“How's the salad?” he asked when I was about halfway through it.  “It's good,” I answered, glancing at his fries for about the tenth time.  “Would you like one?” he asked.  One!  I wanted to shove my face down in them and chow down like a dog.  “Here,” he handed me one, “one isn't going to make you fat.”  I snatched it and sucked it down as if it were air.  I watched him as he took a bite of that greasy cheeseburger.  “Would you like a bite?” he asked.  A bite!  Ha!  “Here,” he said, holding it up to my mouth.  I took the biggest bite that I could, which wasn't really that big.  The burger was too thick for my mouth.

“You're so bad for me,” I joked, wiping my mouth with a napkin.  I instantly regretted saying it when I saw his face fall, “I’m so sorry, Jess.”  “It's okay.  I was joking,” I stopped him, putting my hand on his.  He relaxed a little.  “Listen, Dave.  We have to talk,” I kept my hand on his.  He stared at me intently.  “We can't go on like this.  You can't,” I told him.  “What do you mean?” he asked.  “Dave, I forgave you long ago.  You need to forgive yourself.  I can't stand to watch you like this.  You're miserable,” I told him.  “I’m not either,” he lied.  “Yes you are,” I told him, “but I’m going to help you.”  He looked at me warily.

“I’m not going with you tonight unless you agree to mingle.  I want you to actively look for someone.  A date,” I told him.  “It's not that easy,” he got up from the table and went to stare out of the kitchen window.  “Sure it is,” I started.  “No it's not,” he growled, causing me to jump.  “I’m sorry,” he rushed back to the table and took my hand in his, “It's just wrong to leave you sitting by yourself while I run around and try to pick up women.”  “No, it's not.  I want you to,” I told him, “If you're not back by ten, I’ll assume that you got lucky and I’ll call a cab.”  He looked at me strangely, “Okay.  If that's what you want,” he said with trepidation.  “It's what I want,” I squeezed his hand with a smile.  He nodded his head in agreement.  He almost looked relieved.

“Well, look at the time,” I said, glancing at the clock.  It was right after seven.  “We better get going,” he said.  He got up from the table and helped me get ready, which consisted of my purse, my phone, my backpack containing an extra set of clothes and a blanket.  I like to be prepared.  He pushed me out of the house, down the ramp, and to his car.  He lifted me out of my chair and put me in the front passenger seat of his car.  He put my wheelchair in the trunk, then got in the driver's seat.

“Are you excited about this?” he asked as we pulled away from the curb.  “I don't know,” I told him, “Angelique really is Jen's favorite actress.  I just like her movies.”  “Yeah, but you might get to meet her,” Dave prodded.  Jen had got us VIP passes.  It was rumored that sometimes Angelique would go into the VIP lounge and choose certain ones to go into a special viewing room to watch the movie with her.  We were going to a special viewing of her most recent movie.  “Maybe,” I said, not really expecting it.  What would Angelique want with a girl in a wheelchair.  “I wouldn't mind meeting her,” I was surprised to hear Dave say.  He doesn't even care to watch movies.

We arrived at the theater.  Dave parked in a handicapped parking spot, and I hung the placard from his rearview mirror.  He got my chair out of the back, then lifted me out of the car and into it.  He helped me spread the blanket on my lap, hung my backpack on the back of the chair, and handed me my purse.

He pushed me into line.  There were only about ten people in front of us.  I was a little excited, and I got more excited the closer that we got.  I handed Dave Jen's VIP pass.  “I don't think they'll let me use this.  You have to show ID,” Dave said.  “Just try,” I told him.

Finally, it was our turn.  “I’m sorry, but no,” the doorman told Dave, “passes are non-transferrable.”  “How about general admission?  Can I buy a ticket?” Dave asked.  “Sorry, sir, but we are all sold out,” the man responded.

I looked at Dave at a loss, “Let's go.  We can do this some other time.”  “Don't be silly,” he said, “You go.  I’ll be fine.”  “But,” I started.  “But nothing,” he cut me off, “You have a good time.  Call me if you need anything.  Call me when you're ready to go home.”  I smiled, “I’ll just call a cab when I’m ready to go home.  You have fun.”  “I’m just going home,” he told me.  “You better not,” I wagged my finger at him.  He flashed me the first genuine smile in months.  That killer smile that I originally fell for.  “We'll see,” he said.  “Don't wait up for me,” I told him.  “Have fun,” he told me as the usher took hold of my chair and whisked me away.

I was wheeled into a large room with several rows of plush red seats, black carpet, and red walls trimmed in gold.  “Miss, would you like to stay in your wheelchair, or would you like for me to transfer you to your assigned seat?” the usher asked.  “My wheelchair is fine,” I told him.  He nodded and left me.  I checked my phone.  Fifteen minutes left.  I turned down the ringer on my phone, then watched as others were seated.

Someone came and sat next to me.  I was too busy looking around at all of the commotion to pay attention to the person.  “It's quite busy, isn't it?” A woman with a soft voice stated next to me.  “It sure is,” I answered.  Then I started noticing that the people I was watching were looking my way.  Then I looked at her.

Angelique was sitting right next to me.  I know my jaw dropped.  I never expected it to happen to me.
“How are you this evening?” she asked, smiling, holding her hand out to me.  I could feel my mouth opening and closing, but the words just wouldn't come.  I finally remembered myself and held my hand out to her.  She took it promptly and squeezed my fingers gently.  Everything about her seemed gentle.  Far from the commanding roles she played in her movies.

Angelique was more beautiful in person than in any film that I had seen.  She had large, hazel, almond-shaped eyes, a flawless, olive complexion, and shimmering black, curly, onyx colored hair.  Her figure was a perfect hour-glass, and she sat with poised grace.  Her dress was a solid green silk, off the shoulder number that perfectly matched her eyes.  Her fingernails were well manicured and polished to match her dress.

She was flawless, unlike me.  There was an ethereal glow about her that was mesmerizing.  I suddenly felt very under dressed.  Under everything.

“Would you like to join me for a private viewing?” she asked, smile never wavering.  A genuine smile.  “Oh, I couldn't,” I stammered out.  “Nonsense,” she stated.  She lifted her free hand up and snapped her fingers.  The usher appeared immediately to her side.  “Evan, Jessica is going to join us for a private viewing,” There was the commanding tone that I recognized from her movies.  How did she know my name?  The usher moved behind me.  “I don't think you want me to,” I started.  “Of course I do,” she cut me off, standing, my hand still in hers.

She walked, and I was pushed out of the large room.  The jealous stares weren’t lost on me as we passed other patrons.  No one else followed us.  Was I the only one?

We went down a long dark hall, her hand never leaving mine.  Then we entered a room half the size of the one we were previously in.  A large screen covered a whole wall opposite the door we entered.  The room was dimly lit with small lights running along the white walls.  In front of the screen were comfortable looking pink couches and chaise lounges set up in a pattern to optimize the viewing experience.  Next to the door we entered through was a bar, with a bartender, set up with various wines and champagnes.

Without warning, Ethan picked me up out of my chair.  I jumped, “Oh, hello!”  I looked at his face.  “Hello,” he smirked.  Ethan was quite the looker himself with brown hair, big brown eyes, and a smirk to die for.  He set me down on a chaise lounge on the right side of the room.  “I hope you don't mind,” Angelique’s soft voice, “We wish to optimize viewing pleasure.”  “I can see that,” I said, still looking at Ethan.  He gave me a genuine smile this time.

She sat down next to me on the lounger, again taking my hand, “Wine or champagne?”  “Oh, I don't drink,” I declined.  “Just one,” she said.  It wasn't a question.  “I’ve never tried champagne before,” I agreed, uncomfortable.  Ethan sat down next to my feet.  He lifted my right leg and started unzipping my boot.  “Oh!   No!” I protested.  He stopped and looked at me, shocked.  “Oh, I promise that you are going to want those off!” Angelique exclaimed, “No shoes on the furniture.”  She flicked her free wrist, and Ethan started again.
“No!  Pease!” I cried, putting both hands on Ethan's.  He stopped and looked at me strangely.  “Oh!  Jess, what's wrong?” Angelique asked, concerned now.  I looked at her with tears in my eyes, “I don't want you to see my scars.”

“Oh,” she looked at me with sympathy, “Your scars won't bother us.”  “No, please,” I begged.  “What if we cover you with the blanket?” Evan asked softly.  I looked at him, “you won't look?”  “Not if you don't want me to,” he answered.  “Okay,” I gave in, defeated.  He went back to unzipping my boot.  He removed it but didn't look.  He lifted my left leg and did the same.  He moved and put my mangled legs in his place, then covered them with the blanket.  He didn't look.  I know.  I watched his face for the telling sign of revulsion and didn't see it.  “There,” he smoothed the blanket over me.

“Now for champagne,” Angelique announced, “I promise it will help calm your nerves.”  The bartender brought a tray containing three glasses of champagne.  He passed one to each of us.  I sipped it and liked the bubbliness.  I took another drink, wondering when the movie would start.  I started to feel strange.  It was kind of like a buzz, but not a buzz at the same time.  I felt my inhibitions loosening.  I felt more at ease with them.  “Better?” she asked.  “Yes,” I agreed.

“I'd really like to show you something,” Evan said.  I looked at him curiously. “But, it involves looking at one of your legs.”  I felt the anxiety boiling up inside of me.  I took another drink.  This stuff is good.  It worked to push the anxiety down.  “What are you going to show me?” I asked.  “I’m going to make your scars disappear,” he said seriously.  “Like a magic trick?” I asked.  “Something like that,” he glanced at Angelique.  “Oh, do let him show you,” she said, “Evan never disappoints.”

I thought for a minute.  Why not?  I don't know these people.  I’ll probably never see them again.  “Okay.  I’m game,” I agreed.  He gently uncovered my left leg.  “This is going to seem weird, but just go with it,” Evan said.  “Okay,” I agreed and took another drink.  He started gently rubbing his hands on my leg.  I think gently, anyway.  I can't feel a thing.  Then he lifted my leg up to his mouth and kissed a scar.  Then he stuck out his tongue and started licking it.  He's right. It was weird.  Maybe he has some kind of fetish.  He ran his tongue over two large scars, leaving a trail of saliva in his wake.  Then he just sat my leg back down and relaxed back on the lounger.

I looked at it.  The scars were still there.   “That's some bad magic,” I told him with a smile.  “You have to wait a minute for it to work,” he told me.

“Sure,” I sat back and took a drink.  At least I got some good champagne.

After a few minutes and a couple more drinks out of the champagne flute that never seems to go empty, “Okay.  Look now.”  I sat up and looked at my leg.  I was stunned into silence.  The scars were gone.