My head comfortably resting on her chest, I look up at the evening sky, dusted with stars. The moon is almost full. It’s shining brightly right through the open window, letting in the most delicate summer breeze I could ask for.

I take a deep breath and let my head bob up and down along with Sydney’s breathing. She's exhausted, poor little shortcake. She fell asleep as soon as we let her keep her eyes closed for a few seconds. I crane my neck to kiss her cheek.

Rotating my hips, I let my body pivot and roll softly on my back before flipping over on my stomach again. I walk up to the end of the bed and, bottoms first, drop down on the cushioned pad. My heart sinks into my chest when I see my dressing aid fully set-up. This man… Never once does he miss an opportunity to make me happy.

Standing on my legs, I slide them into my panties and waddle forward to free them from their snaps. Then, I lean forward to enter the nightgown that hangs above my head. Arms up, I kick the small lever to my right and it falls imprecisely around me, most of the fabric tangled up against my face. When I finally manage to make sense of it, I slip my arms into their respective sleeves, force my head through the collar and make my way out of the room, my phone secured between my lips.

---------------------

“Hey Google, pause Netflix.”

“Sure.”

I shuffle to the side of the couch and stretch my neck towards Tristan and I’s room. Sydney’s making her way out, a loose shirt between her teeth. I knew I had heard noise coming from back there. I sigh and lean against the backrest, ogling at her naked breasts and cute little ass as she walks around the room to come and sit beside me.

“Need help with that?”

“I’m h‘ine, f‘hanks.”

Balancing on her rump, she lays the shirt flat between us before rolling it up to the collar. She jams it between her toes and brings it up to her head in an impressive display of balance. Ignoring her answer, I strut up to her and softly touch the tip of her nose with mine through the shirt, startling her. Her legs now at my sides, I sit on her thigh with my own on either side, barely brushing against the cushions beneath. I yank the shirt down, revealing her tousled hair and pursed lips, that I promptly kiss. While she’s unsure at first, I reach for her face with my arms, prop myself forward, press my body against hers, and only then does she decide to return the favor. She pushes her tongue in my mouth and I relish at the taste, at the sensations, at the contact of her insides with my own.

When I finally back away, I sensually lick my lips and fold myself in half to fix the shirt around her body. I sit back and tap my thighs with my arm, enticing her to lay her head on them, a demand to which she quickly complies. I look down at her and smile.

“I reckon you liked what you saw back there.”

“Liked is not exactly the word I would use, no.” She chuckles. “I think I forgot who I was for a moment.”

“Well, I know for a fact Tristan won’t forget about you.”

“Is he... alright?”

“Oh, he’s great. He just fulfilled two dreams at once, if you know what I mean.” If she were laying on a pillow on top of these legs of mine, I would run my stumps through her hair.

“What’s your dream, Alex?” Her question comes out of nowhere and leaves me without an answer. “Do you have one?” She brings her feet close to her rump and crosses her legs.

“Do you want something imaginary or something plausible?” I shrug. “Tristan is pretty much a dream come true for me. But I’d take a million dollars in a pinch, too.”

Sydney smiles and closes her eyes, snuggling herself harder against my stomach.

“Wanna go out and grab something to eat? I’m starving.” My stomach is, in fact, growling so loudly I can barely hear myself think.

“Just the two of us?” She raises her eyebrows.

“Well… yeah?” I open my arms. “You think I can’t handle that myself?” I smile cockily.

“It’s not…” She shrugs. “Sure, yeah. Why not.”

------------------------------

My wheelchair safely secured at the back of the bar, one of the passing waitresses kindly carries me over to our booth where Sydney is already flipping through the menu. I am plopped on the leather bench on the opposite side of the table and I scuffle forward to sit in front of her.

“Okay! This is happening!”

I tap my stumps nervously on the table, failing miserably at following the rhythm of the song that’s playing in the bar. Noticing my own menu in front of me, I lean forward, pressing my breasts against the ragged edge of the wooden table. Fuck. My arms are too short. I shift my weight on my left buttcheek and rotate my right leg beneath me to boost me up, gaining an inch or two, but not nearly enough. I look up to Sydney. She’s still mindlessly flipping through her own, using her lips to grab the side of the laminated sheets. I sit back and frown, thinking.

Pressing my arms on the placemat, I slide them to the side to try and recover the damned menu. Nothing moves. I try again, this time pushing down harder so that the friction between my skin and the paper can drag it towards me, but nothing does it. It’s too slippery, only the paper mat moves. That’s it. I give up. The people on the table next to us are starting to stare. Harder than before, I mean. I can see their looks. They’re wondering if they should continue to ignore me and let me find a solution and manage on my own, or offer their help and risk offending me. God I’m so embarrassed…

“Hi ladies! Should I bring…” Our waitress, Cali, according to her nametag, freezes. I’m still shuffling across the placemat with my stumps when she trots over to our table. Sydney looks up, finally noticing the hellscape I’m in, and nonchalantly pushes the menu a few inches my way with a foot. I snag it between my arms and get a taste of it when I flip it open. “What can… What can I get you two?” Her poor mind just melted I think.

“Well I’ve only just opened this thing, so maybe you can help me choose something to drink?” I set the tip of my arms on the surface and push down with my shoulders while standing on my legs at the same time. “Preferably one that comes with a straw.” I throw a wink at Sydney.

“Uhm…. Sure!” She proceeds to enumerate several mixes and drinks, each of them a combination of 5 or 6 ingredients, so much that after the second or third one, I become completely lost. “Oh, excuse me.. yes?”

Herself drowning in her explanations, it takes her a few seconds to notice that I’m flailing my arms as wide and as high as I physiologically can. “Stop, stop, stop…. The second one has apple juice and rum you said, right?” She nods. I point back her way. “That one then.”

“And for you?”

“Um, wait I saw something interesting at the end…” She brings up her right leg and raises her left knee. Then, she sets her heel against it to create a pivoting point that seems to increase the precision of her movement. She turns to the last page. “The Bloodiest Caesar. Please.”

“It’s served with a small burger on a skewer, is that okay with you?” She finishes taking note of my order and looks up at Sydney, her frown sinking a little deeper across her face.

“Oh, yeah, no, burgers aren’t really my.. my thing.. You know.. no hands and all” She looks down at her left shoulder and stretches it forward. “Is there another one without the burger?”

“Uh, yes, yes! The Bloodier Caesar comes with pickles instead.”

“That’ll be it, then.” She crams the menu between her big and second toe and hands it to Cali. The latter laughs nervously. “Oh and… Fries and nachos?” She looks back at me, shimmying her torso with excitement. “With extra guac.” She mouths it silently before licking her lips. She looks stunning in that flowery summer dress, even sitting.

“Oh yeah, perfect.”

Pressing against the side of the menu with my right arm, I try to jam it underneath the last page to flip it over on itself. One, two, three, four times, not happening. I twist my hips to change my angle, flattening the tip of my arm as much as I can in an attempt to create a fold of skin thin enough to get a hold of the damned thing. My other arm is on the opposite side, ready to create leverage. As soon as I manage to lift the right side, my left arm rockets rightwards, effectively flipping the menu in the air. It lands back on my left arm and I bring my right to sandwich the menu between my stumps and extend it towards Cali, barely further out than it was when it just laid on the table. Hesitant, her hand reaches in to pick it up.

“That was a lot more complicated than it could’ve been, but there it is.”  I slouch back, uneasy, looking back at her.

“Thanks a lot.. Ok then, coming right up. If there’s anything I can do to help or make it... easier for you girls….. Please, please let me know, okay?”

She lingers at the table for a moment, her fingers fiddling with the corner of the menu. “Now that you mention it, if they could already split the order on two plates in the kitchen that’d be great.” Sydney says with tact.

What a great idea, I never would’ve asked for that. I would rather struggle with my meal for half an hour and come back home utterly exhausted and still hungry than inconvenience them with any of my ridiculous demands. The skit with my menu can attest to that...

“Sure! Absolutely!”

“And straws!” Sydney smiles wide, resting her chin on her raised foot, dreamily looking back at me.

“Straws, of course.” She scribbles furiously on her pad as she walks away, drawing a thick circle around the word straws she had already written in bold capital letters.

I bring my attention back to the table, now barren except for the usual salt, pepper and ketchup packets off to the side. Eyes partially closed, like daydreaming, Sydney is still looking at me.

“What is it with you? You’ve changed a lot since we first met.” I ask her, sitting back up straight.

“You mean compared to 5 hours ago? Maybe it’s because you don’t actually know me. We literally just met.”

“It’s true, I don’t. But I know a lot of amputees. Every girl at my old job was.”

“What does that even mean? What does that have to do with anything? Being an amputee doesn’t define who you are.”

“No, but you’d be surprised at how much you can tell about someone with that information only.” My arms move around and about as I’m talking, just like someone with hands would move theirs. “There’s a shyness to it all. An unavowed embarrassment, deep down in your mind, of your disability. Below elbows all have this unconscious habit of fidgeting with their stump, hoping that covering it slightly with their hand will hide it from sight, or prevent even a single person from staring. Leg amps will practice their stride for days on end to look as inconspicuous as they can while wearing their prosthetics. I think it’s part of the packaged deal.”

“So you’re saying I’m different? From them?”

“That flower dress is fucking amazing, girl, I gotta tell you. If I had hands, I would have to bind them behind my back to prevent me from tearing it off from you... Mainly because I’ve already seen what’s hidden underneath it. But daring to wear that without arms is bold to say the least.”

“Daring? Bold?” She stretches her shoulders around, like trying to tear her skin apart out of sheer will. “I don’t have leprosy or Ebola, Alex, I’m just fucking disabled! Not like that’s my fault. Can’t I just wear what I want and be left alone?”

“Oh yeah, be my guest. I’m just saying it takes some balls to pull it off like you do. Standing as straight and as proudly as you do.. A lot of the girls I know prefer to make it less obvious. Going sleeveless is a hell of a statement, that’s all. It attracts the eyes.”

“Well, maybe there’s more to me than meets the eye.” We stare at each other with intent, as if arguing telepathically. She brings her foot down on the floor as our drinks arrive. “What’s your shtick then? If I can’t rock sleeveless without being sacred a national hero, what’s the idea with your kit?”

“Not much to be honest… But with four stumps there’s not much else I can do.” She is right.. My kit is just as revealing as hers. She helped me put on a plaid romper with short lace sleeves that leave nothing to be guessed. I watch her as she pulls on the piece of paper on her straw and blows it towards me. It quickly twirls upwards and ends up further back than where it started, landing on her own seat. I scoff. “Watch this.”

Securing my glass between my arms, I alternatively push with the right and pull with the left to rotate it until the straw faces me. I stick out my tongue and, pivoting my head 45 degrees, fish it out of my drink, holding it sideways between my teeth. From there, I slide it from one end to the other with my tongue, aiming the paper at her face. By the time she realizes what I’m about to do, it’s already too late. She lets out a short yelp and turns sideways to try and hide her face. Just like hers, however, the wrapper betrays me and flies way up towards the ceiling before crashing down right into my own glass. We both burst out laughing.

“THE ODDS!” She yells out, crying out tears of laughter.

“Damned you, fucking paper!” I lean forward again to dip my lips into the ice cold liquid. The sweetness of the apple juice goes along perfectly along with the tart of the rum. I manage to suck the paper into my mouth and spit it back out as graciously as I can on the side of my placemat.

“See? You didn’t seem like the kind of girl to do that when you walked in the apartment earlier. You seemed reserved, shy. Now it’s like you’re a totally different person.”

She takes a big swig of her Bloody before answering. “I mean, I was coming into a stranger’s home for a threesome. But it’s funny you mention that because I was about to say the opposite thing about you.”

“You were?”

“Yeah.” She takes a bite out of a pickle. They have been stacked and skewered to be used as decoration for her drink. Using her right shoulder, she kneads a spot behind her ear. “I thought you looked like the baddest bitch around. Making an ad on Facebook for a threesome, Jesus that’s pretty bold. But when I arrived and saw you, I kind of… felt pity for you for a while. Being so…”

“Limbless?” I ask, opening my arms. I pick my straw back up with my lips and sink it into my glass.

“Yeah, and.. and.. you know, all the things people always say about disabled people. I thought you looked weak, and.. and defenseless, and so fragile. I mean I am all those things too, but you know.. You have like… nothing. Nothing at all. If a random guy on the street decides to undo your seatbelt and throw you into a river, that's it. There’s nothing for you to fight back with. You’re as nimble as a pillow, basically.”

“Geez, that’s a pretty pessimistic way to look at it. Thanks for the new nightmare material..” I roll my eyes and take a looooooooooooong swig of my drink. “That’s perfect for my morale. Feels great to be compared to an inanimate object, again. My ex always said fucking me was like pummeling a bag of dirt with a head. Fucking toxic.”

“Ouch… Why did you go out with that guy if he treated you like this?”

“Oh, you know, the usual.” I twist my neck to scratch off an itch at the back of my head. “He insulted me for hours on end, but at the end of the day we would have sex. It was the only physical intimacy I could get.. And it reset the counter for the next day. I would’ve been a million times better off just grinding my mound on my mattress by myself.”

“See, that’s pretty contradictory to me compared to what I’ve seen of you today. Even without your limbs, never once did you stutter when moving around your place or or.. Asked for help, or looked vulnerable. You were 100% in control. I felt stupid and shy, yes, but you.. You looked absolutely stunning just wearing something so simple. To have so little yet rock it as hard as you did. I gotta admit you really impressed me.”

“And now I’m just an amputee out of her wheelchair...” I take another swig of apple and rum.

“No, it’s not exactly that… Like…” She mouths words to herself, thinking. “When we were making out, it felt like you had no limits. You looked ferocious, Alex. Like an uncaged animal, ravaging and doing whatever the fuck it wants. You made me change my mind. Even with such short limbs, I didn’t feel like you were limited in any way. You were the one calling the shots. You knew what you were doing. Fuck, I think you’re the sexiest girl I’ve seen in my entire life! You still are all of those things, look at your body in a mirror for a second and you’ll see what I’m talking about. But you look... different, now. Like the light has been switched off behind your eyes.”

“See, that’s why I was telling you about amputees before. Out in the open like this, I’m extremely self-conscious. I hate how people always stare or judge me, and feel pity for how miserable my life has to be. Back in high school, I got pretty sick and had to stay at the hospital for a few days. I heard two of the nurses saying they’d rather choke me with a pillow than help me go back to my stupid normal life.”

“Holy shit that’s horrible…”

“I was thirteen, Sydney. Imagine what that kind of comment does to the self-esteem of a teenager. Explains a lot about why I became a stripper… Compensating for all the negative attention I’ve been getting my entire life.” I take a hold of my glass with my arms and fiddle with it absently. I lift my thighs alternatively to scrape them off the seat’s heated leather. “But then, I met him. I’ve called him my savior before, although he doesn’t like it. He says he’s just a man in love but... When I’m at home with Tristan, I don’t have to be ashamed of my body.” I tap the side of my breast with my left arm, meaning to touch my heart. “He loves me for who I am, I don’t care if he’s staring, he actually fucking likes it. Hell, I’m a living fantasy for him. He spent half of his life dreaming about amputees and jacking off to his own imagination. Now, he gets to kiss and fondle and fuck one with every drop of sexual desire his body can contain. He’s living a dream. Do you have any idea how gratifying that is for me?”

“I’m not sure about dating devotees, no. There are a lot of weirdos out there, I’m sure you know. Don’t you think he’s dating you just for your amputations? Don’t you feel like, I don’t know, just an objectification of his fetish?”

I mumble her words back to her. “Objectification of his fetish… News flash, that’s also what you were to him not even 2 hours ago. Get your head out of the water, Sydney.” I tap a stump on the table. “What do you think people are looking for when they’re swiping on Tinder? Personality? Pedigree? Nah, girl. Everybody makes their choice with the physique. They’re looking to hook up with a 10 when they’re barely even a 6. People always choose the cutie face, the perky nose, the perfect figure, the bubble butt…” I join my stumps and rub their ends against each other. “What difference would it make if my stumps were the reason he swiped? Tristan was brought to the strip club not because he wanted to see a freakshow, but because his friend knew he was desperately into it. Into us.” I lay my arms on the table in front of us, like reaching for hands we neither have. “Long sleeves, short sleeves, these stumps are all I get. There’s no hiding them. In my wheelchair, I feel trapped. An uncaged animal you called me……. that’s funny because it’s exactly how I feel when I’m strapped on there. Like a circus freak. All I can do is sit there and endure. But not with him. With Tristan, I feel wanted. Doesn’t it make you feel good to know that you’re a living goddess in his mind?”

“I’m not sure, no. Tonight was… incredible, but I’m still creeped out by random DMs asking for pictures of my stumps.”

“Yeah, for that you’re right... ” I take a sip of my drink and look down at my arms. I sigh. “Come try and walk even a few feet with my stumps and we’ll see how that opinion of yours changes..” She shifts in her seat. She frowns, lost in her thoughts.

That’s the moment Cali decides to come back with our order. They’re set in two separate plates like Sydney asked, along with sides of sour cream, as well as homemade salsa and guacamole.

“I had the cooks scrap the nachos off the pan to prevent you from burning yourselves, turns out they would’ve done it anyway for the portionning..” She stands there again, upright despite her earlier strokes. “Do you need anything else? And don’t be shy to ask.”

“Not for now, we’ll ring if there’s anything.”

“Good. Great! Bon appétit then!”

She leaves us to our conversation, which would look like a ruined battlefield if our words had left scorch marks across the wooden table. Still stuck in the fog of her own mind, Sydney finally resurfaces with the stupidest grin across her face. I bite down on the paper wrapper of my utensils and tear it apart with the help of my tongue.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” I chuckle. She’s one gorgeous girl, getting checked out like that by her is making me tingly. “Eat your damn fries!”

I grab my fork between my lips and stab three fries. Then, I angle it halfway towards me leaning on the plate and delicately release it. I extend my arm and press it against the handle of the fork to create a lever and finally crane my neck to take a bite. Sydney, however, isn’t so rushed to taste her own. Her smile has widened even more. She’s had an idea. I don’t need to know her more to guess that much.

“What is it?” I shrug to show my irritation.

“Alex, if I swear I’m telling the truth, will you believe me even if what I’m saying sounds absolutely impossible?”

“It’s not like I can run away from it anyways, huh.” I chuckle.

“Come on, be serious.” She bites down on the corner of a nacho and pulls back quite a mouthful. Her toes make a brief appearance to push it all past her lips. “Hear me out, alright?” Her words are muffled by the amount of chips she crammed inside her mouth.”

“Yeah. Yeah, sure.” She pushes my plate a little closer to me so that I can simply lean forward and reach most of my fries with my mouth. “I’m all ears.”

She leans forward, standing slightly, and comes as close to my ear as she possibly can. She whispers : “Do you believe in magic..?”