Sarah's Education (8 page)

‘Nice legs. Would you mind?’ He mimed pulling an invisible skirt up.

‘Well, George, I really enjoy being admired, so …’ She tugged
her
skirt up high enough that its hem rested on her thighs just above the lacy tops of her hose. ‘How’s that?’

‘Oh my God! They’re absolutely perfect!’

Sarah blushed and pulled her skirt a couple of inches higher. What a sweetheart he was! Poor man – to get so excited over her legs. He had to live a very lonely life.

As they travelled, George briefed her. He worked from his apartment as a programmer for GeoMancy, which was a subsidiary of O.M.E. She guessed that the ‘O’ was for Ohio but she’d never heard of the company. O.M.E. hosted two employee functions a year, one on its founder’s birthday and one at Christmas. George had only been with the company for a matter of months so the people he knew there he only knew by phone and email.

‘I’m a bit self-conscious of people staring at me,’ he explained. ‘Having you with me, I won’t have to worry. All their eyes will be on you.’

The doll! Sarah decided then and there that she’d make the date extra special for him. If he wanted to look at her legs, she’d gladly show them off. Come to that, whatever he wanted to look at, he’d get to see.

She wondered whether he could fuck. Having lost the use of his legs didn’t necessarily mean that he couldn’t get an erection, did it? And if it did, maybe he could still feel. He might like to be touched, or it might embarrass him. Somehow or another, she’d find out.

There was a handicapped ramp into the banquet hall. They picked up nametags and went on inside. The men were almost all in tuxedos and the women wore cocktail or evening dresses. So what? Sarah was dressed up, though in a way she doubted anyone would suspect.

A crowd had gathered around the free bar. Sarah wheeled George up to it. It parted like the Red Sea for him. The barkeep took their orders out of turn. So there was an upside to not being able to walk.

A man with ‘Carl’ on his jacket and a woman with ‘Liz’ over her left breast introduced themselves. Both worked in a department that George programmed for.

Carl said, ‘I didn’t know …’ He twirled a finger at George’s wheelchair.

George shrugged. ‘Why would you? It’s one of the advantages of e-commuting, everyone’s equal.’

The talk turned to technical stuff that was far beyond Sarah’s limited computer literacy. George’s hand was resting on his chair’s armrest. Sarah pressed her thigh against the backs of his fingers. He threw her a grateful glance and pressed back. From then on, from time to time, his fingers wriggled. Sarah glanced down into his lap. There was no sign that he was getting an erection, but that didn’t mean that he couldn’t.

An MC announced that dinner was served. Sarah wheeled George in. Carl removed the chair that was in front of George’s name card. Sarah’s card read Guest’. There was minestrone or antipasto followed by either buffalo steak or squab. Sarah didn’t think she could eat pigeon meat so they both had the steak, which came with a plum sauce and was decorated with what Sarah took to be blades of grass.

George ordered a bottle of Chianti for them to share. It was dry enough to make her tongue stick to the roof of her mouth but she found that she quite liked it.

The white linen cloth draped onto their thighs. In the spirit of giving George good value for his two thousand bucks, and as an experiment, Sarah rested her hand on his thigh under the cloth’s concealment. His leg twitched. It felt quite muscular. Perhaps he hadn’t been crippled for long enough for it to atrophy.

So, his legs could feel, which had to mean …

His fingers touched her nyloned thigh just above her knee and stroked up to the top of her stocking. Sarah hitched forwards in her chair so that his fingertips brushed her bare skin. They half turned to look at each other, a question in his eyes and an answering promise in hers. She thought she actually felt something for the poor man, not love exactly but at least something close to affection. Was that weird? Was it something hormonal or psychological? She’d made up her mind that she was going to make George happy that night. Had that
decision
triggered an emotional response in her? If it had, being an escort could be more satisfying than just the money and the sex.

How had she felt towards the exhibitionists, James and Daphne? Warm. Definitely warm. She considered them her friends now, even though she wasn’t likely to see them ever again.

Jack, of course, was something else again. She’d fallen in genuine love with him, her first.

Because he’d been her first?

She’d have to think about that, but later. For now, George’s fingertips were making little circles on her bare skin and she was thoroughly enjoying it. That ghost of a tingle was starting.
Carpe diem
, she told herself. ‘Seize the day.’ A line from a song her dad sometimes sang came into her mind: ‘If you can’t be with the one that you love, love the one that you’re with.’ For the first time in her life, the lyrics made perfect sense.

There were speeches about things and people that didn’t interest Sarah so she concentrated on what George’s fingers were doing and daydreamed about what they’d do to her when they got back to his apartment. A man who couldn’t walk could still kiss, and she doted on kissing. He could still use his fingers, as well, and George seemed to have a very delicate touch.

But she should be thinking about what she could do to please George, not about what he could do for her. He was the customer, after all.

Daphne had done some incredible things to James with her mouth. Sarah didn’t know if she was up to doing the same things, but she could certainly try. What sort of a cock did George have, she wondered.

Everyone but George stood up. Sarah hurried to copy them and drank a toast to someone or something. Waiters cleared away and then came round with coffee and liqueurs. Sarah would have liked to try her first liqueur but she whispered to George, ‘What time does this finish?’

‘Bored?’

‘No,’ she lied, ‘but wouldn’t you like us to be alone?’

George arched his back. Louder than necessary, he announced, ‘I’m getting pangs, Sarah. My back’s seizing up. I’m sorry to drag you away from all the fun but could you take me home and give me my medicine?’

As she wheeled him out, she whispered, ‘Are you really in pain, George?’

‘Of a sort, but my stiffness isn’t in my back. I was hoping you’d have the right treatment to cure it.’

Sarah chuckled. ‘I’ll think of something, ‘I promise.’

‘Sweet nurse.’

On the ride back, Sarah posed her legs and pulled her skirt up high enough to show George glimpses of her gossamer white panties. He groaned. If it hadn’t been for the driver up front, she’d have unbuttoned her uniform to see if he liked her matching bra and its contents.

Was she becoming an exhibitionist or didn’t it count if there were just the two of you?

George said, ‘This ride is taking for ever.’

‘It’ll be worth the wait, George, I promise.’ She really meant that.

George’s apartment was nothing like Sarah expected. With him being a computer geek, she’d thought it’d either be a total mess, with tottering stacks of books and papers scattered everywhere, or obsessive-compulsive neat. It was neat and tidy, but lived in, quite ordinary, really.

The couch looked as if it was used, so she asked him, ‘Would you like me to help you to the couch, or to your bed?’ She made her voice throaty on ‘bed’, so he’d understand the implications.

‘I’m comfortable in my wheelchair, thanks. Nurse Sarah?’

‘Yes, George?’

‘Could I see those lovely legs of yours again, please?’

‘Of course.’ She stepped back a little, to give him a full view. Working slowly from the lowest up, she undid the buttons on her uniform one at a time, till she came to its broad elasticised belt.

When she put her fingers to the buckle, George said, ‘Leave the belt, please?’

‘Whatever pleases you, George. Shall I …?’ She reached for the top button.

‘Yes, please.’

Sarah posed, one knee before the other, as she’d seen models do, and unbuttoned down to her belt. That, she guessed, was part of his kink – or ‘sexual preference’ as Veronica had insisted it be called.

‘I could take my uniform off but leave the belt on, if you’d like.’

‘No, I like the uniform on you, Nurse Sarah.’

Ah, so it was her being a nurse that he was fixated on.

‘Is there anything else that your naughty little nurse can do for you, George? I’m here to look after you, and –’ she paused to tilt the little watch pinned to her breast pocket up so she could glance at it ‘– I see the night shift has started.’ Sarah parted the skirt to her uniform to give him a better look at her legs.

It was strange, she felt, for a professional escort to be seducing her client. After all, she was bought and paid for. He was entitled, whether Veronica was willing to admit or not, to any relatively normal sexual services he fancied.

How did she feel about that – being ‘bought and paid for’? Should she be ashamed? She wasn’t. In fact, she was sort of proud of herself. Almost any girl could ‘give it away’. Not many could sell their good looks and erotic skills at $2,000 plus tips per time.

George’s voice was creaky when he asked, ‘Could you come closer?’

She sauntered towards him, deliberately teasing, until her thighs were inches from the armrest of his chair.

His eyes opened wide. He licked his lips. ‘May I touch you?’

‘I’d like that, George.’

‘You would?’ He seemed both pleased and surprised.

‘Nurses have needs too, George.’

‘Oh!’ His hand reached out hesitantly. His fingers rested lightly on Sarah’s stocking, just above and on the inside of her knee. George looked up into her eyes, as if questioning his right to be fondling her.

‘You have a delicate touch, George. I like that.’

Encouraged, he made tiny circles on the white nylon, slowly travelling upwards. Sarah sighed and half hooded her eyes. Poor man, she thought. He needed all the encouragement he could get. Her excitement wasn’t all fake. It was a sexy situation. Here she was, with a man who was virtually a stranger, blatantly showing herself off and offering herself. If that made her a slut, then being a slut was fun!

When she compared, she realised that George’s diffident caresses excited her far more than David’s had ever done. The difference, she thought, was that with David she’d always felt that she had to hold back, not get carried away by her own lust. In her new role, getting totally hot was an asset, not a liability.

George’s little circles seemed to have stalled at her lacy stocking top. Perhaps that was what he liked, but she decided to take a chance. Sarah reached down, took hold of his wrist and moved his hand higher.

When George’s fingers touched the bare skin of Sarah’s thigh he sucked in a deep breath. To encourage him, she moved her feet further apart and pushed her mound an inch closer to his face. Even so, his circles moved no higher than to brush the backs of his fingers against the thin fabric that was stretched over her sex. Didn’t he want to finger her? With David, it was always a kiss and an exploring finger at the same time. Could that be it?

Sarah made her voice husky and asked, May I kiss you, George?’

‘You want to?’

‘You’re a very attractive man, George. I like kissing, don’t you?’

‘Y-yes.’

She closed the gap, forcing the back of his hand to press up against her sex, and leant over him, holding the far arm of his chair and its back. He turned his face up. Her lips descended. She brushed them lightly across his.

George’s lips were softer and smoother than she expected,
more
like a girl’s than a man’s. That wasn’t unpleasant at all. When he didn’t respond to her ‘little girl’ kiss, she let her lips part slightly in invitation. He still didn’t react. She took his lower lip between her two and tugged at it gently. His free hand came up to hold the back of her neck, as if he was afraid she’d pull back, but his mouth was still passive. OK, in that case …

Sarah extended the tip of her tongue. His lips parted just enough to allow it entrance but his tongue didn’t reciprocate.

Hmm. She’d heard boys complain that some girls didn’t ‘kiss back’ but she’d never heard any girls gripe about the reverse. It had to be because of his insecurity, from being confined to his chair. Sarah stabbed her tongue into his mouth, thrusting it in as deeply as she could.

George moaned and gripped her tighter, both her thigh and the back of her neck. It was obvious that she was pleasing him but he remained the passive recipient, taking but not giving.

She could handle that.

Sarah let her tongue go wild, exploring, lapping and sucking, feasting on his mouth. He made more noises. The hand between her legs cupped and kneaded her. The hand on her neck moved higher, knocking her little cap off and knotting in her hair. There was no way he was going to let her escape but she had to do all the work, and it was becoming uncomfortable, being bent over him awkwardly and immobile. Partly for a change in position and partly to check if she was really getting to him, she dropped her right hand into his lap.

Yes, she was getting to him all right. Under the serge of his tuxedo pants, he was rigid. Still dominating his mouth, Sarah fumbled for and found his zipper’s tab. George held his breath. Sarah tugged downwards, very slowly, deliberately teasing him. To extend his torment, she rested her open palm over where his erection lay and massaged it gently through the fabric.

His fly was open and he no doubt expected her hand to slide inside. Let him wait!

Each little squeeze of her hand brought a pleading moan
from
him. She gripped and rubbed, but not hard. Up and down. Up and down. Perhaps it was cruel, him being in a wheelchair, but Sarah was determined to make him suffer.

Eventually, he gasped into her mouth, ‘Please, nurse?’

‘This?’ she asked. Her fingers parted his fly, found the slit in his boxers, and crept slowly inside.

His shaft was burning hot. She just held it for a long moment before working it out into the open air.