Fulfillment

"Of course I'll be your best man, Kenny. I wouldn't miss it for the world."

Charlie Compton leaned back in his big office chair and laced his fingers behind his head. Ken Warner, his best friend and business partner, slouched in the visitor's chair across the desk.

"But I have to ask: why on earth would you marry a girl with no hands?"

Ken grinned broadly. "And why would you marry a girl with no brains?" It was an inside joke, and Charlie just grinned back and shook his head.

Charlie might be Ken's best friend in Austin, but he didn't know everything about him. They'd met their freshman year at the University of Texas and ended up renting a tiny off-campus apartment together when not a single one of the fraternities offered to pledge either of them. Too weird, was the consensus.

But they hit it off as friends, drinking buddies, and computer game geeks. They double-dated, if they both had a girl who would go out with them, which wasn't often.

Ken had the car, sort of. It was a beat-up '61 Dodge Dart, a geekmobile if there ever was one. They'd go on walking dates, or, if one had enough money, they'd spring for a beer or two at the student union, or at one of the numerous bars down on 6th Street.

Now, one of the things Charlie had never found out about Ken was the way he was, shall we say, interested, in girls who were amputees. As it turned out, during the whole four years he was at UT, with its 20,000-plus students, he never spotted a one-legged or one-armed girl. A couple of old ladies, sure. Even a little one-armed girl once, maybe 6 years old. But never a girl he could approach and ask out.

He'd done better in high school back in Houston. Lamar High School had had, during the period he was there, four amputee girls. Two were one-legged, one was completely legless, and one, Tori Latham, was missing the index finger of her left hand.

The legless girl was a full-time chair rider, and although it gave Ken palpitations whenever he saw her, she was by necessity confined to the first floor (there were no elevators back then), and her classes were arranged so that she needed minimum travel in the hallways. Add to that the fact that she was delivered directly to her first class in the morning by her father, and picked up by her mother as soon as her last class in the afternoon was over, and Ken really had no opportunity to get to know her. And he was shy enough that he wouldn't just take matters in hand and overtly seek her out.

The one-legged girls were more accessible, but Ken had no more success. He even had a class with Betty Jackson, who was cute, and had a pleasant enough personality. But she didn't date, she said, either through fear, lack of desire, or that she was just put off by Ken's inept, stumbling invitation to "go out for a Coke or something?" He never asked again.

The other girl, Lois King, was a very large, rather ugly girl who Ken wouldn't have had anything to do with, even though she was one-legged.

Both girls wore prostheses full-time, and Ken never found out why their legs had been amputated, what their stumps looked like, or anything else about them. All in all, the school pretty much ignored all three girls, and best Ken could tell, it was all right with them.

That left Tori. She wasn't exactly pretty; cute was more like it. She was small, about 5' 2", with a classic heart-shaped face accentuated by the pageboy hairstyle she always wore. She had very dark hair and wide-set grey-green eyes with little gold flecks in them. The eyes were the first thing you noticed.

Oddly, she was not really petite. Her breasts were too generous for her frame; she had a small waist, but her hips were a little too heavy, and her legs were, ah, solid. She also had big hands, with short, fat fingers -- four on the right hand and three on the left, a fact that Ken hadn't even noticed for the first couple of weeks they were together in the two classes they shared.

That may have been the secret of his success -- he began to relate to her before he knew she was even a minor amputee.

But Ken was so shy he never asked her out. Finally, noticing his stumbling interest, she invited him to a party one weekend, and he gratefully accepted. She turned out to be a warm and friendly girl, the kind treasured by all inept high school boys just beginning to develop their relationships with the opposite sex. They had a good time at the party, and neither of them ever mentioned her missing finger.

After that, Ken was able to ask her out, and they became regular pals. But it was quite a while before he found out about the incident which took Tori's finger, and which ultimately changed her life.

It had happened when she was 13, and late for school. Her father was driving her and her older brother, and was racing the engine and tooting the horn impatiently in the driveway while Tori charged around collecting her backpack and assorted other junk which was invariably scattered all over the house.

Jack, her brother, had already commandeered the front seat, so Tori rushed around to the drivers side, flung open the back door, dumped her stuff in and plumped herself down next to it on the back seat. She was still settling herself in place when her father reached back through his open window and gave the door a hard shove -- just as Tori placed her hand on the doorframe to shift her position.

Her piercing shriek was probably heard for six blocks around. Immediately her father leaped out of the car and yanked the door back open, but the damage had been done. They both stared at the purplish, misshapen remains of her first three fingers. Tori's mother came rushing out of the house at the sound of the scream, swiftly ripped off her apron and gently wrapped the injured hand.

"Jack! Get back into the house and call Dr. Harmon. Tell him what happened and that we'll meet him at the emergency room," Mr. Latham barked to his son as he gunned the engine to back out. Mrs. Latham sat in the back with Tori, holding her gently in her arms.

It only took them four or five minutes, and they were ushered immediately into an exam room. A nurse gave Tori a sedative injection and seated her in a wheelchair for a short ride down the hall to X-ray.

After a few minutes of bustling activity during which Tori's hand was washed, doped with disinfectant and lightly bandaged, Dr. Harmon, X-ray film in hand, explained their options. Mr. Latham was pale and silent.

"First the good news," Dr. Harmon began. "The little finger is intact, only a bruise. It'll be sore, but I don't think you'll notice. The next finger," he pointed at the X-ray film, "has a dislocated joint, and we'll be able to straighten it out without much trouble. The middle finger is actually broken, and will require some work before we bandage it up with a stiff splint."

"The bad news is the index finger. The first two segments are pretty well crushed. There is a good chance we won't be able to save it. I've called for a hand surgeon, Dr. Peterson, and I don't want to say too much before he sees you, Tori, but even if he thinks there's some hope, we're looking at a long road here."

Tori's mother began to sob quietly. Her father looked stricken. "Baby, I'm so sorry...," he began, putting his arms around her.

"Daddy, it was an accident, for heaven sake. You don't need to beat yourself up about it." The sedative had taken the edge off the pain, and had calmed her down. "Besides, let's see what the hand doctor says."

The hand doctor came, took a good long look at the X-ray film, another long look at Tori's hand, which was now swollen to twice its size, and just shook his head. "We can save it -- you'll still have a finger, but I'm afraid it won't be very pretty. And I doubt you'll be able to use it for much. It'll be stiff, small and odd-colored. And then maybe we'll put in all the effort and you'll lose it after all."

Her father groaned; her mother cried.

In the end, it was Tori who finally said, "Just cut it off, for God's sake. I can't imagine it'll look any freakier that way than what you're talking about."

Dr. Peterson motioned for Tori's parents, and they followed him out of the room. Dr. Harmon joined them. Heads shook slowly, papers were presented and signed, the niceties observed.

They all returned to Tori's room, where she waited, nearly dozing from the effects of the drug.

Dr. Peterson did the deed, with Dr. Harmon assisting, in the same room, after they'd asked her parents to leave.

"I can put you under, if you like," Dr. Peterson offered, pulling on a pair of rubber gloves.

Tori shook her head. "Just try not to hurt me," she said with a shrug of resignation.

He put a couple of injections of novocaine into her wrist, and sat back to wait for it to take effect. "It won't be so bad," he said. "For what it's worth, I think you made the right choice. All the king's men could never put that finger back the way it was. The best we could do is keep it from just falling off." He smiled at her; she was strangely calm, and watched wide-eyed as he painted her hand with a bright orange, foul-smelling antiseptic, and sliced off the remains of her finger with a couple of deft strokes of a tiny little knife.

Nor did she flinch when he dabbed some stuff on the severed end to stop the bleeding, and pulled over a flap of skin and sewed the whole thing closed with a tiny needle and thread.

Only when he started working on the other fingers did she look away, gritting her teeth....

When her parents were finally summoned her left hand looked like a baseball in white bandages. No other evidence could be seen, not the sickening orange, not the splints, not the newly-acquired stump of her first amputation.

By the time Ken met Tori -- when she was a sophomore and he was a senior -- there was no remaining trace of the accident, except, of course, the chubby little stump of her amputated finger. She didn't seem sensitive about it, Ken thought, and she related the story without hesitation when he finally had the nerve to ask. It wasn't like a leg stump or an arm stump, but it was a stump, and it was interesting to Ken. Turned out, it was interesting to Tori, too, but Ken didn't know that at the time.

They began dating with some regularity, and Ken became increasingly bold about playing with her left hand, trying not to be too obvious that it was really her little stump he was playing with.

But she knew, for he was not the first to be interested. Ken would take her hand, walking along or in a movie, or just in the car, and she would gently stroke his palm with the little stump.

After the accident, after things had more or less calmed down, after the house was back to what passed for normal, Tori had time to think about the fact that she was, technically, an amputee. During the four times she'd returned to Dr. Harmon's office to have her dressings changed, splints adjusted, etc., she'd become fairly familiar with the new shape of her left hand.

For some reason, she wasn't repulsed by the sight, nor was she in any way depressed by the bizarre turn of events. More accurately, she was strangely fascinated. She couldn't wait to get all the dressings off and take full possession of her remodeled hand.

The day the bandages came off for the last time and the hand was pronounced, for all intents and purposes, healed, she went on to school from the doctor's office and completed her normal class schedule. No reason to do otherwise. Her middle finger was still a little stiff, but there was no longer any pain.

But Tori could not stop staring at her three-fingered hand. It was different, unique, and it brought on a strange medley of feelings welling up inside her, some describable, some not. She'd lay her hand on the desktop and place her right hand next to it, absorbing the contrast.

Finally she told herself that she'd get used to it soon enough, it was just the novelty, which would wear off. She tried to concentrate on the events swirling around her, but was mostly unsuccessful. She was glad when the final bell rang and the day was over.

When she got home she went straight to her room, dumped her books on the bed and sat down at her desk, staring fixedly at her nine fingers. She was alone in the house for the moment, and the strange feelings were welling up inside her like nothing she'd ever felt before.

The more she stared at the little stump that was all that remained of her finger, the more she felt strangely excited. That feeling in the pit of her stomach was back, more strongly than ever.

She crossed the room to the dressing table and sat down. On the dresser, in front of the mirror, was her manicure bag, and a single bottle of seldom-used bright red nail polish. It wasn't Tori's custom to do her nails -- in fact, she usually chewed them raw, but she had got out of that habit during the time her hand was bandaged.

She picked up the emery board and began to file her nails -- all nine of them. "How strange," she thought, "now I only have nine nails to do."

She carefully filed and shaped, then wrenched the little bottle open and painstakingly painted each remaining nail a bright red. When she had finished she held up her hands, again comparing the five with the four. Five and four are nine, she thought. I have only nine nails now. I have only nine fingers. One of my fingers has been cut off... amputated....

Her face was flushed. Suddenly she realized the source of her strange feeling. It wasn't her stomach -- it was between her legs. Her panties were soaked. The nipples of her expanding young breasts were hard as rocks.

Slowly she unbuttoned her blouse and moved her left hand down inside the bra cup covering her right breast. She slid her hand under her breast and let the little stump rest against her rigid nipple. She shivered and began to breathe heavily. What was happening to her?

Withdrawing her hand, she kicked her shoes off and lay down on her bed, spreading her legs. Her skirt was up around her waist, and she slid her hand down inside her panties, stroking the wiry hair with her stump.

Of course with her stump in the pubic hair the rest of her fingers were at just the level of her love spot, which she found immediately. And immediately she knew what was happening.

The orgasm washed over her like a wave, leaving her breathless for several minutes.

"Well," she mused, "I never would have expected a reaction like that."

Ken never told Charlie about his predilection for amputee girls.

Ken and Charlie stuck it out at the University, and graduated with degrees in business and computer science. No honors, they both just made it out the door with their degrees.

And since by then they were both heavily into computer games, they decided to try to market some of the ones they seemed to come up with so easily. They were now into their sixth year of operation, grossed $4.6 mil last year, had decent offices in Industrial Park, and 14 employees keeping the place running.

Their first employee, in the remodeled storefront they rented, had been Cecily Roberts, hired on a thin resume and a testosterone overload.

Charlie's.

Cecily was a tall, willowy blonde with big tits and a pouty Marilyn Monroe mouth. And, as it turned out, not much else. She could answer the phone, and usually she could take a message. Charlie was finally able to teach her the rudiments of turning on the computer and getting the word processor running, and sometimes, on a good day, she could even get something to print.

But she was a good-natured girl, unfailingly cheerful, and seemingly aware of her limitations. She never pretended to be something she wasn't, and made the most of her limited assets. Even so, she probably wouldn't have stayed as the company expanded, except that by the third month she was pregnant.

It was okay with Charlie. He probably would have rather put off marriage and all the complications of family life and responsibility, but he and Cecily were really in love, and by then the company was making enough that he could afford a small wedding and an apartment somewhat nicer than the hole-in-the-wall he and Ken still shared. So they were married and, as a bonus, it got Cecily out of the office.

Their second employee was hired through an employment agency, who sent them some qualified candidates. They settled on Susan Grimes, an older woman, 37 at the time, who is still with the company, as Charlie's secretary. He intends never to let her go, if he can help it. And Cecily is now pregnant with the third Compton.

They were looking for coders when the resume came in by email. Normally, all the inbound resumes went to Ken, but he was out of town at the time, so Charlie got it. He thought the girl sounded good enough to interview, and mentally insisted on doing so, even though she said she wanted to work at home. Of course they had no problem with that; they already had three coders they'd only seen once each, and one, who lived in Seattle, they'd never seen.

Still, he called Ken in Los Angeles, where he was negotiating a deal with a packaging and distribution company. By their mutual agreement, each new prospect had to pass muster with both of them.

Charlie read off the resume, which sounded good enough to pursue. "She's also uploaded a game she did herself," Charlie added.

"Oh, yeah?" said Ken, "what does it look like?"

"Well, it's no commercial deal, but I've stepped through the code structure, and she obviously knows what she's doing. It's in "C," but we can always ship her a copy of 'plus' if we want her. We may have to teach her some graphics," he added.

"Sure," Ken responded. "but it sounds like she's a creative type. I'll be back on Wednesday. Can you set up an interview Thursday morning?"

"I'll give it a try. How's the deal coming out there?"

"Should be wrapped up by tomorrow. Looks like we might have ourselves a distribution guy."

"Outstanding. You may return home."

Ken responded with a rude noise.

"See you Thursday." They hung up, both chuckling.

That night Charlie emailed an invitation to the Thursday morning interview. He gave their phone number in case the girl needed directions or something.

Next morning she was on the phone to Charlie. "I thought you'd be able to hire me without my coming in -- I'm just going to work at home, you know."

"Well, uh, sure -- but I thought you lived in Austin. Is there a problem?"

"I do live in Austin, and I can come in, but people -- employers -- don't always have a favorable reaction to my... appearance."

For a moment Charlie was at a loss for words. "Uh, look, miss... we're hiring you for your coding ability, not for... anything else. If you, uh, can't drive -- or something -- we can send someone for you. There are papers to sign...." His voice trailed off irresolutely.

A moment of silence. Just before he couldn't stand it anymore and had to say something, anything, she came back.

"Okay," she said. "I heard you say you want me for my coding ability. I'll come in for the interview, but I'm going to expect that you'll evaluate me on my coding ability and nothing else."

"Um... sure, of course," Charlie stammered. "I wouldn't think of doing it any other way. I'll see you tomorrow at 10. Know how to get here?"

"Oh, yes, thank you. I'll be fine. See you tomorrow at 10."

Charlie stared at the phone for a long minute, wondering what the heck they were getting into.

Thursday morning came, and so did the girl. Charlie sent Susan down to collect her from the reception lobby, and phoned Ken to remind him of the interview.

"Oh, shit -- I forgot. Go ahead and start with her and I'll be up in a few minutes. I'm in the middle of something." Which was usual for Ken.

"Okay, but don't leave me alone with her for long. This is the one who didn't want to come in at all."

"Well, if she turns out to have two heads or something, let me know right away. Maybe we could use her in a magazine ad."

Charlie made his usual rude noise and hung up the phone, chuckling.

"Miss Latham to see you, Mr. Compton," Susan recited in her best secretarial voice. It was very uncommon for her to get to use any kind of formality, and she made the most of it. "Shall I bring some coffee?"

"Uh, no thanks, Susan, we won't be long."

"Please come in, Ms. Latham," Charlie said, striding boldly around the desk with his right hand extended.

Ms. Latham had a big grin on her face, the significance of which went right over Charlie's head. He was completely off-guard when he grasped her right hand.

It wasn't a hand. It was a shiny steel hook, cool to the touch.

Startled, he looked down and gasped with amazement. He didn't drop his grip -- he just stood there holding on, staring down at it with his mouth open.

Her face softened in compassion. "I'm sorry," she said, suppressing her giggle. "I know it's a shock, and I really should warn people, but I just don't know exactly what to say."

Charlie finally released his grip. "I... I guess I see what you mean," he said, beginning to regain his composure. "I've... never seen... I mean, please sit down." Charlie hastily retreated behind his desk.

Ms. Latham sat in the visitor's chair, which was placed off to the side of the desk, and demurely crossed her legs. Charlie was married, but wasn't above looking at a good pair of legs. But in this case he wasn't looking at her legs, but at her lap, where there was not one but two shiny steel hooks. The girl had no hands -- no hands at all.

"Well, Mr. Compton, let's get this out of the way," she said in a matter-of-fact tone. She waved the hooks. "My hands were amputated five years ago after a skiing accident in Switzerland. I lost my gloves, I was unconscious overnight in subfreezing weather, and my hands froze solid. I use these hooks for typing and for driving, and sometimes for cooking; other than that I don't really need them. Anyone with good keyboard skills can out-type me, but what I do doesn't require either speed or any kind of adaptation. I can code in at least three languages -- four, if you count Basic -- I speak French fluently, Italian poorly, and German pretty well. And by the way, I did warn you, actually. Remember?"

"Uh, I guess so -- you mean... that's why you didn't want to come in, right?"

"Right. Really, about the only thing that bothers me about having no hands is that it makes people uncomfortable. Later, when they get to know me, and find out I'm just like everybody else except I never need a manicure, I generally don't have any more problems. But it sure is awkward at first." Charlie smiled at this, and felt a slight sense of relief. Which, of course, was the idea.

At that moment the door burst open, and Ken rushed in. In mid-apology he froze. As he was speaking she stood up and turned to face him, the hooks still crossed demurely in front of her skirt.

"Tori!" His mouth dropped open and refused to close as he stared wide-eyed at the shiny steel appliances.

"Ken?" Now it was her turn to gawk.

Ken recovered his composure first, covered the distance between them in three giant strides, and swept her into his arms. After a moment's embrace, he pulled back, and took the hooks in his hands. "Tori, I thought you'd learned about car doors...."

She stared at him wide-eyed for just an instant, and then broke into peals of laughter.

"I can't believe you'd remember," she finally managed to choke out. "And what are you doing here?" as she began to get herself under control.

"Well, Charlie and I, uh... own the place, I guess...."

Charlie was watching all this from a standing position behind his desk, trying to figure out what the heck was going on. "Will someone mind bringing me up to speed?" he finally got out. "Obviously you two know each other...."

"Do we ever," volunteered Ken.

"Now hush!" said Tori with mock indignation. "I trust you're still gentleman enough to keep a few secrets."

"What secrets? What the heck is going on here," spluttered Charlie.

"Well, Charlie, buddie, Ms. Latham -- it's still Ms. Latham, isn't it?" She nodded vigorously. "Ms. Latham and I went to high school together -- but I must say, there was more of her when I last saw her."

Tori rolled her eyes, but grinned gamely.

"Well, uh..." Charlie was still flustered. "I'm glad you won't be among strangers, Miss Latham."

"Make it Tori."

"Uh, OK. Let's get down to business, if you two can interrupt your reunion long enough." Ken grinned his response. Charlie picked up his phone: "Susan, would you bring in that file, please?"

Susan came in immediately and laid the file on Charlie's desk. He briefly went over Tori's contract and the other necessary forms.

"I'll... uh... you'll need to sign...." Charlie was flustered again.

"No problem," said Tori as she reached out with the hooks, deftly picked up the contract and began to read through it. Charlie and Ken looked at each other with slight shrugs.

"Everything looks fine," Tori said as she picked up a pen from Charlie's desk with her right hook, flipped the pages with her left hook, and wrote a beautiful signature in the appropriate space.

"I'll be ready to start as soon as you can outline an assignment for me," she said, extending her hook to Charlie. This time he took it without hesitation.

"I'm looking forward to working with you, Tori. I'll email you some material to work on, hopefully by the end of the day."

Ken took her hook to shake it, but didn't release it. "You and I need to talk," he said with a smile.

"I was hoping so."

Ken and Tori walked out to her car together with his arm around her shoulders and her hook around his waist. "I hope I didn't act like a jerk in there," Ken started, "but I was a little shocked to see you."

"Same here! I had no clue you had anything to do with this company, or any idea that you even still lived in Austin."

"Listen, we need to catch up... how about dinner tonight?"

"You're on. I'll cook at my place. Better bring some wine."

They had reached her car, which turned out to be a sleek white Mercedes 560 SL convertible, with the top down. She reached into a pocket of her skirt with her right hook and extracted the key, deftly opened the door with her left hook, and settled herself in the drivers seat.

"Wow!" said Ken, "What a great set of wheels. Do you have any trouble managing...."

"Well, I do make two concessions; one is this little post thingie on the steering wheel. My hook fits on there. And I did order it with automatic transmission. Makes some of the purists shudder, and I can use a stick shift, but in the traffic it's just too much of a pain. Besides, I don't always wear the hooks, and the automatic is a big help then."

"Hmmm. I can think of about a thousand questions, but I'll save them for tonight." Ken could feel himself becoming aroused at the thought of an evening with Tori, especially now that she....

"Got another business card?"

"Um, yeah, sure." He retrieved one out of his wallet and held it out to her. She reached up with her right hook and took the card, then transferred it to her left, and used the right to pick up a pencil from the console. She wrote her address and phone number on the back, and handed it -- hooked it -- back to him. He took it automatically and stared down at it numbly.

She started the engine and was ready to leave. Ken stepped back from the car and watched as she backed out. As she straightened out to pull forward she stuck her hook up in the air and gave a big wave. "See you soon!"

"Looking forward to it," Ken responded, and he really meant it. With a roar of the big engine she zipped out of the parking lot and disappeared into the traffic. Ken just stood there looking after her with his mouth open. This was going to be an interesting evening.

Tori's mind was racing as she drove back to her house in the hills west of the city. Ken! Of all the people in the world to run into after all these years. How long had it been -- at least ten... no, eleven years. Wow, a lot has happened since we last saw each other, she mused.

She thought back to the tearful scene when they'd had to part at the end of her sophomore year. She really liked Ken, and was becoming very attached to him. She was gradually revealing more of herself as they grew closer -- and then her father was transferred. They were moving to Riyadh.

"Riyadh? Where the hell is Riyadh?" Turned out to be in Saudi Arabia, on the Persian Gulf. Her dad's company was in the oil business, and that's where the action was then.

My God, it was the end of the earth! She'd never see him again. They made passionate love one last time, and passionate promises to write.

They did write, daily, over the summer. But then in the fall Ken started at UT and Tori was sent to school in Switzerland. Letters took two weeks by air -- before email, of course, and soon became less frequent.

Tori did come back to Houston the following summer, staying with her aunt, and Ken did get back to town once or twice to visit her, but they both knew it was over. No big regrets -- they had both moved on. She told him about her exciting school in Zurich, and he told her about college life at UT.

And they went on with their lives.

They exchanged Christmas cards for a few years, first to Zurich and then, after she went on to college, to Paris, but finally his was returned marked with the French equivalent of "addressee unknown," and that, as they say, was that.

There was one more thing, actually.

The year after Ken graduated from UT and was deep into starting the company with Charlie, his mother called one night with the news that Mr. and Mrs. Latham had been killed in some kind of accident in Saudi. She didn't have the details then but later they found out that the company plane had crashed, killing all aboard.

In a few days Ken returned to Houston for the funerals. Tori and her brother were there, of course, looking much older and very grim. Ken hugged her and chatted briefly, but she was very busy with arrangements and details. They didn't really have a chance to visit, and the next day Ken returned to Austin.

Tori's older brother, Jack, was executor of the estate, and now he and Tori were co-owners of Mr. Latham's company. Some of the executives wanted them to sell, but he and Tori returned to Saudi, took control and, Ken found out later, made a great success of running it. By then Tori had graduated from the Sorbonne, and was perfectly capable of holding up her end.

Finally after a few years they did sell, to a major international exploration company, just a few months before the oil business went into the toilet. Jack and Tori, in their mid-twenties, were both multi-millionaires.

Tori now had the means to explore the world, which she began to do. She had loved Paris when she was in school there, so she settled there as a base, starting her world exploration in central Europe....

Snapping back to reality as she turned into her driveway, she punched the remote control and pulled into the garage as the door swung up, then down behind her. She had things to do before evening.

At the appointed hour Ken pulled into Tori's driveway. He was duly impressed with the house, high in the hills west of the city, one of those low ranch numbers, nestled into the downslope side of the hill. From the road it looked like the roofline was about level with the pavement, and the driveway dipped steeply down toward the garage doors. He parked in the little courtyard in front of the garage, walked up to the front door and rang the bell.

The house actually faced the street, but he could tell there would be an impressive view from the back, down the valley toward downtown Austin.

In a moment the door opened, and there she was. She was wearing a short skirt over nylons and low heels, and a blouse with medium-length sleeves. She was still wearing the hooks, which protruded brazenly from the sleeves.

"I'm so glad to see you," she said, smiling warmly. She put her arms around him and drew him toward her. He didn't resist, and kissed her warmly.

"Likewise, my dear," Ken responded. He felt the hard forearms of the appliances against his back. When she drew back after the kiss, her face was radiant. Not much changed from his memory of their high school years, but with an indefinable maturity now, and... those eyes. He could never get over those eyes.

They gazed at each other for a long moment, then he grasped the hooks in his hands as she withdrew from the embrace. He looked down at them.

"God, Tori, you look soooo hot with those hooks! I thought you didn't usually wear...."

She took a playful swing at him. "Prevert!" she chortled. "I'd smack you, but it'd probably knock you out, and I'd rather have you conscious.

"And you're right, mostly I go without them, but they're useful for chores -- like cooking, which I've been doing. Come in and fix us some drinks while I finish. I'm about to put the steaks on."

"I'll get the drinks, but then I want to watch," Ken grinned.

"Voyeur!"

"Well, we'll straighten all that out later."

"The bar is in there," she pointed with the right hook toward the living room off the foyer.

"Scotch and soda, please," she called over her shoulder as she disappeared down the hall toward the kitchen. "There's ice in the fridge under the bar."

He turned his attention to the task at hand, and noticed that there was a large collection of stem glasses. He took the cue, and mixed the scotch and soda into one of them, then found a straight highball glass and poured himself some Jack Daniel's.

"How perceptive!" she cooed as he held out the stem glass to her in the kitchen. She grasped it by the stem with her right hook, took a delicate sip ("Perfect!") and set it down on the counter next to the grill, where the steaks were sizzling away.

"You know I take mine medium rare."

"Oh, I remember, all right."

Ken perched himself on a stool across the island from the grill with the steaks. Tori had her back to him and was dusting the meat with salt and pepper. It was fascinating to see her use those things. And then his jaw dropped: She set down the salt shaker, and reached down with her hook and turned the steaks over, one by one, the hot grill hissing and spitting as she did so. But of course! he thought. You sure don't need a fork when you have hooks instead of hands.

She was chattering away and didn't immediately notice him watching her. She continued to push the meat around until each steak lay just right on the grill. Then she turned, wiped off the hooks on a towel hanging nearby, and finally caught the look on his face.

It made her laugh. "Oh, sorry! I should have warned you, I guess. But then I did tell you these were useful for chores." She waved the hooks with a big grin.

Ken just closed his gaping mouth and grinned back gamely. "I guess that's the perfect use for them," he said.

"Well, that's one of the uses for them. I hope I'll get a chance to acquaint you with others as the evening wears on. And by the way, I'm boiling corn-on-the-cob, which I remember you are quite fond of. It should be ready by now, so watch carefully." She reached into the boiling water with her right hook and, one by one, fished out the hot ears of corn and laid them carefully in the waiting serving dish.

"Wow," said Ken. "I'd better not watch too much of that or I'll forget and try it myself."

"One time, maybe!" Tori teased him.

It was obvious she still had the same sharp sense of humor Ken had enjoyed when they dated in high school.

It seemed at the same time a long time ago, and no time at all, since they'd last stood in a kitchen together cooking dinner like this. Of course she'd needed forks and potholders then....

Her folks were out of town and her brother had been bribed to leave them alone for the evening. It didn't really take much -- he had his own girlfriend and was not about to waste the opportunity. Just like tonight, Tori had made dinner of steak, corn-on-the-cob and baked potatoes. They even had wine, quite daring for the time.

After dinner they sat down to watch TV and of course after awhile, pretty much the predictable path of events given the times, the opportunity, and the alcohol, they began to explore each other. Soon Ken had her blouse open and her bra off, and Tori was working on his zipper.

He stood up to drop his drawers, but she said, "Wait. Let's not do it in here. Let's go to the bedroom."

This was more than all right with Ken. They went sweeping down the hall, dropping clothes as they went. Finally, they were naked on her bed. She lay back and spread her legs invitingly, and Ken hurriedly got on top, trying to be as cool as possible, and not having much success at it. It was obvious that it was the first time for both, and Tori gently led him, never laughing or giggling, never doing anything but helping, and giving herself to him wholeheartedly.

When it was over, she sighed deeply. "I didn't know if I could go through with it, but I had to know what it was like. I couldn't wait any longer."

"I hope it was what you expected," Ken said softly.

"It was wonderful." She lied, of course, but she was convincing, and not about to deflate the ego of an 18-year-old who appeared to be remarkably trainable.

Later it was wonderful, and she was glad she'd handled the matter as she had.

By about the third time, she began to involve Ken in her games with her finger stump. She could almost make herself come, by then, by rubbing the nipple of a breast with it, and came immediately if she watched it as it slid down between her legs and across her love spot.

They were in Ken's car one night after a movie, and Ken was putting the moves on her. But she said, "No... not in the car. Not here." They were parked in a dark alley behind a row of stores. "I don't feel safe here."

Ken began to protest, but she shushed him. "Just watch me, and I'll give you something to take home for later." Ken watched fascinated in the dim light as she unbuttoned her blouse (he got hard just watching her use her finger stump in this operation), lifted her right breast out of the bra cup, and began to stroke the nipple with her stump.

Immediately Ken's eyes widened. He said, "Does that... turn you on...?"

"Turns me on like crazy. I can get my panties wet just looking at my hand. If I play with my short finger I can almost come, I get so hot."

"But why? How does that...?"

"I don't have a clue. But ever since I had my finger cut off I've had the most raging desire to rub my tits with it, to fuck myself with it...." She paused here, those wonderful eyes wide with desire, looking at him with a hunger Ken had never seen before.

"I also have fantasies of stroking your dick with it."

Ken's face flushed hotly, a condition blessedly concealed in the dark car.

"Uh, I could see my way clear to letting you, if you want to," he said with a huge grin.

"Soon enough," she responded. But her glittering eyes gave her away. Even in the semi-darkness Ken didn't miss the signal. He unzipped his jeans and fished out his tool. When freed, it snapped immediately to rigid attention. Tori reached over and grasped it in her right hand, her five-fingered hand. She turned toward him on the seat so that using her left hand was less awkward, and reached out and stroked the underside of Ken's rock hard penis with the soft little stump of her amputated finger.

In about five strokes Ken was gushing great gobs of hot cum into her cupped hand.

"My God!" he gasped, wide eyed. "Nothing ever set me off that way before." He closed his eyes and lay his head back against the headrest as the cum gradually spent its flow. He was smiling and panting and opened his eyes when it was finally over and watched as Tori wiped up the mess with a handful of Kleenex.

But she was not through. Bracing her feet on the floorboard of the car, she raised her pelvis and pulled her skirt up around her waist, and swept her panties down to her ankles. She moistened the stump with Ken's cum and spread it over the nipple of her exposed breast. Immediately the nipple was rock-hard. She continued to slide the stump back and forth and around the nipple until she, too was beginning to breathe more rapidly, and finally closed her eyes and laid her head back against the headrest.

She moistened her stump again from the soaking wet Kleenex, and this time put her hand between her legs, stroking her love spot with the wet stump. Like Ken, she came almost immediately, shuddering and gasping, and violently moving her stump in and out of her soaking wet vagina.

Soon she, too, collapsed in relief. After a few minutes of recovery and cleanup, she said, "I've been doing that ever since I lost my finger. I don't know why, what it is, or what it means, but this little stump is the sexiest thing I ever saw, at least until the first time I saw your dick with a hard-on."

"Well, uh, do you do... that... much?" Ken didn't know how far to go or exactly what to say.

"Ever since the day I got the bandages off, at least once a day, and sometimes more."

From that time on, Ken was involved in the game. They never made love with his dick until they had made love with her stump. And sometimes the stump was enough. Other times, when the opportunity was right, it was only a prelude to a good, hard, satisfying fuck.

They would talk about it sometimes, afterward. Ken told her about being turned on by stumps in general, which interested Tori.

She, in turn, wondered out loud if hers was the only stump that could set her off that way. In the end they were able to answer none of their questions to any degree of satisfaction, and it would be some years yet before Tori found out about other peoples' stumps....

Ken popped the cork and poured the wine while Tori brought the food to the elegantly set table. She produced a match, deftly lit it and touched it to the two candles in the middle of the table.

"Sit, please. Let's not let anything get cold," she said with a smile.

They sat. "A toast -- to a renewed, ah, friendship," Ken began.

She grasped the wine glass by the stem and held it out. As Ken's glass touched hers, she said, "Friendship will do for now...."

Ken was fascinated to watch her eat using the hooks. She held the knife and fork firmly, cut the steak with confidence and aplomb, never fumbling or dropping anything. Later, as she buttered and salted the corn-on-the-cob she said, "Wait til you see me tackle one of these without the hooks. It's messy as hell, but I don't miss any. I can even cut meat, but that's a little bit more awkward than I'm ready to reveal in public."

"I hope I get to see all of that," Ken said, returning the smile.

"Oh, I'm sure you will...."

They made easy small talk for the rest of the meal, filling each other in on the gaps in their lives, bringing things up to date. Ken carefully avoided the question of what had happened to Tori's hands, figuring he'd learn soon enough.

When they'd finished, Ken was feeling delightfully mellow and beginning to wish they could move on to something more... substantive.

"I'll clear -- you go make a couple more drinks. We'll have them on the deck."

Ken did as he was told, and when he returned from the bar in the living room the dishes had disappeared into the dishwasher. She held out her right hook and took the drink with a "thank you, sir," and a tiny curtsy." She held out her other hook, which he took promptly, and led him through the floor-to-ceiling glass door out onto the deck which ran along the back of the house.

It was dark by then, and as Ken had guessed earlier, the view was breathtaking. The house sat at the end of a valley which ran down toward the city, and there was Austin laid out below them like a sprinkling of jewels in a dark velvet bowl. He could just make out the brightly-lit Capitol dome, and the UT Tower. It was September, and the tower was bathed in its distinctive orange Homecoming light. The oppressive afternoon heat had given way to a soft late-summer night. They walked to the rail and just stood gazing, as if out to sea.

After a couple of sips of his drink Ken put his arm around Tori's shoulders and drew her to him.

"It's a beautiful view," he said softly.

"Mmmm." She laid her head against his side and seemed to purr contentedly. Ken set his drink down on the rail and cupped Tori's face in his hands and gave her a gentle kiss, which she eagerly returned. "Thanks for a great dinner," he murmured.

"Thanks for making it possible," she responded with a smile.

After a moment she set her drink down beside his and turned toward him for a passionate embrace, pressing her full, soft breasts into his chest, and the hard forearms of her hooks into his back.

They were back together as if nothing had happened.

"C'mon, let's just sit and talk awhile."

"OK, but we'll be more comfortable over here." She indicated the porch glider, in the shadows behind them.

They settled into the soft cushions, set their drinks down on the little table in front of them. Ken put his arm around her shoulder and she responded by snuggling up next to him, just as he hoped she'd do.

Ken took a deep breath and brought up The Subject: "Tori, I can't get over how good you look with those hooks!"

She smiled. "Thanks. I was hoping you'd have that reaction. I really wore them just for you, you know... except, as I say, they're really useful for cooking."

"Yeah, so I noticed. But how... I mean, when... Oh, shit, Tori, just tell me about them."

This made her laugh out loud. "Well, you don't have to be so nervous about it! I'll be glad to tell you... everything."

She held them up and even in the dim light filtering out from the kitchen he could see them gleam. "I don't know where to begin, except to tell you how they work, I guess."

"OK," Ken nodded, let's start there."

"Well, they fasten on with little Velcro straps around the backs of my elbows... " She held out her arms and pulled the left sleeve up with the right hook. It gave Ken a shiver. "See? And see that little cable?"

Ken nodded.

"Well, that goes up to a harness around my shoulder. When I move my right shoulder it tightens the cable and opens my left hook. Same for the other one. Then this rubber band pulls it closed again when I move my shoulder back. That's how I grab onto something. That's really about all there is to it."

"OK, but... I mean, what happened to your hands?"

There was a slight pause, and Ken was holding his breath, thinking he might have said the wrong thing. Actually, she just reached down and grabbed a swig of her drink.

"It happened during a ski trip. My roommate from high school in Zurich was with me, and we'd gone to Grenoble. I was alone on a back slope, late in the evening -- it was going to be my last run -- when I fell. I don't know why, exactly, but I went flying ass over teakettle, hit my head on something, a rock, I guess, and knocked myself out. They didn't find me until the next morning. I'd lost my gloves somehow, and my hands were just frozen solid. They took me to the hospital in Grenoble, but after 2 or 3 days it was obvious that my hands were pretty dead. I'll spare you all the gory details, but the end result is that they amputated both of 'em at the wrists. Then they flew me back to the medical center in Paris, fiddled around for about another week, and finally whacked another couple of inches off each arm."

"Geez, that must have been quite a shocker!"

"Well, I was ready. Before they took 'em off they had me pumped full of pain medication, but every time it started to wear off my hands hurt so bad I couldn't stand it. And I could tell they weren't getting any better, so when they finally decided to do it, I was glad.

"Besides, you remember my reaction to that little finger stump. I have to tell you that when it was all over, I had the same reaction, only about a thousand times more intense."

"You mean... you still like stumps?"

"Do I ever! In fact, I think it's time to go inside and show you what I mean."

Tori stood up smiling, and offered Ken her hooks, which he took immediately. She pulled him to his feet, turned and walked toward the door into the house. Ken followed, his heart rate increasing rapidly, holding fast onto her right hook as she led him inside. They left their drink glasses on the table. Neither seemed to notice.

Instead of turning left into the living room, Tori turned right and down the hall, obviously toward the bedrooms. She seated herself on a kingsize bed with a soft, rich-looking spread, and patted the space beside her. Ken needed no second invitation to sit.

"Now I want you get the full effect, so do what I tell you, and don't be in a big hurry -- at least not yet," she grinned. Again she offered her hooks to him and he took them in his hands. Gazing at him with those incredible green eyes, she drew him toward her and gently brushed his lips with hers. Ken responded eagerly. They lingered for a few seconds, but then Tori broke away.

"Let's not get carried away -- plenty of time for that. I want you to take off my blouse." It was a pullover, with no buttons, so he just grasped the bottom and began to pull it up. Cooperatively, she held her arms up while he tugged the blouse off, revealing her full, luscious breasts, restrained by a soft bra. He could clearly see her nipples outlined in the fabric.

"Now, watch while I take the hooks off," she commanded. A few deft movements and the Velcro was undone. She simply slipped out of the appliances and shrugged, and they fell to the bed with an audible 'plump'. "See, there isn't really much to it. All I have to do to put them on is to lay them out on the bed and then lean back and slip into them."

She still had on the white stump socks, which appeared to be fastened together with a long cord that ran up around her shoulders. She held out her stumps. "You can take off the socks, if you want to."

Again, Ken didn't need a second invitation. He grasped the right one and tugged -- and sure enough, it slid easily off her stump. She ducked her head as he unhooked the cord from around her neck and pulled off the other one. "Interesting," he said, slightly flushed.

There sat Tori in her bra, with the twin stumps of her handless arms lying demurely in her lap. Ken stared at them for a moment, his mouth hanging open. Tori had a slight grin on her face. "Go ahead, you can touch them... I hope you want to."

"Uh... yeah." Ken recovered his wits, took her stumps in his hands, brought them to his mouth and planted a gentle kiss on each smoothly rounded end. She closed her eyes and responded with a low moan. They embraced, and kissed each other, this time fully and passionately. Ken was aware of the softness of her arms around him -- no hard appliances this time. He began to fumble with the back of her bra... without success. Where was that damn....!

"Tori broke the kiss and whispered huskily, "There's no fastener -- it's elastic. It just pulls up over my head." Again she obediently raised her arms over her head -- her real, handless arms this time -- and Ken pulled the bra up and off. Her breasts, those magnificent breasts that Ken had loved so much, and so often, were again gloriously revealed.

While they were briefly separated, Ken unbuttoned his shirt. He wanted to feel those nipples against his bare chest again. Tori was only too happy to oblige. They resumed their passionate embrace.

Soon they were both naked, and she lay back on the bed, spreading her legs invitingly. "Let's just do it -- I'm too horny to play games with my stumps now."

Ken was happy to oblige. For the moment he was just a guy fucking his girlfriend, just like any other guy doing any other girl. The rest would come later....

When they had exhausted each other they lay together on their sides, like spoons. Tori's back was to Ken, and his arms were around her, his hands holding her breasts. Tori slid her stumps up under Ken's hands and he gladly grasped them with a gentle caress. At that his tired tool resurrected itself. He moved his left hand down and gently guided it back into Tori. She obligingly raised her leg to give him the necessary access, and that's how they fell asleep.

A bright flood of sunshine woke Ken the next morning. Tori was gone, and there was a delicious smell of breakfast wafting through the bedroom. The alarm clock said 7:00 AM. Ken swung himself sleepily out of bed and headed for the bathroom.

There, neatly laid out on the countertop next to the sink, was a fresh towel, a new toothbrush and a tube of his brand of toothpaste. Ken smiled to himself and began the morning ritual. When he finished he plucked the fluffy white bathrobe off the hook on the back of the door, put it on and emerged from the bathroom.

As he crossed the bedroom, headed to the hallway, he noticed Tori's hooks draped across a chair next to the bed. Again he smiled as he realized he was going to be treated to the interesting sight of Tori cooking -- and probably eating -- breakfast with her bare stumps. Now that was a prospect to look forward to.

Tori turned and smiled as he padded into the kitchen stifling a yawn. "Morning, sleepyhead."

"Morning, yourself," he smiled back.

"Grab a chair -- you got here just in time." Tori was wearing a long nightshirt-looking thing, and not much else, apparently. It barely covered her butt, exposing the length of those stubby, sexy legs. And the short sleeves exposed almost her entire arms, too, with those delicious stumps completely bare and ready for work -- or whatever. They embraced, and Ken couldn't help noticing again the softness of her handless arms around him. A peck on the cheek, and she turned back to the range where a pan of scrambled eggs was sizzling.

"Wow," said Ken, as he took a place at the kitchen table, "what a pleasant evening that was."

"Certainly was," Tori responded with a big smile, "First of many, I hope." She had picked up a wooden spoon between her stumps and was poking at the eggs. "Still like yours hard?"

"Yeah, always," Ken grinned.

Tori turned and stuck her tongue out at him -- "The eggs, I mean, smartass."

"Oh... sure." He chuckled. "The eggs too."

Tori put the spoon down, wrapped a towel around her stumps and picked up the skillet, the handle simply squeezed between her two towel-insulated stumps. She carried the skillet to the table and set it on a waiting trivet. Then, grasping a serving spoon in the same casual manner, she divided the eggs into equal parts on two waiting plates. As Ken watched fascinated, she returned the skillet to the stove and picked up a plate of bacon. "Hey, pour us some coffee, willya," she cooed.

Ken jumped up and grabbed the coffee pot off the countertop next to the stove, and filled the waiting mugs. Tori took a chair across from Ken and sat, picking up a fork, again simply by grasping it between her stumps. It was now clear to Ken that Tori had no need of hands, and no real need of the hooks. Apparently it was just a matter of technique. Her grasp was simply between her two stumps instead of between a thumb and fingers.

"I love to watch you use your stumps," Ken said.

"Well, I'm glad... I guess I don't think about it much anymore. I just do things. Sometimes it's faster to do things with my hooks, but for the most part I don't use them unless I'm doing something really delicate... well, even then... I'll have to show you how I can thread a needle."

Ken formed a question, but by then his mouth was full of bacon and eggs... it could wait, he decided.

"You can help me with the dishes when we finish... when do you normally get to the office?"

"Oh, don't worry about that. It's Friday, and we dress pretty casually today. They expect me when they see me. I'll have time to run by the apartment and change my clothes."

"Do you work much on the weekends?"

"Yeah, a lot -- doesn't seem much like work, though. We just have a lot of interesting stuff to do. I just get to thinking about something and all of a sudden I'm at the office again, dealing with some issue or other. I really like it -- doesn't seem like I'm going to work at all, it's just what I do all day...."

"What if..." Tori began, "... I mean, have you taken a day off lately? How would you feel about a picnic, or just driving out to Kerrville to see the Cowboy Museum, or something like that?"

"You mean today? I really do have something I need to do at the office today. But we could go tomorrow... would that be OK?"

Tori giggled. "Actually, I was talking about tomorrow. Strange as it may seem, I, too, have a few things to do today."

"Oh. Yeah, well of course.... Tomorrow would be great." Ken was getting enthusiastic about the prospect of seeing more of Tori. "Yeah, tell me about this Cowboy Museum. I don't know about that. They have, like, stuffed horses and things?"

"Stuffed horses!" She laughed out loud. "F'cryenoutloud, Ken. It's an art museum. They have cowboy art."

"You mean... there were cowboys who painted pictures?"

Tori gave an exasperated snort. "I can see your education has been sorely neglected. Maybe some of them were really cowboys, I don't know. But mostly it's paintings and sculpture by famous artists who worked in the Old West. Ever hear of Frederick Remington?"

"Oh, sure -- the Remington repeating rifle!"

Tori rolled her eyes and giggled. "No, not the... oh, well, never mind. I can see I have my work cut out for me."

They had both finished eating, and at this point Tori stood up and began to gather the utensils. Ken leaped to his feet and started grabbing things, stacking plates, and generally bustling around helping.

"So," Ken began after a moment, "do you want to go to Kerrville tomorrow?"

"Can we? I'd love to. I haven't been out on the road in a long time, and one of the reasons I moved to Austin is that the country is so, well, full of history around here."

"Well, sure. In fact, if you think we can get a reservation, why don't we drive up tonight. Do you know a nice place to stay?"

"I sure do. I'll call today and see if I can get us in. And it's just the spot for a romantic dinner, too."

Ken skipped asking how she knew so much about Kerrville and its attractions, and instead helped as Tori rinsed and stacked the dishes in the dishwasher without using her hands -- which of course, was the only possible way, since she had no hands. He could feel himself getting hard....

When Ken finally arrived at the office it was nearly 11 o'clock. In addition to the project he was working on, his assignment from Tori was to call Kerrville and get the museum hours and, if he thought he wanted a tour of the James Avery jewelry factory, to call there too. And she also gave him the number of a place called 'The Treetop,' apparently a bed and breakfast.

He called there first, making reservations for dinner and a room, writing down all the necessary information in his Day Timer, then tackled the company project.

The good breakfast Tori had fixed held him until well past 2 o'clock, and he didn't even look up from his tube until he began to feel his stomach rumble, and realized he'd missed lunch. The task was completed. He walked down the hall to the little kitchen, found some cold pizza in the fridge, wolfed down a couple of pieces, washed it down with a Coke, and went back to his office. He had another bit of research in mind, and he thought he could just finish in time to get home, throw some clothes in a bag and get over to Tori's at the appointed hour. She might just be interested in what he was doing....

Meanwhile Tori, recovering from the morning, had showered, and dressed in a nice pair of shorts, which set off her sexily tanned legs. She slipped her bare feet into a pair of clunky sandals with high heels, making for a spectacular picture.

Her bare, unrestrained breasts bounced and swayed as she moved around the bedroom. Catching a glimpse of herself in the dressing mirror, she smiled wryly. 'Now that's a bit much,' she thought as she extracted a soft knit sports bra from a drawer. It was easy for the handless girl to put on since there was no fastener, just a continuous elastic band. She wriggled into it, settled everything into place, and went back to the dresser for a short-sleeved Polo shirt.

But she hesitated. She needed to do some grocery shopping. Easier with the hooks. She laid the shirt down, crossed over to the chair next to the bed and sat down. The hooks were draped over the back of the chair, held by the control harness. She reached back, slipped her stumps into the sockets, hunched over forward and wriggled her shoulders until the harness was comfortably seated. Then, extracting her stumps from the sockets, she located the dual stump sock, which was really two socks connected by a string which ran up and over the control harness, and pawed it onto her stumps. Then she pushed her stumps firmly into the sockets, fastened the little Velcro strips around her elbows, and snapped the harness fastening below her chin. A couple of shoulder shrugs clicked the hooks, and told Tori that everything was working properly.

Then she put on the Polo shirt, which exposed the complete length of the hooks, the artificial arms -- almost the entire mechanism. She looked in the mirror and had to smile. 'I really do look hot with those,' she thought, remembering Ken's comment.

She bustled around, gathering her keys, purse, list, etc., and headed for the garage. Much to do before evening....

Ken arrived at Tori's house just before six, wearing nice slacks and a sport coat over an open collar shirt, and carrying a small overnighter. He tooted the horn as he pulled into the driveway, and Tori responded by opening the garage door. Ken pulled his car in beside the sleek 560 and noted with satisfaction that the top was still down. This was going to be fun.

"Just throw the bag in the trunk -- I've already got my stuff in there." She tossed Ken the keys and disappeared back into the house. She wasn't wearing her hooks.

Ken popped the trunk and noticed a pair of bags in the small space. He shifted things around and scrunched his bag in. As he moved the gym bag he couldn't help noticing the hard shape of her hooks. 'Just in case, I guess,' he thought.

He went into the house and into the kitchen where he heard Tori bustling about, whistling a happy tune.

"Hi," she said, flashing him that beautiful smile. "Help me finish up here -- we're eating in style tonight, but tomorrow we'll have a picnic by the lake. Take the cooler out, willya?"

Tori was dressed in the shorts and Polo she'd put on earlier, but had decided she no longer needed the hooks. Her hair was up and she was wearing a UT baseball cap. She pointed to the cooler with her right stump.

Ken gave her a big hug, and got one in return. He loved feeling those wonderful handless arms around him. She pecked him on the cheek and broke the embrace. "None of that now," she grinned. "If we don't get going we'll be late."

Ken reluctantly disentangled himself, picked up the cooler and started for the car. "Put it behind the seat. I'll be out in a minute."

He did and she was. 'God, she is so gorgeous,' Ken thought to himself, as she settled into the passenger seat.

Ken backed out, punched the garage door closed, and shortly they were threading their way through the afternoon traffic, heading toward I-35.

"Wow, what a rig," he whistled admiringly as he accelerated the nimble car down the ramp onto the freeway.

"Well, be careful. You'll get us a ticket if you don't watch out."

"I'll bet," Ken responded.

"You got the reservations at the Treetop, didn't you?"

"Yep. 8 o'clock. You know how to get there?"

"Oh, yes -- just go off on 290 and head west toward Luckenbach.

It was hard to talk over the roar of the traffic as the car sped down the freeway. Tori reached up with her left stump and punched the radio on. Both were silent, listening to the music. For the next 90 minutes or so they just enjoyed the Texas Hill Country scenery as they left the city behind. The sun set and the traffic thinned out, and they were pretty much alone on the highway as the twilight faded into darkness.

Tori was napping, and Ken was thinking about the sudden turnaround in his exceptionally dull life. At the beginning of this week all he had on his mind was the office, and the last person he would ever have thought about would have been Tori. Now here he was, with her, loving her company... loving her. Could it be...?

He remembered those wonderful times they'd had in high school, and wondered where they were going now. He couldn't imagine what would come next....

"Hey, sleepyhead, we're coming up on the Luckenbach exit. Which way do we go?"

Tori stirred, stretched, and opened her eyes. "Oh, we're almost there," she smiled. "Turn south under the freeway. But before you get to the town look for a little road off to the right. It's about 3 miles down, I think."

Sure enough, in a little while the headlights picked up a sign pointing off to the right down a narrow, dark road. It said 'The Treetop Inn'. "There it is," squealed Tori excitedly.

Ken wheeled the car into the turn, and immediately they were in a dark tunnel of trees, growing together over the road.

"Spooky," he observed.

"Don't worry, I'll protect you." Another grin.

In a few minutes they rounded a bend and came upon an Old South plantation house.

"Hey, this looks more like Georgia than Texas."

"Actually, as I recall, it was built in the 1860s by a railroad man from New York. It almost fell down before a couple from Dallas bought it about 20 years ago and turned it into a bed and breakfast, and imported some famous chef to run the restaurant. People come from miles around just to eat here."

And in fact the parking lot was almost full as they pulled up to the portico. It was just before eight o'clock. They had timed it perfectly.

"Let's go and check in -- I want to freshen up a bit and change before dinner," Tori said.

Ken pulled the bags out of the trunk and handed them off to the bellman who came out to meet them.

They went inside and up to the desk. "The reservations are under Warner," he said, fishing his AmEx out of his wallet.

"Good evening, Mr. Warner. And it's good to see you again, Ms. Latham."

The deskman registered no surprise at seeing the handless girl, and Ken wondered just how often.... Well, that'd keep. Tori just smiled.

"Will you be having dinner?" the deskman asked.

"Yes," answered Tori. "Would you mind letting the restaurant know we're here? We're going to go up and freshen up a bit, then we'd like to have dinner on the patio, if that's okay."

"Of course. Just come down when you're ready." He pinged the bell, and the valet came and took the proffered key. "Number 6, Henry," the deskman said.

Ken had signed the register while this was going on, and he and Tori followed Henry up the broad staircase and down the hall.

The room was large, and decorated in period Victorian antiques, including a huge canopy bed. 'This was going to be interesting, to say the least,' thought Ken.

He tipped Henry who retreated gracefully and closed the door behind him, leaving them alone. Ken reached for Tori, who returned his embrace, but broke quickly.

"Later," she averred. "Let me wash my face and change my clothes for dinner." Ken reluctantly retreated to a big chair and settled in with a copy of the Austin paper. "Okay, but hurry up. I'm getting hungry."

"Don't be impatient," she retorted, as she fumbled her bag open and extracted a soft summer dress.

"Hey, I like the looks of that," Ken said as he observed from behind his newspaper.

"Just you wait." She disappeared into the bathroom.

In a few minutes she emerged, looking absolutely stunning in a clingy white number with an elastic top and a mid-calf length skirt. It was obvious that she'd removed her bra. The top came up under her armpits and, held up as it was by those magnificent boobs, was in no danger of slipping down. At least not without help. Of course her shoulders and arms, those beautiful arms with no hands at the ends, were completely bare. The dress closely hugged every curve everywhere else.

"Ready?" she said with a small curtsey.

"Wow," was all Ken could get out. She answered with a big smile.

She put out her left stump and Ken took it, just as if it were a hand. He closed the door behind them, and they walked stump-in-hand down the hall and down the broad staircase to dinner. This was going to be some evening. Ken wondered if he'd be able to eat.

The maitre d' greeted them by name and led them through the dining room toward the back of the house. It was a beautiful room, the back wall of which consisted of a series of French doors, hung with floor-to-ceiling drapes. They swept through the open center set of doors onto a veranda which ran across the length of the room, and opened out onto a broad, tree-filled lawn which disappeared into the darkness. The whole area was lit with a soft moonlight-like glow, from lights placed high in the trees. It was quite breathtaking.

They were led to a table on the edge of the veranda, against a low hedge which formed the border between the table area and the back lawn.

"Wow, this is some restaurant," Ken observed as they were seated.

"Isn't it great? And I'll tell you, the food is just as good as the surroundings."

The waiter took their drink orders, and handed them the menus. Ken was fascinated to see how Tori took the menu from the waiter, grasping it between her stumps as she had done with other things before. She laid it on the table in front of her and somehow just slipped her right stump inside and flipped it open, so quickly Ken didn't really see how she did it.

"Hey, do that again," Ken said, fascinated.

Tori looked up, slightly startled. "What..?"

"That trick with opening the menu."

"Oh, Ken -- it's just how I do everything," she sighed, grinning gamely and rolling her eyes. "Believe me, you get used to it pretty fast." Still, she closed the menu and opened it again. "I guess I'd better enjoy the attention while it's still a novelty."

"Well, I can't imagine that I'll get to a time very soon where I won't be interested," Ken replied.

They studied the menu silently for a few minutes, and the drinks came.

"Here's to a lovely weekend," Tori toasted, as she grasped the glass between her stumps and raised it to Ken.

"Likewise," he responded, touching his glass to hers. "I love it so far. And at the risk of sounding maudlin, I'm very glad to be with you."

Tori flushed slightly. "Yes, I'm glad, too. I wouldn't have imagined this in a thousand years, when I pulled up your website that day." They each took a sip, and set their glasses down.

"So. What do you feel like eating?" Ken offered.

"Well, I love the steak au poivre, but I think I'm going to order the redfish. Last time I was here I was wearing my hooks, and it's easier to cut up a steak when I have them. With the fish you won't have to help me. You?"

"I'm gonna order the steak," Ken responded, "But I'd be glad to help you if you'd rather have one too."

"No, I like redfish, and they don't always have it. It's becoming scarce, you know -- overfishing, I hear."

"Well, suit yourself, but don't ever be embarrassed about asking me to help with something... anything."

"Thanks, you're sweet." Another slight flush. "There aren't many things I need help with anymore."

The waiter came back, and took their orders.

"By the way, Tori," Ken said, after the waiter had left, "I did a little research on the Web this afternoon, and I found something interesting."

"Oh?"

"Have you ever heard of the work being done on myoelectrics? It appears that you can get a set of prostheses that look an awful lot like real hands, and work with nerve impulses from your stumps."

"Well, I know there are such things...."

"From what I read, you could function practically as well as if you still had your real hands," Ken continued, warming to the subject. "Evidently there is a lot of work being done on this. They even fit them to small children who are congenital amputees, and who grow up hardly ever realizing they are different."

"Well... yes...."

"I think we should look into..."

Tori had a benign smile on her face, and reached across the table and placed her stump on Ken's hand. "Ken, I'm perfectly happy the way I am. I can do anything I need to do with my hooks, and I don't mind in the least not having hands."

"Well, of course, I know you can... are.... but...."

"Ken, I have to explain something. I thought I'd let us get better acquainted before I told you all this, but maybe now is the time."

Ken looked at her, puzzled. What now, he wondered. "Tori, you are the most wonderful girl I've ever known, and I know we're going to get better acquainted, at least if I have anything to say about it. You don't have to tell me anything you're not ready to tell me."

"OK, but.... Well, you might as well know everything about me from the beginning, I guess. I just want you to promise me you won't freak out or anything."

"Now you have to tell me. I'm gonna freak out if you don't!" He wondered what he'd gotten himself into.

"All right," she responded. "Just don't say I didn't warn you."

"Ken, I haven't been totally honest with you -- oh, not that I've lied about anything, I just haven't told you the whole truth."

Ken sat back, listening attentively, a slight frown on his face.

"You know that story about how I lost my hands? Being out overnight in freezing weather, and all that? Well, it's absolutely true, but I didn't tell you all of it."

"Tori, please trust me. There is nothing you can tell me that will make me less fond of you, I promise." Ken was very apprehensive. What could she possibly be talking about?

"OK, here goes."

"You remember when I left Houston and moved to Riyadh with my folks. After that first summer in Saudi I went to school in Zurich. Boy, that was a new experience. When I arrived there someone from the school met me and got me to the campus and helped me settle in. I was to be a junior, and after the initial shock of total immersion in French, I managed to do OK. The girl who met me was a senior, and was my roommate that first semester. She was very sweet and helped me a lot, but after the Christmas break she graduated, ahead of the class.

"So, when I went back that January I had to go to the Dean of Students' office for a new room assignment. The dean asked me if I would mind rooming with a girl who was handicapped. She was a freshman, and her first roommate had dropped out for one reason or another, and needed an upperclassman.

"They always pair the freshmen and sophomores with upperclass girls, to sort of help them get acquainted, and guide them around. Most of the students are foreign, actually, and a lot of them have problems at first in the new environment.

"Of course I said yes, I'd be glad to help. The dean didn't tell me what the girl's handicap was, and I guess I pictured someone in a wheelchair. But that's not how it worked out. Turns out, the girl was a conterganer."

"A what?"

"Remember thalidomide?"

"Oh, sure," Ken responded. "Caused a bunch of birth defects...."

"Right. Contergan was the trade name in Europe for thalidomide."

Just then the waiter brought their food, and there was a pause while they arranged things, and Ken was again treated to the sight of Tori manipulating her fork with her bare stumps. They ate silently for a few minutes, commenting only on how good the food was. Finally, Ken could stand it no longer.

"Well, are you going to finish the story?"

"Oh, sure. Where was I? Oh, yeah, I was telling you about Inga, my roommate."

"I gather she wasn't in a wheelchair -- so what was her handicap?"

"She didn't have arms."

"Wow!" Ken breathed. "I've seen... uh, I mean.... well, I've seen pictures of girls with no arms...."

Ken wasn't quite ready to reveal that he had a whole hard drive full of pictures of girls with no arms, no legs, one leg, one arm, and every other possible combination.

"Of course you have. Anybody with an interest in stumps as strong as yours is bound to have a large collection. You have to show it to me some time," she said with a grin.

Now it was Ken's turn to blush. And it wasn't a faint flush, either.

Tori ignored him, and continued. "In fact, you've probably seen pictures of Inga. There are several floating around on the Net, which in fact were taken by one of her boyfriends, during my senior year in Zurich. You're familiar with a girl named 'Bobbie,' I presume?"

"Uh, yeah... I guess."

"Well, that's Inga."

Ken racked his brain trying to remember which one that was. Undoubtedly he had it, somewhere....

"Anyway," Tori continued, I met Inga that day and after the first little period of uneasiness, we hit it off fine, and quickly became best friends as well as roommates. She was very open and not in the least shy about her condition, and her ease put me at ease."

"I think you do that too," observed Ken.

"I hope so. Inga told me from the beginning that how people thought about her was exactly how she thought about herself. If she felt embarrassed or uncomfortable, that's exactly how people responded to her. And of course since she was born that way, she had a lot of time to work things out before me."

The waiter came back around and refilled their wine glasses.

"So how does Inga relate to your -- uh -- hands?" Ken asked. "This was before the accident, I presume."

"Oh, yeah. The only stump I had at that time was the one you were familiar with before. And as Inga and I became closer friends, I told her the story of how I got it, and how guys were interested in it."

"And...?"

"And, as you might well imagine, she'd had plenty of similar experiences with her boyfriends. She felt like anybody who was interested in her, was interested because of her lack of arms. And she had a set of prostheses, too, which made her even more, ah, interesting."

"Does she have stumps?"

"She does have one stump. Her right side has no arm at all -- a completely empty shoulder. But on her left side she has a stump about six or seven inches long. Her prosthetics reflect that, too. She uses a hook on her left side, but just a cosmetic arm and hand on the right. It really doesn't do much, but she says it makes her feel less lopsided when she wears it. But she can use the hook really well, even though she has no elbow."

"And I presume she has as much fun with her stump as you had with yours?"

"She says so."

There was a pause. Tori and Ken both concentrated on their food for awhile. Finally, Tori continued.

"Ken, I have to tell you the whole story -- and I hope you won't get the wrong impression...."

"I can't imagine you'd allow that to happen," Ken said dryly, "But what's so difficult?"

"Well, as you know full well from personal experience, I'm no lesbian."

Ken grinned at this. "Now that's something I would never dispute."

"Yeah, me either. And I'm more certain than ever that we're both right. Still...." She hesitated again.

"Don't tell me, let me guess," Ken said, grinning. "You used your stumps on each other."

"Bingo."

"Is that the Great Revelation? I must say, it doesn't rate the buildup," Ken said.

"Ok, ok," Tori responded, laughing. "I guess I should have known better."

Another sip of wine.

"But there's more, too. I still haven't gotten to the part where I lose my hands."

"Tori, you're not going to shock me. Just get on with it," Ken laughed.

"All right. But don't say I didn't warn you. As I said, we became really close, and we did use our stumps on each other. I'll leave that your runaway imagination, for now. But the truth is, I became so fascinated with Inga's condition, how she did things, how she was wildly attractive to a certain subset of boys at the school, that I gradually came around to the conclusion that I wanted to be like her. I figured that as much fun as I had with my little finger stump, and as much fun she had as a completely armless girl, the obvious answer was to lose my arms."

"Now that seems a bit drastic, don't you think?"

"Oh, yes. And believe me, if I hadn't met Inga, it would never have occurred to me. After that semester was over and Inga and I had become close friends, I went back to Riyadh for the summer. All I could think about was that wonderful stump, and I missed it dearly. There isn't much activity for young people in Riyadh, especially for Westerners. There was nothing like the dating or club scene, of course, since it's a Muslim country. The few kids my age really had nothing to do. I basically just sat around watching videos, and getting myself off with my stump. Most of the kids whose parents could afford it, spent summers back in Cleveland, or wherever. And after I got out of high school, that's exactly what I did. I didn't spend another summer in Riyadh until after I'd graduated from the Sorbonne."

"But when you went back to school you and Inga were roomies again, right?"

"Oh, yes. I probably wouldn't have gone back if she hadn't been there. And over the summer we wrote back and forth almost every day. I really knew I wasn't lesbian, but I sure did miss that girl, and when we got back to Zurich in the fall we had a glorious reunion."

"Another scene better played out in my imagination, I bet."

"Well, probably. Some day I'll give you the details," Tori said with a grin. But one of the things that did happen was that I broached the subject with Inga that I'd like to have my arms removed."

"Wow, what kind of a reaction did she have to that?"

"She was horrified, actually. She really pitched a fit, and said I was crazy. We kind of had a big fight about it."

"I'm not surprised."

"Yeah, looking back, I'm really not either. But at the time I was devastated. I mean, aside from the fact that you couldn't just waltz into the school nurse's office and ask to have your arms amputated, I felt somehow betrayed that she couldn't see my feelings about it."

Ken felt himself getting hard picturing Tori without her arms. How much more interesting was this going to get? He took a long pull on the wine glass and waited for her to continue.

"Finally, after a couple of days of not speaking, we had a tearful 'reunion' in bed. I promised her I would drop the idea -- not that I could have done anything about it anyway -- and things more or less returned to normal. And I did stop talking about it, but in fact, I couldn't get the idea out of my head. I often pictured myself armless, and on a couple of occasions, when I was alone, I'd put on a t-shirt without putting my arms thru the sleeves, and watch myself in the mirror as I tried to do things. Believe me, those dangling empty sleeves really turned me on."

"But as you say, you couldn't really just go and have your arms amputated."

"No, but I could think about it, and it became kind of an obsession. When Inga would come back to the room in the evening the first thing she would do is take off her prostheses, and watching her do that never failed to set me off. And she almost never went out in the evening wearing her arms. She went completely armless, and did everything with her feet. She said she was more comfortable, and of course whatever boy she was with was just blown away when she did things that way.

"Anyway, just suffice it to say that I never really got over the idea of doing something to my arms. Gradually, it became enough to picture myself just without my hands. That way, I thought, I could still do things for myself without having to learn to use my feet, and besides, it wasn't the absence of arms that turned me on, it was the stumps. And even though Inga has only one, I wanted two."

"But Tori, you're not telling me that you just went and had your hands amputated, are you?"

"No, nothing like that. We finished out the year just as we had, I graduated, and Inga found another roommate the next fall. That summer I went back to Riyadh for two weeks, but then Inga called and invited me to spend some time with her at her home in Vienna.

"I was really happy to do that, and the folks didn't mind. I'd applied and been accepted at the Sorbonne, so I stayed with Inga until a couple of weeks before school started. Then I went back to Riyadh and collected my stuff to move to Paris.

"But of course Inga and I kept in constant touch, and when ski season came we arranged to meet back in Zurich for a weekend ski trip."

"Is that the one where you got your hands frozen?"

"No, that was years later. But that trip to Zurich demonstrated to us that we both loved skiing together, and that's basically what we did after that when we'd get together.

"After I was out of school, after the folks died, and after I was living on my own in Paris, we arranged for a trip to Grenoble. We were just friends by then, and no longer lovers, if that's what we were, and in fact she was then dating the guy she would marry.

"When we met for that trip her boyfriend couldn't come, and I wasn't dating anyone at that time, so it was just the two of us. And that's when what I've told you about, happened."

"So it was just a, well, fortunate accident?"

"You could say that, but not exactly. Here's what happened."

By now they had finished their dinner, the dishes had been cleared, and they'd ordered drinks. The terrace had pretty much cleared out by then, and where they were sitting, out by the edge of the lawn, it was very quiet. No one was near enough to overhear their conversation. It was quite dark, and the grounds had a ghostly appearance in the glow of the lights in the trees. Ken was fascinated by the story, and quite ready to accept anything Tori would tell him.

"We arrived at the resort on Friday night, had a pleasant evening of dinner and drinks, and went to bed early. And before you ask, we didn't mess around. We were both too tired, and we wanted to get up early and hit the slopes.

"It was January, and really cold. But the next morning the sun was out, and the mountains were incredibly gorgeous. The snow was a fresh, deep powder, and we really looked forward to a good day on the slopes. We made two runs before lunch, and then three more after. By then it was late in the day and the sun was setting. I'd never felt better in my life. It was a perfect day, and I was absolutely exhilarated.

"I wanted to get in one more run before the end of the day, but Inga said no, she was tired. I understood, since it takes her a lot more effort to ski, with no use of poles. In fact, in deference to her we'd stuck to fairly gentle runs, which was all right with me. But I knew I had one more good run in me, and Inga just laughed and said she'd take a nap and meet me in the bar afterward and we'd have dinner.

"Now remember, I hadn't brought up the subject of having my arms removed for some time now, and I had no intention of doing so. I don't know what Inga thought about it, or even if she remembered it, but we didn't discuss it. And actually I'd almost forgotten it myself.

"She headed inside to change, and I headed for the lifts. This time I had in mind a more difficult slope, one I knew I could have fun with, but which was much faster than those we'd been on together.

Meanwhile, Inga (I found out later) did go and change her clothes, and spent some time unwinding in the hot tub in our room. By the time she headed for the bar, she was about to fall asleep. She had one drink, and left a message with the bartender that she was going straight to bed, and she'd see me in the morning.

"When I got to the slope the sun was setting. There was just time for one more run. I started down, just having a great time. This slope wound through some pretty rough terrain, but I didn't care, I was having too much fun. And, as I told you before, as I skied into the trees I hit a rock or something and went sprawling. I went flying out of control, bouncing down the slope and careening off a small ledge, and landing in a heap. I was going pretty fast, and I think I hit my head on a tree. As I said, I was knocked out, and sure enough I'd lost one of my gloves."

Ken said, "Well, so far, that's just what you told me before...."

"Yes," Tori continued, "but here's the difference. As far as I can tell, I was only out for a few minutes. When I came to it was still twilight, and I assessed my various limbs and determined that I was basically OK, except for a knot on the head and a stout headache."

"Yeah," Ken said, "Before, you said you were out cold well into the night."

"That's right. That's the story I put out. But actually, after I realized I was mostly OK, I just sat there for a few minutes."

Ken signaled the waiter for another round of drinks.

"Then I looked down at my bare hand and suddenly it dawned on me that my wish was within reach. And no pun intended."

Ken groaned.

"Aw, shut up. Who's telling this, anyway," she grinned.

But Ken was too fascinated to respond. He just rolled his eyes and said, "Well, what happened then?"

"Well, as I sat there in the snow, I figured the odds. Probably Inga would send the ski patrol after me when I didn't show up for dinner, but there was just a chance that I could get my hands so frozen before they got to me that I might at least lose some more fingers."

Ken was getting hard again, but he didn't let on.

"And at best, since they didn't really have any idea where I was, I just might lose at least one whole hand. I crept back up the slope and sat with my back against the rocky ledge. I knew I could spend the night out there without dying, since I was wearing a full parka and thermal underwear. I also knew it was going to be somewhere below zero before the night was over. After a few minutes, I pulled off my other glove and tossed it as far as I could down the slope. I was ready, figuring I had maybe a couple of hours at best before they found me.

"Well, in a little while I fell asleep, and as tired as I was, went out like a light. And the rest is pretty much what I've told you already.

"Since Inga had gone to bed, nobody came looking for me until she woke up some time in the early morning hours and realized I'd never come in. At that point she raised the alarm, but it was dawn before they could come after me. And, by then -- by the time they found me -- I'd accomplished my purpose."

"Wow," Ken breathed. "So you really wanted to have no hands."

"That's about it. Actually, I wanted the stumps. And as it's turned out, the hooks are the perfect answer. If I need to do something fine, or complicated, I can put 'em on; otherwise, I'm good to go with just the stumps."

"What did Inga say?"

"Oh, poor Inga. She was really distraught. That's really the only downside of the whole thing. She figured it was all her fault since she went to bed and didn't wait up for me. I felt sorry for her, and tried to reassure her that nothing could be further from the truth, but I just couldn't tell her that I'd made a conscious decision, and that I would have been disappointed had she managed to have me rescued before I was ready.

"And, as it's turned out, we've become better friends than ever as she's watched me 'overcome my handicap,' as she puts it. She stayed with me through the whole hospital scene, and oversaw my 'rehabilitation,' by which I mean learning to use my hooks. Of course I had it much easier than she ever did, since I still have my elbows, and there are, after all, two working hooks."

At this point she gave Ken a sharp look.

"Now listen carefully to me. You are the only one on earth, besides me, who knows this story, and if you ever, ever, even let on that there is anything more to the story than I've let out publically... well, you just can't. You have to promise me that you'll always keep this between us."

"Well of course I will," Ken responded. "After all, you don't really tell any lies when you tell the story."

"It's true, I just don't tell the whole truth."

"Besides, who would I tell? I've never told anybody but you that I have any interest in amputee girls. Even Charlie doesn't know, and he's my best friend."

"OK, so we both have our secrets. I won't tell yours if you don't tell mine."

"Deal," Ken responded earnestly. "Now, if that's all of your lurid past you're going to reveal tonight, let's go back to the room. I suddenly feel the urge to rip your clothes off."

"You'll have to be quick if you expect to have anything left to rip!"

"Well, let's try to at least get the door closed behind us!" They were now both grinning lasciviously.

Ken signaled the waiter for the check, which he signed. They rose from their chairs, Ken again grasped Tori's left stump just as if it still had a hand attached to it, and led her back into the building and up the stairs to their room. Thus ended the most fascinating and unusual dinner of his life.

But by then Ken was no longer thinking about dinner....