SUZANNE STEPS OUT
																						    by M. Knight

	"Hello?"
	"Hi, It's Suzanne!"
	"Gosh, Hi, How are you?"
	"Wonderful! I just wanted to tell you how much I enjoyed your company the other night, when I made such a fool of myself at the table!"
	My mind flashed back to a vision of Suzanne, balanced on her legless hips at her little dining table overlooking the lights of the city. There she was, beautifully topless, waving her stumps of arms while I tried to wash the beef stew out of her silk top at the kitchen sink.
	"Suzanne, that was no big deal, and besides it gave me a chance to compliment you on your marvelous figure."
	"Well I was embarassed at having been so clumsy. I mean really, I should have practiced more with the good silver. I've always used dinnerware with big wooden handles that I can hold with my little elbows. "
	"Really, I thought the whole evening was fantastic."
	"Well, thank you, and thanks for the flowers, too."
	"You're welcome."
	"What I was calling about, um, would you be interested in going shopping with me?"
	"Shopping?"
	"Shopping.  I was hoping you could drive me up to Walnut Grove to get a new outfit for the charity soiree at your club next month. Our friend Gerry said it would be the perfect time for me to present myself to society without the phony legs, just my real self, so I guess I'll need some new things."
	"Well to be honest, Suzanne, shopping isn't really one of my most favorite things, but..."
	"Let's say I throw in a picnic first? Besides, I want to ask your advice on some things."
	The anticipation of spending more time with this fascinating young woman was overcoming my aversion to what most women seem to enjoy: shopping.
	"OK, when do you want to go? I presume you'll want me to pick you up?"
	"That would be nice. My old T-bird's in the shop getting its hand controls redone."
	I parked in the circular drive in front of Suzanne's apartment house and took the elevator to her floor. Her door was ajar so I poked my head in and called her name.
	"Be right there," she called from the rear of the apartment. "better yet, come on back."
	I closed her apartment door and walked past the living room through the hall into her bed room .She was balanced on her bed dressed in an orange cotton t-shirt and short blue jeans with the legs rolled up into tight doughnuts on each side.
	"I had a long talk with Gerry last night," she said. "She really feels, and I guess I shoud agree with her, that if I'm ever going to believe in myself, I should get out of this protected little world here in my apartment and get out into society more. She also said that it was absolutely necessary that I not depend on artificial things like prosthetic legs or arms or anything.  Just be me, and let the world know that I may be different, but that I'm a really complete person just the way I am. What do you think?"
	"I agree with Gerry," I said candidly. "First of all, you're a very attractive young lady, and you come across as a much more positive and comfortable person without those legs you were wearing at the dance when we met. You seemed defensive and physically awkward."
	"Well thanks a lot! Defensive and awkward indeed!"
	"Really, Suzanne, I'm sorry, but there's a difference of night and day between that poor crippled girl I met at the dance and the Suzanne I had dinner with the other night. There's no question. You, just the way you are, are a much more delightful, enjoyable person, much more fun to be with, and so I agree with Gerry."
	Suzanne stayed motionless except for her tiny forearm nubs that were moving nervously.
	"You think that would hold true for first impressions too?" she asked. "At the club, for instance?" 
	"That's a tough one," I said. "Probably there will be some people that will have some problems at first."
	I sat on the bed next to her.
	I think the most important thing is that the people that really matter will want to meet you, and see what sort of person you are. Those people should meet the real you, the woman I'm beginning to know."
	"That sounds all very well, but there are so many problems. Somehow it would be easier to put the legs on, and maybe even some arms and sit in a wheelchair in the corner and smile a plastic smile at people passing by, and not get involved."
	"What would that prove? That would just be hiding, going backward, not foreward! What happened to the Suzanne that wanted to do things like everyone else?"
	"It's easy to be brave here in my nice safe tower. Going out to the club, where the most socially important people assemble to compare notes and establish the old social pecking order isn't the same thing. I'd like to do things like everyone else, I really would, but, honestly...just think...suppose I do go to this thing at the club. How do I get down those steps to the ball room? And then Mrs. What's-her-name comes over and reaches out to shake hands. What then?"
	Suzanne's blue eyes were beginning to tear, her complection flushed.
	"Let's take 'em one at a time," I suggested. "Let's start with the easy one first. Here, shake hands with me."
	I held out my right hand as one would. She raised her right arm, the little forearm tip trembling. I took it, cool and soft in my hand and shook hands in an easy, simple way.
	"That's the first time I ever shook hands," she said quietly. "Can you understand that?
That's the way people greet each other, someting that starts every new acquaintenceship. Can you imagine being denied something as basic as that? 
	She looked down at her nubs, and then up at me. 
	"Everyone has always just put heir hands behind them, or held them down at their sides.  Maybe it won't happen ever again, but thank you."
	"You're welcome. Listen, Suzanne, you just have to initiate the move. Reach out to people. Honest, It'll work. Try it."
	She raised her right arm, looking down at what she was offering as a hand.
	"No, don't look down, look up...and for heaven's sake, smile!"
	She looked up with her beautiful blue eyes and smiled.
  "Like this?"
	"Exactly!" and I took the little nubbin into both my hands and kissed it.
	"Wow. You really know how to turn a girl on," she said, rubbing the tips of her arms together. "we'd better get on with our picnic or we'll never make it out of the bedroom!"

	A few minutes later, picnic basket in hand, we started out the door of her apartment.
She had paused by the closet and then turned to me.
	"I guess if this is the beginning of the new me, I shouldn't even use my crutches, should I?"
	"Crutches?"
	"Mmm. I have these shorty jobs with loops for my elbows that I use if I go out   without my wheelchair. Just swing along. I can make pretty good time. What do you think, should I use them?"
	"I don't think you'll need them for the picnic, but what about the shopping?"
	"Good point. If we park on the street, those brick sidewalks in Walnut Grove would be a challenge."
	She looked up at me quizzically. I offered no response.
	"Then again, if I weaken on this point, I'll probably find more excuses. They stay in the closet. Let's just hope the cuffs on my jeans hold up. They're not really shoe leather, but that's the way I'm going to go with it, at least for today. We're off!"
	Thus Suzanne wiggled and wobbled her way toward the elevator, her little arms waving vigerously to keep her balance and still make some headway. For that matter, her delightfully perfect breasts were causing fascinating convolutions to her t-shirt as well. 
	"You going to be OK?" I asked.
	"Sure," she said, "Remember, this is just plain everyday normal for me. Just takes a little longer than with the crutches, Why? Are you having second thoughts?"
	"Not at all. It's just that you seem to be working so hard. Maybe it's the arms."
	I pushed the elevator button.
	"Right," she said, coming to rest. "I should work on that. Most people don't flail their arms all around when they're just walking along."
	"Can you walk without waving them quite as much? I'm thiking about your grand entrance. You'll have to seem serene, self-confident and elegant, right?"
	"True, true."
	The elevator doors opened, we stepped in and decended to the lobby. 
	"Let me try something, OK?"
	"Certainly."
	She swivelled more slowly from the elevator. Executing one move at a time, Suzanne paused just an instant between each step to reclaim her balance. Now, with her arms moving gently at her sides, she carefully made her way across the carpeted foyer. 
	"This takes a lot longer, but does it look better?"
	"Most ladylike," I smiled. "Perhaps with a little practice, your strides can lengthen, too. Just don't sacrifice elegance to convenience."
	"Words to live by. OK, Svengali, what do we do now?"
She was staring at three carpeted stairs that led down to the doorway.
	"Hmm."
	I put down the picnic basket and kneeled on the lower of the steps. Over Suzanne's shoulder I was aware that the woman at the desk was watching this whole process with marked, although discreet fascination. Finally she could restrain herself no longer and stepped foreward. 
	"Can I help you, Miss Suzanne?"
	"No thanks, Millie, I'm just trying out something. My friend and I are going on a picnic and I didn't want to take my chair with me. Thanks anyhow."
	"All right, then," Millie said, and retreated to her place behind the desk. 
	"Suzanne,  how would you do this up in your apartment?"
	"I don't have stairs in my apartment!"
	"I know, but if you did, and nobody was there, what would you do?"
	"I'd bend over, put my hands down and flip my bottom down to the next step. That's what I do with that little step-stool in the kitchen.
	"Not too ladylike," I mused.
	"True. So what should I do? Might as well face it here, because the steps at your club are just like these."
	I think the important thing is to descend facing foreward. Elegance generally doesn't accompany turning your bottom to the crowd."
	"Good thinking. But I can barely keep my balance as it is. What should I do? Work my way to the edge of the step and let gravity do the rest? That's pretty elegant. Probably the jolt would destroy what control I do have. Probably be painful too. We have to do better than that. I can just see myself going tail over teacups down and all over the dance floor."
	"Suzanne, the club steps down to the floor have a railing, a bannister on the side, remember?"
	"So?"
	"So come over to the wall and put your hand out as if there were an balustrade there. The railing itself will probably be too high to reach, but you can hold the upright, OK?"
	I held my arm up, in a position to represent the bannister. She reached out and put the end of her arm on  mine, trying to hold on to me with her little forearm nub.
	"Now, try to slide down gently, one side first, as if stepping down."
	"Easy for you to say," she said, almost beneath her breath.

	It wasn't quite something one would call graceful, her other arm waving fitfully and the landing a bit rough but the plan did work. One step, then another, then the last one. When she regained her composure at the bottom, she looked over at me and smiled a very big, very genuine smile.
	"Wait 'til I tell Gerry," she said. "I can do it. I can!" At that she toppled over onto me causing me to lose my balance too, and kissed me, right there in the entrance way of the apartment. 
	"You OK, Miss Suzanne?" came the voice of Millie from behind her desk.
	"Never better, thank you, Millie."

	The picnic basket that she had prepared held carefully prepared cold cuts, cheeses, french bread, fruit and a bottle of perfectly aged Bordeaux.  On a grassy knoll overlooking the creek, we toasted Suzanne's success. We agreed to make her long overdue entrance into society not only memorable. but elegantly sucessful as well. There would be work to do, but Suzanne and I both knew that this kind of work was well worth it.  

	Later, stretched out in the secluded shade of an old oak tree, It occurred to us that our shopping spree could wait at least another hour. Maybe two. After all, stores in Walnut Grove do stay open late, and we had more interesting things on our minds. Very much more interesting.

	We spent the time well, first gently, then deliciously enjoying each other's bodies under the afternoon sun. The little picnic throw served as our blanket, and then, as we rested there, I contemplated Suzanne's entrance at the club. There was no longer the slightest doubt in my mind that in her own perfect, if somewhat abbreviated state, she would make her very best impression. The challenge now became to dress that unique body for the event. 
	I looked over. Her jeans were still lying off to one side and sunlight glistened in the little blond curls at the base of her abdomen. Her complete absence of legs had let Suzanne make the most interesting and innovative use of the previous hour, but her entrance at the club on those same legless hips was now on my mind. 
	"What are you going to do for shoes?" I asked.
	Suzanne shook her tousled blond locks. 
	"Shoes? " she said. "Right, shoes."
	"I mean, you're not going to wear rolled-up jeans, are you?"
	"No, of course not.  Um. Actually, I had asked Georgia at Millington's to give me some ideas. When my Grandmother got such bad arthritis, she designed some slippers for her that just were perfect, so I called her and she came up to the apartment and measured my bottom all kinds of ways, and said she'd try to figure something out. C'm on, let's get up. I said I'd get over there this afternoon."

	With the picnic remains safely stowed, Suzanne hiked herself into the passenger seat of my Jag and we headed in to Walnut grove. 
	"Did you ever notice that I don't wear lipstick?"
	"Yes, I had, You look fine without it," I said.
	"It's because I do so many things with my mouth. I really can do most things with my elbows, and even called them my make-believe-hands but until recently I never really thought of them as hands, so ever since I can remember I've used my mouth to do certain things. 
	Now, I really want to wear good make up for this charity affair, so I guess I'd better learn how to do a few more things with these guys," she said wiggling her tiny forearm stumps. 
	"No more excuses," she continued, "They're not make-believe-hands any more. They're going to have to do what everyone else's hands do and that's that."
  Shortly we had found a parking spot on the cobblestone street in front of the little shoe boutique called Millington's.
	"Hello, is Georgia here?"
	"Oh yes, Suzanne, go on back. You'll find her through that curtain right there."
	At Millington's, as with most of the old line shops in Walnut Grove, discretion was one of the products for which the clientele was willing to pay.
	I left Suzanne waddling through the curtain, and advised one of the people there that I would return in an hour, and would be next door at the haberdasher looking for a new tie or something.
	Twenty minutes later, I reentered Millingtons's to find Suzanne standing in front of a 
full length mirror. She had on her t-shirt, a new pair of white silk panties and a garterbelt attached to some low heeled gold slippers. The belt seemed to have been augmented with a few additional straps and each slipper appeared to have been filled or rather stuffed, making a soft platform for milady's hips. A woman whom I took to be Georgia knelt by her side.
	"Hi," she said, seeing my reflection in the glass. What do you think?"
	"The look good, " said, and continued in the usual fashion, "How do they feel when you walk around in them?"
	Suzanne shot me a quick look, then realized that it was  a question that really required an answer.  She shifted her weight slowly from side to side, the slowly swivelled in place, then took a few steps around behind the curtain that sheltered her position from the street.
	"I think they feel fine," she said, and I think that If I can practice with them for a week or so, They'll be fine. One thing though. See how the toe drags when I swing my hip foreward? I'm afraid I'll trip over them. Besides, it looks like they're paralyzed or something, and that just the image I'm trying to escape. Do you think you can do something about that?"
	Georgia straightened up and nodded. 
	"Why don't you keep them a day or two, and see if any other problems show up, then we can fix them all at once?"
	"Oh, good idea."
	"Are you comfortable with the garter belt? I got it down the street."
	" Yes, it's fine. I just had a little trouble fasteniong it with these little nubbies of mine, but I know I can do it now," Suzanne said, wiggling her forearms.
	"Do you want the set in a box or..."
	"No, I'll just slip my jeans over them, we've got to go over to Jackman's and see about 
my gown. I'm dying to see what the whole outfit looks like.
	Jackman's was a three story stone building with just a few elegant formal gowns in the windows. Jewelry and make-up cases flanked the entrance An elevator took us to the second floor where we were met by a tall, slender brunette in a simple black dress. 
	"May I help you?"
	Suzanne announced herself, and the woman disappeared through a nearby doorway. 
	"I'm really excited," Suzanne, said. "This place costs an arm and a leg but it's worth it"
	Then she started to giggle.
	Fortunately, any further comment was made unnecessary by the return of the woman.
	"Yes. If you can make your way over to dressing room three, there with the beige curtain, Miss Takashi will do your final fitting.
	Miss Takashi was one of the finest designers in the city, and had an almost uncanny way with silk.
	I relaxed in one of the chairs overlooking a small men's section, and looked through the magazines, settling on a recent copy of Gentleman's Quarterly.
	Nearly a half hour had passed when the curtain to dressing room three was pulled to one side, and I saw Suzanne looking more beautiful and radient than I had ever seen her.
	The dress was a nearly transparent cafe' au lait, silk, tiny spaghetti straps, high waisted, as in the empire styles. The upper half fell away from the waist as if the tail of a long filmy jacket, revealing a lightly decorated skirt of the same base tone, but with a very subtle gold and brown pattern. The skirt showed the gold slippers, and had a moderate slit in the side that showed just a tease of hip and lace when she moved.
	"What do you think? Is it OK?" she asked looking over her shoulder at me?"
	"Absolute perfection!"
	"You really like it?"
	"What more can I say? The color sets off your hair and eyes, and the line is the quintessence of grace."
	"You're not just saying that?"
	A middle aged asian woman sat smiling beside her.
	"I'm deadly serious, I honestly replied."
	"She designed it," said the asian woman. I added some tricks and a few things to make it fall better,  but it's really her design. I think it works beautifully. Show him the gloves, Miss.
	Suzanne slid some tubes of gold fabric that matched her shoes up over her elbows and 
about a third of the way up her arms. She took a small gold purse from Miss Takashi and struck a pose suitable for the cover of Harpers Bazaar. 

	She was certainly ready for her entrance.

	That would be a story in itself.