Incognito in Prague

Or The Infinitely Improbable Story

by Bobby Laurel

Note: This story is a pure fiction. The places and characters are fictitious. If they resemble anybody you know it is just by chance.

The First Trip to Prague

I hadn’t been to Prague for about 10 years before I made my secret trip to the city in summer 2004. There are two reasons why it can be called a secret trip: First, several of my friends and members of my family live in the city; second, I wanted to wear strong glasses for a few days in the city. To understand the latter reason it is to say I am really obsessed with strong glasses. I like women who have to wear strong glasses because of their visual handicap; and I like wearing strong glasses as well. Unfortunately, my eyes are not nearsighted enough to make it possible for me to wear really thick glasses. For many years, I used to pretend high nearsightedness by wearing glasses with plastic lenses and I forged the diopters at every single eye test at the doctor’s. I even sometimes wore glasses fitted with lenses so strong that I could barely see. Years later, one day, when I was surfing Internet, I found a website where I learned I could wear much stronger glasses if I wore powerful contact lenses with plus diopters to imitate high nearsightedness. The people who invented the method called it the Glasses-Over-Contacts or simply GOC. They had a large discussion website and also a Yahoo group called Glasses Over Contacts. Since the day when I had purchased the appropriate lenses and the matching glasses I have often gone for trips to distant towns to enjoy my pretending to be a high myope.

My plan for Prague was to spend the whole weekend wearing my strong glasses over contacts. I really wanted to enjoy the fetish of mine for a longer time than just a few hours in an afternoon. The capital city seemed to be an ideal place for that as I could stay at a hotel and took walks in those parts of the large city where nobody knew me.

I came to Prague by car and signed in at a small hotel near the highway. The lady in the reception looked at me. My glasses with the lenses that were almost 2 cm thick at the edges obviously draw her attention. Probably, she had never seen anybody with such strong glasses on. When I was signing the hotel book I could feel her staring at my glasses. She must have thought my –20 diopters were a pain in the ass for me, but I was one of the happiest people in the world instead. When I was passing by her desk 30 minutes later to take my first walk, I noticed her pityingly looking at me again.

My Friday afternoon walk was very pleasant although rather uneventful. Some people in the streets or in shops looked at me, but nobody really stared. The evening in a pub near the hotel was also very quiet. When I came back to my hotel room I decided to take the risk and went to bed with my contact lenses in because I wanted to wake up in the morning into the 20-diopter blur just as a real high myopic man. A few drops of antiseptic liquid helped me avoid any complications.

The Saturday program was to visit some places where I usually had gone for walks wearing strong glasses without contacts under them when I had lived in Prague years ago. I went by tram to the neighborhood where I had worked and took the same route as I had done so many times. The place brought back distant memories.

Then, I usually went out of the building where my office was later than most of the other employees, and turned to a street running through the industrial zone out of the town. I was sure nobody who knew me would ever meet me there as most people hurried to tram stations to get home as soon as possible. The sidewalk, separated by 5 meters wide green strip with grass and bushes was always deserted. There I used to put my strong glasses on. My walks were rather lonely. I walked along the street of the distant part of the city or took a bus of the lines that served that neighbourhood and the suburb area. I wasn’t able to see too much through my first strong glasses, as they were too strong for my eyes to adapt. I was able to cross a street quite safe only at the intersections with traffic lights. Faces of the few people I met were also very blurry. It was even difficult to say if they were looking at me when we were passing by. I didn’t know anything about glasses over contacts then so I satisfied my desire to wear strong glasses by those “blurry walks”. Actually, I was able to recognize the faces of the other people only in bright sunshine. You may think now, it was rather sad, and I was unhappy. In fact, the opposite is true. I was a happy man and I enjoyed the moments I could spend wearing my strong glasses very much. It gave me an illusion I was severely nearsighted, which was the condition that always brought me pleasant feeling. It was a special mixture of thrill, excitement, suspensefulness, and a kind of expectation of something new or unusual.

This time I took the same route, but there were some differences, of course. I was much older, I knew a lot of things about people who suffer from sever nearsightedness, and I knew I was not the only person in the world who liked glasses. One more difference was that I could see very well through my well-adjusted glasses-over-contacts. Both the strength of my glasses and my contacts were carefully calculated and tested to provide me with almost perfect vision. The glasses were very heavy and thick, which brought me an intense feeling. My peripheral vision was rather distorted reminding me I was “visually handicapped”. I knew I really looked handicapped as the strong thick lenses made my eyes look small, sunken in the depth of power rings of the thick lenses.

The sidewalk was as deserted as I always knew it. I was walking slowly enjoying the feeling and my memories. After 1 kilometer I came to a new intersection. The old street bridged a new bypass. The old bus stop was moved about 100 meters to the south, but for me it was the same bus stop, where I had waited for so many times for a bus. There were some people waiting for their lines. I lit a cigarette. The moment I was putting my Zippo back into my pocket I noticed the flash that thrills every glasses fetishist. It was a flash of a strong lens with plano front. I looked the way from which it came to see a woman with pretty strong glasses looking my direction. I was not mistaken. She was wearing quite fashionable frames with very thick lenses. It was more than I had expected. I hoped I would be able to sit close to her in the bus.

Then the bus came. I did not care what line it was as I was trying to sneak a look at the woman to find out if she was going to take the bus. She moved. OK, I said to myself, let’s get on. I chose the front door and sat on one of the seats with my back to the front, because I wanted to see her. She got on through the rear door, hesitated for a moment looking for a vacant seat, then walked to the front part where I was sitting and chose a seat right in the front of me. I pretended to look outside the window, but my heart was beating fast. Her glasses were really strong; according to the way her eyes looked, probably –14 or even -16 diopters. The lenses protruded about 2 mm out of the frames on the front side and much more at the rear side. In fact they were very unusual. Most people would buy thin high index lenses instead of those chunks of plastic. I wondered why she was wearing the old type of lenses. No optician would ever recommend such glasses to a nearsighted customer.

The bus was going its way, stopping, letting passengers get off and taking new ones in, and I was sneaking more and more looks at her heavily bespectacled face. She was quite nice. Her dark hair cascaded on he shoulders, cute breasts revealed a nice cleavage, and her hands, lying quietly on her purse in her lap were small and gentle. I decided to get off at the same stop as she would and try to talk to her about her glasses. But the time was running, the bus was swallowing lengths of its regular line and the woman kept sitting on the seat. After a long time and many kilometers the bus stopped and the loudspeaker announced the terminus. Everybody was getting off. I looked outside the window to see an unknown part of the city. It looked we were somewhere in a village past the city limits. I got off.

The woman with strong glasses was standing on a sidewalk just few meters far from me searching for something in her purse. Should I try to talk to her? I thought. Then she turned and looked right at me. I smiled at her.

She stepped forward, squinted, and asked: “May I ask you a question?”

Oh, my god, I thought.

I just nodded, and she said: “How many diopters do you have in your glasses?”

Yes, just like that, such a simple question; the same question I wanted to ask her.

She was looking into my eyes, or probably at my super-thick lenses, through her strong glasses. Her eyes were very dark, almost black.

“Minus twenty.” I said plainly.

“Oh, you have very strong glasses. May I ask you in what optic shop did you have them made?”

“In a shop in Brno, I have my optician in Brno, where I live.”

It was true. I had managed to find a very friendly optician in my town, who, after I had explained her by phone I wanted to try wearing strong glasses over contacts, invited me for tests and later fulfilled my desire to wear glasses over contacts to my full satisfaction.

“Ah, so. I hope you don’t mind me asking you about that, but I thought you must have noticed my glasses are also very strong, so I think we are … eh”

“Yes, I noticed that. “I answered, “Actually I was wondering how strong yours are.”

“I do not have as strong glasses as you. I have only minus 12 diopters. If the word only is applicable.” She said with a smile.

It seemed she was quite willing to chat about glasses, so I asked her if she had been wearing glasses for all her life.

“Yes, since my childhood.” was her answer, “My nearsightedness went up steadily during my childhood and stopped when I reached the age of twenty. Since the time the strength hasn’t changed.”

“Your frames are very nice and fashionable.” I complimented her.

“Thank you, it is nice to hear. Only few people tell me.”

Then she asked: “Do your eyes still worsen?”

“No, “I said, “I have had minus twenty diopters for many years without any change.”

It was not true. My normal glasses were just –8 diopters strong and I had been wearing glasses over contacts only for 7 years, but I could not tell her that my nearsightedness was not real. I was sure her reaction would not be too positive if I told her I was just a high myopia pretender. She would have thought I was insane. Well, I may be rather insane concerning my desire to wear strong glasses, but who is really normal?

“Your glasses are fitted very well, it is a good craft work. Do you also wear plastic lenses?”

“No, these are mineral-glass lenses.” I said, “The optician told me that plastic lenses were not produced in the diopters I need.”

“I have plastic lenses and I must say they are very light and comfortable to wear. I think if your optician had tried she could have found a proper producer of plastic lenses for you.”

“Do you think so? I asked her, but she said they would be too thick to fit into the frames anyway. And my lenses are really very thick.”

“I think you are quite used to wearing thick glasses, so the advantage of the lightweight glasses is surely worth trying.”

“Ok, I will try, thank you for your advice. Anyway, I won’t detain you any further, you may be hurrying home …”

“Well, not too much,” she said, “Which way are you walking?”

Her question threw me into confusion. I was not going anywhere. All I needed to do was to wait for the bus to bring me back closer to the center of the city.

“Erm … I, actually, you know, I was just waiting till you get off, to ask you about your nice glasses.” I confessed.

She blushed. “Oh, my god. You went such a distance outside the town because of that?”

“Yes, it sound crazy, but it is true.”

I noticed a small coffee bar opposite the bus stop and thought I should try to spend more time with her. So I said:

“I am not sure when the bus goes back, but we might have a cup of coffee in the bar over there, if you don’t mind.”

Bingo! She smiled the most beautiful smile and answered:

“Your bus will go after more than one hour, this is a small village out of the city, the connection to the center is quite bad on Saturdays. I really think we could have a cup of coffee.”

Milada’s Glasses

We went to the bar. I ordered coffee and introduced myself with my real name. She said her name was Milada; and the time before my bus took me back to the city was spent by talking about glasses. She was telling me about progression of her nearsightedness during her childhood in detail. I even did not have to ask too many questions.

“I don’t think I was born nearsighted, although I got my first glasses when I started the elementary school. Nobody had noticed there had been something wrong with my eyes before my teacher found out I could not see small letters written on the blackboard. My first glasses were the cat-eye type frame and had wire temples. They must have been just one diopter I think, as I do not have the pair any more. My Mother was a very caring person, so she went with me to the doctor’s every year. You know how it is, you get tested and there is always a quarter or a half of a diopter more to be added to the old prescription. My eyes were getting worse steadily till my age of 10 by 0.25 diopters. Then I started to grow faster and the jumps got bigger. It was a half diopter stronger when I was 11, and one year later it went up by 0.75 D. The next two tests brought more and more diopters, so while I had only -2 diopters in the 6th grade, three years later I wore –5.5 diopters.”

“You may think it was not too strong as you probably experienced much bigger jumps and had to wear much stronger glasses at the same age, but I was a girl, and girls are sensitive in their teens. The first 2-diopter jump came when I was fifteen. The -7.5 diopter lenses I had to wear that year were thicker than the frames. One year later I was prescribed two more diopters. It was in the late 70s and large plastic frames were still the fashion, so the optician suggested I should were rather massive frames to hide the thick lenses of -9.5 diopters. I didn’t think they suited me and I became too self-conscious. I was a petite girl with fine face and the large heavy glasses sitting on my nose stuck out like a sore thumb. I did not want to wear them. I wanted contact lenses. I got a pair of them, however they did not prove to be a good option for me. My eyes were too sensitive. The only way was to resign and wear the glasses most of the time.”

I was listening quietly. It seemed she wanted to tell her story. I felt it may have been quite important for her to list all the numbers as they had shaped her teenage years and influenced her life considerably.

“My parents worried about my eyes. I was not allowed to watch TV too much, and they forbid me to play ball games. My Mother even didn’t want me to go biking. The doctor said my nearsightedness would get much worse if I suffered an injury of my head. I was young and wanted to enjoy life, so it was not easy to give up so many amusing activities. My visual impairment got worse by 2.5 diopters during the next 4 years. I was 20, when I was prescribed –12 diopters. I have worn glasses of this power since the time, plus I have a slight cylinder to correct some astigmatism.”

She was not looking at me while telling the story of her life; she was playing with her coffee spoon instead. Only when she got to the point when she started telling how she accepted her glasses and stopped to be ashamed for them she looked straight at me.

“One day I realized I would never get rid of the glasses, I would have to wear them for all my life and lenses of that strength cannot be hidden in any frame. I was about 25 in mid 80s, when I bought very expensive and fashionable frames and had plastic lenses fitted in them. My idea was like this: If I cannot hide my glasses and my diopters that I need to correct my bad eyes, I will show them to everybody. My glasses - and it is to say my thick lenses - became my trademark. I decided to wear the thick glasses as a real item of fashion. My glasses became what make me special. I don’t think it was a bad idea, as I feel quite satisfied and I think they are nice.”

“They are very nice” I assured her. They were very nice, I must say really hot for me. “If I did not think they are nice, I would never tried to ask you about them.”

I was still looking at her glasses. They were rectangular and rather wider than her face, which made the edges of the lenses really thick. I concentrated at the beautiful sight in front of me so much that I missed her next question.

“Pardon?” I said.

“I was asking how you reached the strength you are wearing now. If you don’t mind telling me.”

I did not. I quickly made up a story of the progression of my nearsightedness to satisfy her curiosity. I did not tell her too many numbers, as I was not sure if I could calculate all the numbers correctly. I did not forget to mention a rapid increase during my puberty to make it more reliable. I was not happy to lie, however there was no way how to tell her the truth about my plus contacts and strong minus glasses. Then were chatted a little about new fashion of narrow frames and problems with peripheral vision. The time to go came very soon, too soon I thought.

After I paid for the coffee and said her good-bye, she took a business card out of her purse.

“Paul, when you go to Prague next time, be sure to come before 6 p.m. and visit me in my shop, I am an optician, and I will be pleased to make you more comfortable light-weight glasses with plastic lenses. Do not worry about the thickness; I can make glasses look fashionable even if they are thick and strong. And thank you for a nice chat.”

I was going back by bus with her business card in my hand. I could hardly believe I had met such a bright woman who spent the whole hour with me talking about glasses. I must admit I was pretty sexually aroused by that. Such a talk is for a glasses fetishist like me a really hot thing.

Hyperopic Family

My Sunday program was to take walks in the neighborhood where I had spent my childhood. I was sure nobody would recognize me as I moved out of the area when I was just 14. The streets near the house where I used to live with my mother had not changed too much. It was still a quiet neighborhood with big villas and gardens. Families were taking their Sunday walks; sun was shining, and was thinking about the unusual meeting I had had the day before. On the way back to my hotel a child kept staring at my glasses in the underground train. I do not like children staring at me, so I got off and kept on walking. When I was standing at the door to get off I noticed the child asking something her mother, whispering into her ear. I was sure what it was, as I had experienced a situation like that for several times. Children usually ask their parents “why does the man have such big glasses”.

It was about an hour walk to my hotel. I saw one old man with quite strong glasses, and a family that obviously suffered from inherited farsightedness. I quickly estimated the strengths of their glasses, although I am not too god in telling plus diopters by sight. The man might have had about +4 diopters, the son of early teens seemed to wear a similar power, while the daughter, probably 4 years younger than the boy, wore glasses with one quite strong lens, which I estimated to be +5 or +6 diopters. Her right eye was covered with a plastic patch. The strongest glasses were those that the lady wore. The lenses bulged out of her frames making her eyes look gigantic. As they were walking slowly arm in arm, I managed to sneak a look at the lenses. They were plus myodiscs. I thought I should buy another combination of strong minus contact lenses one day, so that I could try how it is to look through such a strong plus glasses. The man obviously noticed my glasses, as he quickly looked at me, while the lady seemed too visually handicapped to focus on my face.

The receptionist at the hotel stared at my glasses too, but I do not mind adults looking at me. Actually, it is quite pleasant, because I know I look the way I always wanted to look like: a severely nearsighted man. She did not have the courage to ask, and I was not sorry for that, as I had had my day on Saturday. I packed and drove back to my town. On my way along the highway I replayed the discussion, I had with ther bespectacled woman at the bus stop and in the bar, hundred times.

Her first name was Milada, a nice name I thought, and her readiness to speak about glasses surely originated from her profession. Her optic shop was not far from the center of the city.

When I got home I started my PC and connected to Internet. The task was to go to the Glasses Scene web site a discussion of a bunch of good friends, glasses fetishists, with whom had been sharing stories about meeting girls with glasses and experiences with wearing glasses over contacts. I read the newest messages. There were some strong glasses for sale and a few messages about sightings from Britain and America, all in all a normal weekend at the website. While downloading mails, I typed a short mail to my friend in America to tell him about my GOC trip to Prague, a message with detailed description of the woman’s glasses to share my nice experience with the community.

The Second Trip to Prague

Two weeks ran quickly and I kept thinking about Milada’s invitation to visit her shop. Should I go there? The prospect to have a new pair of glasses fit with lightweight plastic lenses was tempting. Then it occurred to me what I would do if she wanted me to bring a prescription from my doctor. And if she ran an optometric test by herself she might find out I was wearing contact lenses. Too risky, I thought. I consulted the problem with my Internet friends from the Glasses Scene discussion. Most of them said I should visit her. A friend from America could not see any problem if she discovered my secret, writing I could just leave the shop if it happened. The second week, I still hesitated, but when my two clients, who I was to visit on Friday, suddenly cancelled their appointments making my Friday free, I could not resist the urge to jump into my car and drive to Prague. When I announced my decision to the group of glasses fans on Thursday evening, two of my friends wrote they kept their fingers crossed for me. One of them said I should invite her for a dinner. I put my contacts in and the strong glasses on in the morning and set off for the trip.

The hotel had a room for me. The receptionist did not look at me that quizzically as she had done two weeks before, and I just took the key and drove to the optic shop. I parked right in front of it without taking in mind I should keep my minus-20-diopter legend consistent by pretending I could not drive. It was 4 p.m. when I entered the shop. The signboard read: “Your specialist for high myopia and high hyperopia glasses”. Indeed, I thought she must be a real specialist.

Milada was just bringing a pair of new glasses to her customers when I entered. She smiled and me, said hello, and went on helping her customers. There was a lady with a small girl. The girl was sitting in a chair and Milada was putting a pair of glasses on her nose. I heard her saying quietly:

“These are stronger, so it will take a few days before you get used to them, but don’t worry, they will help your eyes to see and to follow the correct direction. They are stronger to stop your eyes crossing.” When she took the money she accompanied them to the door. I stood up and smiled at her.

“Here I am,” I said, “I decided to use your offer.”

“Nice to see you again, Paul.” she said. Then she turned back to the door and locked them.

Why is she locking the door, I thought, it is just a few minutes after 4 p.m., the shop should be open for two more hours.

“Follow me.”

We walked to the back office and into her lab. I had never been to the optic lab before. She pointed to a chair and disappeared in another room. In a moment she brought two cups of coffee.

“Feel free having a cigarette,” she said, “I will have one with you.”

I lit two cigarettes. Milada sat down, caressed her forehead with the back of her hand and said:

“I had a very busy day. I really need the coffee and the cigarette, now.” She smiled. “I am glad you came. What was the way? Any traffic jam on the highway?”

Suddenly, I had a strange feeling as if we had known one another for a long time.

“Considering it is Friday, the highway was not too busy,” I said, “well, wouldn’t your customers get angry that you had locked the door?”

“No, don’t worry,” she answered, “I delayed those who should have come this afternoon for Monday, because I wanted to talk to you and finish sooner.”

I thought I misheard something, or misunderstood, because it sounded as if she knew I was coming.

We finished our coffee and Milada brought some frames. She showed me what she thought would suit me the best and then she brought some sample plastic lenses so that I could try how light they were.

“You must consider they will be about 50 per cent thicker at the edges than your current lenses. If you want thinner edges we have to choose lenticular lenses. Those are …”

I already knew what lenticulars looked like. My Internet friends and I have talked the lenti and myodiscs for many times at the discussion web site and over ICQ. I made some morphed pictures of bespectacled women for my own website about girls with glasses. I let her explain me the advantages and disadvantages of various lenses, because I did not want to show how much I know about glasses.

Later, I chose a nice frame, which would not hide the thickness too much, and a pair of low index lenses. I knew they would be very thick. Milada was surely to have problems to fit them in the frames. Then I invited her for a dinner. We agreed to meet in the center at 7 p.m.

I went back to my hotel and asked the receptionist if they had an Internet connection. She showed me a small room with 2 computers. I entered my nick and password and typed a message to the BBS. While I was typing a friend of mine knocked through the ICQ program. He was really curious. I told him about the afternoon in the shop and about Milada. He called me “lucky bastard” and asked if I would try to make closer friendship with the bespectacled beauty. The moment I realized I really wanted her.

The Dinner

I chose a comfortable restaurant I knew from the time when I lived in Prague near the center of the city not too far from the place where we would meet. They served good Italian wine and an international cuisine.

I was waiting near the National Museum for my date. I was so eager to see Milada again that I came to the place 20 minutes earlier. I could hardly wait. Then she came. She had a casual dress, the same pair of blue jeans and the light blue blouse she had worn in the shop. The same dress, the same glasses, the same topic after diner. It seemed she was obsessed with glasses as much as me. Well, I her case it was because of her profession. I asked her if she had any special customers, and, indeed she had. I heard stories about boys refusing to wear glasses because they were not “macho” enough, a story about a hundred percent myopic family, every member of which was Milada’s customer, a story about a girl with 11 diopters who broke her only glasses and could not get home before her new glasses were made.

Milada was a real expert. It seemed she lived only for her optic shop. I tried to ask her if she used Internet and if she found other people as fond of glasses as herself, but she left the topic and started speaking about fashion trends. Later, I had to repeat my story how I reached my strength. I hoped I would manage to tell her the same story I made up at our first meeting. I was not easy, as I really could not remember exactly what I had told her.

She asked me once more why I did not want her to fit lenticular lenses into my frames. I explained her I was afraid of having too bad peripheral vision. And asked her if she ever worn the type of lenses. She said she did, as she wanted to try what it was like. The angle, she said, is really rather smaller depending on the diameter of the central bowl. It would be only 2.5 centimeters for –20 diopters, which means I would experience a remarkable decrease of my peripheral vision.

Then I remembered the hyperopic family I had met during my first trip. When I described the glasses the lady had worn, Milada said the woman must have suffered from a tunnel vision.

“She can see only those objects that are straight ahead. People who have to wear plus glasses of really high powers cannot drive and have problems to orientate themselves. You can recognize them easily as their eyes look gigantic. They seem to stare at you when they talk to you. Some people do not feel quite comfortable when they have to look into such jumbo eyes. We are happy to be severely nearsighted rather than severely farsighted.”

I have never head anybody say he or she is happy to be severely nearsighted. However if there was a person in the world who really wanted to be very nearsighted, it was me. I realized how much I wanted to wear my strong glasses full time. And how happy I would be if I had a girl friend with glasses, thick and strong, that would proclaim severe nearsightedness of the wearer at the first sight.

Milada with her thick lenses, her job, and her enthusiasm for glasses, just seemed to be an ideal partner. I wanted her badly.

The Third Trip to Prague

Milada called that my new glasses were ready a week later, on Wednesday. I took a Friday off again and drove to Prague for my third incognito trip. My friends from Internet knew every detail of the story as I kept discussing the issue. I even confessed to them I liked Milada very much and wanted to make close friends with her. Some friends encouraged me to keep contact with her, and an unsigned contributor just typed in capital letters: Go for her! They needn’t tell me twice. Milada had been in my dreams already. The Internet gang was not in full agreement with the GOC thing. Some seemed to be quite keen what her reaction would be when I tell her I am a pretender; they considered it to be an interesting experiment. Others sensed I was falling in love with her and advised to be very careful as they thought her reaction might be disapproving.

When I came to the shop my new glasses were sitting unwrapped on the counter. Milada cast a bright smile at me, her glasses flashed as she moved her head.

“Well, here you are.” She said pointing at the glasses.

I took them in my hand. They were really nice. The lenses were very thick. The edges protruded 5 millimeters to the front. The thickness at the temples was close to 2.5 centimeters.

“I had to mount special set off hinges so that they could fold.” she said.

Really, the hinges were not at the usual distance from the frame. I knew I had a very special pair of glasses.

“Try them on.”

Looking into the mirror I got exited. On my nose were sitting the thickest glasses I had ever seen. I turned my head to the left to see the edges better. Milada handed me another mirror so that I could check the side view. The glasses were so cool I could not stop looking at myself. I turned my head to the right to check the other side. Milada’s face came to my visual field. I noticed a strange look. She was staring at me. Her lips were parted. She had the look women have when they want to have sex with a man badly. Suddenly an idea ran into my mind: she must be a glasses fetishist! I was almost sure. No normal woman would look at a man with glasses that thick the way she was looking at me. I was really a lucky bastard. Then she said:

„They are very light as you can feel. You can wear them all day long without having the stress marks caused by the nose pads.“

„Yes.“ I answered looking at my image in the mirror again.

„On the other hand, they are rather thick, unfortunately.“ She added.

„Unfortunately.“ I repeated looking at her.

She was sitting behind the counter convulsively clutching an empty plastic bag in her hands. Her knuckles were pale. I put off the mirror.

„I would like to invite you for a dinner again.“

„Yes.“ she said.

„What about …,“ I needed to think about a nice restaurant, „what about San Giovanni in the Old Town of Prague.“

„Oh, yes. Come for me at 8 o’clock.“ She gave me her address.

I do not know exactly how I spent the rest of the afternoon, as I was very exited. The prospect of having another dinner with Milada, who obviously liked me, and who probably was a female glasses fetishist, the first female glasses fetishist I had ever met made me horny like hell. I took a walk to test my new glasses and then I went back to the hotel to dress for the evening.

When I rang the bell at Milada’s apartment, the door opened and there she was in long sleeveless blue dress. She had blue court shoes, long blue earrings made of a kind of plastic material and glasses with blue tint.

The glasses she was wearing was not just an optic aid, it was a real work of art. They were rimless, quite large, the top edges were tracing the curves of her eye brows, the bottom edges were reaching down to her cheekbones; the shapes of the lenses reminded butterfly wings. When she came closer I could not help staring at the edges. Those were good old 2 centimeters of the plastic material smoothly grinded, also dyed light blue. I had never seen hotter glasses. I offered her my arm.

The dinner was delicious. We were talking about our lives, presenting one another. We were both clear we wanted to get to know one another as much as possible because we were falling in love there and then. I decided to be honest and tell her about my fetish. I was hopeful she would understand.

The Confession

When the waiter brought a new bottle of wine I finally got the courage to start the most difficult topic.

“Milada, there is something very important I must tell you.”

“Yes.” She said with serious look on her face.

“I have the thing about girls with glasses.”

“That’s great, because I am a girl with glasses.” Milada smiled warmly.

“Well, it is rather more complicated issue,” I continued, “because while most men who have this reference just like women with any glasses, I am attracted by those who need to wear strong glasses. It is hard to explain why; actually I do not know why I like women with glasses that much. But so it is, and that is probably the reason why I also like wearing strong glasses. I even found a discussion website about eyeglasses to share my preference with other people. You may think I am strange, so, what I want to tell is that I like you very much and the fact you wear glasses plays a significant role in it.”

Milada was listening carefully, holding a glass of wine in front of her. She was staring at me, motionless. I only hoped that I would not lose her when I have told her about me wearing the GOC.

“One day I got to know about a method how to make it possible for people to wear glasses stronger than they really need and to see through them clearly. It seems there are quite a number of people who want to wear stronger or thicker glasses than they are prescribed for, let’s recreational purposes. The method is called GOC, with stands for three English words: Glasses Over Contacts. I am sure you will understand the physical principle as you are an expert, although to understand the psychological principle, or reason, might be quite difficult. If a person with a normal vision puts contacts with some plus diopters into his eyes, he gets a vision as if he were nearsighted. This refraction defect can be corrected by …“

I went on, explaining her the ins and outs of the diopters and distances. Milada put off her glass of wine and kept listening with her eyes riveted at my face. As I found it difficult to start the psychological part I lingered on the optical stuff for a long time. Then she interrupted me.

„Why do the people wear the glasses over contacts if they do not really need them?“

„Oh, that is so tricky to say. I have asked myself for many times, and I discussed the reason with many people over Internet, but nobody could ever tell me any logical reason. It is irrational, I know. The people just want to wear strong glasses so much, that they forge prescriptions, tell crazy stories to opticians, buy contacts and glasses over Internet and trade the stuff using the E-bay auction. The urge to wear thick or strong glasses is so intense that the people spend a lot of money to purchase what they want so badly. They do not want to harm anybody. They are not insane. They just like the feeling they get when they wear strong glasses very much. And I should confess I am one of them. My real prescription is not –20 diopters. I wear glasses over contacts quite often and I am wearing them now. Please, do not think I wanted to deceit you. You offered me to make new glasses for me, and when I used your offer I found out you are a beautiful person, a pretty woman, glasses or not, although I must admit your glasses make you so beautiful I cannot stop looking at your face.“

The thing was out. I was expecting her reaction. I was almost sure she would not condemn me for what I had told her.

Milada looked at her glass of wine through her thick lenses, smiled, lit a cigarette, and looked at me. Then she said:

“Sometimes, strange things happen to people. I mean, improbable events. Like you meet somebody who is special for you. I have experienced events like that, and now it seems it is here again. I will try to make my story short. About fifteen years ago, when I was married to my first husband I used to go to my grandmother’s to help her with household. Sometimes, when I changed the bus line I saw a man of my age waiting for the bus. He wore very strong glasses. He never looked at me nor smiled at me, although I started to wait there for half an hour letting the previous connection leave just because I liked him very much. I even took seat as close to him as possible, but he seemed not to be able to see me. When he looked at me once or twice his eyes looked unfocused behind those strong glasses. After some time he stopped coming to the bus stop and I never saw him again. I liked him because, you see, I have the thing for men with glasses. Yes, I am not joking, Believe me, I am not pulling you leg.“

She took a sip of wine and raised her eyes back to me.

„After the Velvet revolution I got some property of my family back from the state. I sold it, and started my own business, the optic shop. I fulfilled my old wish to be an optician. If you have the thing for men with glasses the best job you can have is to work in an optic shop. The first glasses I had made were my own glasses. My business ran fine, my marriage failed, we did not have any children, and the time went on. When my grandmother died I was to empty her apartment. The day I went to the apartment for the last time and give the keys back to the owner of the building was the last day I was to take the bus line I had taken for so many times. I would never go to the village any more. That very day, when I was waiting for the bus a man with strong glasses came to the bus stop.“

I started shaking. I knew she was speaking about the day four weeks ago when I met her.

„He was the man I used to see years ago. He came, lit a cigarette, when the bus came he hesitated for a while and then he got on. I could hardly believe my eyes. I thought I was dreaming. I chose seat in front of him and looked at his face. He wore very strong glasses. They were different from those fifteen years ago. His eyes could focus at me. He noticed me. Now, you think you know the rest of the story. But you don’t. You do not know an important part.”

She had a drink. I was waiting.

“I use Internet too. And I know the website you mentioned.”

I felt my blood pressure going up.

“I am a regular reader of the discussion, although I have never contributed as my English skills are not as good as it is necessary to join the discussion. And, you see, in the bus, I did not know what I should do if you got off before the terminus, because I wanted to talk to you. I recognized you. I knew there was the man I had seen years ago sitting in front of me. I did not want to miss the chance so I started talking to you after we had got off. And then I read your postings at the website. It was unbelievable. I almost told you last time, when you came to my shop.”

She took a Kleenex from her purse and whipped her eyes. Then she blinked several times.

“Oh,” she said, ”not only I smeared my mascara, I almost whipped my contact lens out of my eye.”

I was staring at her realizing she was wearing GOC.

“My God,” I said, “if I ever tell this story, nobody will ever believe it.”

THE END

Written by Bobby Laurel in October 2005

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