"Hi, Mr. Tilling. Hey, Frankie." I smiled at her. "Did you tell him anything yet?" she asked Mr. Tilling.
"No, Cassie, I was waiting until you got here."
"OK, then," she said.
"Frankie, Cassie has a special situation. She wasn’t going to go into The Program at all, but she decided to give it a shot. Because she has an issue, we decided to let her pick her partner. She picked you."
"We’ve been friends forever," she smiled at me, "and I know you’re not an asshole."
"She’s going to need help. She’s going to need a lot of help," Mr. Tilling said.
"Anything for a pal," I grinned at them, "but what’s the big deal?"
"You’ll find out," Mr. Tilling said mysteriously. "Time to strip. You first, Frankie."
I took off my shirt, and said, "Look. Scrawny arms, scrawny chest." I went for the pants and said, "And now, the scrawny legs. How this guy pushes off the mound is a mystery." Cassie was giggling. I then stripped off my underpants.
"Well, that’s not scrawny," Cassie giggled.
I smiled at her. I didn’t think it was all that impressive, but it was nice of her to say what she did.
"Now, you, Cassie," Mr. Tilling said.
She dropped the smile, and started fidgeting with her shirt. "I’m going to turn around, so you get the full effect after I get everything off." She turned her back to us, and started stripping-very hesitantly. There was something here I wasn’t getting. Cassie was cute. She was petite-5’0" or 5’1", and probably not more than 100 or 110 pounds-but she was cute. She had longish, very curly light brown hair, which she often tied up in a ponytail or with a hairclip. She had cute blue eyes, an adorable button nose, and a smattering of freckles. I’d never seen her naked, but didn’t see any cause to complain.
She finally finished, and turned around-and, at first glance, I really didn’t see any cause to complain! Like I said, she was petite-which, under clothes, probably masked how curvy she was. Her breasts weren’t huge-probably a B-cup-but they looked big on her small frame, and then were firm and pert. Her hips and ass were perfectly proportional. She was thin, but not skinny, if you know what I mean.
Her legs were perfect.
"My God, Cass, you’re beautiful," I said. "I never knew how lovely you were." She beamed.
And then, I saw them. I really didn’t see them until after I registered how beautiful she was-but, then, I did. Scars. A lot of scars. A whole lattice-work of them, covering her belly from right below her breasts down, all the way down her stomach and trailing off onto her thighs. They were clearly not new-but she’d obviously been through something major. If they had been new, they would have been nasty. Now I knew why going naked was a big deal for her.
She was looking at me expectantly. So, I asked. "What’s up with the scars?"
She looked at me, and launched herself at me, wrapping me in a bear hug. "Thank you so much," she said.
"For what?"
"For telling me I was beautiful before you noticed the scars."
"That was genuine," I grinned. "I really did notice how gorgeous you were before I noticed the scars."
"I know. You’re a sweetheart, you always have been. That’s why I picked you." She sat down in one of the chairs across from Mr. Tilling. I sat next to her.
"A car accident. I was 8. This was before we moved here. I was in the car with my grandfather. Of course, at 8, I’m supposed to be in the back seat with a safety belt on, right? Well, I was a complete imp at that age. I had taken the belt off and climbed into the front seat, unbuckled, next to my Grandpa. Grandpa doted on me, and didn’t have the heart to tell me to get back where I belonged. That haunted the poor man for years."
"Anyhow, it was at an intersection. We had the green light, but some idiot ran the red light from the other direction. Grandpa couldn’t stop, and plowed right into him. The safety belt and air bag saved Grandpa, but I went right through the windshield."
"Oh, Jesus, Cassie," I interjected.
"Believe it or not, it could’ve been worse. The windshield shattered from the crash, so at least I didn’t break through it. Since they tell me I went headfirst, that could’ve been it. Broken neck. I don’t remember the crash, but they tell me that. What did happen is that my body went flying through the broken glass. They think I went facedown, because the glass above me was pretty cleared out. That’s why my back really didn’t have much damage, just a few scrapes from the falling glass. But my front scraped on jagged glass on the way out, and that’s why I got cut so bad. The glass ripped me to shreds. Some of the scars-the straighter, more regular ones-are from subsequent surgery, but most of them are from the original cuts. They think I had my legs together, which is a good thing, because I got within an inch on either side of my vagina, but the glass missed that."
"It looks like it didn’t miss much else," I said.
"No. I was in the hospital for quite a while. I lost my spleen. They had to repair my intestines. And I only have half a right kidney-luckily, the left one was undamaged. There were a lot of other things-I still get muscle pulls in my stomach. Plus one of my ovaries had to be removed. The other one’s fine. Luckily, my uterus was unscathed." She gulped. "And I did almost die from the blood loss. There was an ambulance not too far away. They told my parents that five more minutes and I might not have made it."
"My God," was all I said.
"It was a long time ago," she said. "I’d like to say I’m over it. But I’m not. I don’t wear a bikini. I won’t wear a belly shirt. I don’t take showers in gym. I make love in the dark, for goodness’ sake. The only person who’s ever seen this besides my family, until today, was Nick. And after he saw it, he wouldn’t let me take my shirt off when we made love. Said it was ‘gross’. That didn’t help."
"That asshole," I said.
"You knew it before I did. Wish I’d have listened," she grinned at me. "Anyhow, I’m tired of being so self-conscious about it. I don’t want to live in fear anytime someone might get a glimpse at my stomach. I’m tired of it. I’m tired of being with a guy, and either stopping it before it gets that far, or trying to hide it. I’m tired of going shopping with my main criteria being ‘don’t show any belly.’ I’m tired of it. I need to get over it. That’s why I told Mr. Tilling and Ms. T that I wanted to do The Program. Full immersion, get it over with."
"You live with it," I told her, "so you might not realize something. They’re not as bad as you think they are. Nick’s an asshole. I don’t see anything ‘gross’ about your body at all." And I meant it. She was beautiful, and the scars didn’t detract from that.
"Yeah, but Frankie, you are staring," she said-but she was grinning when she said it.
"Well, there’s these two, on your right thigh. They form a little heart. It’s kind of cute."
She looked down, and burst into laughter. "I never noticed that. It’s not as obvious from this angle. But you’re right, that is a heart." She turned and hugged me again. "Oh, I knew I picked right when I picked you!"
"What are friends for?" I smiled.
"OK, you two. Are you ready?" I nodded. Cassie did too, but not enthusiastically. "Frankie, she’s your partner. You need to support her."
"I plan on it," I said, earning another big grin from Cassie. "Cass, you are one brave person, you know that?" She blushed, and beamed at me.
"Good. Get out of here," Mr. Tilling said.
We walked out of the office. I went first.
CHAPTER TWO CASSIEYes, I was scared. A lot. But my life had gotten to the point where I had to do something-and this seemed like the best solution.
Look, what had happened to me was extremely traumatic, no surprise. It wasn’t just physical-I needed therapy. I never have consciously remembered the accident, but I used to have horrific nightmares about it. And I do remember the recovery, which was traumatic enough.