brother. Mark had so much more potential and had been such a joy in his life.
‘Here,’ he said, irritably, ‘help me with Mark.’
They transferred Mark to the wheelchair Paul had occupied and Paul settled himself back onto the bed. He picked up the magazine again. ‘Here, Mark, I got you a vintage wank mag.’
‘He doesn’t need that muck,’ said his father, his irritation increasing.
‘Everyone needs a bit of light relief in their lives, if you know what I mean,’ said Paul and he winked at his brother. ‘Go on, Mark’ he added, to wind his father up, ‘give your cock a treat.’ He threw the magazine at Mark.
The father, aware that staying would only result in an argument, decided to leave. He addressed Paul, curtly.
‘Are you coming next week?’
‘I don’t think I’ll be able to make it in time. I was lucky the warden let me in this time. How about if I come over anyway and if I’m late then perhaps we could at least have a drink after?’ Paul addressed his brother. ‘Have you got a spare key to let myself in if I can’t make it in time?’
His father, still irritated, left. Shortly after, Paul did the same, having secured a spare key.
Mark smiled affectionately as he watched his brother walking down the road. He loved him dearly. Paul was an irresponsible sod but he always made him laugh.
Juliette was nearly home. Her mind had been racing ever since she’d left the flats. A wholly unexpected situation had injected all sorts of possibilities into her social life. She envisaged introducing Paul to her friends and imagined the curiosity and admiration she would attract. But her main thoughts centred around the sexual possibilities. She could entirely indulge herself, secure in the knowledge that whatever she did, sexually, would be a bonus for Paul. She was already running scenarios through her head for the following week. She imagined straddling him, riding him fiercely, and she wondered how easy it would be to move him onto the bed. The idea of undressing him and fucking him as he lay helpless beneath her aroused and excited her. Juliette speeded up her walk, she needed to get home and pleasure herself.
Paul would often turn and wave up at his brother as he walked away from his flat. Today though, his mind was fully occupied. He was trying to work out what excuse he could give his wife for postponing their outing next Sunday. More importantly, how was he going to shag Juliette without moving his legs?
Mark watched his brother who, instead of waving back at him as he approached the corner, jumped up and punched the air before disappearing out of sight.