Angela Regains Feeling in her Legs

 

Gillian and Angela were twins.  Gillian was a famous model.  (She claimed that she was paranoid about germs!)

An accident had left Angela unable to use her legs, but a couple of days previously, Angela had been saying that she could feel her legs.  Angela could now slowly move around on her own, holding onto the walls and the furniture.

This evening, they had just had a small party, and Jane had stood Angela on the top of Jane’s feet, and ‘Ballroom’-danced like you dance with little children.  Angie had loved it!  Now all the guests had left, and they were winding down for the night.

Gillian and Jane carefully lowered Angela onto the chair in her room, and she had shooed them off, saying she could look after herself, now that she could get around in her room.  She had done that for most of the week, and Gillian was optimistic about a full recovery.  Jane was working on her to take Angela to a specialist, just to make sure that they were doing all the right things.

When Jane got to the bedroom that they shared, Gillian was seated on the bed, looking upset.

“Why, love?  What’s the matter?”

Gillian smiled awkwardly.

“I can’t get over you dancing with Angela!”  She kept playing with the bedsheet, clearly distracted.  “I have you, Jane … and she … she has all the needs of a healthy girl … and …”

Jane nodded.  “What do you want me to do, darling?”

“Just … just talk to her, one on one … tonight’s the night.  Just give her a chance.  If she asks you—whatever happens, happens … you know?”  Jane nodded silently.  “Do you think there’s something wrong with me?”  Jane shook her head.  Gillian very obviously cherished Jane’s good opinion of her; that both amused and deeply moved Jane.  It was a brave gesture, to open up the possibility that Angela might get so attached to Jane that Gillian would lose her—lose them both!  “I don’t know … I’m just a little afraid that something will go wrong …”

“I’ll take the responsibility,” said Jane softly.  “I’m used to things going wrong,” she said, with a smile.

“No, I have to bear this myself … Jane … this is the time to tell you that … I love you!”  Jane stared at her.  She was a beautiful woman, but she had never looked so utterly beautiful as then.  “Oh god!  You can’t imagine how good it feels to say the words!”

She got to her feet, and hugged Jane tight, trembling with happiness and fear.  Then she pulled away, and gently shoved Jane in the direction of the door.

 

Jane found Angela still in her jeans, staring moodily at the wall.  Seeing Jane, she pulled herself up to her feet.  “I was just taking a little rest,” she said, blushing for no reason.  “You haven’t undressed either!”

Jane felt weak at the knees.  She sat on the edge of the bed, and managed a smile.  It didn’t matter anymore; both twins had to take what they got from her; it had been a long day, and it was too much effort to make nice.

“I really ought to get my makeup off carefully,” she said.

“Would you like some help?” asked Angela, eagerly.

“Sure!”  She came over, and Angela put her arm around Jane, and they made their way to the bathroom.

“Gillian’s got your door closed,” observed Angela.

“Uh huh,” said Jane, non-committally.

Angela made Jane sit on the stool, and carefully removed the makeup.  Then she asked whether Jane would like to shower.  Jane said she would.  Angela took a deep breath.  Her eyes slipped up to meet Jane’s with an amazing mixture of not-quite-suppressed worry and not-quite suppressed eagerness.  She moistened her lips delicately with the tip of her tongue—it was painfully erotic, but a quite unconscious gesture.  “I’ll help you undress,” she said, with a little smile.  She had a hundred different smiles, unlike Gillian, who only smiled with great difficulty.  Jane gave an awkward giggle, and came closer.  Her top was already off; Angie carefully took off the scrap of skirt.  It was a powerful sensation, to be so obviously desired by Angela.  Jane was no stranger to being desired, but it had been a long time since she had last felt it.  When Jane was naked, she ran her hands over her body sensuously and shivered.  Taking a deep breath, Jane stepped into the shower.  She hardly knew how to behave, with Angela watching.  She used the hand-held spray, and showered quickly, reluctant to make a big production of it, despite the intense pleasure she knew that Angela was getting out of it.  She stole glances at her own body, shocked at how shapely it was, how neat her legs were, how high and firm her breasts.  She breathed in sighs, trying to relax.  Presently it was done.

“Jane?”

“Hmm?”  Jane’s heart was racing, and she was sure she would faint in the tub.

“Will you let me … touch you?”

Jane turned to face her, her face red.

“Sure, if you want, Angie …”  Oh God, she exulted!  “I know it’s been hard for you …”  Her voice sounded strangled.

Angie held out her hand, and Jane put her wet hand in it, turning off the water.  They were alone in the bathroom, with the door shut.  Angie drew her close, and seated Jane astraddle the edge of the bathtub.  From where she sat, on the toilet-seat, she could reach all of Jane.  She touched Jane’s breast, almost reverently, and then squeezed it, kneaded it, thoroughly acquainting herself with the feel of it.

“You are so beautiful!” she said, her eyes shining.  And in Jane’s heart, the feeling of her own beauty that had been building up over the evening grew into a powerful certainty.  The words did not strike her as flattery, but as the simple truth; this girl had lived with beauty from her birth; her opinion was surely worth something!

Inevitably, what Angie wanted most was to explore Jane’s crotch.  Jane made it easy for her, as Angela inserted a finger, and then another.  Jane watched, fascinated, at her first steps in sexual communication, the incredible difference between having your hand inside yourself, and inside another living human being, such a wonderful, intimate, feeling; such a privilege, to be cherished, and savored!

She withdrew her hand, and Jane felt an aching sense of loss.

“Come on, let’s go to my room!” Angela said, impatiently.   Jane stepped out of the tub and carefully picked her up.  One of these days, I’m going to hurt my back, she thought, with a twinge of fear.  When she was safe in Jane’s arms, Angela pulled herself close and kissed Jane on the mouth, forcing her mouth open with her tongue.  Jane tried to walk as quietly as she could, and stumbled into Angela’s room.  Angela leaned over to turn out the light.

They got Angela’s clothes off somehow.  Finally—finally!  They were naked together.  Jane lay back on the pillows, and pulled Angela’s dead weight onto herself.  She was no longer in control, her body had taken over.

“Kiss me again!” she begged, dying of the pleasure of feeling Angela’s weight on her body.  Angela’s joy was clear even in the near dark.  Angela kissed her long and hard, and as well as she knew how, she made love to Jane.  She was intelligent, and she tried very hard to give Jane as much pleasure as she could.  Her hands were insistent but tender, and Jane marveled at her sensitivity to Jane’s feelings and sensations.  She learned incredibly fast, and Jane taught her, delicately, skillfully, how to pleasure her, without words, but with a touch, gentle encouragements with her hands, her thighs, her breathing.  That had been a large part of the skill she had learned: to make your lover feel the triumph of her success.

Now it was Jane’s turn.  She gently rolled Angela on her back, spread her knees, and… covered her body with her own.  She began to kiss her.  For an unforgettable hour, Jane gave Angela as intense pleasure as she knew how.  She realized that, at the end, Angela could only be helplessly in love with her.  And it was so.

She lay on her back, with Angela cradled in Jane’s arms and legs.  Angela was exhausted, but happy, but no happier than Jane was, at that moment.  Jane loved to make love to any beautiful woman; she had found that out years ago.  But she loved Angela—how could she not love her?  The seeds of her love for Angela had been planted the very first time she had laid eyes on her twin.

“Do you do this to Gillian—every night?” asked Angela.  There was jealousy, curiosity, love all rolled up in her eyes and her words.  Jane reached out to smooth her silky hair, surprisingly red even in the near dark.

“No … just a couple of times … mostly we just cuddle, sweetheart!”

“Do you love each other?” breathed Angela.  Her little breasts were swollen from Jane’s touching.

“Yes!”

“When did it happen?”

Jane laughed silently.  Such questions!

“Oh … I did those nudes of her; I guess you saw them in her apartment?”

“Well, yeah, just one; did you do it with her right after?”

“No … but I just thought that … sooner or later …”

“I know; she’s hard to resist, I imagine.”

“And I was very lonely, love.  I was ready to fall in love, and when I saw Gillian … it was like being saved from drowning.”  Jane smiled, wondering whether it could make sense to Angie.

“How could you have been, surrounded by Isabella, and Sue, and Maria?”

“And Stephanie!”

“Yes, her too!”  (Jane was a photographer, and these were the names of Jane’s favorite models whom Angie knew.)

Jane sighed.  “I don’t know,” she said, honestly.  Yes, Gillian’s beauty had been a large part of it.  But it had been some odd moment, while they had been cleaning the kitchen, that it had happened.  “I think it had to do with the germs,” Jane said, and they giggled, understanding each other perfectly.

“Did you tell her you were coming over to … do this with me?” she asked.

“Would you be hurt if I said yes?”

Angela turned her head, staring at the wall with her eyes far away.

“I knew you did … it was a kind thing, that you both did for me,” she said, and the note of resignation or resentment was balanced with something else—gratitude, a sort of quiet satisfaction, a feeling of having achieved something, at a time when achievements were few, and far between.  “… but you have to have guessed I wouldn’t be satisfied with just once!”  She laid her cheek against Jane’s cheek.  “You were unbelievable!” she whispered, with sincere admiration.  “You have no idea what it’s like … when you’ve almost given up hope that …. that your body is any use, you know?”

“I can guess …”

“It’s like, you’re so sure your torch has a dead battery, you know, and bang, it’s so bright that you’re almost blinded!”  (The twins were British, hence the use of torch for flashlight.)

Jane laughed, and Angela giggled with her.

“Your body’s going to be perfect some day!  Have faith!  This is only the beginning!  You have no idea how incredible it is, to hug someone’s legs between your own, to feel the pressure on your crotch, to feel the muscles of her thighs, the strength and beauty of her!”  Jane couldn’t stop herself, it came out almost like a prayer.  “One day, I know your legs will come back! Can’t you believe it will happen?”

“You make me believe it!”

It was a long, memorable night.  Angela was an extremely considerate, gently brought up, well-mannered girl—indeed both sisters were.  But she made Jane make love to her all night long, apologizing all the time, cajoling her, asking her so prettily, as Jane got gradually tired.  Making love for so long brings forth special resources in people; it has a dream-like quality that many couples experience only on their honeymoons.   It’s almost like giving your soul away to your partner; and it feels as if only the loan of her soul in return keeps you alive, after such exhaustion.  Jane was almost asleep when Angela whispered to her, “I think I’m feeling my legs, Jane!”  Jane barely had the strength to smile fondly, with her eyes closed.  Angela continued to give her little kisses on her face.  “I don’t know … I’m so tired … no, look: I can move my toes … Jane, are you asleep?”

[This is a tiny little excerpt from Jane, which is available on Smashwords.]