“Okay, sure,” I said. “Noon?”“That would be good,” he said. Well, it was 10:30 a.m.I need to clarify here that Abigail and I had not made up; likely never would in any true sense. But, we did share kind of an armed truce. We did talk if but in short terse sentences from time to time. We did see each other around. It was what it was.It had been some months since the big man had made the unilateral decision, and without my knowledge, to get the legs for me. On the day that that he announced that he had in fact done so, I was trapped. We were supposed to be going to the store, him and me, and instead we ended up at a clinic. Imagine my surprise when we walked in—well actually I rolled in—and the medical team was already set to install the things on my personal body. Well money does talk. Oh, and the man had fixed it so that the necessary periodic adjustments of the prosthetic legs was automatic and paid for in perpetuity.Oh, and the mask thing was introduced to me a day later. I hadn’t. I was braless and he soon found that out by sliding the strap off my shoulder and down. He whispered in my ear that he ‘could not keep his eyes off me and wanted to make love to me.’ I could not resist. His lips followed his hand that gently caressed my breasts. His tongue encircled my nipples as his hand moved down to the slit in my dress. He touched my knee and slowly moved his hand to my thigh and began to massage the top of my nylon and to where it attached to the garter, and then to where the stocking met my skin. His hand moved to my panties and to the silk and lace that housed ‘her’. I was indeed wet and we both knew that if he continued, for only a few more moments, that I would have an orgasm, but he stopped. He picked up the intercom phone and told Ray to ‘bring us back to Caesar’s Palace.’ My heart was racing and I did not know if I should tell him to take me back to the Sahara or allow this wonderful evening to continue on to passionate love making. He kissed me again but.
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