The Blind Girl

by Bobby Laurel

Part 1.

It was a nice afternoon at the beginning of July. I arrived to the hotel late in the morning, checked in, had a good lunch and sat under a big umbrella with a glass of beer. My plan was to walk in the woods, eat, drink and smoke on the terrace of the small hotel and, first of all, not to think about my work. Oh yes I did take my laptop with me. But before I put it into my luggage I deleted all the files about my business. The hard disc contained some films and a lot of English stories I downloaded from Internet. I wanted to read the stories so that I made a progress in English.

The stories were rather special. I followed the advice of my teacher who said: “Fuck the classic writers and read the stories you like”. Well, I found stories I liked very much. They were about people, mostly women, who wear glasses. I found them scattered in a web discussion of guys who were obsessed with glasses. They talked about frames, lenses, fashion, and girls with glasses. I had been amazed when I had found the website, because I have always been a big fan of girls with glasses.

On Monday, just after the breakfast I brought my laptop and a dictionary on the terrace to start my reading and studying. In one hour I finished the first story. It was about ……… Carefully following the advice of my English teacher I made a list of all the new words and grammar items and looked them up in my dictionary and the grammar manual. It took two more hours and it was not easy at all, but I really enjoyed it. After I studied the grammar stuff and found the meaning of all the new words I was able to understand the story much better. And, it was also very exiting work. The characters started having shapes and properties; I really got immersed both into the story and the studies.

The lunch came soon. I went into the main dining room and started eating, when two young women came in. The blond girl was leading the brunette the way blind people are lead. The brunette wore dioptrical glasses with black frames. The light flashed on the thick convex lenses. They sat down at a table not too far from me and I could see how the blond girl helped her friend. The dark haired girl was not quite blind, because she could manage most of the meal by herself, but still, some help was necessary.

After lunch, I took a walk in the forest near the hotel. My mind was dealing neither with the story I had read nor with the new words, much less with the grammar. The story was just a fiction, but the girl was real. A real visually impaired girl with lenses so thick like two eggs made of glass. What happened to her? Was she going blind or had she been like that since her childhood? I walked back to the hotel hoping I would see the two young women again.

They were not in the diner. The terrace was empty. I looked around the hotel. Nothing. This time I sat in the corner of the terrace so that I could see anybody coming, plus I had a good view on a part of the road running from the town in the valley up the slope towards the building. Reading my second story was far from concentrated. It was as good fiction as the first one, but my mind kept wandering. I did not the girls until the dinner.

When they came again I watched them carefully. The blondie led the brunette by her arm, directing her through the maze of tables and chairs. They hit one chair a little, then a table, but without any serious problems. The leader was not professional, and the brunette was rather unsteady. They started eating. To my disappointment, I was too far to hear what they were talking about, so I just watched them. The glasses must have been quite heavy as the wearer often pushed them up her nose. The lenses were very thick in the centre. They protruded outwards like two globes. One moment the girl turned her head my direction, but I did not manage to recognize her eyes, as it was too short moment. I decided to talk to them the next day.

Tuesday morning was as beautiful as the day before, sunny, fresh, and nice. I took my strategic position at the terrace to read, study and not to miss any opportunity to make friends with the girls. The story was about a Harley biker, who met a poor and very nearsighted woman on his bike trip and helped her. Good story, although some characters spoke a dialect and my dictionary did not contain some words. Like “aint” and “caint”. What could it mean? However after I read the story again I got it. Wow! I was happy! It was clear, the “aint” was like “am not” or “are not” or “is not” and the “caint” meant “cannot”. That was a real catch. I found meaning of completely new words. I learned words that were not in my thick dictionary. It was a good reason to order another glass of beer. Happy and exited I buried myself into another story.

I concentrated so hard, that I missed the time when the girls came to the terrace. One moment I was with the characters of the story in a town where everybody was wearing glasses. I wanted to lit a cigarette and tried to grab the package. When I was looking for the cigs I noticed the girls sitting at the next table having coffee.

I smiled at them and said: “Good morning.”

“Good morning.”

“Good morning.”

The blond smiled at me politely, while the brunette said her good morning looking somewhere between her friend and me.

“What a nice weather,” I tried to start a conversation.

“Yes, it is,” said the blond and finished her coffee.

“Are you ready?” she asked her friend.

“Yes, let’s go.”

And they stood up. I watched them walking to the hotel holding their arms till they disappeared in the dark corridor. I missed it! Oh, my God!

My concentration was gone, too.

Later that day, in the afternoon I had a chance to watch them mapping the space in the reception and in the dinning hall. The heavily bespectacled girl was inspecting the space with her white cane. I would have missed them again, but fortunately I needed to go to the reception to buy another package of Camels. And, there they were. The brunette was touching the walls and the counter at the reception hall with her cane, while the blond was navigating her verbally. I opened the new package, lit a cigarette and watched them.

“Martina, reach to the right,” said the blond.

The brunette moved her cane and touched a big flowerpot that was standing near the wall. She turned her head the direction and said: “There is something in front of me.”

“It is a big plant. Hold out a hand … forward … more.”

Martina’s hand touched a large leaf. She felt it with both hands. The white cane was hanging on her wrist.

“Is it philodendron?”

“Bingo!” I said.

The blond gave me a disagreeable look.

“Who’s that?” asked Martina.

I looked at the blond girl and she nodded.

“I am another guest of the hotel, my name is Benjamin.”

Martina turned at me.

“Hi, Benjamin, I’m Martina.”

She smiled uncertainly. Her eyes behind the thick lenses were huge. She was looking my direction, but I was clear she could not see me.

“Martina,” said the blond, “touch the plant again and find the way to the dinning room.”

Martina found the leaf, caressed it, took her cane, and walked again. I watched her tall slim figure moving towards the door to the dining hall. I must find a way to make friends with her, I thought. She was fascinating with those thick glasses and her blindness gave her an aura of mystery.

The dinner went the usual way. They sat at their table and Martina was fishing pieces of meat and potatoes on her plate until the blond, whose name I still did not know, helped her finish the meal. I was watching them secretly.

On Wednesday morning, I took several breaks in my English studies, to go to my room and back. I did not need anything; I was just looking for the girls. They trained the orientation in the hotel again, later they had their exercises in front of the building, on the opposite side than the terrace. I did not dare to disturb them, because the blond girl did not seem to like me.

 

Part 2

 

My great chance came in the afternoon. I was sitting at the table on the terrace again, struggling with another text. After some time, Martina appeared in the doorway. She was moving her white cane from one side to the other feeling her way forward. I looked up and watched her quietly. She walked slowly several steps until she came to the rail, just 2 meters far from me. She stopped and touched the rail with her hands. I looked around, but the blond was nowhere to be seen. Martina raised her head and exposed her face to the sunshine.

I coughed.

“Good afternoon.”

She turned slowly towards me. I saw the giant blind eyes again.

“Good afternoon,” she answered.

“Training?”

“No, I just came to enjoy the fresh air and the warm sun. Who are you?” she asked.

“Benjamin. I watched you training yesterday.”

“Oh, Benjamin. Are you working on your computer again? I do not want to disturb you.”

“No, I don’t.” I said. “How do you know I have a computer here?”

“Blanka, told me, you work hard everyday.”

So the name of the other girl was Blanka, an old fashioned Czech name. But Blanka was not the girl I was interested in.

“I don’t work, I read and study English. And you don’t disturb me at all.” I said. “Will you have a drink with me?” I decided to strike while the iron was hot.

“Oh, yes,” she agreed, “That’s nice of you.” She smiled sweetly, still looking somewhere into the space not quite my direction.

I stood up and helped her sit down at my table.

“I’ll be back in a minute, beer, wine, or coffee?”

“May I ask for a glass of orange juice?”

“Yes.”

I ran to the restaurant, bought the drink, and ran back.

“Here you are.” I said touching her hand with the full glass.

She took the glass carefully and took a sip.

“So, you are studying English, that’s nice. I’d like to learn English, too.” She said.

“Well, I am not a student. I just try to learn something more, because I need it for my job.”

“And what is your job?” she asked again.

“Er, you see, I have a small business.”

“Your own business?”

“Yes.”

I wanted to ask her about her eyesight and her glasses, but I was not sure if it was all right, so I let the conversation flow the natural way without pushing it towards the topic that interested me so much. We chatted for a while about my work and about the hotel, the meal, and the stuff. It was just a pleasant small talk. She told me her friend wanted to go to the little town to see the castle, but Martina did not want to go, so they made their own separate programs for the afternoon. She said Blanka did not want to leave her alone at the hotel, first.

“She was afraid I would not manage to find my way through the hotel by myself, so I promised her I would not leave the room ...” She smiled, found the glass and had a sip of juice. “… but I escaped.” She added conspiratorially.

“I will not tell her, don’t worry.” I assured her.

“Thank you.” said Martina.

I thought it might have been the good time to ask her about her eyesight.

“May I ask you a personal question?”

“Yes.” She said and turned her head towards me as if she could see me.

“What can you see?” I asked the crucial question.

“Er, well, not much, just light and dark spots, some blurred shapes, or when something big moves I can see the movement, but I am never sure what is moving. My vision is very bad. You would call it blindness, not vision.”

“Oh, I am sorry, I did not want to er … you know …” I was suddenly embarrassed.

“Oh, no, don’t be sorry for me. I’m fine. I am happy.” She smiled nicely.

I was looking at her slim arms, gentle hands, and small breasts covered with tight T-shirt. Her nipples were standing out under the thin fabric.

She turned her head towards me again:

“May I have a personal question, too?”

“Yes.” I said.

“Your voice is young. How old are you?”

“Thirty. I’m thirty.” I said.

“Well, my estimation was good.” She smiled again and I noticed she had nice teeth. “By the way I’m 24.”

“Twenty-four,” I said, “you look even younger.”

“Thank you.” She said.

“And you have very nice teeth.”

Martina blushed.

“Are you telling me compliments?

“I’m serious. You are very nice.”

We were quiet for a while.

Then she started asking about me, why I was alone at the hotel, where I was for a walk the day before and so on. We talked and drank and I ordered some more juice and vodka. I felt she enjoyed my presence and the conversation. She asked me for a cigarette saying she scarcely smoked, but she wanted to have a smoke with me. So, I gave her a cigarette and when I was giving her light I took the chance to look at her glasses from a close distance. I had never seen such thick lenses before. The centres must have been at least 2 centimetres thick. Martina’s nose bridge had a red line that the frames pressed into her skin.

“The glasses must be very heavy.” I said.

“Yes, they are.” She answered. “They keep sliding down my nose.” And she pushed them tight to her face.

“Do they help?”

“Yes, they do. It is better with them. If only they were not so heavy.”

“How many dioptres are the lenses?” I asked her.

“Twenty-five. Plus.” She answered simply.

When she said the number, I could barely believe my ears. I had never known glasses could be that strong.

I was looking at her face as she was enjoying the cigarette. I found her face with the glasses very sexy. She looked vulnerable, mysterious, and simply hot.

Than the cigarette smoke made its way to her eyes and she blinked.

“Oh, the smoke.” She said.

She stretched her hand with the cigarette towards me: “Hold it, please.”

She took her glasses off and rubbed her eyes. I wanted to see her eyes without glasses, but she turned her head the opposite side, rubbed her eyes more and quickly put the glasses on again. What a pity, I thought, I wondered how she looked without the glasses.

She stretched her hand a little again and asked for the cigarette. I inserted it between her fingers.

“Thank you.” She said.

It looked as if she was staring right at me, but I already knew that all she could see was a shape of my head.

The afternoon ran quickly, especially after we ordered some more vodka with orange juice. We got a little drunk and we really relaxed. We were taking about music and again about her glasses. She showed me her white cane and let me touch it, too. It was very light and firm.

The evening came too soon and suddenly, like and angel of revenge Blanka was standing at the table. She gave me a bad look and took Martina to the dining hall. After dinner, they went to their room. Blanka did not like me at all.

Later at night I was sitting at the little balcony. The night was quiet and I could hear somebody talking in the next room. I recognized Blanka’s voice. I could understand her, however I could not understand Martina. She must have been farther from the window. I could not help myself; I just HAD to listen.

“What if he wants to meet you again … that is not a good idea … would you tell him … I don’t think so … that is stupid idea … think a little … are you crazy, he would not understand … you don’t know him … what do you think … ”

Blanka was apparently discouraging Martina. But was it about me? Did they really talk about me? Or what is somebody else? I was not sure, but it really seemed to me, that Blanka did not want Martina to keep more contacts with me. I decided not to let her spoil what had just started.

On Thursday, both girls were together. I did not manage to find any moment to talk to Martina without Blanka watching me in a really jealous way. Was she lesbian? Possible. The mystery seemed to grow. I had a small talk with them after dinner only. Blanka did not speak much and Martina was not relaxed at all. Oh, shit, I thought, the witch will spoil everything. How shall I ask Martina for her phone number, when Blanka keeps her eye on Martina all the time? With Blanka at the table, I even could not enjoy watching the flashes of the Martina’s thick lenses. I studied a little. I read one more story and learned some words. In the evening, I sat down in the bar and drank thinking about Martina, her thick glasses and her gentle hands.

Friday started with a walk. I set off after breakfast and tried to calm my heart by enjoying the greenness of the forest. Some questions occurred to me. Can Martina see any colours? Is her world just a mess of black and white spots? How does she sense such a walk under the big trees? I would I share my impressions with her if we were there together? I did not know the answers to the questions yet, and I would like to know them. I would like to share my world with her. I was falling in love.

On my way back I spotted somebody sitting on a bench that was near the road about 200 metres far from the hotel. After a few steps, I recognized the thick dark brown hair and the white cane. Martina. I hurried up.

When I came closer, I greeted her: “Hello, Martina.”

She moved her head a little: “Benjamin?”

“Yes, can you recognize my voice?” I sat down beside her.

“Yes, I can. It is easy; you are the only person who talks to me here.”

“The only one?” I said uncertainly.

“Yes, none of other guests talk to me.”

“Why?” I asked.

“I think many people are shy to talk to a blind person.”

“I am not shy. And I like talking to you.”

“I know, Benjamin, you are very kind.”

Her head was turned as if she was looking in front of her at the road. I could see her profile. Her hair was combed backwards showing her left earlobe and the temples of her glasses sitting behind it.

“I like you, Martina, very much.” I said softly.

Her cheek started turning red. She slowly pushed her glasses tight to her face, touching the tick lens with her fingers. Her hand rested on the bulging glass for a while as if she was thinking about it.

“How come, you like a blind girl?”

“You are not blind, you can see …”

“I am almost blind. I have to wear these thick glasses. Everybody thinks they are horrible.” She turned her head towards me touching the lenses of her glasses with both hands.

“I don’t mind the glasses. I don’t mind your poor vision. I find you to be a very interesting girl.” I answered.

As she did not say anything, I continued: “I have been thinking about you since we talked on the terrace. I want to get to know you more.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“Blanka thinks you just want …”

“I don’t care what Blanka thinks,” I interrupted her, “I care what you think.”

She kept silent. She just touched the bench beside her leg and slowly moved it towards me. I was watching her hand coming closer and closer to my thigh. She stopped when she touched me. I took her hand and held firmly it in my hands.

“Don’t say anything.” She said quietly.

While I was holding her hand and felt a kind of energy flowing between our bodies.

After a long while, she moved. She touched my arm and ran upwards. She touched my cheek, ear, hair, and moved downwards over my shoulders back to my thigh with her left hand. Then she touched my chest with her right hand, found my left arm, caressed it and ran again upwards to my face.

“You are strong and energetic.” She said.

I was watching her inspecting my body.

She held my hand tight.

“Good hands, pleasant.” She stated. “Your heart is beating fast.”

“Can you feel it?” I asked.

“Yes, here.” She patted my wrist.

“You know what I feel, don’t you?” I said.

“Yes.” She turned her head towards me; her lips were parted. I kissed her gently. It felt sweet. She held my head with both hands and French kissed me.

Then she pulled away from me, found her white cane, and stood up.

“Even if we never meet again, I will always remember you.” She said firmly. “Don’t go with me, let me walk back by myself.”

She started to walk to the hotel moving her white cane in front of her from one side to the other.

I was sitting on the bench thinking about what had just happened. I found love and lost it in five minutes.

Both girls left the hotel at noon. I was having my lunch in the dining hall. The door to the reception hall was behind my back, so there was no chance to see Martina again.

 

Part 3.

 

I was in love, and I was sure, Martina loved me, too, yet I could not understand why she and her friend left the hotel without saying me good-bye, much less, I understood what her last words the afternoon before.

When I was checking out on Saturday afternoon, the receptionist gave a piece of paper. There was a name and a number:

Martina

306 448 457

Her mobile phone. Who wrote the massage? Blanka? It was improbable. She did not like me since the first moment she looked at me. Martina? She could not see. Did she tell the receptionist to write it? I clutched the paper in my hand and went to the parking place.

At home, I could not do anything. The small piece of paper was lying in the middle of the table, and I was walking about not knowing what to do. The question number one was: Is it really he phone number? It surely was a phone number 603 is a typical T-mobile beginning. If it was Martina’s phone number, who, the hell wrote it? There were no unsteady strokes. All the letters and the figures were written by a firm hand of a person who writes a lot. Was Blanka playing a nasty game with me? There was only one way to find. I took my phone and dialed the number.

“Tina Kohn.” The voice was hers.

“Hi Martina, this is Benjamin.”

“Benjamin.” She breathed my name.

I imagined her standing somewhere with the phone at her beautiful ear staring blindly into her burry mist or whatever it was she could see. It was an amazing and arousing image.

We talked for a long time. After Martina came back to the hotel, the girls had a quarrel and Blanka wanted to leave. The reason was me and my commencing relationship to Martina. It was not quite clear why Blanka did not want Martina to have anything in common with me, and I thought I’d better not ask too much about it. I asked her for a date. Martina seemed to be hesitating at first, but eventually she agreed.

The next Saturday, I mashed the gas pedal to the floor and hurried along the highway to Brno. I had never been to the town although it is the second largest city in my country. My CD player played my favourite Freddy Mercury and I was singing along. I wriggled my way through the town and arrived at the neighbourhood were we should meet just in time. There she was.

Martina was sitting on the first bench near the gate to the park as she had promised. She was wearing white trainers, blue jeans, light blue T-shirt and dark glasses with ruby-red plastic frames and she was holding her white cane. I cut Freddy off in the middle of his song and got out of the car. When I slammed the door, Martina turned her head. I was walking slowly towards her. She turned her head again directing her left ear my direction. Could she hear somebody was coming? It was still quite a distance to hear that.

“Hello, young lady, are you waiting for anybody?” I asked with a smile.

She turned her head towards me.

“I am waiting for you, Benjamin.”

I sat down, took her head into my hands, and kissed her. Her lips tasted sweet and warm. Her eyes looked big behind the dark thick lenses. Her left eye was rather turned inwards.

She touched my shoulders, stroked my arms, and caressed my cheeks.

“I could not wait to touch you.”

“I could not wait to see you.”

Our first date was very romantic. We touched, kissed, and told one another many silly things lover often say.

I liked her glasses very much but still, I asked her if she could put them down. First, I wanted to see her face and eyes without glasses. Second, they proved to be rather impractical for kissing and petting. She agreed and let me take them off her face. Her eyes were suddenly normal size; even the lazy eye did not look that lazy. I was looking into the eyes, and they seemed to be looking at me.

“Can you see me at least a bit?”

“Yes,” she said, “a bit … it is difficult to describe what I see to a sighted person. You have dark hair, quite dark complexion, black T-shirt … and you smell good, like a man, my man,” she finished her description.

“Good. You can see something.”

She closed her eyes and started kissing me again.

I was holding her glasses in my hand. They were very heavy. It was a special pleasant feeling for me. Special, pleasant, and arousing. I wanted to try them on but Martina asked me to give them back on her face. She pulled off and held her head still so that I could put the glasses on her nose. I unfolded the temples and carefully drove them behind her ears. She slightly adjusted them I her nose, pushed them tighter and smiled.

“I feel better and more secure with them on,” she said simply.

I noticed she had kept her eyes closed, while I was putting her glasses on her face.

“And I hope you really do not mind me wearing them.” She added.

“No, actually, I should tell you I like girls with glasses, and your glasses are very special, and they suit you, you look cool in them.”

“Do you really like girls with glasses? Or are you just being nice?”

“Really. I do. Believe me, I have always been a girls-with-glasses fan.” I assured her.

She touched my cheek and my lips.

“Now, I am a fan of a very special girl with glasses.”

She smiled.

“Really special. You’re right. If you wanted a girl with glasses, I am the most special one.”

 

In the evening, we had a dinner in a restaurant. When we were walking she was holding her white cane in her right hand vertically in front of her. I asked her if she would not fold it and put into her purse. She answered she was not ashamed for her cane and I should not be ashamed too. I was not, I just thought it might have been more practical. So, we were walking and she was holding the sign of her disability. I was kind of proud of her.

In the restaurant, I read the menu for Martina and helped her with the meal when she could not manage fork the pieces any more. People noticed she was blind. I saw them staring at us, when they thought I was not looking. When we were walking there, some people stared at us, too. I did not mind. I had my Martina with me and that was all I wanted.

Then it was time to go. Obviously, I told her I would drive her home. To my big surprise she told me, she lived on the opposite side of the town.

“I visited a friend in the morning. That is why we met in this part of the town.” She explained.

It was dark when we got out of the restaurant. She lived in a neighbourhood of tall blocks of flats. I hoped she would tell me to go in, but it did not happen. So, I watched her, walking the couple of stars to the door. She opened, did not turn the light, of course, she did not need it, and disappeared in the dark corridor.

On my way home and was singing along with another Freddy’s CD.

 

Part 4

I got home just before midnight. I logged to Internet to read news in the discussion of people who liked girls with glasses. I was looking for any contribution about anybody dating a blind or almost blind girl. There was not any. I found several fictions about blind girls, but I could not find any practical advice. It occurred to me I could ask if anybody had experienced a date with a girl who had a severe visual problem, but as I had never tried to write a contribution, I remained a silent lurker.

I called Martina on Sunday before lunch. We talked for a while, then she asked me for my e-mail. I gave her my e-mail and my ICQ number. She either had a PC with the software for the blind, that reads what is in the screen or she used some special display to see the text. In the evening my ICQ made the typical sound; a new person wanted to talk to me. I clicked “Yes” and there was a message.

“Are you online? Tina.”

“Yep, online” I answered.

“Kiss.”

“Kiss. How come you can read the monitor?”

“Miracles of the 20th century. What are you doing today?”

“Cool. Nothing. Relaxing.”

After a few such silly – and ICQ typical – phrases, she sent me a question why I loved her, and the strangest ICQ conversation in my life began. BTW Czech language does not enable most of those typical English ICQ funny abbreviations like “Y 2 ask”, “I want 2 B with U 2morrow.”, because the words are longer and there are very few homophones. All we have is Z5 meaning “back” and “mmt” for wait a moment.

Tina: “Why do you love me?”

Ben: “Because, you are beautiful.”

Tina: “How can a blind girl be beautiful?”

Ben: “Why not? Beauty is in the eyes of the beholder.”

Ben: “Do you love me, Tina?”

Tina: “Yes!!! Yes!!! Yes!!!”

Ben: “Why?”

Tina: “hee hee.”

Ben: “Stop hee-hee-ing and tell me.”

Tina: “Why, should I?

Ben: “You asked me, so I am asking you the same question.”

Tina: “I am not going to tell you.”

Ben: “Why not?”

Tina: “You would full of yourself, you would become too vain.”

Ben: “I could have answered in a similar way.”

Tina: “OK. Because you are smart and strong, and you smell sooooo good.”

Ben: “How do I smell?”

Tina: “Like good tobacco, and manly sweat, and power.”

Ben: “I am blushing.”

Tina: “It is easy to tell why I love you. But why do you thing I am beautiful. Tell me.”

Ben: “You are slim and supple, and I like your face, and I like your glasses.”

Tina: “my glasses?”

Ben: “yes.”

Tina: “I wear ridiculously thick glasses.”

Ben: “No, they are not ridiculous. They suit you. They make you gentle, vulnerable, sweet, special, sexy, I like them very much.”

Tina: “Would you love me if I did not wear the glasses?”

Ben: “Yes, I would.”

Tina: “What if I am not wearing them next time. What would you do?”

Ben: “Nothing. You always wear them. You said you feel more secure with them. Why wouldn’t you be wearing them?”

Tina: “Tell me, what you would do if I am not wearing them next time”

Ben: “What a kind of question is this? I like you, glasses or not:”

Tina: “No, no. You said you like them very much. So, what will you do if I am not having them next time?”

Ben: “Nothing.”

Tine: “But you like them …”

Ben: “Yes, I do.”

Tine: “Will you ask me to wear them?”

Ben: “I don’t know, maybe. … I will.”

Tina: “Do they arouse you?”

Ben: “You are what arouses me.”

Tina: “No, no, answer my question. Does the fact I wear glasses arouse you?”

Ben: “ ……. “¨

Tina: “???? Be honest!”

Ben: “Yes.”

Tina: “Thank you. I appreciate your telling the truth.”

Ben: “There are more things that arouse me …”

Tina: “More?”

Ben: “Your breasts”

Tina: “And …”

Ben: “Your face”

Tina: “My BESPECTACLED face?”

Ben: “Yes.”

Ben: BLUSHING

Ben: BLUSHING

Tina: “Are you a glasses fetishist?

Ben:

Tina: “Are you a glasses fetishist?????”

Ben: “If I were, would you leave me?”

Tina: “No.”

Ben: “I am.”

Tina: “cool.”

Ben: “Why?”

Tina: “Would you love me if I did not wear any glasses?”

Ben: “I would!!!! I have told you!!! Why are you asking all these questions?”

Tina: “However, if I did not wear glasses, I would not have what is so important to you!”

Ben: “Why?”

Tina: “You admitted you are a glasses fetishist.”

Ben: “Tina, I have told you I love you because I love who you are, I love you because you are a beautiful person, because you are a gentle girl because ”

Tina: “And because I wear glasses ….”

Ben: “OMG! Why are you making me answer all these questions?”

Tina: “What if I do not wear glasses?”

Ben: “You do wear glasses.”

Tina: “No, I don’t.”

Ben: “You do.”

Tina: “No, I don’t.”

Ben: “So who wore the thick glasses at the hotel? Who wore the glasses in Brno yesterday?”

Tina: “Me.”

Ben: “So?”

Tina: “I do not need them.”

Ben: “If you don’t need them … Why did you wear them?”

Tina: “Because I like it.”

Ben: “Do they not help you see?”

Tina: “No.”

Ben: “Why do you wear them if they do not help?”

Tina: “Because I want to.”

Ben: “I do not understand.”

Tina: “I like wearing thick glasses.”

Ben: “And …”

Tina: “And?”

Ben: “Why do you wear the glasses if they do not help you see?”

At this moment I was pretty puzzled. I was not able to understand what she wanted from me, and I was not sure if she played with me a kind of game. So I thought for a while and than I typed:

Ben: “Martina, please, tell me, what you want from me. I do not now what is going on. I need your explanation. This discussion is strange. I am just a man and I cannot decode what is behind your questions and your allusions.”

I had to wait several minutes.

Then, to my big surprise, the following started to appear on my monitor:

Tina: “I am a bit like you. I glasses. I like wearing glasses.”

Ben: “Go on, please, whatever you say, remember: I love you.”

Tina: “I wear the glasses you saw at home almost every day. I cannot see much through them. Everything is just a blur. I am almost blind with them. I can’t help myself, I like it, I need it. I seem to be under a curse.”

Tina: “I can’t help myself. I must wear the glasses. I do not want to go blind. I just want to be half blind whenever I feel like being so.”

Tina: “I made Blanka go with me to the hotel for a week, so that I could enjoy the whole week as a blind person with thick glasses. She did not want to at first, so I promised her I would stop wearing the glasses if she …”

Ben: “I think I can understand. I love you. Tell me everything.”

I was shaking. Tina was a real glasses fetishist, one of those I met over Internet. One of those I have read about for many times, but I never thought I could meet one.

Tina: “You will never want to meet me again.”

Ben: “I WILL WANT to meet you again. I can understand you.”

Tina: “Can you?”

Ben: “Yes, tell me more, please.”

Tina: “I wanted to try what it is like to be almost blind for a week in a public place. Blanka agreed to go with me, because she hoped, it would be such a frustrating experience and case of deprivation, I would stop my games with the glasses at home.”

Ben: “Had you ever gone out with the glasses and the white cane before?”

Tina: “Yes.”

Ben: “With Blanka?”

Tina: “No.”

Ben: “With whom?”

Tina: “Alone.”

Ben: “How did you manage?”

Tina: “I can see through the glasses more than I told you. I always went to the streets I know very well.”

Ben: “Did you have the white cane?”

Tina: “Yes. It helps a lot. My vision with the glasses is really blurred, but I can see shapes and colours, and I am quite good with the cane.”

Ben: “How long do you wear the glasses?

Tina: “A few hours a day, at home. Sometimes, not too often, for an hour outside taking a blind walk.”

Ben: “What was it like to be blind for the whole week?”

Tina: “Great! I enjoyed it a lot. Blanka was wrong, I did not suffer any horrible experience. And ….. I fell in love.”

Ben: “I fell in love, too.”

Tina: “I know, I could hear it in you voice and I could experience it yesterday. Now, you will leave me, because I am insane and because I lied to you.”

Ben: “You are not insane. And, I am not going to leave you. I love you.”

Tina: “Really? After I told you all this weird stuff?”

Ben: “Yes. I love you even more now. You fascinate me …”

I took my phone and dialed her number.

“Erm, Benjamin?” she said. And I could hear she was crying.

“Martina, do not tell anything if you do not want to. Just listen. I fell in love with you for the first sight. I fell in love with you because you were beautiful, mysterious, bespectacled, and blind. Yes, it is true. I have the thing for girls with glasses and your blindness fascinated me. It made you desirable in my eyes. I do not mind you aren’t blind, I appreciate you told me the truth. My love has not changed. I love you even more now. Whenever we are together, you can be with glasses or without them, you can have the white cane or come without it, I will always support you and I will be happy if you share your feelings with me. Remember, I am a glasses fetishist, so I can really understand you. I will play any glasses game with you, and if you need to be without glasses and sighted anytime we are together, I will accept that, too. That is what I wanted to tell you. Do not say anything, if you do not feel like speaking. Just remember what I have said.”

I could hear her crying and blowing her nose. I waited for a few seconds and terminated the call.

After a few minutes, the ICQ window showed:

Tina: “Thank you, Ben. You are the best man I have ever met.”

I put my fingers on the keyboard:

Ben: “MEETING YOU ARE the best thing that ever happened to me. I love you much.”

No more messages arrived that night. I was sitting in front of the PC for a long time, waiting, but Martina, did not write anything more.

On Monday afternoon, I got a text message: “Saturday, same place, same time?”

I typed “Yes.”

There was no communication between us for the whole week. I understood that. On Saturday, I jumped into my car and drove to Brno like a lunatic. I stopped in front of the gate to the park. I came about 30 minutes before the time. I wondered if Martina would come.

After a while, I saw her coming. She was wearing the same dark strong glasses and the white cane as she wore last Saturday. I got out of the car, took the bunch of roses I bought for her, and walked towards the best woman in my life.

END

(written by Bobby Laurel in Vienna 16th May and Brno 22nd May 2010)

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