The neighborhood pub was half-empty. Peter was sitting at one of the end tables, staring at a woman's leg, bare to mid-thigh. He finished his drink and continued to watch. About twenty minutes ago, he had parted ways with a friend of his, with whom he had discussed the results of the matriculation exams and the matches of his favorite football team. If it weren't for that leg and its owner, he would have left long ago. He tried not to stare, so as not to be caught in indecent behavior. He turned his head left and right, pretending to be bored, but he hardly took his eyes off the interesting object. It was summer and his hormones were raging.

The woman was much older than him, probably in her thirties. But she was beautiful, and very much so. Pale, somewhat plump face with nice features. Black, intelligent eyes. Waist-length, straight black hair. Rounded breasts that bulged seductively out of the green blouse made of fine cotton. The waist was not clearly visible, but Peter imagined it to be thin. The long fingers of the hands playfully nudged the empty coffee cup. The left leg, carelessly thrown over the right, was more than impressive. Perfect light skin. Large but firm thigh. A knee in which everything was smooth, as if there were no bones underneath. An elegant spindle-shaped calf. A thin ankle and a small but elongated foot with soft-looking toes and provocative black nail polish. The sole and the back of the heel were pleasantly pink.

Peter told himself that this woman was no more beautiful than his classmates, but he did not believe it himself. Her maturity seemed both charming and frightening to him. Even in the most beautiful girls in the class, there was something rough, a remnant of childhood. While here everything was somehow smooth, graceful, refined.

He wished he could find the courage to sit down at her table. Yes, but what could he say? He didn't know how to approach such women. She was at least fifteen years older than him! She would probably look at him disdainfully or laugh at him. How he wanted to get to know her and strike up a casual conversation! Then he would be able to look at her very closely. Even smell her perfume...

Some things puzzled him. He wondered why she was alone at the table, why her skin was so white in the middle of summer, and what those strange rods of shiny metal were, leaning on the chair opposite. He couldn't find an answer to the first two questions, but the rods... were probably mop handles. Wasn't this woman a crazy housewife who spent all day cleaning the house, waiting for her husband to come home from work? Peter didn't like that thought. After all the woman had an aristocratic air.

At that moment, she slipped her left foot into the elegant black leather slipper and stood up awkwardly, leaning on the crutches that she had pulled towards her with a quick movement. Yes, these were not mop handles, but elbow crutches.

Peter groaned, shocked. He had expected anything but the woman to have a physical defect. She had seemed so perfect to him just a moment ago!

She was limping away, concentrating entirely on her movement. Her black hair was blowing behind her in the gusts of wind.

Peter paid his bill at the bar and after a short hesitation, followed the woman. He wanted to look at her a little longer, from a safe, decent distance.

Her waist was indeed thin. But with the enchantingly seductive legs that Peter couldn't help but look at, something was clearly wrong.

The woman moved her crutches slightly forward, leaned firmly on them, and brought her left leg out somewhat cautiously, straightening her foot, then stepping on her toes first, as if to soften the pressure. Her right leg hopped stiffly at the right moment, always bending quite a bit at the knee as it touched the ground. This algorithm of movement was repeated with every step, without any changes. Perhaps the injury required that she proceed in exactly this way. The upper part of her body, including her arms, was tense and strong, while weakness reigned below, with only the observance of the motive ritual preventing her from falling. The sole of her left slipper slapped her bare heel, while the sole of her right slipper dragged with an unpleasant sound on the asphalt. Her body always swayed in the same rhythm.

Peter was saddened by this sight. And instinctively, he began to look for perfection in imperfection. The legs were still a delight to the eye, even though they didn't perform their functions properly. Perhaps the problem would disappear soon. How nice it would be to see her completely healthy, having rejected the compulsion to lean on crutches and perform this frighteningly unnatural set of movements. But she was fighting, and that was commendable. She hadn't lain down in bed, but was trying to live a normal life. She was out among people, not ashamed that her beauty was impaired. She had probably been through a lot of pain. She had probably cried in pain.

Peter wanted to hug her, to give her courage, to tell her not to give up. But he only followed her, like a puppy following its master. Because, for some reason, she already had power over him.

Then came the worry. He was following her on her heels, so closely that passersby might notice. The good thing was that she couldn't see him, because she was always looking straight ahead, concentrated on her moving.

Peter took out his phone. He planned to take a few pictures to have something to remember this charming lady by. He remembered to turn off the sound so that the camera wouldn't click. He wanted to take a picture of her in profile and full face, but he couldn't afford it. It would be awful if she felt she was the object of unhealthy curiosity.

Wasn't she going to drop by the cafe again tomorrow? Peter smiled at the thought. Nothing was stopping him from coming to check. In fact, she was clearly going home! "It's good to know where she lives!"

At that very moment, the woman turned towards an apartment building. She struggled up the two steps in front of the front door. She leaned against the wall to steady herself and took a key out of her purse.

Peter thought how nice it would be to know her name. He decided not to risk checking which floor the woman lived on. If she noticed him, there would be a big embarrassment.

After opening the door, she looked over her shoulder and said: „Could you help me, young man, to climb the stairs?“ A thin smile flickered on her lips.

Stunned, Peter froze in place. He felt his cheeks burning. He couldn't find the strength to speak.

„I really need help,“ she continued. “I almost fell last time. But if something bothers you...

„No, no, I will help you, ma'am, of course.“

„My name is Neda. Let’s speak informally, after all, this is not the first time we've met. We were customers of the same establishment, if you remember - she said and winked.

„Yes, yes, of course. I am Peter.“

„So… I’ll put my left arm around your neck and hold on tight, and with my right I’ll lean on the railing. You’ll hold my waist and be careful not to put too much strain on my legs. I live on the first floor. We only have one flight of stairs to climb.“

„I see. The crutches?“

„I’ll lean on the door and the locker upstairs, and you’ll bring them to me. No one will steal them, don’t worry.“

They slowly walked up the stairs. Neda was tense, as if she didn’t trust her assistant. But when she reached the top, she sighed with relief. Peter was breathing heavily with excitement. He was slightly dizzy. The close contact with the gentle female body had aroused him.

Neda unlocked the door and went in. She lowered her head thoughtfully, then glanced sideways at Peter and said with a sweet smile on her lips:

„You’ve swollen up quite a bit in front. You obviously like me.“

Peter looked at his shorts. He felt like sinking into the ground with shame.

„I’m sorry, ma’am. I… I’m going. I wish you a speedy recovery.“

„We agreed. On 'Neda'.“

„Yes, yes, I’ve been a bit absent-minded lately.“

„Why don’t you come in for a cola. From what I saw, you’re drinking cola.“

„Yes. Well, sure, I’ll come in then.

„Come in. I want to confess something to you. I feel uncomfortable that you’re taking pictures of me. It’s not nice. From behind, without my consent.“

„Where did you get it from…“

„We were walking past shop windows. You can see everything in them.“

„Excuse me, please.“

„You’re excused. “I just wanted you to know. No secrets.” They sat down in a cozy kitchen. Peter poured himself a cola, and at Neda’s request, he made a gin and tonic cocktail.

They chatted about the weather and some funny incidents in politics. And suddenly Neda asked:

„Do you want to sleep with me?“

Peter swallowed. It was as if a lump had settled in his throat. He somehow managed to mutter:

„Yes.“

„You are my first admirer since the accident, she said with a crooked smile on her lips. I am pleased that I am desired, I do not deny it. And I need caresses. After what I have been through...“

Peter looked at her intently.

„I hope I am not making a big mistake by proposing to you. I am a responsible person.“

„Yes... Neda.“

„Let us clarify a few things first. I am afraid of causing trauma to your fragile psyche. You are still young. Are you eighteen years old?“

„Yes.“

„Have you slept with a woman?“

„Six months ago. With a classmate. But it didn't go very well. We were worried. It hurt her, even though I finished quickly.“

„It's good that you're honest with me, just like I'm honest with you. So… you should know that tomorrow I'm leaving the country and you'll never see me again. Don't start thinking that I'm the woman of your life and so on. Ha, what a compliment I gave myself, as if I were a wonderful beauty in blooming health!“

„You're beautiful, Neda. Very much so.“

„Just sex, nothing more.“

„I see.“

„My boyfriend dumped me, that's why I'm acting like this. Otherwise, I'm not a slut. We were together for three years, and he left me when he realized that I'd be bedridden for a long time. I broke my pelvis in a car accident. He was driving the car drunk. He got away with a concussion, and I… anyway. I'm telling you everything so that you can try to understand me. I feel guilty for offering myself to you like this. I'm going to Italy, where my mother works. I'll be in a sanatorium until I recover. I have plans to renew my relationship with a boy who also works in Italy. Well, boy, he's thirty-five now. My school sweetheart. Now, strangely enough, I feel like I'm cheating on him, even though I haven't seen him for ten years. We write to each other, though, every week.“

„You're a good person, Neda. I realize that everything will be fleeting. I'm curious how it will turn out. I need experience.“

„That's how I want you, my boy. I've finally calmed down. Come on, help me get to the bathroom and take a shower. I feel dirty from all this dragging around the streets.“

„Will you let me undress you?“

„No. When I lie down in the bathtub naked, then you'll be busy with me. Moving my legs hurts. That's why I prefer to undress myself.“

She lay in the bathtub with her eyes closed. Peter was rubbing her beautiful breasts with swollen nipples with a sponge, and her thin white neck, and the seductive curves of her hips and waist, and her smooth thighs, and her carefully shaved groin, and her thin ankles, and her feet with delicate heels and toes.

Peter wanted to carry her to the bed in his arms.

„Don’t, darling. You look frail. I’m afraid you’ll drop me. I’ve been scared lately.“

„You weigh only fifty kilos!“

„Fifty-four.“

Naked as she was, she hung onto her crutches and limped towards the bedroom in his sadly charming way. Peter followed her, holding her waist, ready to react instantly if she slipped.

She lay on her back and bit her lips. She looked worried.

Peter, who had already released some of the tension, caressed and kissed her for a long time, taking her advice into account. A moment before penetration, Neda begged:

„Don’t thrust too hard. Try to control your emotions. I’m still fragile down there and I’m afraid I’ll get hurt.“

„Okay, Neda.“

He did his job well. Their second orgasm was simultaneous.

When it was time to part, Peter said: „I will never forget you, Neda. I will pray that everything in your life will turn out perfectly.“

„Thank you. And you find yourself some good, smart and beautiful girl your age and take care of her, as you have been taking care of me these few hours.“

„I promise, Neda, I promise.“

She kissed him on the forehead and quickly closed the door to hide her tears. For the first time in months, she felt almost happy. Peter cried too. His tears were mostly of sadness, but a sadness that felt somehow sweet.