T H E M A N W H O T R I E D T O O H A R D
A disturbing tale of rejection by strzeka
Laura Bryant was not a shy girl but she was dubious about attending a speed dating session with her friend Evelyn. Evelyn had tried one several weeks ago and found a nice enough bloke with a terrible accent and handsome blue eyes. They met several times until they ran out of chat and decided to call it a day after sitting awkwardly in a wine bar together for two hours not saying much of anything. But Evelyn was still keen to try her luck and insisted that Laura had to get out more despite everything.
Evelyn would call for her in a couple of hours, around seven, and they would go together. They had been good friends since they were in junior school and Evelyn was the only one of Laura’s friends who had stood by her during her illness and its catastrophic consequences. Laura chose a simple top with long sleeves and a knee length dress. She spent some time applying a little make-up. She had a pleasant face and good skin and her make-up was subtle and restrained. She transferred onto her bed to get into the floral-patterned dress and then fitted her cosmetic legs to her thigh stumps. She moved back to the wheelchair and removed her arm prostheses with the hooks so she could change her T-shirt. Her upper arm stumps were just long enough to touch across her chest and she leant forward to grab a fresh T-shirt followed by her bionic arms with the cosmetic hands. Last of all, she put on her white, lacy top and appraised herself in the mirror. To all intents and purposes, the first impression was of a pretty young woman in a motorised wheelchair. Not bad at all. She would ask Evelyn to put her wristwatch on her left prosthesis as the finishing touch.
Evelyn knocked at the door just before seven. Laura let her in.
– How do I look? I don’t want to be too frilly and delicate.
– No. That top is just right. It goes nicely with the dress. Your legs look pretty.
– Yes, I thought I’d wear them for a change. I don’t want to scare people off before I’ve even managed to speak to them. That’s why I put these hands on, too. I can’t do half as much with them as I can with the hooks, but they do look a little less terrifying.
– Well, the only thing you’ll have to actually do this evening is hold a glass of wine.
– Have you seen me trying to drink something? The height of feminine elegance it is not. Still, it can’t be helped. Are you ready? Shall we go?
– Ready when you are.
The bar was three streets away in the pedestrianised High Street. Several tables outside were occupied by patrons enjoying a late summer evening’s warmth. Evelyn held the door open for Laura and they looked around at the clientele. Quite a few new faces. The bar’s owner would act as compère and was currently testing his microphone. The procedure was simple enough. Ten small tables had been grouped in two lines at the back of the bar. The women candidates were to remain seated and every three minutes, a bell would sound indicating that the men were to move along to the next table. There were no winners or losers. The name of the game was to meet as many new people in half an hour as possible. Whatever happened after that was outside the session’s remit.
The compère announced the start of the evening’s session and invited the female participants to take their places at a table. Seven young women moved across to individual tables nursing their drinks. Laura guided her chair towards the furthermost table. Evelyn remained at the bar, watching. The owner quickly removed the chair to make room for Laura’s wheelchair and bid her welcome.
– Gentlemen, at the bell, please join one of the young ladies. You have three minutes to chat to each of them. At the next bell, please move clockwise one table.
There was some joshing and egging amongst the group of young men, working out which of them would be up for judgment this evening. The owner watched them and saw that most of them were ready and waiting for the bell. He struck the brass bell and the men crossed to the tables. The women were welcoming, perhaps a little awkward but not shy. A short lad with ginger hair, freckles and tattooed arms sat down at Laura’s table.
– Hello, who are you? I’m Peter. You can call me Pete. Oh, haven’t you got a drink? Would you like one? What would you like?
– Ha! So many questions! Hello Peter. I’m Laura and I would like a drink. I’d like a glass of dry white wine, please.
– Very good choice.
Peter waved at the bar tender, who noticed and walked over.
– A glass of dry white wine, please.
– That’s nice of you, thank you.
– Don’t mention it. Have you been here before? I haven’t seen you before.
– Oh, I’ve been here before but this is the first time I’ve done the speed dating thing. I was a bit under the weather and didn’t get out much.
– Oh, that’s a shame. I hope you’re better now.
– Yes, thanks. I’m fine. Do you live around here?
– Not far. My work is close by so I stayed late tonight with my mates and they sort of suggested I come on the speed date team.
– They put you up to it, did they?
– Well, sort of. You know, no-one loves a ginger.
– Oh really? That bad, is it? I think it looks nice. Your hair, I mean.
The bar tender brought Laura’s wine. Peter picked up his pint and said Cheers! Laura activated her right prosthesis and moved the hand to encircle the glass. The fingers and thumb opened wide and its stepper motor whirred as she gripped the glass. She activated the elbow and carefully brought the rim close to her face. She was able to take a small sip. She ought to change the angle of the wrist. She put the glass down. Peter watched the process with wide eyes.
– Wow! That’s amazing. I didn’t realise. It looks just like real.
– That’s nice of you to say so. I have a matching pair, you see.
Laura lifted her left prosthesis to demonstrate.
– Oh! You are amazing.
The bell sounded.
– I have to go. I’ll talk to you later, OK? Bye, Laura.
– Bye, Peter.
Well, she thought. That didn’t go too badly. At least he didn’t run away. The next candidate was tall and hairy. He had a good deal of stubble and his arms were covered in tattoos too. He had a grand smile.
– Hello. I’m Patrick. Nice to meet you. What’s your name?
– Laura. Nice to meet you too. You have so many tattoos. Tell me about them.
Patrick was surprised by the comment but had a well-practised spiel. He pointed out the bigger illustrations and explained where he had got them. He had been all around the world.
– Are you a sailor?
– Well, I was a merchant marine until I got hurt.
– Oh? What happened?
– Look into my eyes. Do you notice anything odd?
– Er, that pupil is bigger than the other one.
– That’s because it’s a glass eye. I lost it off Somalia in a fight with pirates.
– Good lord! Well, we’ve both lost something.
– Yes, I thought perhaps that might be the case. It’s good that you aren’t too shy to come out to have some fun.
– No, not any more. It took a while but in the end you realise there’s no point in just sitting alone at home.
– Look, can I give you my number? I’d like to talk to you again.
– There’ll be time for that a bit later. I don’t have to rush off anywhere.
– Alright. I’ll come and find you later on.
The bell sounded again and Patrick left. Don took his place, then John, Alex, Marco, Simon and Jack. They were all perfectly gentlemanly and none of them showed any distaste when noticing Laura’s almost realistic hands. And no-one mentioned her wheelchair.
The speed dating game was over and the young women returned to their friends’ company, anticipating that their favourite man might return for more conversation. Evelyn was eager to hear what Laura’s experience had been like.
– I really enjoyed myself after I relaxed. Do you know, not one of them even mentioned my chair. I couldn’t believe it. There were two really nice boys, though.
– Which ones? Where are they?
– The red-haired guy over there and the tall hairy one. I can’t see him right now. He seemed to be the most natural when he saw my hands.
Patrick was washing his hands. When he returned to the saloon, he walked directly towards Laura and Evelyn and wished them a good evening.
– That was fun, wasn’t it? Did you enjoy yourself?
– Yes, I did. Patrick, this is Evelyn.
The three of them exchanged meaningless banter for twenty minutes or so until Evelyn understood that her presence was no longer needed.
– Laura, I can’t stay out any longer. I better get back. Will you be able to get home OK?
– Don’t worry, Evelyn. I’ll make sure Laura gets home safely.
– Oh, good. Thanks. Well, good night, you two.
They watched her leave.
– How about you, Laura? Would you like another drink or would you prefer to leave?
– I’d like another glass of wine, if I may. Shall we go and sit over there?
– Yes. Go and reserve the table and I’ll bring the drinks over.
Patrick sat next to Laura rather than facing her. It seemed a little more intimate. Laura described her work as a children’s author and how her publisher had goaded her back into some semblance of normalcy after her illness. Patrick explained his work as a draughtsman in an architect’s studio. It followed on from his previous work as a navigator. Precision and attention to detail. It was the latter which led him to the conclusion that not only did Laura use artificial hands, she also wore purely cosmetic artificial legs. She had four stumps. He said nothing about them. After another hour or so, the music in the saloon increased in volume as the clientele began to feel more boisterous and conversation became difficult.
– Shall we go? I don’t live very far away. If you could walk with me, I’d be very grateful.
– Of course I’ll escort you. I’d be proud to. Did you have a jacket? I just have this old jumper.
Patrick had a thick, off-white roll-neck sweater tied around his waist. He undid the knot he had tied in the sleeves and hung it around his shoulders.
– Ready. Shall we go? Lead the way!
Laura positioned her right prosthesis so it did not weigh on her stump and pushed the joystick. The wheelchair crept forward towards the exit. They called out a farewell to the owner and departed into the warm night. It was not late. Other couples sat or strolled along the street, making the most of one of summer’s last pleasures.
– Here we are. This is where I live. Thank you so much for helping me, Patrick. I really appreciate it.
– But I’ve hardly done anything.
– Oh, but you have. You’ve helped me realise I still have a life. Look, you have quite a way to go to get home, don’t you? Would you like to stay overnight instead?
– Are you sure?
– Do I have anything to fear, Patrick?
– No, of course not.
– That settles it then. Come on. Let’s have a nightcap. It’s only ten o’clock.
Laura showed Patrick into her sparse living room. There was a small sofa for two and a dining table with an elaborate concrete candelabra on it. Laura transferred from her wheelchair onto the sofa.
– I’m afraid it’s self-service. There are a couple of beers in the fridge if you’d like or I have a bottle of whiskey unopened from last Christmas in the larder. Help yourself.
– Shall we have a beer each? I don’t want to be drunk.
– OK. Patrick, can I ask you a favour?
– Yes of course.
– If I take my arms off, will you help me drink?
– Now that’s something you don’t hear every day. Are they uncomfortable? Do you need any help?
– Yes, actually, they are getting a bit uncomfortable. Get us those beers and I’ll show you what to do. There are glasses above the sink.
Patrick found the drinks and poured two light lagers into two tall glasses. He carried them back. Laura looked at him with trepidation.
– Ready? First of all, pull my frilly top off.
She raised her arms and Patrick eased the blouse over her head. He was surprised to see that Laura’s prosthetic arms extended up to her shoulders and were linked with a harness across her back.
– Now if you could simply lift my arms off. They might need a bit of a tug.
She lifted her arms as far as she could and Patrick grasped the forearms. He pulled gently and the prostheses slid off Laura’s stumps. She glanced at each one, inspecting them. They were slightly reddened and bore the imprints of the electrodes embedded in the sockets.
– Not very pretty, I’m afraid. Thank you, Patrick. Just put them on the table. Well, this is how I am. I’m sure you know my legs are artificial too.
– I wasn’t sure but I did think they might be. They do look very natural.
– What made you think otherwise?
– Well, you never crossed them. Women always cross their ankles.
– Yes, you’re right. I wish I could. I miss not being able to cross my legs. Would you like to help me take them off? I’m not being too forward, I hope.
– Not at all. There’s nothing suggestive about removing artificial limbs after all, is there?
That was Patrick’s little lie. There was something suggestive. He appreciated the shape and appearance of a well-sculpted stump. So far in his twenty-seven years, he had seen only his male comrades lose limbs during two separate attacks at sea. He had followed their recovery and admired the resulting stumps. Their prosthetic limbs were also a source of fascination and envy. He had always imagined himself as an amputee when he felt horny, sometimes with a hook, sometimes on crutches with an empty trouser leg. He had never seen a woman with a stump. Now he was with Laura who had four.
– If you can press the release valves on the inner thigh and pull the legs toward you.
Patrick did as asked and removed both legs in turn. Laura’s dress hid her stumps but Patrick could judge their brevity by the way the material draped over them.
– Oh, that feels such a relief. Thank you, Patrick. I hope you aren’t too shocked.
– No, not at all. I’ve never done that before but it’s not the first time I’ve seen false limbs. Are you more comfortable now?
– Oh, much better, thanks.
– Shall we have some beer?
Patrick offered Laura a drink from one glass and took a swig from the same glass himself. Laura was a little surprised. Two can play at that game, she thought. There was the merest squeak of sexuality. It was like a proxy kiss.
– Again, please.
Patrick obliged, turning the rim to a dry part. Helping this attractive maimed woman was causing him to become aroused. Laura’s rather lively arm stumps were on display. What might her leg stumps look like? Perhaps he would see them later. He knew he would have to carry her to bed and help her undress.
– Tell me more about the men who got injured, you know, lost limbs. Did they go back to work? How did they get on afterwards?
– Oh, well actually, I don’t know too much about what happened afterwards. They were bandaged up onboard by the ship’s medic and tended to as best he could but of course it takes weeks before a big cargo ship reaches Europe and the home country again so by that time their stumps were healed and all that needed to be done was a quick inspection and get them into rehab somewhere with a new artificial arm or leg.
– And how about you? You lost your eye but I don't suppose you were able to get a glass eye straightaway.
– Haha! No, I had to wait until I was back here. I was sort of pensioned off because the merchant marine doesn’t want disabled crew, although they still pay for my glass eyes and medical treatment.
– I’m sorry for you. It must be awful to be half blind. What if something should happen to your other eye?
– Well, that’s why we have two, I suppose. In case something happens. As far as I’m concerned, it’s already happened. I’ve got used to it now. I can’t judge distances properly but I get by just fine. Don’t worry about it.
– I’d love to be able to say the same – I get by just fine. I’m such a disaster area. I’m sorry you have to see it.
– Laura, let me explain something. You went out tonight for a speed date, and as far as I can tell, you now have a man sitting in your living room. I wouldn’t mind betting that you are the only one of the whole gang who scored tonight. And I talked to all of the lovely ladies, remember. It was you I came back to. The real Laura always wins out above the Laura-in-the-wheelchair image. Does that make any sense?
– Sort of.
– I’d like to spend the night here so I can see you again in the morning. Then you can throw me out and we’ll never see each other again. If that’s what you want.
– No! It’s not what I want. Will you come to bed with me? That’s what I want. I want you with me. You are beautiful and kind and I like you very much. If you like, we can go now. But will you brush my teeth for me first, please? And help me on the loo.
– Sure. Would you like to be in your chair?
– Erm, yeah, I suppose so. Then it’s there if I need it in the night.
– You won’t need anything in the night as long as I’m there.
– Come on, then. Let’s do it.
Laura lifted her arm stumps so that Patrick could grasp her better. He lowered her into her wheelchair and took her to the bathroom, where he lowered her gently onto the toilet seat. He lowered her garments and turned his back. Laura spread her stumps and relieved herself. Patrick dabbed her with a little paper and washed his hands. He transferred her and squeezed a dab of toothpaste onto Laura’s brush and continued brushing until she said OK. Evening toilet completed, Laura turned her chair towards her bedroom and stopped by her bed.
– Can you take my dress and panties off? I don’t need a nightdress. I always sleep naked.
– So do I. I can’t stand wearing pyjamas.
Patrick removed Laura’s clothing and saw her extremely short leg stumps. It was not surprising that she sported cosmetic legs rather than functional prostheses. She could wear short stubbies if she wanted to be mobile on the remnants of her legs but that was a masculine mode of transport. Not for the ladies. He drew back the sheets, picked up the torso and laid it gently onto the bed.
– That was very nice. You have a gentle touch. I don’t want you to go. Sleep with me, Patrick.
Patrick looked at her to see if she was sincere or drunk. He saw hope in Laura’s sweet face. He walked around the bed and lay down. It was not a queen-sized bed but a little wider than usual and he was just able to cover himself with the duvet. Their skins touched.
– Sorry, there’s one thing I have to do.
He removed his glass eye and put it on the bedside table.
– Hold me.
It had been months since Patrick last slept with a woman. Now he was with this fragile broken woman who had charmed him with her wit. He embraced her and cupped his palms around the stumps of her arms. She purred with pleasure and they drifted to sleep. He awoke in the morning when she changed position and her leg stumps brushed against his genitals. He lay quietly, looking at Laura’s sleeping features. He imagined what it might be like to make love to a legless woman. Laura would have to indicate her willingness first. He did not want to spoil a promising relationship by imposing himself on her. She was too vulnerable and he respected her freedom of choice. Laura changed her position again and felt Patrick’s warmth next to her. She opened her eye, surprised at first until realisation dawned. She smiled at the handsome man with the beautiful teeth.
– Good morning. Did you sleep well? I hope I didn’t wake you up.
– Good morning, Laura. I slept very well, thank you. I was already awake. I was looking at you sleeping.
– Oh. That doesn’t sound very interesting.
– It was very enjoyable. Shall we get up? Tell me what you need and I’ll help you, if you want.
– That’s kind of you. I might as well. If you need to go to the bathroom, I suggest you go now. Let me work out what I’m going to need today.
– OK.
Patrick went to the toilet, washed his face and hands and ran water over his glass eye. He did not want to wear it immediately. It had been causing a little irritation. He had an eye patch in his jacket pocket, as always. He would wear that. He returned to the bedroom where Laura was sitting up.
– Would you get my hooks out of the top drawer, please?
Patrick picked the apparatus up by the biceps and laid it in front of Laura.
– Shall I help you with that?
– Yes please. I usually have to squirm around on my back to get these on but if you could lift the harness over my shoulders?
Laura tested the hooks’ function.
– Now, I need the loo. If you could lift me into my chair, that would be good. I can manage in the bathroom, so why don’t you make us some coffee? You’ll find everything in the leftmost cupboard.
– I’ll do that. Call if you need me.
Patrick checked the time. It was a normal working day. He ought to leave in good time but they might have an hour together before then. Laura wheeled back to the bedroom and re-emerged a few minutes later wearing a canary yellow blouse and white tennis shorts. She had brushed her hair but the back was still a little untidy. Patrick was uncertain whether to mention it. They ate a simple breakfast of toast and marmalade with two mugs of coffee. Laura was adept with her hooks and gestured with them when she was speaking as if they were natural hands. It looked both shocking and completely normal. They talked about Laura’s latest story. It was basically finished but needed proofreading and editing and then proofreading again. She was rereading it aloud, making sure there were no tongue-twisters or complicated sentence structures. It was about a pair of helpful happy hamsters called Tipfer and Topfer who lived in an oak tree. A family of squirrels had moved in next door and the hamsters were coming to terms with neighbours who looked so different with their flamboyant bushy tails. Otherwise they seemed perfectly nice neighbours.
– So not too didactic, then?
– Ha! No, not too much. And even if you don’t take a lesson from it, it’s still fun to think of how a hamster might react to seeing a squirrel. And they’re both very likeable creatures. Very difficult to take sides.
– When will it be published?
– We’re aiming for October for the Christmas market.
– It sounds like a winner.
– Stick around and I’ll give you an autographed copy.
– It’s a deal.
Patrick left for work and Laura sat down with her laptop, polishing her text. They met next at the weekend and visited the wine bar in the early evening. Laura wore her cosmetic hands and legs in public. At home, she favoured her hooks and leglessness. As weeks passed, Patrick spent more and more time with her, frequently sleeping with her but never achieving a sexual relationship. Laura’s own disabilities prevented her from fondling him beyond touching his stubble with her stumps. Their relationship mellowed into something approaching that of a married couple. They both understood each other and respected each other but there was no spark, no flame of passion. Patrick began to doubt that his own physique was detrimental to Laura’s acceptance of him. Albeit he was half blind, but perhaps if he were an amputee, she might be more accepting. He knew from his injured shipmates that amputation was not the end of the world and opened up new possibilities. Having seen Laura’s leg stumps so many times, that kind of transformation was not distasteful in the slightest. He decided he would seek out a surgeon who could lop a leg off, maybe not so high up as Laura’s legs, but sufficient so he could fold up a trouser leg and tuck it in to his belt and go about on crutches. He would learn to walk rhythmically and elegantly on his one remaining leg and Laura would alter her attitude toward him. Two young, comely disabled people, making love at last, their stumps sealing their mutual union. He knew exactly how to go about it.
His mate Dave had been injured in the same pirate attack. A line of bullets had torn into his left arm and leg. His arm was amputated onboard and the leg was salvaged but remained painful and weak. Dave was sick of it after four months and made enquiries about an elective amputation, all of which were refused. There was no money, there were no beds available, there was no need, it would eventually heal. Dave sought out a Thai surgeon who he had heard would perform elective amputations for a few thousand dollars. He booked a flight to Bangkok and returned five weeks later on crutches, sporting a good-sized thigh stump. His pain was gone and he liked his new body image. An empty pants leg paired with a steel hook on his left arm. Patrick phoned him and asked if he had the surgeon’s contact details. Dave said he still had the old invoices and receipts somewhere and would call Pat back.
Several weeks later, Patrick told Laura that he was going to have to be absent for a month or so while he went for retraining for a cad-cam course and an engineering refresher course for the latest heat exchange technology. It was all happening in Aberdeen, of all places, and he would not be able to travel south for the duration. Laura was sorry that they would not be together but supported Patrick’s career advancement and wished him well. The next day, Patrick boarded a plane to Bangkok. Two days later, his left leg was amputated four inches above the knee and the stump was bound to encourage a semispherical stump which the new amputee would be proud to own. Patrick spent most of his recovery in a private hotel, visited daily by a nurse who changed his dressing and applied his shrinker bandages. A week after his amputation, Patrick was making short trips outside the hotel, eating out and enjoying the sunshine. He sent text messages to Laura daily, telling her how much he missed her and how boring his vocational course was. He paid an extra forty dollars for his aluminium axillary crutches on top of the fifteen thousand his stump had cost and returned to the airport thirty days after his arrival with strict instructions on how to care for his stump in future.
Back home, he waited a couple of days before contacting Laura. He would have some explaining to do, that much was certain. But she would have to understand. He would surely not need to explain his motivation. Laura was sympathetic enough to open her heart to a fellow amputee. They would be able to form a much more intimate bond now that they were both amputees.
The opposite was true.
– I’m really pissed off with you because not only did you lie to me, you took me for granted and thought you could read my mind. And the main thing I liked you for was that you were an able-bodied guy who dared to be seen with a limbless cripple like me. And now you’re an amputee yourself it looks like I can’t have a proper man. I have to make do with another cripple. I won’t have it! Patrick, I thought I knew you but I obviously didn’t. I don’t want to see you today. I’ll call you after I’ve calmed down. What on earth were you thinking?
Patrick turned around and wordlessly returned to the street. He went to the wine bar for a drink. By coincidence, it was the night for the monthly speed dating session. He would take it easy on the booze until the game started and see if any of the ladies were up for a bit of fun and games with a guy with a stump.
The compère went through the rules and invited the women to take their places. Nine tables were shortly occupied by nine young women, all appraising the crowd for possible male candidates. The men were invited to take a seat. Patrick stood and crutched over to a tall brunette. The first bell sounded.
– Hi! I’m Patrick. Nice to meet you.
– Hello Patrick. I’m Selene. I have to tell you right now, you’re not the man for me. But tell me about yourself. How come you have only one leg?
– Shot off in a sea battle with pirates near Somalia.
– That must have been exciting. I can guess who won.
– Well, I came off the worse, but let’s not talk about that. Tell me about yourself.
Selena half-heartedly went through her prepared speech. She did not make eye contact and was relieved when the bell sounded. Patrick wished her a pleasant evening and moved to the next table. Eija introduced herself as a recent divorcee. She was originally from the north of Finland, from Rovaniemi, the town where families visited at Christmas to visit Santa Claus. She had short blonde hair with a pink mohawk, heavily mascara’d eyes and black lipstick. She admitted to having eyed Patrick’s stump when he was sitting with Selena.
– I love guys with a stump. My first boyfriend had one leg. He was brilliant in bed. We were only seventeen but he was the best lover I’ve ever had. I’ve never met another one-legged guy until you.
– Does it turn you on?
– Yep. That’s alright, isn’t it? I’m not offending you, am I?
– No, of course not. What do you do for a living?
– I’m a sales manager for the electric company. But I have to go back home soon. Well, I still have a year or so left on my visa.
– That’s too bad.
– It’s OK. There’s nothing here for me here now after my divorce. This is not my country. I’d rather be back home, actually.
– Can we talk more after the game?
– Yeah. Come and find me.
The bell sounded. The men moved to meet new women. Forty minutes later, it was over. The men returned to their pints and their mates, the woman went back to their friends, except for Eija who went and sat down next to the solitary Patrick.
– Buy me a drink!
– OK, what would you like?
– Vodka lime. Double.
– Coming right up.
Patrick used one crutch to hop across to the bar and ordered Eija’s drink and a lager for himself. He delivered the drinks one at a time to their table and sat down so Eija had a full view of his stump. She reached out and put a hand on it.
– How did you get this?
– It’s a long story. I’ll tell you some time but I don’t want to talk about it right now. You like amputees, don’t you?
– Man, I love them. It’s the idea of a strong man, a good-looking bloke, you know, like you and then he’s perfect except for one little detail. That’s what I like. And of course the stump is interesting itself. It’s unusual and that makes a guy interesting.
– Even if you can’t see it?
– Oh, I usually get to see it. It turns me on. I don’t know why. It’s always been like that. Like with the boy in my class. None of the other girls wanted to be with him and I didn’t understand them at all. He was such a pretty boy. When I go home, I’ll find out what happened to him.
– Do you just like leg stumps?
– Yes I like them but I love to see a man with a hook too. It’s too much. Thinking of the long beefy arm without a hand. It’s so masculine. It looks so hot.
– You are a very unusual lady, Eija.
– Well, of course I know that. I get to have all the lovely good-looking men which no-one else will look at. Because they have a stump. Well, it’s more fun for me.
– Can we keep in touch, Eija? You’re a very interesting person.
Eija and Patrick met many times during the next weeks. Patrick loved making love to her after a twenty minute session of stump worship. Eija’s attention felt surprisingly erotic. The stump was still sensitive, being fairly fresh. Eija touched and caressed it gently, running her hands up and down the hairy half thigh. Patrick always remembered what she had said about arm amputations. It would be cool to forgo a hand in order to have a meaty hairy forearm stump, a phallic symbol well suited to foreplay and perhaps more. Patrick weighed up the pros and cons of another trip to his Thai surgeon. It would be a shorter visit this time. Two weeks should be enough. He had learned a lesson from Laura’s dismissal and discussed the new stump with Eija one morning after they had made love. She was excited by the idea. Being left-handed, Patrick decided he would have his right hand off so he could still crutch around using his natural left arm. And he would get a hook prosthesis too. He looked at his bank balance, talked with a prosthetist about having an artificial arm made and discussed the best time for a fortnight’s absence with Eija. He made arrangements with the surgeon and booked a two week package holiday trip to Bangkok in the cheapest possible hotel. The surgeon demanded twelve thousand dollars and undertook a superb amputation resulting in a handsome rounded stump two thirds the length of the original forearm. After two day’s observation in hospital, Patrick was discharged back to his hotel where he convalesced for the remaining time, tended by the same charming nurse who had visited him before. He left on schedule with a warning to take it easy for the next four to six weeks until the stump settled. Eija was ecstatic to see him at the airport, crutching along on one axillary, a trouser leg neatly folded up hinting at the stump inside and an empty sleeve where a hook would shortly be.
His arm stump healed perfectly. Curly black hair grew back to cover its rounded tip. It looked beautiful. Patrick arranged to be fitted with a prosthetic arm and was soon sporting a steel hook in place of his right hand. He was impressed with its functionality and appearance. Eija loved it but preferred being touched by the hairy stump inside the glossy black socket. Their lovemaking gained fervour with the addition of another stump. Eija was insatiable. Patrick was in love with her, not only for her sexual enthusiasm but also for her quick wit, her no-nonsense attitude to life and her political attitude. One evening she dropped a bombshell.
– I’m being made redundant. I have four weeks until they kick me out. Well, it’s now or never. I’m going back to Lapland. I want you to come with me.
– What? How am I going to get by? I am severely disabled, I don’t speak the language and I hate the cold.
– Don’t be silly. You only need a wooden leg. I can teach you the language in a few weeks and it’s only cold if you stand around outside in winter. Do you stand around outside in winter here? No, you do not. So you will not be cold. I can tell you this, our homes are much warmer than here. I’ll have to start looking for a flat for us. I take it you are coming?
Patrick looked at her. She stared at him, earnest, expectant.
– Eija, I will follow you to the ends of the earth.
– Good. That’s settled. Now I must search for a flat. Where would you prefer to live? In town or in the suburbs? I take it one bedroom will be enough, what do you think?
They set about preparing to leave their present lives behind. Patrick applied for a residence permit and was surprised to receive it in forty-eight hours. He notified the pension authorities that he was moving overseas, and arranged his affairs with his landlord, the power company and the dozen other authorities who needed notice. Eija bought two one-way flights to Rovaniemi on Finnair. And every evening they were together, Eija taught Patrick the basics of her complicated and beautiful language for an hour. It was serious business.
– You’ll have to work. In Finland, everyone works who is able. You have a good brain. I think I know a good place for you but we must first visit the työvoimatoimisto, the job centre. I can easily go back to teaching, so that’s no problem.
Eija sold most of her belongings during the weeks leading up to their departure. She gave kitchen equipment to her friends and a newly married couple were grateful to pay a pittance for her living room furniture. Patrick had little to sell, having rented his accommodation. He packed his good clothes and the suitcase waited in the hallway.
They timed their arrival in Rovaniemi so that Eija would have time to collect the keys to their apartment during normal working hours. The plane landed on a bright morning. The pilot welcomed them to Lapland in three languages and announced that the air temperature was currently twenty-three degrees below zero. Patrick looked at Eija in horror, who laughed.
– It’s not so bad. And it won’t be slippery, so don’t be afraid. You know, I think the first thing we do is get you a leg. That will look better when you go for a job. And when you come home, I will take it off for you.
– That makes me want to get one.
Their rented apartment was on the fourth floor of a shopping mall in the town centre. It had been freshly renovated. The kitchen was fully equipped. They would have to buy a washing machine but they had several days before it was necessary. They sat on the floor and Eija peeled Patrick’s clothes off.
– Make love to me, Patrick.
He fondled her thighs with his leg stump and her breasts with his hairy arm stump. Eija writhed in pleasure. Patrick entered her and thus the living room was christened.
Not having furniture, they spent the night in a nearby hotel. Patrick used his stumps to excite Eija until they were panting for sexual release. Eija switched languages and spoke to him only in Finnish. Patrick did not understand most of it but got the gist. Next morning, they bought furniture for same day delivery. The basics – a bed, a table and chairs, a two seater sofa and a screen. Eija called the local media company and ordered an internet connection, new SIMs for their phones and a tv service.
– We should get married.
– What? Do you mean it? Really? OK, let’s do it.
– If we’re married, you won’t need a residence permit any more and you can get a wooden leg from the health service. You need a leg before we can find you a job. So shall we get married next Saturday? I can book an appointment with the magistrate.
They were married the following Saturday. Patrick leant on his crutch and placed a chunky white gold ring on Eija’s finger with his hook. She placed its mate on his left hand ring finger. The magistrate straightened her papers, congratulated them and watched as Eija held onto her man striding elegantly on his crutch.
Over the next weeks, Eija and Patrick arranged to register the new husband as a permanent resident entitled to the full gamut of social services. His identity card was ready for collection after seven days at the police station. Eija found herself a job teaching third and fourth year students – before they start getting gobby, as she said. Patrick enrolled in an intensive language course and gradually discovered the way into the world’s most private language. He travelled alone to Oulu by express coach to be fitted with an artificial leg for which he received an invoice of nearly four hundred euros in total. He was proud of it and wore it daily for as long as possible. Eija loved to see it so he wore shorts at home. Both artificial limbs were always on display for her. By spring, Patrick was ready to return to work and found a position as a stock supervisor in the huge supermarket downstairs. He commuted to work by lift. The manager had seen him before, naturally enough, and was quite willing to offer a job to the cheerful sober double amputee foreigner. Patrick found the job suitably challenging and soon became one of the most popular members of staff. Productivity rose as a result. Management considered him for a leadership position.
Patrick was energised by his new lifestyle. He had a wife whom he loved and respected and felt the feeling was mutual. He had made friends with some decent people at work and enjoyed being there. He was proud of his stumps and enjoyed the exceptional sensations associated with his prostheses. He had one mental itch which would need scratching sooner or later. He wanted to use two artificial legs. He wanted another stump. His savings had been depleted by his previous amputations and by the expense of furnishing an entire apartment from scratch. He would have to try to save some money before he discussed another amputation with Eija. He was fairly certain she would be supportive. On Good Friday, they were both enjoying a late breakfast when he broached the subject.
– Eija, kuule. Tahdon olla jalaton. Eija, I want to be legless.
– Completely? You want two leg stumps? That would be exciting. But how will you carry on at work? Have you thought of that?
– I’ve been thinking about it all winter. I can carry on for a couple of months in a wheelchair at work. I need about a month off work.
– Look, you won’t get much of a summer holiday this year because you haven't earned enough days yet but next year you’ll be entitled to four weeks. Do it next year. You want another stump the same as the left one, right? And another wooden leg?
– They’re not wooden, Eija.
– Well, I know that, silly. What else do you call them? Wooden leg sounds nicer than proteesi. You know that’s what we call false teeth? If you say you have proteesit, people think you have false teeth.
– Well, I don’t have those. Alright then, we’ll wait until next summer and I’ll have my leg off so you have two hairy stumps to play with.
– That would be exciting. Let’s save some money for that. How much do we need?
– I guess about fifteen thousand plus flights and hotel.
– Do you want me to come with you?
– Do you want to see me as an invalid recovering from the amputation? It’s better that you see only the result afterwards. When it’s ready for you.
– OK, we’ll talk about that nearer the time. Oh, that’s wonderful! Something to really look forward to. Will you have two wooden legs or will you use crutches and one proteesi?
– Two would be better. I can already use one so one more shouldn’t be much of a problem. And I will be determined to walk on two artificial legs. And at home I can use those very short legs.
– Oh, I like those. They look really horny. Yes, we’ll get some of those too. I love you Patrick, just the way you are. But you will be even more sexy with two leg stumps. Let’s do it!
Eija bought a cheap second-hand car and they toured Lapland as far as Ivalo for the six days of summer holiday Patrick had earned. They regarded it as a belated honeymoon. Eija drove and Patrick sat next to her, baring his stumps in the endless sunshine. He hopped everywhere on one crutch and used his hook only at mealtimes. Eija was proud of her tall handsome hairy husband who knew what she liked. Patrick was fascinated to see more of the beautiful country he could now call his home.
Winter arrived far sooner than Patrick had expected. One day he was admiring the last of the autumn colours and the next morning everywhere was covered in snow. It would melt away over the next fortnight before the five month permanent snow arrived. The temperature was just a little below zero and the first snow turned to slush and made a disgusting muddy mess everywhere. Patrick was extremely grateful that he did not need to go out in it. The slush froze overnight into an uneven obstacle course for a man with a prosthetic leg. If only the proper winter arrived. He laughed at himself for thinking the same way as the local people. As a newly arrived foreigner, he had heard dozens of stories about proper winters from neighbours, friends and complete strangers.
In November he was called into the manager’s office for a chat. He limped in, and sat facing his young boss, cradling his hook in his left hand.
– Patrick, we need someone to take charge of the warehouse and coordinate deliveries. You know what needs to be done. Do you think you can handle it?
– Yes, I think so. Jaakko has already showed me the system and the ordering procedures in case he’s ill.
– Good. Well, unfortunately, Jaakko is leaving us in four weeks and we were hoping you could take over. What do you think?
– So I’d be off the floor and in the office?
– Yes, that’s right. It’s mostly an office job but of course you also need to keep an eye on the warehouse in addition.
– So more or less a desk job?
– Exactly.
Patrick immediately thought of doing the job from a wheelchair. He would return from the summer holiday with an empty trouser leg and a prosthesis on the other leg. He could either crutch about or use a wheelchair for a couple of months. It was perfect.
– I’d be very pleased to take over from Jaakko.
– Excellent. I hoped you would accept. Your salary will be five thousand five hundred a month and you will be entitled to forty-two days holiday per annum. We also need you to select someone from the warehouse floor to train as your possible replacement.
– Is that what Jaakko was doing? He selected me to learn his job?
– Yes.
– I had no idea.
– There was no reason for you to know. But now you do. I hope it gives you confidence.
– I am very grateful. Thank you, Ossi.
His new stump was now definite. He could continue his occupation as a totally legless man in a torso bucket if he wanted. But first he would consider living for a time as a quadruple amputee with symmetrical stumps which were Eija’s joy. He would consider asking Dr Charoensuk for an arm amputation at the same time. Eija would have to give her seal of approval, of course. What would she think of a limbless lover? A prosthetic husband? He could guess the answer.
Their savings mounted. They could each save about four hundred a month and after Patrick’s raise, the gross sum increased to about a thousand three hundred a month. By May, there was enough money available for Patrick’s new stump. He contacted the surgeon and explained that he required an identical leg amputation, the same as the one the surgeon had so skilfully created two years earlier. A date in late August was arranged, and Patrick organised work matters so that his absence was covered by reliable co-workers. He flew alone to Bangkok and shacked up in a three star hotel. The next morning, he arrived at Charoensuk’s familiar clinic.
– I am very happy to see you again, Mr Patrick. You have come to me for another new stump for your leg. It is very possible. I like to see my patient with two side body the same. You understand? So I think you also want same side body. You are good patient of mine. This time I give you special offer. If you want in future ask me to cut right arm, I will do now. No extra money. You understand? Free for arm.
– A double amputation for the price of one? That would be wonderful. It’s very kind of you. But I must ask my wife. May I call her?
– Yes please.
– Eija? Moi! Kirurgi tarjoaa käsiamputoinnin samaan hintaan. Mitä mieltä olet?
– Honestly? That sounds fantastic. Are you OK with two hooks? Are you sure? OK, do it. I love you. Moikka!
– She agrees. Please amputate my right arm exactly like the left. Same length. Same size.
– You are wise man. Come tomorrow at ten.
Patrick awoke from the anaesthetic two days later. His fresh stumps were sore but not painful. Dr Charoensuk had once again worked his magic. He lay comfortably in his bed, touching his bandaged left stump with the hairy right one. He looked at the new leg stump, anxious to know its precise dimensions. He was extremely satisfied with his newly symmetrical body. It had been years since he had last been symmetrical. He was going to rely on prosthetic limbs from now on for the rest of his life and nothing could bring him greater satisfaction. He knew what his artificial limbs were capable of. Now he would have twice as many and double his satisfaction.
He was returned to his hotel after five days and the familiar nurse returned each morning to change his bandages and apply fresh ones. Patrick thought about how he would leave the hotel for a taxi to the airport and how he would be able to move around. He could wear his artificial leg and try to operate his crutch with the artificial right arm. It might be possible. The airports all had wheelchairs easily available. People were amazingly helpful in Thailand. Someone would give him a piggyback ride if necessary. That would not be the case in Lapland. He called Eija and asked her to buy a cheap and cheerful wheelchair and bring it to the airport. He did not intend using it for very long.
Patrick looked a sorry sight when the time came to leave after his fifteen day vacation. A bellboy walked him to a taxi. Patrick moved on his prosthetic leg as well he was able, wrapping his prosthetic right arm around the young man’s neck. People stared at the unlikely figure but looked away demurely when Patrick glanced in their direction. The taxi driver helped him into a wheelchair at the airport and a delightful PR assistant attended him as far as the end of the air bridge where a stewardess took over. Patrick was seated and pampered all the way to Frankfurt. He lay back in his seat and closed his eyes, trying to sense his limbs. He was familiar with his left leg stump and the right arm stump but his new stumps still felt raw and the limbs somehow present. It was disconcerting but he guessed the sensations would soon ebb and he would be ready for his new life with four artificial limbs dedicated to and worshipped by his devotee wife in a winter wonderland. Limbless in Lapland.
T H E M A N W H O T R I E D T O O H A R D
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