I rolled my wheelchair into the board room. It was the first meeting since I had 
been appointed president. I was elated.  Since the appointment I had been 
secretly practicing the words. "President," I  said to myself, "Stephanie 
Robinson, President."

The board had selected me in the wake of the sexual scandal that had toppled the 
previous top management and led to the criminal indictment. They were facing 
several charges. It was an especially sweet victory since…

My spirit was especially soaring because I had just opened an email from Norman. 
I smiled reading the beautiful email from Norman. Dear, sweet Norman, still 
thoughtful, mixing our intense long distance relationship with his deep feelings 
for his lovely wife. 

His wife is a beautiful woman and she would totally understand what the last 6 
months been like since my accident. If she knew of me and Norman

Inevitably, I thought about the months in traction with Norman beside me, 
helping me.  It had been almost exactly 6 months since the accident that had 
almost cost me my legs. 

I was fortunate that it did not cost my legs. I had no memory of the hit. I was 
doing my morning jog when out of nowhere a police car run a red light in Ottawa 
and hit me. I recovered from the concussion and the broken arm over the next few 
weeks but my legs were, still are a different story.  Multiple fractures in both 
legs.

But the first few weeks were a series of operations to put pins and metal bars 
in my legs to save them. The end result was months in leg traction. Both legs 
attached to various weight.

Norman had been there for me. How he did it I would never know but when I felt 
discourage he would come and please me mentally and yes sexually. Because you 
have both legs broken in traction doesn't mean you don't haves sexual needs. It 
actually the opposite. The long plaster cast covering my legs was turning me on.

I had lost five months of work in the hospital and in rehabilitation. The 
rehabilitation was just starting. I was still casted. Both of my legs were in 
full leg cast and for now I was using a wheelchair to get some mobility

Before the accident, I had relied on my tall and slim presence to quietly 
dominate, please and get my way. I had dressed for the occasion, from very 
business like to very short sexy skirts showing off my long legs. I augmented my 
height with heels and could command most any situation. I was confident that my 
star was rising. When I came back, I was sure the tables had been turned

I was in a wheelchair with both legs casted sitting on leg rest and, by 
definition, shorter than everyone else. 

The president was especially obnoxious. He started telling me that my career was 
on hold until I got usage of my legs again. When I objected, he claimed that he 
only met that woman in wheelchair with broken legs were not sexy or boardroom 
material. I hated the bastard and longed for revenge. I couldn't think of a way 
to get it.

Norman was the only bright spot in the first six months. 

Norman had a quiet charm. For one thing, he was unfailingly considerate and 
respectful. Norman had uncanny powers of observation without seeing. He could 
feel when I was in trouble and needs. I came to appreciate his skills, 
intelligence and honesty.

What surprised me the most was the ways that he protected his wife and created a 
relationship like very few person can ever pretend to have in a lifetime with 
me. First there were emails. He made me feel beautiful and sexy even with both 
legs broken. How he described my sexy legs inside the casts. When he came for 
visits in the General hospital in Ottawa we never spoke about how he managed to 
explain to his wife his sudden needs to come to Canada - it just happened.

Sometimes, when I left another casting procedure and returned to my hospital 
room in pain from all the handling of my legs outside their protective cast, he 
would be there waiting for me with flowers, listen to me for a while and then 
say, "Let it go, Ms. Robinson. Tomorrow is another day." Then I would laugh and 
unwind a bit.

Much later, back at the office I was dreading interacting socially with all 
those people who didn't respect me because of my chair and my broken legs. I  
especially dreaded talking to that son of a bitch, Harry. He was the president

 I began the festivities by visiting the punch bowl 

As the alcohol warmed the occasion, the joking began. Inevitably, some of the 
secretaries were coaxed to bare their bottoms and sit on the photocopier for 
portraits of their nether parts. None of them complied. I marveled at the 
seeming good humor in enduring the harassment.

The most insistent was Harry the swine. Harry turned to me. 

"Hey, Stephanie," he said, "Now that you're no threat to me let me take your 
picture. I'll bet that with your broken legs you will look very helpless."

In a sudden insight, I realized how I had handled him and those like him in the 
old days. I would draw myself to my full height and press my legs together in a 
symbolic resistance to violation.

Harry, the asshole, had found my limit. I didn't give a shit anymore about my 
future in the company. I only wanted to lash out at the prick. I drew back my 
arm to throw my drink in his face.

Before I could act on my impulse I heard Norman's uncharacteristically loud 
voice. 

"Ms. Robinson," he said, "Let me drive you home.." I knew he was right. I was 
more than a bit tipsy. I was still getting used to my wheelchair.

I said, "I'll let you drive me on one condition."

He looked at me quizzically.

"You have to call me Stephanie when you visit me at work, I want people to know 
about us." I smiled

"No problem, Stephanie," he said. We set off down the elevator to the garage and 
his car. He helped me slid into the seat after backing up the seat to leave 
space for my broken legs. He folded my chair and put it in the trunk.

As we drove out of the garage I began a long diatribe about Harry, the son of a 
bitch. After I had vented my complaints, Norman said simply, "Just trick him 
Stephanie."

"What do you mean," I demanded.

"He only gets ahead by intimidating people and then using them. He's not really 
very clever. And he's not honest either. He's attracted to you right now in your 
chair with the cast. Tease him and you can get him for sexual harrasment."

I wanted desperately to believe him.

"In the mean time," he said, "Just let it go." I smiled looking at my and 
wondering…

Part 2 to come