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Driving Mrs. Tandy Chapter 1

Tags: cast, fetish
John Stefanovitch was appointed as Mrs. Tandy’s driver on his 25 th birthday. He took that as a good sign. He didn’t have any reason to think otherwise. The payment was more than generous and the work wasn’t hard. Most of the time he was doing small repairs on Mrs. Tandy’s old Bentley, and washing it. Two times a day, he had to take Mrs. Tandy’s nurse downtown for shopping. And that was all.

The nurse’s name was Norma, a plump little creature with a permanent smile on her face. Norma talked much, and said little. John was fine with that, but what surprised him was that she avoided talking about Mrs. Tandy.

John didn’t know anything about Mrs. Tandy, and he had never even seen her. He was appointed to the job by her lawyer. He supposed that Mrs. Tandy was an old, blue haired lady, who was very sick or dying, and who was confined to her bed. He was fine with that too.

Mrs. Tandy’s house was Victorian in style, with a nice, well tended garden. A kidney- shaped pool was wedged between the right side of the building and the pine grove growing nearby.

John Stefanovitch was sitting by the pool when he saw Norma trotting towards him.

“Mrs. Tandy wants to see you,” she said with a smile that made her look almost beautiful.

“Ok.”

“Come with me!”

He followed her into the house, then up to the second floor. Norma opened one of the doors and entered.

A motionless body was lying on the bed. John blinked, surprised with what he saw. Mrs. Tandy was on her stomach, her shoulder length black hair covering her face.

“Have a seat, and please don’t stare at me like that!” Mrs. Tandy said.

Her voice was firm, with a lilting quality that he found charming. “How was she able to see me?” he wondered, then saw the mirror placed before her face, and her dark green eyes glistening with curiosity.

Some kind of padded metallic device was supporting her chin, keeping her head up.

“It’s nice to see you Mrs. Tandy,” John said.

Her head moved slightly.

“You can leave us now, Norma,” Mrs. Tandy said.

Mrs. Tandy appeared to be in her late twenties, much younger than he expected. Her body, John noticed subsequently, was not resting on the bed, but was suspended on a strange contraption of ropes, metal bars and pulleys.

“I hope I don’t make you feel uncomfortable. I am …you know… quite a sight,” she said.

“Not at all.”

Most of her body was in plaster. Her entire torso and her right arm, as well as her right leg (excluding the foot). Only her left arm was completely free, dangling by the side of the bed. As to her left leg, it was in short leg cast. He could see the back of her bare thigh and her hip.

“Do you like the job?”

“To be quite honest, there is nothing much to do.”

She smiled in the mirror.

“It is not very polite, but I can’t look directly at you. I can’t move at all.”

“You should not worry about such things, Mrs. Tandy.” John said.

“You can call me Abby,” she said and tucked her hair behind her ear, exposing the side of her face and an exquisite cheekbone.

That simple gesture struck him as extremely feminine.

“My name is John,” he said, staring at her bare left shoulder.

“Do you mind staying with me for a while? It’s nice to have someone to talk to.”

He noticed that her right arm was casted at a 90 degree angle to her body, with her elbow bent at the same angle.

“Great. I’m bored too. Your car is not very talkative.”

Her mirrored eyes fixed on him, and a muffled giggle escaped her lips.

“Your last name is Slavic,” she said.

“Yes, my grandfather came from Serbia in 1944.”

She remained silent for a moment, and then asked,” Do you think I could fit into the car?”

John raised his eyebrows with surprise,” I don’t know.”

“You have to take my measurements later.”

“Are you sure…”

“I can’t be sure of anything since the accident,” she said with a faltering voice, then burst into tears.

John got up on his feet, “I am so sorry.”

“It was horrible, John. He nearly got me killed.”

“He?”

“My husband.”

She suddenly broke into hysterical laughter that stopped abruptly when the pain shot through her back. She moaned, her head sagging a little.

“I will call the nurse.”

“I’m fine, just bring me some water!”

The memories of the accident began to flood her mind. Her drunk husband, driving at high speed with a sheepish smile on his face; his free hand slipping under her skirt, squeezing, rubbing, making her feel like a whore; the fear on his face when he lost control of the car; the rain of broken glass; the enormity of the impact that crushed her body.

“Mrs. Tandy, are you ok?” John said and guided the straw to her lips.

“I am much better now.”

He was crouching beside her bed, watching her sip at her water. His eyes lingered guiltily on the plaster mounds encasing her breasts and the padded edge of the cast under her armpit.

“Thank you,” she said, and looked at him from the corner of her eye.

Her perfume was wafting towards him, gently tickling his nose. He stood up reluctantly and got back to his chair.

The plaster covering her torso held her back in slightly arched position, making her body look tense. He could not help noticing that her left leg was strapped to the frame of the bed and drawn to one side. It was bent at the knee, with her casted foot pointing at the ceiling. Her hip and thigh were tight and well-shaped, and looked oddly bare compared to her casted body. On the other hand, her right leg resembled a massive plaster column, adorned only with her tiny foot that was sticking out of the cast.

“Are you in much pain…Abby,” John asked.

Her mirrored eyes found his and her lips twitched into a wry smile.

“Some things hurt more than the pain itself, John.”
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