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“Good morning, Ms. Radley,” Clay smiled as he exited the car. “I hope you don’t mind if I say that you always look lovely, and even more beautiful this morning than usual.” Alicia blushed and looked at her hands in her lap.
“Thank you,” she said.
“Do you have something special on today, that you have dressed for?”
“That depends upon you,” she said while he was lifting her out of her wheelchair. Clay stopped and stood holding her in his arms, her arm around his neck. She was so light and fragile in his arms, he almost forgot that he was holding her while they talked.
“How does it involve me?” he said.
“You haven’t answered me about the seventh,” she said. Clay looked at her for a moment.
“If I accept the invitation,” he said, “may I kiss your cheek?”
“What? Here? Now?” she laughed. He’d never heard her laugh, or even seen her smile very much. It was like music, and he felt drawn to this strange, beautiful injured bird.
“Why not?” he smiled. She turned a pink cheek to him, and he pressed his lips gently to her impeccable skin. Alicia expected a quick peck on the cheek, but Clayton let his lips linger, and the warmth flowed through her face like a hot blush. It coursed through her body until her arms tingled and she felt a moment of panic as the unfamiliar rush trembled through her breasts and belly until it nestled between her legs with a fluid feeling she’d not experienced for many years.
Alicia sat limply and speechless while Clay lowered her into the back seat and put away her wheelchair. Alicia sat silently staring out the window while Clay drove her to her office. When he placed her gently into her chair on the sidewalk in front of her office, he took one of her tiny white hands in his strong warm hands and looked into her moist blue eyes.
“I will be honoured to escort Ms. Alicia Radley to her banquet on the seventh,” he intoned in a humorous imitation of and aristocratic gentleman. Alicia immediately picked up on it and with a feigned gracious move, held up her other hand for him to kiss. He pressed his lips to the back of her hand. When she tried to withdraw it in another gesture of faux grandeur, he held it tightly. He turned her hand over and kissed her palm, his lingering lips hot on her frail hand sent spasms of desire deep into her body. She fought the reflex to jerk her hand away from him, and forced herself to look at his wonderful face, eyes closed, full lips pressed lightly to the inside of her hand.
Alicia Radley was overwhelmed by the feelings of passion that welled up within her. She had been a beautiful, popular young woman when she entered her twenties. Young men from many of the best and wealthiest families in the city pursued her almost constantly. She always had several invitations to every social function, and was considering several marriage proposals, trying to decide which of the young hopefuls might win her love, her passion, and her lovely body for his own. It was during this time that the Multiple Sclerosis struck, and they soon found that all the beauty, brains, and money in the world would not save her from life in a wheelchair. A short life without legs or love was all she had to which she could look forward.

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