He must have been waiting for her by the window, or otherwise he wouldn't have known to open the front door when she turned up the sidewalk.

"You're prompt," he noted approvingly. Three o'clock right on the dot. She could feel his eyes taking her in, her petite blonde frame encased in the 200-pound electric motorized wheelchair that she drove simply by blowing into a straw connected to the motor.

For her part, she'd noticed a few things about him immediately. Like how well toned his body was, how nice his muscles looked moving under his fitted t-shirt. Well, she wouldn't very well trust a physical therapist who wasn't in shape himself, could she? Besides, she admitted to herself, being a cripple didn't exactly make her blind to the physical charms of the opposite sex, even if people generally tended to regard her more or less as a child in most matters.

"I'm Gary Michaels. Nice to meet you." He extended his hand, then withdrew it in embarrassment when he realized she wouldn't be able to grasp it.

"Hi... Margaret Elliott? I'm a patient of Dr. Kim's. He thinks I could use some physical therapy. My friend Carol gave me a list of referrals. Your name was at the top."

"Let's go into the gym," he suggested. She followed him through the house, taking special note of his well-muscled buttocks and thighs. The gym was a large room in the back of the building, utilitarian in its furnishings but by no means cold. A set of barbells lay in one corner by a weight bench, and she could just imagine him lying on the bench, working out. In another corner was a sort of gym mat on a frame with pillows on one end. Various other pieces of exercise equipment took up the remaining area.

Gary sat down on a wheeled stool so that he could look her in the eye. "So, tell me, what brings you here?"

She took a deep breath. She hated talking about herself, being reminded of her physical limitations. Even though she had told this story many times, it didn't get any easier with each repetition. "What you see? I was born like this. It's a rare neuro-muscular condition that took away my function but left my sensation intact. Simply put, I can't move anything below my neck, but I feel everything. Anyway, you can imagine, sitting in the same position all day long, my muscles get pretty achy."

"Hmm. Well, we could always start with some soft tissue massage and see where it goes."

He walked around behind her chair, placed his hands on her shoulders, and started rubbing firmly. She closed her eyes and tried to enjoy it. By all rights she should have been completely relaxed, but something just felt different about Gary's massage technique. Was it her imagination, or did his thumbs linger just a fraction of a second longer tracing the strap of her bra through her filmy silk blouse? Whatever it was, the sensation was vaguely discomfiting but not unpleasant.

She thought she heard him whisper something in her ear, but wasn't sure she'd heard him right. "Excuse me?"

"I said, Carol told me about you, but I wasn't expecting you to be, well, this sexy."

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, please. Really."

"You don't know how to take an honest compliment."

She felt the blood rise to her neck and face, the blush suffusing her porcelain features. He noticed her discomfort and pulled away a bit. "I didn't say anything wrong, did I?"

She shook her head. "I guess I'm not used to hearing compliments like that."

"Just being in that wheelchair doesn't make you less of the woman you are. Or deserve to be."

"I've never heard that before," she admitted. "What I usually get from men is more like, 'Poor Margaret', or 'Margaret, you're such an inspiration', or else they just ignore me. I'm not used to someone looking at me as, well, a woman."

"Poor beautiful Margaret," he murmured. His strong fingers glided over her throat, her collarbone, and she leaned her head back against the headrest of the chair.

What was happening? Her body was starting to feel warm, feverish. Her breathing deepened; it was getting hard to speak. "People only ever see me in this wheelchair. I suppose it is a bit off putting being surrounded by metal on three sides."

"De-feminization by disability," he chuckled. "Pity. To me you are a jewel encased in a setting. All this hardware around you just shows off all the more how desirable you are. A maiden in a fortress, waiting for her knight." His fingers on her shoulders stopped moving. "I'm afraid I can't go any further while you've got all these clothes on."

She didn't protest as he undid the buttons of her blouse, one by one, and slid the fine silk off her shoulders and down her arms. Felt the smooth fabric pulling out of the waistband of her trousers. The room was cool, but she was definitely feeling hot. "Let me look at you," he whispered, his breath hot in her ear. "Your beautiful skin."

"Yes, please," she breathed. He scooped her out of the chair, laid her gently down on the mat, and arranged a pillow behind her head. Pausing for a moment, his eyes traveling over the length of her. Out of her chair, she felt exposed, vulnerable, yet strangely daring. A butterfly freed from her cocoon, the soft flesh of an orange removed from the peel, so ripe for tasting and sucking.

He sat down beside her and resumed running his hands over her neck, her shoulders, her arms, his touch hovering somewhere between a massage and a caress. When he brushed the edge of her satin bra they stopped.

"Go on, take it off," she whispered, surprised at her newfound audacity.

Without a word, he slid his hand up between her breasts and fingered the clasp of her bra. She felt her breasts relax as he undid the clasp and opened first one cup, then the other. "You have such gorgeous breasts," he whispered, his voice husky with desire. He leaned down and blew softly across one perfect nipple, and the rosy flesh hardened instantly. He cupped his hand under the rounded softness, bringing the tip up to his mouth. Margaret leaned her head back and sighed, savoring the new sensations that were traveling up and down her body, inflaming the pit of her belly and groin.

His lips traveled from one breast to the other, pausing to graze in the valley between, as his hand stroked her soft belly and ribs. Then his lips were on her stomach and his hands running down her hips and thighs. Slowly he unbuttoned her trousers and inched the zipper down, exposing her belly button and the front of her white satin panties.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked her.

"I've never been so sure of anything in my life," she whispered. "Don't you feel it too?"

"Oh God, yes," he groaned, and with one fluid motion he stripped her trousers and panties off her legs.

Softly at first, then more insistently, he began rubbing her feet, starting with the toes, then moving up to the ankles and calves. He stroked her long slim calves, then her thighs. Her body, flushed, responded reflexively as his hands moved up the front of her thighs, over her pelvis.

Then his hands were separating her legs and stroking the insides of her thighs, moving up just to where her crotch began, teasing her. She felt herself beginning to sweat. Eagerly brushed aside her silky thatch of dark-blonde pubic hair to reveal the hidden depths beneath. Strong fingers stroked, caressed, explored the silky folds. Her crotch was soaking wet; his fingers dipped in the wetness and spread it out over her lips, her clit, her whole pubic mound. Margaret arched her head back and moaned.

Then, suddenly, his fingers weren't there anymore.

Then, just as suddenly, his tongue was.

It flicked across her clit, tentatively, almost experimentally, sending a jolt through her being that was almost electric. Then it began to lick, back and forth, harder and harder. Unable to push in to meet him, unable to pull away, she closed her eyes and surrendered, helpless to the feelings she'd never felt before, making sounds she'd never made before. The tension within her body rose, gained intensity, until she hovered on the brink of climax.

Then everything stopped.

Ready to scream in frustration, Margaret opened her eyes. Gary had just taken off his t-shirt, and was sliding his jeans off. God, he was beautiful, not an inch of fat visible on his body. His erection looked powerful, formidable.

"Are you sure you want this?" he asked again.

Her panted yes was barely audible. In one motion he lifted up her hips and inserted a pillow behind her back, and then his fingers were exploring her again. This time they knew exactly what to do to bring her excitement back to that fever pitch. Raising himself up on his knees, he pulled her hips forward and plunged into her.

Oh - OH! - For an instant there was a sharp pain, and then a wave of pleasure that was excruciating in its intensity. She heard his breath catch as her smooth inner muscles tightened reflexively around him. Back and forth he moved, establishing a rhythm, sending waves of sensation up through her whole being, oh, God, yes. Let this not end, she prayed silently even as her body drew closer and closer to climax. Then the world exploded around her as a spasm of pure ecstasy engulfed her. She heard screams, realized they were her own, felt him shudder as his own orgasm matched hers.

Afterwards, he dressed her again gently and sat her back in her chair. "Same time next week?" he asked, as he held the door for her on her way out.

She knew she would definitely have to thank Carol for her referral.