Driving Mrs. Tandy

John Stefanovitch was appointed as Mrs. Tandy’s driver on his 25th birthday. He took that as a good sign. He didn’t have any reason to think otherwise. The payment was more than generous and the work wasn’t hard. Most of the time he was doing small repairs on Mrs. Tandy’s old Bentley, and washing it. Two times a day he had to take Mrs. Tandy’s nurse downtown for shopping. And that was all. The nurse’s name was Norma, a plump little creature with a permanent smile on her face. Norma talked much, and said little. John was fine with that, but what surprised him was that she avoided talking about Mrs. Tandy. John didn’t know anything about Mrs. Tandy, and he had never even seen her. He was appointed to the job by her lawyer. He supposed that Mrs. Tandy was an old, blue haired lady, who was very sick or dying, and who was confined to her bed. He was fine with that too. Mrs. Tandy’s house was Victorian in style, with a nice, well tended garden. A kidney- shaped pool was wedged between the right side of the building and the pine grove growing nearby. John Stefanovitch was sitting by the pool when he saw Norma trotting towards him. “Mrs. Tandy wants to see you,” she said with a smile that made her look almost beautiful. “Ok.” “Come with me!” He followed her into the house, then up to the second floor. Norma opened one of the doors and entered. A motionless body was lying on the bed. John blinked, surprised with what he saw. Mrs. Tandy was on her stomach, her shoulder length black hair covering her face. “Have a seat, and please don’t stare at me like that!” Mrs. Tandy said. Her voice was firm, with a lilting quality that he found charming. “How was she able to see me?” he wondered, then saw the mirror placed before her face, and her dark green eyes glistening with curiosity. Some kind of padded metallic device was supporting her chin, keeping her head up. “It’s nice to see you Mrs. Tandy,” John said. Her head moved slightly. “You can leave us now, Norma,” Mrs. Tandy said. Mrs. Tandy appeared to be in her late twenties, much younger than he expected. Her body, John noticed subsequently, was not resting on the bed, but was suspended on a strange contraption of ropes, metal bars and pulleys. “I hope I don’t make you feel uncomfortable. I am …you know… quite a sight,” she said. “Not at all.” Most of her body was in plaster. Her entire torso and her right arm, as well as her right leg (excluding the foot). Only her left arm was completely free, dangling by the side of the bed. As to her left leg, it was in short leg cast. He could see the back of her bare thigh and her hip. “Do you like the job?” “To be quite honest, there is nothing much to do.” She smiled in the mirror. “It is not very polite, but I can’t look directly at you. I can’t move at all.” “You should not worry about such things, Mrs. Tandy.” John said. “You can call me Abby,” she said and tucked her hair behind her ear, exposing the side of her face and an exquisite cheekbone. That simple gesture struck him as extremely feminine. “My name is John,” he said, staring at her bare left shoulder. “Do you mind staying with me for a while? It’s nice to have someone to talk to.” He noticed that her right arm was casted at a 90 degree angle to her body, with her elbow bent at the same angle. “Great. I’m bored too. Your car is not very talkative.” Her mirrored eyes fixed on him, and a muffled giggle escaped her lips. “Your last name is Slavic,” she said. “Yes, my grandfather came from Serbia in 1944.” She remained silent for a moment, and then asked,” Do you think I could fit into the car?” John raised his eyebrows with surprise,” I don’t know.” “You have to take my measurements later.” “Are you sure…” “I can’t be sure of anything since the accident,” she said with a faltering voice, then burst into tears. John got up on his feet, “I am so sorry.” “It was horrible, John. He nearly got me killed.” “He?” “My husband.” She suddenly broke into hysterical laughter that stopped abruptly when the pain shot through her back. She moaned, her head sagging a little. “I will call the nurse.” “I’m fine, just bring me some water!” The memories of the accident began to flood her mind. Her drunk husband, driving at high speed with a sheepish smile on his face; his free hand slipping under her skirt, squeezing, rubbing, making her feel like a whore; the fear on his face when he lost control of the car; the rain of broken glass; the enormity of the impact that crushed her body. “Mrs. Tandy, are you ok?” John said and guided the straw to her lips. “I am much better now.” He was crouching beside her bed, watching her sip at her water. His eyes lingered guiltily on the plaster mounds encasing her breasts and the padded edge of the cast under her armpit. “Thank you,” she said, and looked at him from the corner of her eye. Her perfume was wafting towards him, gently tickling his nose. He stood up reluctantly and got back to his chair. The plaster covering her torso held her back in slightly arched position, making her body look tense. He could not help noticing that her left leg was strapped to the frame of the bed and drawn to one side. It was bent at the knee, her casted foot pointing at the ceiling. Her hip and thigh were tight and well-shaped, and looked oddly bare compared to her casted body. On the other hand, her right leg resembled a massive plaster column, adorned only with her tiny foot that was sticking out of the cast. “Are you in much pain…Abby,” John asked. Her mirrored eyes found his and her lips twitched into a wry smile. “Some things hurt more than the pain itself, John.”

Chapter 2

John Stefanovitch was helping Norma with the shopping, which, for the most part consisted in carrying the bags. There were some things that were bugging him, but he wasn’t sure if he should ask. Finally, he gave in to the urge. “Norma, Mrs. Tandy has been in some kind of accident, hasn’t she?” A wide smile split Norma’s face, and her head tilted to one side. “Does she look like someone who has not been in an accident?” She remained silent for a while, then said: “It was a car crash.” “Her husband … what happened to him?” “You presume he had been with her,” she said and raised her eyebrow slightly, “… and you are right about that.” “Was he killed?” “No, he recovered surprisingly quickly.” “I haven’t seen him.” “He doesn’t even visit her anymore,” Norma said, her smile fading for a moment. “Why?” “Because she is not fuckable anymore.” “Nice way to put it, Norma.” “I heard him saying this, “she explained calmly, then added with a broad smile,”well, is your curiosity satisfied?” John winked at her and nodded. On the way back, he ventured another question: “How long has she been in that bed?” “Nearly three mouths.” “Wow. I hope she will get better soon.” “No one knows for sure.” “What’s the problem?” “John, let’s stop talking about her.”

***

“I have to see my mother,” Norma said, “She called and said she was sick. Could you keep an eye on Mrs. Tandy for a while?” “Ok,” John said. “I will be back as soon as possible.” “No problem.” He followed the nurse into the house, feeling surprisingly nervous and tense. Norma let him into her room, then turned and left. Mrs. Tandy didn’t look much different than the last time he had seen her. Plastered body, resting in a complicated maze of ropes, metal bars, and weights; bare flesh showing here and there. The only difference was that her casted left foot was lowered slightly. John looked at the mirror placed before her face and saw that her eyes were closed. Her left arm was hanging limply, her motionless fingers almost touching the floor. She was obviously sleeping. He sat on the chair, hoping that it would not creak. It didn’t. His mind was in turmoil and he tried to direct his thoughts away from the injured woman. Unsuccessfully. He could not stop thinking about her. Looking at her while she was sleeping felt strangely awkward. It was as if he was intruding on something very private. Her right foot was small but fleshy, as if it had no bones. Her sole was pinkish in color and devoid of any blemishes. Compared to it, the plaster encasing her entire leg was a sheer white monster. The cast followed the curve of her right hip, then dipped at the small of her back. From his point of view, he could see the cleavage between her buttocks and the padded edge of the portion of the cast that hugged her slim waist. “What are you doing here?” Mrs. Tandy asked in a sweet drowsy voice. John could feel the redness creeping up his face and looked at the floor to avoid her green eyes. “Norma’s mother is sick. She asked me to stay with you for a while.” “When did she left?” “About half an hour ago.” She yawned with difficulty, due to the device around her neck, then blinked thoughtfully. “John, will you give me a ride?” “Now?” “Now.” “But in your condition…” “I am fine. There is no problem at all. Believe me! You have to remove some screws and help me stand up. Of course, I won’t be able to walk, but I am not heavy, even with the cast…” “Abby, you’ll have to talk to the nurse about that.” “Pleeeaaase, I will pay you as much as you want.” “No, Abby,” John said, then got up and went to the window. She remained silent for a moment, nervously running her hand through her hair. Then, she started to cry pitifully. “Abby, please don’t do that.” John knelt beside her and squeezed her hand gently. Her teary eyes fixed innocently on him. He inhaled the smell of her skin, sweet and pleasant, intoxicating. “I hate to admit it, but you are right,” she said and squeezed his hand back. John Stefanovitch felt lightheaded with relief.

Chapter 3

Her hand felt soft and warm in his. She had found some comfort, and was reluctant to let him go. John could sense her pain and tension, her misery. He was kneeling before her, as if in prayer, desperately wanting to make her feel better. But there was nothing he could do for her. “You were so kind to me,” she said and smoothly withdrew her hand. For a moment, he felt useless and empty. Then, he realized how important she was to him. He reached out and gently touched her cheek. Reflexively, her face assumed a startled expression which was quickly replaced by a quizzical look. “I didn’t want to offend you,” he said, drowning in her green eyes. “I still flinch when someone touches me unexpectedly. Immobility makes me feel vulnerable.” “I will never do that again. I sympathize with your predicament.” “Yes, I am to be pitied. The poor woman, whose body was crushed, who can do nothing but complain, and can’t even pee without help,” she said angrily. “Abby,” John whispered and watched her anger crumbling, dissolving into sadness. “I want to be left alone.” He started wringing his hands, and then said: “Abby, I want to kiss you.” “I don’t think it’s funny to…” she stopped, then her lips parted to complete the sentence. Unable to curb his feelings, he kissed her passionately. Her eyes bulged and her good hand shot up to stop him. For a second, he thought that she was about to hit him. Her lips were stiff and unyielding, her face flushed. Then, slowly and unexpectedly, she responded to his kiss. Their tongues met with a pleasant tickle. He cupped her cheeks, taking care not to touch the device that supported her head. “Are you crazy?” she asked softly. He caressed her forehead and smoothed her hair back from her face. “Yes, but I can control my craziness,” he said and smiled. “It feels a bit strange to be treated this way. Since I lost my attractiveness…” He placed his forefinger on her mouth, muffling her words. “You are beautiful.” “Really, how could you know that?” “To be honest, your plaster shell doesn’t hide much, you know.” “Hey, you almost made me feel like a princess,” she said sarcastically. His hand moved down and rested on her bare shoulder. Caressing her soft skin, he stared at the cast encasing her torso. The plaster cast was moulded nicely around her rounded breasts, emphasizing their shape. It looked as if she was wrapped up in a tight corset. He traced his finger over the padded edge of the cast, then curiously touched the hard shell. “What are you doing?” she asked, turning her eyes down in a futile attempt to see his hands. “Touching your breasts.” “Ha! Some other time maybe. They are very well protected now, too protected,” she said, laughing. He slipped his forefinger under the cast and into the barely visible slit between her breasts. She gasped and her left foot moved convulsively. Subsequently, her brow furrowed with pain. He withdrew his hand, then looked anxiously at her pale face. Her features relaxed gradually and she tried to smile. “I’m such an idiot!” John said. “Please, do it again!” she said with unexpected twinkle in her eyes. “Are you sure?” She just took his hand and placed it on the cast. He did what he was told, while at the same time scrutinizing the peculiar expression on her face. “In some respects, I still function properly,” she said. “Glad to hear that.” “But we will never be able to finish what we started.” “Everything will be fine one day. You will recover…” “My left thigh is cramped.” “What can I do?” “It needs to be massaged.” “Ok.” John stood up and reached out between the horizontal bars of the frame. His hand rested on the back of her thigh, then squeezed it gently. He noticed with surprise that despite the immobilization her muscles were still toned. “Have you been into sports?” he asked. “I used to play tennis three times a week.” He started kneading her flesh with slow, circular motions. “It feels good,” she said, moaning softly. He rubbed her butt cheek, enjoying the softness of her immaculate skin. His eyes lingered on the cleft separating her buttocks. For a moment, there was a hesitant look on his face. Then, he slipped his hand between her legs. He found her clit and teased it with his fingertips. Mrs. Tandy felt a pleasant tingling, and then a hot wave of desire washed over her. Her vagina moistened even further. Under the plaster prison, her muscles tensed in a futile attempt to respond. But only her good hand moved spasmodically. A high pitched moan slipped out of her lips and she felt weightless, as if she was flying.