Paradox

By Dev Love Press

A diverse collection of romantic short stories featuring men with disabilities from a variety of dev authors such as Annabelle Costa, Ruth Madison, Amy Ahn, and Sakura Sakuran. Including an introduction by the famed reviewer, DevoGirl.

Tokyo Story - Sumiko has feelings for her friend Hiroki, a congenital amputee, but can their friendship develop into something more?

Knight in Shining Metal - After an unsuccessful night out on the town, paraplegic Ricky meets an unexpected woman and learns there’s more than one kind of damsel in distress

The Best Friend - Two friends: one gorgeous and the other cute, kind, but in a wheelchair. Libby is so busy pursuing the first, will she ever realize the feelings she has for the other are more than just friendship?

The Surgeon - Joel was a promising surgeon with a career on the rise when an accident left him a low-level quad with limited use of his hands. His confidence shattered, he can't see the real motives of the two women who are interested in him.

...and more.

140K words. The majority of the proceeds are donated to the charity organization LifeRollsOn.Org

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dev Love Press
• Release date: May 28, 2012
• ISBN: 9781476274386

Dev Love Press

Dev Love Press was founded in June 2012 by award-winning romance novelist Ruth Madison in order to fill the void in the industry regarding the portrayal of individuals with physical disabilities. Her debut novel (W)hole (now in its second edition) was an award finalist in the romance category of the USA Book News’s National Best Books Awards in 2009.Dev Love Press is looking to fill a hole in the world of books. There are so few novels where characters who have real flaws and real struggles, such as physical disabilities, are able to achieve love. We at Dev Love Press think that needs to change!We’re building up a stable of books with love stories where the characters struggle physically against great odds to find love and acceptance with their perfect match.

Book preview

Introduction

The stories and poems in this volume are all the work of contributors to a website called Paradevo, which is dedicated to devotees of disabled men. A devotee is someone sexually attracted to a person with a disability.

While we all strive to embrace our sexuality, being a devotee can be a strange and alienating experience. A lot of the standard romance narratives in fiction and film are not satisfying to us: too often disabled men are absent, or asexual, or presented as horrifying or pitiable. Most people have never even heard of devotees, don't know we exist, and many of us grew up thinking we were the only ones who felt this way.

Ten years ago, Lee and I started Paradevo as a site for people like us. We were frustrated with the fact that most devotee websites seemed to be primarily about devotees of disabled women. We wanted to create a place where devotees of disabled men could come to find validation and acceptance, as well as to read stories that speak to our particular interest. Over time, with the addition of a message board, the site has grown in ways we never imagined, into a vibrant community. For many of us devotees, it is our home on the internet, a place to talk with others like us and know we are not alone. At the same time, we value the contributions of men with disabilities who have taken the time to get to know us and find out what we are all about by participating on the message board. They provide us with insight into their lives and the realities of living with a disability.

The contributions in this volume represent the range of interests and points of view on the Paradevo website and message board. Despite the name, Paradevo is not only for devotees of paraplegics, but any disability. The stories here not only deal with spinal cord injury, but also cerebral palsy and amputees. Most of the material was written by devotees, but So Cold, So Far Gone and Number 16 are by disabled men. While most of the stories are romance or erotica, Devotee Manifesto is about growing up as a devotee, and So Cold, So Far Gone is a poem about disability. The Surgeon and The Best Friend were originally posted on the website, but the rest of the material appears in this volume for the first time.

There still isn't much reading material out there to satisfy the devotee imagination, but we're starting to make our voices heard. We hope that this book encourages people to write more.

This book is dedicated to the members of the Paradevo community, and to devotees everywhere. You are not alone.

Devo Girl

February 2011

Tokyo Story

by Sakura Sakuran

Hiroki leaned across the table at Foresta, pushing aside the empty coffee cups. Hey Sumiko, he said, grinning but looking a bit nervous, Let’s take a trip down to Izu.

Sumiko felt a little flutter of joy in her stomach, but she just nodded happily. Ok.

She had met him only a few months before, in the spring, when they were both starting their senior year at Hayata University. She was in the International division, and he was in the Department of Literature, so their paths might never have crossed, but the first weekend of the new school year, the film club had thrown a party to attract new members, and he had come along.

Sumiko could not forget the moment she first laid eyes on him. A commotion by the door had caught her eye, then the crowd sort of parted and she saw a guy in a wheelchair, pushing carefully through the crowd, trying not to hit anyone. Sumiko knew it was rude to stare, but she couldn’t take her eyes off him. He was so different from anyone she had ever met before. The wheelchair had foot plates, but no feet rested on them. He seemed to have no legs at all, except one longish, misshapen stump that curved around his lower body, like he was sitting cross-legged. His right arm ended just below the elbow, tapered off to a point. His left arm was the normal length, but on his left hand, he had only three fingers. Like a cartoon character, she thought absurdly. His appearance was shocking; at first she didn’t even want to look, yet he was the most fascinating, beautiful boy she had ever seen. His arms and shoulders were taut and muscular, wiry but bulging in the biceps. His face was long and sophisticated, with a high nose and large, deep-set, wide eyes with double eyelids. His skin was elegantly pale, and his hair was longish and cut so that it looked slightly wavy. Just then, she saw him say something and grin up a friend. His front teeth were slightly crooked, which gave him a cheerful, carefree kind of look. Even his wheelchair was different from the ones she had seen in pictures and on TV. It was so streamlined and sporty. There were no handles, and the backrest was low. It was painted red and white, and somehow it reminded her more of a mountain bike than a wheelchair.

Sumiko was riveted. She hardly even noticed her friends come in, barely greeted them. She had always thought of her life as ordinary. She came from an ordinary family in Chiba. Her father was a salaryman, and her mother was a housewife. She had studied hard and gotten into a good school, but beyond that she didn’t have any plans. She had always felt, deep inside, beneath the ordinary exterior, that she was somehow different. She did all the right things, had ordinary friends, but secretly, she knew she wasn’t like them, although she would never have said so. She knew she was pretty enough, because boys were always asking her out, but after one or two dates she would lose interest. In high school, then college it was the same. Her friends teased her, and she got a reputation for being cold, but those regular boys just couldn’t hold her interest.

A fascination with foreign films had lead her to join the film club, to major in French, then to study abroad in Paris for a semester the previous year. She had enjoyed her time there, but had come home much the same as she had been before. Wherever she was, she found herself wishing she were somewhere else.

But now she felt as if the ground were slipping, sliding away under her feet, as a desire more powerful than any she had ever felt before gripped her. Normally she was rather shy and reserved, but before she knew what was happening, her feet were, as if on their own, taking her in his direction. It was a party, after all. The whole purpose was for people to meet each other, right?

He was sitting off to one side, drinking beer from a plastic cup. She waited until the person he was talking to wandered off, then boldly walked up and introduced herself.

Hello, she said rather formally. I’m Sumiko. Welcome to the film club. She bowed awkwardly.

He repeated the same stiff little bow, and said, I’m Hiroki, nice to meet you. He gave her a crooked grin. Sumiko, that’s a nice name.

Oh no, it’s terribly old-fashioned. It sounds so dark, she said, blushing hotly. She flailed around for something to keep the conversation going. Did you come here with a friend? she asked.

Yeah, I came with those guys, he pointed with his chin to a group of clean-cut looking seniors. I’m friends with Yamada.

Oh, you mean the club president? Are you thinking of joining? But you’re a senior, too, right? Sumiko felt herself starting to babble.

Hiroki grinned at her again. No, it’s too late to join, I’m just here as a guest. But do you think I could come to some of your screenings? I really like those foreign movies you show, like those old French ones from the 60s.

Really? Sumiko squeaked. Me too! That had been the start. He came to all their screenings, and afterwards they would linger outside under the pine trees in the dark, deserted campus, discussing the films. Soon they started meeting in the afternoons after classes at Foresta, the one wheelchair accessible café near campus and the train station. Sumiko had never noticed before, but now she realized that all the tiny cafes and restaurants by campus were either up or down stairs, or were too narrow, or only had chairs bolted to the floor by a counter.

So you’ve never eaten at any of them? she asked.

Hiroki shook his head. It’s so annoying. You know in other countries, there are laws about universal access, but in Japan everything is so cramped.

Well you’re not missing anything, Sumiko replied. Those restaurants around here are all terrible. They both laughed. He was so easy to be around. She had been so nervous at first that she might say the wrong thing and offend him, but he was always light-hearted and quick to joke around, even about his disability.

One time, thinking it might be nice to try someplace new, Sumiko suggested they go to Takadanobaba, the bigger train station, where there were a lot more restaurants and shops. She walked there frequently, but somehow she had never noticed what a steep hill it was from campus to the station. As she watched Hiroki struggling to push up the hill, she felt intensely guilty. Because his right arm was so much shorter than his left, he had to lean over to the right to push, and she suddenly realized what a tiring, inefficient position it was. As she trudged slowly up the hill behind him, she was in an agony of indecision. Should she offer to push him? But his chair didn’t have any handles, and she was afraid of making him angry by offering unwanted help. By the time they reached the top of the hill, he was red-faced and sweating, although it was cool day in early spring. Worst of all, when they got there, the restaurants were no more accessible than the ones right next to campus, and they ended up in a cheap café almost exactly the same as Foresta.

I’m sorry, said Sumiko as she sat down across from him. This was a mistake, I shouldn’t have suggested it.

Hiroki shrugged. It’s ok. I should have asked you for help, but I didn’t want you to think I’m lazy.

What? Sumiko exclaimed. Don’t tell me you did that because you were trying to impress me? She had expected him to make a joke, but for once he just blushed and looked away. Was he trying to impress her? Sumiko buried her face in her menu to hide her embarrassment. After that, they stuck to the same old place by campus.

Hiroki also had a huge collection of DVDs at his apartment, and soon he was inviting her over to watch them in the evenings. He lived near the Hayata campus, on the first floor of a decaying old concrete block apartment building.

The rent’s cheapest on the first floor anyway, he said with a grin. I guess everyone wants to live upstairs, even though there’s no elevator.

The first time she went to his apartment, she was surprised to see him stop in the genkan, put on his brakes, then turn around and wiggle down out of his wheelchair on his stomach. The apartment was quite large by Tokyo standards, although rather old. The entry faced directly into a wide kitchen, which was flanked on either side by two Japanese-style rooms with tatami mats and sliding doors. The six-mat room he seemed to use as a bedroom, and the eight-mat room was set up as a study, with a low table, computer, and a TV resting on a bookcase laid on its side, which was crammed with DVDS. There were books and more DVDs lined up all around the walls. Sumiko realized that except for a few step-stools set in strategic locations, everything was arranged at floor-level. She had not imagined him out of his chair before, and now she was amazed to watch him moving around so easily without it. He stood easily on the stump of his right leg, while the left one, which was longer, curved around for balance. He usually left it bare, and now she saw why. He swung himself forward easily on his left hand, moving swiftly across the kitchen, as she struggled to take off her shoes.

He turned and gave her a mischievous grin. Surprised? he asked. She just nodded, unsure what to say. She wanted to tell him that she thought he was so graceful, but she was afraid he might think that was girly.

So you don’t use the wheelchair inside at all? she asked.

He shook his head. It would damage the tatami. Besides, when I was a kid, I got around like this all the time. I hardly used the chair at all. My old lady used to stick me in the kiddy seat on the back of her bike and take off, really fast. I must have looked funny, hanging on for dear life with just one hand. He shook his head at the memory. Do you want something to drink? he asked, a bit formally.

Sure, she said, and watched, still fascinated, as he pulled some glasses out of the bottom cabinets. She would later discover the top cabinets were all empty. He filled the glasses with cold green tea from the refrigerator, and set them on a tray along with some senbei rice crackers in plastic packs. Then he lifted the tray, balancing it carefully between his left hand and right arm, and walked to the study. It was a slow, awkward sort of walk, rocking from side to side and sort of pulling himself forward with his left leg, but he didn’t spill any of the tea.

Sumiko quickly sat down across from him and helped herself to some senbei. You’re so formal! she exclaimed. I feel like I’m visiting someone’s grandmother!

Hiroko laughed. My old lady was really strict about guests and things like that. I guess she didn’t want me to make excuses for bad behavior.

Your mom sounds really tough, she said.

Yeah, she’s totally no-nonsense about everything, he said. When people would stare at me or say something rude, she would just look them up and down and say, ‘What have you got to be so proud of?’ They laughed.

So you live by yourself? Sumiko asked. She knew his parents lived just outside the city, in Tachikawa, so she had been a little surprised that he didn’t live at home.

Yeah, he said. When I was in high school, I couldn’t wait to live on my own, to prove I could be independent. At first I did everything myself here, but now I have a cleaning lady come in once a week to do all the laundry and vacuuming and air out the futons and everything. I did it myself for a while, but it was a big pain, and I realized even regular people don’t do that if they don’t have to. Sumiko laughed.

After that, Sumiko went to his place regularly to watch movies. They would get bento box dinners from the Family Mart down the street, and watch French films, sometimes two in a row. But she was always careful to leave well before the last train home. She didn’t want to seem forward, and the thought of sleeping over when they hadn’t so much as kissed made her nervous.

Her favorite film was Belle de Jour. Catherine Deneuve was so beautiful, so sophisticated, but it was more than that. She had a secret. A separate life, that no one else knew about. That scene near the end, when she leaned over her husband, looked at him so tenderly, it gave her chills. They watched it over and over, with Sumiko sometimes reciting the lines in French.

So when you were in Paris, did you go out to cafes and pretend to be Catherine Deneuve? Hiroki teased her.

Sumiko laughed. Oh yes, I was just like her! But the truth was, she had felt mousy and slight, with her plain soy-sauce face, compared to the buxom, charismatic Parisian women. It was because of these films she had gone to Paris, but being there only seemed to emphasize the gulf between herself and the fantasy world she saw in them.

As the semester wore on, Sumiko spent more and more time with Hiroki, and her friends started to notice. She wanted them to be happy for her, and she wanted to share with them how she felt about him, but right away she could tell it was impossible. The look on their faces when they saw her with him said it all. Her friend Eri even took her aside and asked point-blank why she was with him.

But you’re so cute! Eri said. You could date anyone!

We’re not dating, we’re just friends, Sumiko mumbled defensively, scuffing her toe on the ground, not looking at Eri.

What happened to him? Was he in a car accident? The poor guy, said Eri.

No! He was born that way. Wasn’t it obvious? How could she be so stupid?

But you like him, right? I don’t see why, he’s so creepy!

Sumiko’s head snapped up. No he isn’t! she shot back angrily. He’s cool and handsome, and fun to talk to! What do you know, anyway? She stalked away, leaving Eri standing there staring at her in surprise.

After that, she avoided her friends. If she and Hiroki went out in a group, it was with his friends. Even though they were guys, they were much nicer, and didn’t give her a hard time.

But she knew why her friends reacted the way they did. It was no different than most people. She could see how waitresses and clerks and even people in the street looked at him, with pity and horror. Sometimes waitresses didn’t even talk to him, but directed all their questions at her, as if he were mentally disabled. When that happened, she made a point of staring at them reproachfully while Hiroki answered for himself.

She knew a little of what it was like to be stared at. When she was in France, she felt like she always stood out wherever she went. Sometimes people got angry with her because her French was so bad, and she couldn’t always explain what she wanted easily. It had been frustrating, but then she came home, and everything was easy again. But for Hiroki, she thought, this was home. There was no other place he could go where things would be easy and people wouldn’t stare.

Since she spent so much time at his place, she felt she should eventually invite him over to her apartment in Nakano. Luckily it was a modern high-rise with wide doors and an elevator, so getting in would be no problem. She thought regretfully of her parents’ cramped, haphazard house in Chiba and was glad she didn’t live at home.

But she felt very nervous about inviting him. She had never brought anyone back to her apartment, not even her girl friends, and certainly not a boy. In Paris, no one thought anything of visiting a girl’s room, not the French girls nor the other foreign students, who were in each other’s dorm rooms all the time. But for her it was kind of a big deal.

She put it off, avoided bringing it up until what seemed like the last chance, towards the end of the semester, just before final exams started. She offered to make him dinner, moules frites, which she had learned to make in Paris. He seemed a little surprised, but happy to accept.

Her apartment was clean and new, but tiny. There was just one room, with wood flooring, and a small kitchen off to one side. She had a single bed shoved against one wall, a small desk shoved against the opposite wall, and a square table and chair in the middle. They both paused for a moment at the door. The genkan was so tiny his chair barely fit in it. Sumiko stood behind him in the hall.

It’s ok, she said. It’s just flooring, you can take the chair in.

He twisted around to look at her. Are you sure? The wheels will get the floor dirty.

But there’s only one chair at the table, she said. If you don’t use your wheelchair, one of us will have to sit on the floor, and that won’t work.

I could use the desk chair, he offered.

No, don’t be silly, it’s fine.

He gave her a doubtful look, then expertly jumped the chair up over the low edge of the genkan. My old lady would kill me if she saw me doing this, he said, laughing. She always said, you don’t wear shoes in the house, so you shouldn’t take a wheelchair in either.

Sumiko laughed. Well, my place is Western-style, so you can wear your shoes too, she said, although she took hers off as she followed him in.

Did you really wear your shoes inside in France? he asked. Even on the carpet?

She nodded. You should go there some day. It’s so cool.

To her great relief, he seemed to enjoy the meal, sucking the mussels out of their shells with great relish. By the time they finished, she felt a little more at ease. She had made dessert too, tiramisu.

I know it’s Italian, not French, she apologized. But all the desserts I learned to make in France need an oven, and I only have a gas range.

Don’t apologize, he said, scooping another huge spoonful of cream and chocolate. It’s delicious! If I had known you were such a gourmet, I wouldn’t have made you eat all those cheap dinners from the convenience store. She laughed. It was still so unreal to see him here, in her home.

After they finished eating, there was an awkward pause for a moment, then Hiroki pushed away from the table and wheeled right up next to her. Sumiko gulped as he put his hand on hers. His odd, three-fingered hand. In cartoons, fairies and elves were always drawn with three fingers instead of four. There was something so strange, yet magical about seeing it in real life. His fingers were long but thick and heavily callused. She sat perfectly still for a long time, her breath hot and shallow as he gently stroked her hand with his thumb, then laced his fingers in hers. It still felt odd, as if she were the one with the wrong number of fingers.

He looked up at her, his big round eyes searching her face nervously. Sumiko, I--

Sumiko felt her heart sink just a little bit. She knew what was coming. She had endured these confessions of love from more than one boy in the past, sometimes from boys she had hardly even known. But even with ones she sort of knew and liked, it was always the end of any feelings she might have had. Why did they all have to be so formal, so demanding? Be my girlfriend! She knew what they really meant. Let me own you, let me tell you what to wear, and talk trash about you in front of my friends. In return, you can follow me around and do my laundry and clean my house. It’s what most of her friends put up with, and she thought they were so stupid. The friendship she had with Hiroki was different. Why did it have to change?

Hiroki cleared his throat and started again. She realized suddenly how nervous he was. But he always seemed so confident!

Sumiko, I, uh, I really like you. Do you, um, do you want to go out with me? I mean, would it be ok to have me as a boyfriend?

Sumiko put her other hand on top of his. His pale, elegant face looked so earnest, her heart melted. He wasn’t demanding. It felt so different than with anyone else. Suddenly, she realized how much she wanted him, and no one but him.

Yes, she said in a low voice. I want to be your girlfriend. She leaned forward to kiss him. It was awkward, leaning over the right wheel of his chair, but the moment her lips touched his, all that was forgotten. His lips were soft and tender, and she felt an electric thrill run through her. A moment later, she pulled even closer, and put her arms around him, and he did the same. She was shocked at how strong he was. His arms felt huge, gripping her like a vise, and his shoulders and pecs were rock-hard.

When the kiss ended, she ran her hand over his right shoulder and bicep. Wow, she said. You’re really strong!

He blushed deeply. It is really ok? he asked, sounding nervous still.

Is what ok?

You really want me as a boyfriend? You don’t think I’m gross or whatever?

What? Sumiko was shocked. Why would I think that? You’re so cool! She looked into his eyes, and something occurred to her suddenly. Have other girls said that to you?

He looked at her frankly, the way he always did, but she could see the pain in his eyes. A lot of people think I’m creepy-looking, and they don’t want to touch me. Not just girls, sometimes even doctors. It was the first time she had seen him express any unhappiness over his disability.

No, she said. She was still rubbing his right arm affectionately, but now she slid her hands down to the end, to the stump that extended only a few inches past the elbow. It was softer, less muscled than his upper arm. No, she said, looking straight at him. You’re not creepy or scary. I think you’re the most beautiful person I have ever met.

He gasped a little as she caressed him. It’s very sensitive. My arm, I mean, he said in a low voice.

She leaned forward and kissed him again, really kissed him this time, savoring the warmth that washed over her in waves. She never wanted to stop, and yet…she wasn’t really ready to go further with him, not yet. And it wasn’t so comfortable making out like this, with them both sitting awkwardly side by side. She wished she had a sofa, anything besides her own hard, narrow bed. But thankfully, he seemed to want to wait too, because he left before the last train.

The next few weeks were busy, with exams and final papers. They found a little time to be together, but not much. Each time they would kiss and make out, but they both seemed content to stop before it went any further. As exams were winding down, she asked, with some trepidation, if he was going to move home for the summer break.

What? No! he seemed surprised. Why would I do that? My folks only live a few stations away. They can see me whenever they want. I’d rather be on my own. I just told them I need to study, he said, with a mischievous grin. This was not really true, and they probably knew it. He had already applied to graduate programs in social work, and was waiting to find out if he got in. What about you? Are you going home to Chiba?

She sighed. No, I want to stay here too. I suppose I should really get moving on my job search. But she was excited to hear that they would both be spending the summer in Tokyo.

Once the semester ended, they spent all their time together. They did all of the usual date activities: a day trip to Odaiba, fireworks on the Sumida River, an evening at a beer garden in Ginza, a festival at a local temple, although Sumiko refused to wear a kimono, claiming it wouldn’t look good on her.

In spite of her fears, their friendship seemed only to deepen. She never felt like she had to pretend to be someone else when she was with him; it was all so easy and open. At the same time, watching how he found his own way of doing things, always thinking about how they were going to get around, somehow she felt as if she had entered some exotic new country with him. For the first time, she found she no longer wished she were somewhere else.

***

It was a few weeks into the summer break when Hiroki suggested the trip to a hot springs resort in Izu. What do you think? he asked. We can find a hotel with a big bath and good food, and go swimming at the beach. She had always thought of a trip within Japan as so ordinary and boring, but somehow when he suggested it, it sounded like fun.

They did the research online together, looking for a hotel that looked like it would be wheelchair accessible, and called ahead to make sure. They also wanted to book the bullet train tickets in person, to make sure they got the right seats. One hot evening they stopped by the ticket counter in Shinjuku station. Sumiko noted with dismay that the counter was nearly above Hiroki's head. It seemed so thoughtless. Why couldn’t they make a lower one? But when their turn came, he hoisted himself up so he was standing in his chair with his arms leaning on the counter, and he was almost as tall as she was. Once again, Sumiko was impressed, although it really was a lot of effort to have to go through for something as simple as buying a train ticket. He didn’t say anything, but she knew it took a lot of strength to hold himself up like that. Twice he slumped back down to take a rest, and by the time they were finished, he was all sweaty. But the agent was very polite with both of them, taking the time to double-check that there would be wheelchair accessible cars at each transfer, and explaining the route there and back. Sumiko found herself ridiculously grateful for this common courtesy.

The trip down the coast to the Izu peninsula was surprisingly easy. As they had been promised, every train they got on had a wheelchair area, and a station attendant was waiting with a little portable ramp to bridge the gap between the train and the platform. They left early in the morning, ate a bento box lunch on the train, and arrived in the little resort town of Shimoda by the early afternoon.

The hotel was airy and modern. That was Sumiko’s one proviso, no pokey old wooden inn reeking of sulfur from the hot springs. Hiroki agreed; a modern hotel was more likely to have elevators and wide doorways anyway. The staff at the front desk were polite, and no one stared or gave either of them that pitying look she had come to know so well. After they checked in, a maid in a brown linen kimono led them to the elevator and up to their room.

The room was Japanese style, but also airy and open, twelve mats, with a wood balcony and sliding glass doors. The tatami mats were new, slightly greenish, and smelled fresh, unlike the lumpy, worn ones in Hiroki’s apartment. Even the genkan was spacious. As Hiroki wheeled in, the maid gave him a worried look, and they both knew what she was thinking.

He gave her one of his crooked grins. Don’t worry, I won’t damage the tatami, he said, as he turned and wriggled on his stomach out of his chair. The maid stared in surprise as he pulled himself into the room, swinging himself easily on his left hand, and settling in one of the low chairs on the floor. Sumiko followed after with their bags, giving the maid a look that said, See? No problem.

The maid, always professional, soon recovered her composure, and showed them everything in the room, went over the schedule of all the baths, and explained their dinner would be served in the dining room at 8:00, and their futons laid out at 9:00. Again, Sumiko was relieved that she didn’t stare or ask questions.

After the maid left, Sumiko ran around the room, exclaiming over how luxurious it all was, then joined Hiroki at the little low table. As they were finishing off the green tea and manju the maid had set out for them, Sumiko flipped through the guide book. What was there to do besides the baths? She suddenly felt nervous again.

Hiroki slammed his empty tea cup on the table. Ok! he said energetically, Let’s go to the beach!

He had mentioned this a few times already, but Sumiko was dubious. Can you really swim? she asked.

He gave her a withering look. Of course I can swim, he said, rolling his eyes in mock impatience. I already told you! It’s just about the only sport I could do as a kid. For racing or wheelchair basketball you really need two hands, but swimming is easy. My old man used to take me to the beach all the time.

Sumiko went into the bathroom to change into her one-piece bathing suit, leaving Hiroki the main room to change in. Even though they had been officially dating for almost a month, they still hadn’t gone beyond making out, and they certainly hadn’t gotten naked together yet. She was glad he seemed content to take things so slowly, but she was starting to wonder why he didn’t want to go further. Was there some problem? She didn’t want to ask.

The hotel faced right onto the beach, and had a long concrete walkway that led halfway down to the water’s edge. When he pushed off the edge of the concrete, Hiroki’s wheels sank deeply into the soft gray sand.

He turned and smiled up at her. You’ll have to help me push. After a moment’s hesitation, she grabbed the low bar that ran across the backrest. It was awkward to push while bent nearly double, and they made slow progress, but eventually they made their way closer to the water. Sumiko laid down a large blanket she had brought along, while Hiroki got down from his chair. Feeling rather self-conscious, she pulled off her t-shirt and shorts. It was a hot day, and pushing him had made her break out in a sweat. She was conscious of Hiroki watching her, but she didn’t say anything.

Hiroki didn’t say anything either. She was surprised to notice that he seemed even more nervous than she was. Suddenly, with a defiant look, he pulled his black t-shirt off. She stared at him in awe. His chest bulged with solid muscle, even his stomach and back, tapering to his narrow waist, rippled with definition. Not like a body builder, of course, he was much more wiry, but she was struck by how strong he was.

He scowled and looked away. Sumiko couldn’t figure out why he suddenly seemed shy. He was always so confident! Did he really doubt her attraction to him? She edged closer to him on the blanket. He was leaning back on his left hand, which made his shoulders and pecs bulge even more. She ran her hand over his chest.

Look, you’re so strong! she said. You know, regular guys spend hours lifting weights trying to get that strong.

Really? He rubbed his hair with his short right arm as if he were embarrassed.

Yes, she said with certainty. Please stop thinking that I don’t like your body. I think you’re beautiful and unique, and, um, very sexy.

Thank you, he said quietly, then hooked his right elbow around her arm and drew her close to give her a kiss. It was a hot, passionate kiss, and she desperately wanted more, but after a moment she pulled away.

There are people around, she said, embarrassed.

He grinned at her. Ok, let’s go in the water. She followed after as he swung himself agilely across the sand and plunged into the water.

Hiroki swam like a fish, undulating his torso, and using his left leg like a rudder. The beach was actually a small inlet, and the water was warm and clear, with hardly any surf. They splashed and chased each other around in the water, Sumiko shrieking with laughter. They hadn’t gone very far out—the water was only up to Sumiko’s shoulders, but Hiroki had to keep moving his arms to keep from sinking.

Don’t you get nervous if you can’t touch the bottom? she asked.

Hiroki swam towards her, grinning. No, when I’m in the water is when I feel the most free, he answered. Besides, you wouldn’t let me sink, would you, Sumi-chan? he said in a lower voice, then impulsively threw his arms around her shoulders and hugged her tightly. Sumiko gasped as she felt his entire body press up against her, the water making their skin slick and cool. She had never held him just like this, with his arms around her shoulders, eye to eye, as if he were standing in front of her. Whenever she had embraced him before, there was always the wheelchair between them, and it had always been at a slightly awkward angle. But now there was nothing getting in the way. She shivered slightly as he wrapped his short left leg around her waist. It was such a strange sensation, embracing him fully from the waist up, but from the waist down, nothing. She felt a flash of heat, a desire so intense she could not speak. She stared into his large dark eyes, then kissed him deeply.

Suddenly she felt another pressure against her stomach, and she glanced down briefly. Hiroki turned bright red.

Um, we better not go too far. Like you said, there are people around, he mumbled. But they both seemed reluctant to let go, so instead she swam around with him riding on her back, like little children. As she swam, he would bump up against her then drift away, but this time she was careful not to get too close.

When they tired of swimming, they went back to the hotel, but there were still many hours before dinner. Sumiko announced that she was going to try the baths. It seemed a shame to come all this way and not try the hotel’s public baths, even though they couldn’t go in together.

Besides, the outdoor bath is reserved for women from 4:00 to 6:00, lucky for me! she teased him. You’ll have to make do with the boring old indoor one for the men.

The outdoor bath was beautiful, lined with natural rocks, and with a stunning view of the ocean. But without Hiroki there to enjoy it with her, it failed to charm her. Sumiko showered off quickly, then climbed into the bath. She wondered how Hiroki was getting on in the men’s bath, and found herself hurrying to get back to him.

When Sumiko returned to the room, she found Hiroki back already, sitting at the low table and drying his hair with a towel. She made some more tea and sat down next to him.

How was it? he asked.

She shrugged. Oh, it was nice. How was the men’s bath?

It was huge! We picked a good time to go in. There was hardly anyone else there.

Sumiko conjured a mental picture of Hiroki soaping up, pouring water over himself with a wooden bucket, climbing into the bath... Suddenly she had a strange thought. She gave him a funny look, not sure how to ask delicately.

Was it accessible? she asked. I mean, do you go to the public baths often? How do you, um…?

He laughed. You mean, do I drag my naked ass all over the floor? he said, guessing what she was thinking. Sumiko blushed. I usually wear a bathing suit or underwear when I’m walking around, then just take it off when I’m washing and right before I go in the water, he explained.

Sumiko smiled. You’re very resourceful, she said.

Hiroki shrugged and leaned back. Now what? Do you want to watch TV, or take a nap, or …?

Sumiko pushed the table away. There was only one thing she wanted. She looked deeply into his big round eyes, and moved towards him hesitantly, then suddenly they were kissing passionately. She wrapped her arms around him, pinning him to the back of the low chair, and gasped with pleasure as she felt his strong, vise-like grip answering her. She ran her hands all over his back, delighting in the corded muscles that bulged as he held her. Feeling that it was time to be more assertive, she ran her hands under his shirt, all over his back, then around on his taut, smooth stomach. He groaned softly as her hands ran over his nipples, then with one quick move, she pulled off his t-shirt. He didn’t seem to mind, so she pulled off her own shirt, and pressed her chest, bare except for her bra, up against his. The feel of his bare skin against hers was electric. Slowly, she toppled over on her side, so that she was laying on the floor, and pulled him down next to her. As they continued kissing, she ran her hand over his back again, then down over his hip. She let her fingers slide into the top of his shorts. Suddenly, he grabbed her hand and pushed it away.

Sumiko stopped kissing and pulled away slightly so she could see his face. What’s wrong? she asked. Don’t you like me?

Hiroki frowned. Of course I like you.

Then why do you always stop?

Instead of answering, he rolled onto his back. Sumiko, he asked, looking at the ceiling, is it your first time?

Oh! Suddenly