Chapter Sixty Six

Louis Tooth lay prone on the bed, staring up at the ceiling in the luxurious suite at the Brown Hotel in Louisville, Kentucky. Something had startled him from a deep slumber and he was floating somewhere between sleep and consciousness.

Lisa was in the bathroom, holding Louis' prosthetic arm under the water rushing from the golden swan necked faucet over the sink. She was rubbing hotel soap on the fingers and scrubbing it as hard as she could.

Earlier they checked into their room together and Louis used the bathroom and dropped his arm off on the Louis XIV chair in the corner of the expansive lounge. He plopped into bed and passed out cold, much to the dismay of Lisa who emerged from the closet just moments later, dressed in a skimpy ensemble, ready for action. Not a cough nor a gentle nudge could wake the snoring Louis. She went back into the bath.

Lisa had never looked that closely at Louis' faux limb before and having noticed it in the chair, she picked it up and studied it carefully.

Gazing in the mirror she was at first shaken by how real the arm looked in her hands and how the hand appeared to be reaching for her left breast. She opened her top and placed the palm of the device on her bosom letting her nipple pop out from between the fingers.

She had once tried a masturbation technique called "The Stranger" that she read about in Penthouse Magazine. It begins by sitting on your own hand until it falls asleep and then using this numb appendage to touch yourself, giving the feeling of being groped by someone else. It had never worked for Lisa, largely because of the tingling pain involved and because the blood would rush back into her nerve endings, long before the job was complete.

Fondling her breast with the prosthesis was interesting and the image in the mirror exhilarating. The hand worked its way down her chest to her belly button and the index finger gently circled around the diamond stud. Slowly the cool digits made their way even further down.

Her reflection went from intriguing to bizarre as the empty, socket end with its straps and harness came into view, so she turned her back on the mirror.

Soon she was briskly riding the artificial limb like a hobby horse. Her face contorted and her lungs gasping for breath. She raised herself up on to the marble vanity with one foot on the lid of the toilet seat and the other stretched out to brace itself on the rim of the bathtub so she could get a better angle.

The room grew dim and her mind left the Earth to those places that only a woman can locate during an intimate encounter. Part of her thoughts stayed inside the room, causing her to bite her lip, squelching any sounds of ecstasy.

It wasn't her climax or even the fall off of the vanity onto the hard tile floor that caused the blood curdling screams that woke Louis from his extremely deep slumber. It wasn't the bulk of Louis' prosthetic hand being unexpectedly shoved deep inside her vagina that made her howl like a Basset hound to a full moon, prompting the house keeper next door to take the cellophane from the drinking glass sitting on the vanity in the adjoining bathroom and hold it against the wall while pressing her own ear to the bottom just to better hear what was happening. It had mostly to do with the large prosthetic thumb penetrating another orifice that was innocently hanging around in the general vicinity of the crime.

After Lisa had pulled the Stranger's hand out of her ass she sat, slightly confused on the cold tile. She stared at the disembodied arm that lay before her with an odd glare. It was a combination of shame and anger mixed with love. It was almost as if she were wondering what the mystery limb was thinking after having its way with her. If there was a cigarette handy, she would've smoked it.

"Lisa?" Louis called from the next room. He was still not completely awake. "Lisa, are you here?"

Lisa quickly sprang to her feet, winced a bit, grabbed the arm and started scrubbing. She concentrated on the thumb.

It was a frequent occurrence that when Louis would make an acquaintance while wearing the prosthetic arm, the stranger would unwittingly grab the dead hand and shake it only to lose the comforting smile on his or her face and begin apologizing, almost always repeating the mantra "I didn't know, I didn't realize, I'm so sorry."

Lisa was concerned that if she didn't completely sterilize the hand under the scalding tap that any hapless, fake-hand shaker might come away with some offensive smells along with the feelings of embarrassment they would indubitably be left with.

"LISA!" Louis was becoming more awake. "Where are you?"

Lisa held the hand up to her nose. "Coming Louis." She gave the "That should be good enough" shrug and tossed the arm back on to the chair as she left the water closet.

"What's the matter honey?" She said as she tried to regain her composure.

"I had the strangest dream." Louis elevated his pillow and sat up in the beautiful, hand carved, mahogany, 4 poster bed. "I was trapped in the dark and I reached out..."

"Yes honey..." Lisa slid her damp hand behind Louis' shoulder.

"I reached out and I touched Marty..."

"That's kind of beautiful Louis."

"No." Louis swallowed hard. "I touched Marty."

"You touched Marty..yes." Lisa was becoming worried.

"I touched Marty's...dick!"

"Yewwwww. What a horrible dream." Lisa recoiled in horror.

"It was so real!" Louis stared out towards the window at the Louisville skyline. Night had fallen and the city lights filled the room. The landing beacon from a jet aircraft moved slowly across the otherwise frozen portrait of the River City.

A steamboat, the Belle of Louisville was churning the Ohio river water up in its giant, red, paddle wheel, making a 90 degree turn in order to mate with its landing pier. The steam whistles blew loudly, the sound bouncing off of the buildings and echoing down the vacant city streets. She was announcing her arrival.

"I'm home!" Was what the Belle was saying.