Dev Dreams, Volume One (12 page)

“You've never even read her,” Melissa said.
Ricky saw Sylvia shoot her a look, but Melissa seemed oblivious to
it.

“I don't have to,” the friend said, “I've
read enough about it to know that I don't want anything to do with
it.”

“That's right,” the friend's husband put
in.

“That is so stupid,” Melissa said, her voice
getting louder. “How can you intelligently attack her philosophy
when you've never seen what she herself had to say about it?”

“Have you read it, Ricky?” Sylvia
interrupted.

“I have,” he said, “I've read all her
work.”

“Really?” Melissa said, distracted from
attacking her sister's friend, “Which is your favorite?”

“Although I like the unique structure in We
The People, I'd have to say The Fountainhead is my favorite. That
said, I don't think the ideals in that book can ever be translated
into real life. The characters are not real enough, not true to
human behavior and emotion.”

This earned him a genuine smile from Melissa
and a gleam in her eye that told him she wasn't drunk, despite the
amount of alcohol she had consumed.

“Can I smoke in here?” Melissa said to the
general table.

Her sister hissed, “This is not a club!”

When the dinner finally wrapped up, Sylvia
thanked Ricky for coming, but pointedly ignored Melissa. As they
watched everyone else leave, Ricky could sense a sadness in
Melissa, maybe a disappointment. “Do you want to come back to my
place?” he said.

She grinned. “Absolutely,” she said.

“I'll drive.”

In the car he stole glances at her in the
passenger seat. She was strangely quiet.

“Why does your sister even invite you to
these things?” he asked.

Melissa sighed. “I don't know. I guess she
keeps hoping that with enough time and effort she can turn me into
someone else.”

“That would be a shame.”

Melissa smiled and turned on the radio.

When they arrived at his place, Melissa was
bounding with energy again. She hovered nearby while he got his
wheelchair from the back and pulled his body onto it. Once they
were on the elevator, she leaned over him from behind, her arms
coming down on either side of his chest and her curls tickling his
face. She kissed his neck and then he leaned his head back and she
kissed his lips from behind.

She was pulling at his shirt as he wheeled
towards the apartment door. “Hang on, hang on,” he said, fumbling
for his keys.

“Which way is the bedroom?” she said once
they were inside.

“Hop on, I'll give you a ride,” he said.

She laughed and sat on his lap, running her
fingers up and down the back of his neck into his hair. He
deposited her on the bed and told her to wait. When he came back
from the bathroom, she was already naked.

He sat in front of the bed and she on it on
her knees. She leaned forward and put her hands on his chair, on
either side of his legs, and kissed his lips, then kissed along his
jaw and took his earlobe into her mouth and sucked on it. He
shivered.

“Make room,” he said. She backed up and he
grabbed the edge of the bed, yanking himself onto it. He didn't
have a chance to pull his legs up before Melissa was unbuttoning
his shirt. In her impatience, she gave up on the buttons and just
ripped the shirt open. Ricky lay back, his legs dangling off the
bed, his feet still half on and half off the wheelchair. He kissed
her plump lips and brushed his tongue lightly against hers. Her
hair fell forward over his face.

As she sat up and went for his pants, Ricky
said, “Give me a minute, let me get onto the bed.” He lifted each
leg up and maneuvered more to the middle of the bed. He was propped
up on his hands and looked down at the way his legs lay at odd
angles to each other. Then Melissa unzipped his pants and pulled
them off by the cuffs, which knocked Ricky off his hands and he
fell back against the bed. She came up and lay beside him, naked
flesh against naked flesh. He reached a hand down and ran his
finger between her legs, feeling the welcoming moist warmth.
Melissa flung her head back, a guttural moan sounding in her
throat.

She mounted him and leaned forward, her
breasts pressed against his chest and rocked hard while clinging to
his shoulders with her fingernails. Her moans of pleasure were
right next to his ear, her breath tickling. He ran his hands over
her smooth back and held onto her hips, feeling the pelvic bone
just beneath her skin.

She raised herself onto her hands and the
shadow of her body fell across his. While she continued to push
against him, he flicked his finger against her clit and she sat all
the way up, arched her back and screamed a release unlike anything
he had heard before. She fell back down beside him giggling and he
got an arm under her shoulders and pulled her to him.

“You should know,” Melissa said, “No guy has
ever been able to handle me.”

“That's because they weren't me,”Ricky said,
squeezing her shoulder.

“Is that so?” she said

“Absolutely.”

“Oh good,” she sighed. “You're sexy and
you're nice to boot. I like you.”

“You do?”

“I'm sorry, wasn't it obvious?”

Please visit me at my website
http://www.ruthmadison.com/current-fiction/ where you can learn
about all my new writing projects, the sequel to (W)hole, free
stories, and a blog about disability and society. –Ruth

AVAILABLE NOW

Ruth Madison's debut novel, (W)hole

Looking out toward the Charles River,
Elizabeth stopped short at the sight of an unexpected figure. At
first all her eye caught was the glint of sun against metal. As was
her habit, her head darted quickly to confirm that it was round
metal, that it was the spokes of a wheel. Usually when this
happened to Elizabeth, the wheel turned out to be attached to a
bicycle. This time it wasn’t a bicycle, but the very thing
Elizabeth’s mind kept a constant watch for.

Across the water she could see a young man in
a red wheelchair. He was sitting close to the edge and watching the
swirling, dark water. His hands sat folded in his lap and he didn’t
seem to notice the wind dancing with stray bits of his loosely tied
black hair. He wore a brown coat, and jeans covered his compact
legs. His feet were tucked neatly below him.

Time may have slowed. Though she was across
the river, Elizabeth felt as though she stood just in front of him
and they two were the only breathing creatures in the world. There
was nothing else. I want you.

Elizabeth’s body threatened to wrench itself
from her control. She could feel her skin flushing. Her gut ached
and cried out. She didn’t know who he was, but she wished that she
could. The longing started in her stomach and stretched up to her
lungs and throat. Though she didn’t often see disabled men in the
harsh New England climate, whenever she did see a wheelchair, the
same reaction overtook her body.

For a moment she allowed herself to imagine
being close to this man; brushing her fingers through his black
hair, touching the muscles in his arms, and watching him adjust his
lifeless legs. Even from here she could tell he was paraplegic and
there was nothing temporary about the wheelchair.

“Hey, Elizabeth! What are you looking
at?”

Elizabeth snapped out of her daze and saw her
friends several yards ahead, waiting for her. “The water,” she
said, “It’s so beautiful this time of year.”

She rushed ahead and dragged them with her so
they would not have the chance to see the man. Just before they
turned the corner, Elizabeth snuck one last glance back. He hadn’t
moved, and his eyes remained locked on the rushing water.

COMING SOON

The sequel to (W)hole...

The reaction was not what Elizabeth had been
hoping for. She uncurled her long legs and put her feet back down
on the floor. She tried to sit up straight. If she looked like an
adult, her parents would take her seriously.

Her mother, Susan, placed a glass of wine
down on a small round table beside the sofa. Her father, David,
cleared his throat and said, “It's just that the school is so close
to us, it would save a lot of money to have you live at home. That
was one of the perks of choosing this school.”

“But it's part of the college experience to
live in a dorm.” Elizabeth cringed as she heard a little bit of a
whine creep out at the end. She had to behave like someone mature
enough to live on her own. “I don't want to miss out,” she
added.

“I'd feel better if you were here,” Susan
said, not quite looking at Elizabeth, but rather at the fern behind
her.

It was the opposite of what she would have
said a year ago. Ever since Elizabeth became a teenager Susan had
been trying to get her to be more outgoing and social. She had
pushed her daughter to go out more, spend time with friends, stay
out late even on school nights. That all changed when she found out
about Elizabeth's boyfriend, Stewart.

Susan should have been delighted when
Elizabeth finally started dating. She had tried many times to
orchestrate meetings between Elizabeth and boys in her class.
Stewart was not what Susan had in mind. Elizabeth wondered if on
some level her mother knew the truth. Neither of them were going to
say it, neither could talk about it. It had been scary for both of
them, but Elizabeth was learning to let go of the fear and embrace
her sexual difference, her devoteeism, the desire for disability.
Susan was still afraid. She didn't know the word for it, but
Elizabeth still thought in some deep instinctual part of her brain,
Susan knew.

“This was
his
idea,” Susan
muttered.