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Monique was right on time- she knocked at exactly eleven o’ clock. As I let her in, she seemed friendlier than she was the first time. Her smile as I opened the door caught me a bit off guard.

"Hi, Quinn!"

He’s as cute as I remember.

She looked fantastic. She wore shorts and a T-shirt, and her long brown hair was down, with signs of the work of the warm breeze that was blowing that day.

"Hi, Monique, come inside."

She came in, and immediately seated herself on the sofa where she had sat last time. She asked for a diet soda, and by the time I had returned with it, she had lit herself a cigarette.

"So, exactly how big is this cast going to be? She asked"

"Well, it will start low, at your hips, and it will come up to your armpits, and will also go over your shoulders." As an afterthought, I added "We will also put a cast on your left leg, too. One like the one you had last time. Are you comfortable with that?"

She replied quickly with "Sure."

"Comfortable?" She thought. "I’ve been looking forward to this."

I added, "Since this will be a bit more than what we did last time, I will pay you an extra hundred dollars. That means a total of Five hundred."

"That’s fine," she added in an almost offhand way, which caught me a bit by surprise, since she was so materialistic.

"If you’re ready, we can get started anytime."

She got up from the sofa, and started for the casting room.

"I’m ready whenever you are."

"One thing, you’ll need to put your hair up. I don’t want to get plaster in it."

" Do you have a rubber band I can borrow?"

I went to the desk in the other room, and rummaged around in the drawer until I found one. I took it back to her, and she put her hair up in a sort of makeshift bun.

I retrieved my bucket, and went to fill it with warm water. When I returned, she had gotten out of her shorts and shirt, and sat there on the casting table in a matched set of dark blue string underwear and push-up bra. She seemed to be comfortable that way, and she smiled as I returned. I set the bucket down, and pulled five rolled up hundred-dollar bills from my pocket.

As I placed the money with her clothes, she began talking. "So, how did you end up doing this?"

"I guess it was just being in the right place at the right time. Some of my work was on display at an art show, and the gentleman who pays for all of this approached me with his offer."

"It didn’t seem strange? Casting women and then sketching them?"

"Sure, it did- but a job is a job," I said as I picked up the 12 inch stockinette. I was creating the story on the fly. I did NOT want her to know that this was a one-man operation, and that the money was mine. I cut off a 5-foot section of the soft material.

"Monique, for this, I will need to cast you in a standing position. Will you be alright standing for about two hours?"

"Sure," she said with a chuckle as she slid off the table. "I’m a waitress- two hours of standing is nothing!"

I had her raise her arms. As she did, she asked "So, do you enjoy doing this?" Sliding the stockinette over her head and onto her body, I answered "It’s pretty nice-I get to work with some very attractive ladies, and I have plenty of time to do the things I want, as well." I made two vertical slits in the side of the stockinette from the top, one on each side. "You can lower your arms, now."

After she had done this, I brought the front and back flaps that the cuts had made together over her shoulders, and secured them with tape. When I was done, she looked as though she had on a very tight white tight dress down to mid -thigh. The stockinette looked great by itself, clinging to her curves.

"I’m going to take that remark about attractive ladies as a compliment," she said with a little smile.

"Shit, I shouldn’t have said that. That sounded too forward," Monique said to herself in her mind.

She seemed very talkative this time. Last time, she was very cool and distant. I wondered what the difference was. I just reminded myself about the personality she showed the first time, and took the two broomhandles I had prepared and instructed her to hold her arms out directly to the side, using the pieces of wood to hold on to for support.

As I rolled the cart closer to where she stood, I told her "You may take that as a compliment. You are attractive." I reached for a roll of six-inch padding.

"Here we go," she thought to herself. "This is what you’ve been waiting for." She still wondered why, though.

I began wrapping the padding on her hips. I planned for this cast to be like the ones I had seen in photos, and therefore, would have to plaster down over her hips, then trim it back to allow for leg movement.

"Wow, is it going to go down that far?" She asked. "If it does, it will touch the leg cast."

"Actually, I am going to wrap the cast down this far, then trim it back to allow you to bend your hips. The idea is to immobilize your back." I said, as I began wrapping higher and higher with the padding. When I finished with that roll, she had two layers of padding from the bottom of her breasts to about four inches down her thigh. I cut two more pieces of padding about four by eight inches, and taped them in place over her hipbones, to make things a bit more comfortable, there. I then began wrapping four-inch padding over her upper torso in a figure eight pattern, being careful not to smash her chest. I wanted it to accentuate her shape, not eliminate it.

Monique watched Quinn wrapping the padding intently. She was enjoying all of the sensations: the sight of him working, the feel of his hands on her body, even the smell of the shampoo he used. "Ok, keep a grip on yourself." She reminded herself. Relax and enjoy this.

I asked her if she wanted a smoke before we continued, since it would be her last chance for a while. She agreed, and when I asked where she had left hers, she just said "One of yours will be fine, if that’s OK." I got us each one, and lit hers for her. As we smoked, she started talking again.

"My father was an artist, too."

"Oh really?"

"Yes, he painted, mostly. Portraits. He used to do them for rich tourists when we lived in France."

"Oh? You lived in France?"

"Yes, until I was ten."

"Why did he stop?" I asked, unsure of why I was actually encouraging this conversation. I suppose I was just being polite.

" It’s kind of a sad story," she said. "We moved to Pittsburgh, and Father got a job in a factory. There weren’t too many people who wanted their picture painted, so he just worked in the factory, and did his paintings to relax. One day, he had an accident at work. It cut some tendons in his right hand, and he lost a lot of the use of his hand. After that, he got very depressed, and never really was himself again."

"That IS sad. You speak of him in the past tense. Is he still living?"

"No, he died when I was fourteen."

"I’m sorry."

"Thanks," she said. She held up her cigarette. "Hey, I’m done with this." I held the ashtray for her to stub it out, put mine out, and asked: "Are you ready for the plaster?"

"Yes." "Quite ready," she added to herself.

I took a roll of six-inch plaster, dipped it, wrung it out, and began wrapping at her hips. I made each turn carefully, keeping the plaster from folding or bunching. I noticed Monique watching me intently as I worked. She seemed not to mind it a bit. I assumed that the difference in her was just due to her being more familiar with the casting process, and maybe even being a bit more familiar with me. She was definitely at ease with my working over her, even with my hands being on her.

Monique watched Quinn applying the cast to her body, and again, drank in all the sensations. The plaster looked sort of slimy as it squished out of the wet bandages he wrapped on her. Turn after turn, he wrapped and smoothed over her hips and stomach. She began to feel that old familiar warm flush come over her as he worked. She could feel the weight beginning to increase from all of the wet bandages he was applying to her. He took smaller bandages, and began to wrap them over her chest and shoulders. She closed her eyes and shut out the sights, just concentrating on the sensations of his hands, wrapping and smoothing, punctuated by the occasional pause with the sound of another roll being unwrapped and dipped. The plaster on her hips was beginning to get warm, enhancing the experience even more.

"Are you awake?" I asked her.

"Yes," she answered, a bit startled. "I was just daydreaming a bit."

"OK, just don’t fall over." I added with a chuckle.

I wondered what she was daydreaming about. For a few moments, I let myself think that she might actually be enjoying this. She seemed to have zoned out. "She is probably just bored with it," I thought to myself.

As he applied layer after layer of plaster to her, Monique noticed the heat building up in other areas of the cast. It was beginning to get warm over her breasts, and she found that sensation even more exciting than she anticipated it would be. There could be no doubt- this was making her hot. Plain and simple- this was turning her on. "But how could that be?" Everyone she ever knew that had worn a cast had hated it. "Why in the hell is it doing this to me?" She wondered. "Is it the cast, or is it Quinn?"

"Monique? Snap out of it." I said.

She shook her head slightly, and came back into the real world from wherever she had been.

"You were totally zoned out, there."

"Sorry," she said. "I was just letting my mind wander a bit."

While we waited for the cast to dry enough to finish it up, we chatted a bit more. During the conversation, I tried to remind myself of the way she had acted before. The way she was talking today, she seemed like a different person. She chatted about school, her major, and how she was working her way through school. She asked a lot of questions about me, as well. I answered the best I could, but not letting her in on very much. Despite the fact that she seemed much warmer and friendlier this time, I didn’t let my guard down. I was truthful with her as much as possible, but I still couldn’t bring myself to tell her the whole truth about me. Looking back, it had to have been funny looking, us having a conversation, with her in her cast, standing with her arms straight out to the side. We ended up chatting for about 45 minutes before I realized that the cast was dry enough to trim.

"Hey," I said- how about a rest for your arms?"

"That would be great."

"Go ahead. Rest them, move them around. They have to be hurting by now."

She was only too quick to hand me the broomhandles, and move her arms a bit before resting them on the sides of her cast. Her hands, however, began feeling all around the cast.

"Wow, this is big and thick," she thought as she felt of her cast. She moved her hands over the surface, feeling the texture. Her tactile exploration found the edges of the cast where possible. This was great. She wanted to try to bend her back and feel the restraint, but she settled for just feeling the weight of it against her shoulders and hips, and feeling the snugness of it, like she was being hugged all over her body. She noticed that she could still inhale deeply, but that the cast constricted around her chest ever so slightly as she did.

I took my cast saw, and began to trim the cast at the bottom. I made two cuts, each from the side of her hip around to the front of her thighs, allowing room to allow her to bend her hip ninety degrees. I left the cast all the way down in the middle of the front and over the top of her butt in the back. This way, her spine would be immobile, but she could still sit. I trimmed back the stockinette and padding, folded it over, and anchored it with a roll of four inch plaster. I then had her hold her arms back out while I trimmed the top of the cast to allow her full movement of her shoulders.

After anchoring the padding and stockinette around the arm and neck holes, I stepped back, and admired my work. She looked fantastic. The cast was very smooth. My application work was nice, and she gave it curves, hills and valleys in all the right places. We let the plaster set up until it was only a bit damp to the touch. It was almost 1:30 by then, and I asked her if she was hungry.

"Actually, yes I am." She replied.

"Let’s order a pizza. We can have it delivered, and by the time we get done eating, we’ll be able to do the cast on your leg."

"Ok, can I go to the bathroom while you order it?" She asked.

"Sure, just be careful. Don’t fall and hurt yourself."

"I’ll be fine. I don’t want to wreck the cast, either."

"The cast is pretty solid by now. Just make sure you don’t hurt yourself."

She headed to the bathroom in a very slow, meticulous walk. I was amazed just watching her walk her small steps in the huge cast. When she returned, I noticed she had let her hair back down. Even though it had been sort of wadded up, it looked great now.

We ate our lunch with more small talk. I was getting to know her a bit more, and I wondered more and more if my initial judgment of her had been wrong. It turned out she was struggling her way through school, her car had died, and she was trying to work enough to keep her tuition and expenses paid, yet still make her grades. After lunch was through, I offered her my hand to help her get up.

"Ready for that leg cast?"

"Yes, let’s do it."

This was almost happening too quickly. She sat on the stool, which was more comfortable than the chair had been; watching him put the cast on her leg. First, he put the smooth stockinette (Jeez, she had already picked up some of the terms for this!) on her leg up to the very top of her thigh. Then the padding, which was a nice feeling in it’s own way. It disconnected some of the sensation in her skin, while down in her muscles, she could still feel what was being done. Then, layer after layer of the plaster bandages. She definitely liked the feeling of the wrapping and smoothing process, and watching him work was a treat in itself. These feelings seemed most sensitive on her foot and thigh. She flushed again, and the feelings of excitement came back as the plaster began to get warm with the setting. All too quickly, the cast was finished, and he set the leg on the plastic covered pillow to dry. She enjoyed the feeling on her heel and the back of her calf and thigh, as it rested in the warm hardening cast. She questioned whether or not she was crazy, but she knew this was something she liked, and something she wanted more of.

We let Monique’s leg cast dry until it was set up enough to move her. I helped her into the wheelchair, and wheeled her into the parlor. I stopped, and took a photo of her, sitting in the chair with her casted leg held straight out in front on the legrest. Damn, she was beautiful, and the casts only made her more beautiful.

I took several more photos of her, both in the wheelchair, and on the sofa. I then wheeled her back to the sunroom that overlooked the deck. Several more pictures there, and then we went outside onto the deck. The backyard had a privacy fence, so there was no chance of her being seen by nosy neighbors. Again, I took more photos of her, some on the patio furniture, and some in the wheelchair. I then decided how I wanted to do her sketch, and explained it to her.

I helped her stand up and hobble over to lean against the wall at the corner where the deck wrapped around to the side of then house. I then got her a footstool to rest her casted foot on. After making sure she was comfortable, I got my sketchpad, and began working at a furious pace. It seemed to me that I couldn’t get the lines on the paper fast enough.

As she posed, Monique watched him work intently over the paper. She remembered the last time she saw someone working that way to create something. It had been her father, and it had been so many years ago. She got a bit sad, thinking of that. She was also a bit sad that she would soon be having these casts taken off. She knew she would have hated having to wear them for very long, but she didn’t want it to end when he helped her back into the chair, wheeled her back to the work room, and began to cut the leg cast off.

As Monique dressed, she was continuing to engage me in light conversation. When she was almost finished, she asked me:

"Quinn are you married?"

I was shocked. "No."

"Do you have a girlfriend?"

I wondered where she might be going with this. "No" was all I could say.

"Forgive me for asking, but do you have a boyfriend?"

I laughed at this. "No, I’m straight. Just single and unattached at the moment."

She apologized. "I didn’t mean to offend you."

"No, no offense. I’m straight, but not narrow."

She smiled at that. She took four of the hundred dollar bills and stuffed them into her shorts pocket. The other one she held up in front of her and said: "Then let me take you out for dinner."

Now, I was totally floored. I couldn’t believe this woman, this very beautiful woman, whom only the day before, I thought was totally worthless, was asking me out, and I felt compelled to accept.

"Okay." I said