Looking for a Friend

It had been a long trip, and finally the lights of Sparks, Nevada appeared before me, glowing over the hills that surrounded the combined cities of Reno and Sparks. I had meetings scheduled tomorrow, and another one on Tuesday, but I was hoping that I would be able to start back by Wednesday morning at the latest. Why I was foolish enough to fear flying was a mystery to me, as it would sure have made these little trips back and forth a lot easier and faster.

I was looking forward to trying to find a young lady that I had become acquainted with through a discussion group about glasses, and vision problems on the Internet. Prior to leaving home, I had sent her an e-mail advising her that I would be in Reno on Monday, and if she would e-mail me back, I would like to meet her somewhere. I had checked my e-mail messages at a truck stop in Grand Island, Nebraska, but had not received a reply at that time, so I was going to have to find a library, or a mall with an e-mail center. As technology progresses, it is getting easier and easier to get online.

I checked into a motel on the east side of Sparks, and although it was still early by Nevada standards, it was well past midnight, central time, and I was beat. Sure enough, the next morning saw me awake at my normal time - long before anyone in Reno was rising. I have an old laptop, and I have most of the past postings from the discussion group loaded on it, so I got up, and began to go over some of the early posts, just to refresh my memory on some details about this young lady. After a couple of hours reading, the world around me was starting to stir, so I showered and went next door to a restaurant located in the large truck stop next to the motel. After a filling breakfast, I casually looked around the truck stop to see if I could locate an Internet booth, but to no avail. My meeting went as planned, except for a small hitch. One of the partners in the firm that I was dealing with had gone to San Francisco over the weekend to deal with a family illness, and wouldn't be back until late Tuesday night, so the soonest I could make my presentation to him would be Wednesday morning. I suppressed my disappointment, and set up another meeting for then. Now I had to kill the rest of the day.

It had been a long time since I had last spent any time wandering around the Reno area, so I bought a city map on my return to the motel. I checked the yellow pages for Thrift Shops, and marked any promising ones on my map. I then started out on a search for old glasses, to add to my collection, as well as a search for attractive ladies with glasses. As the afternoon sped by, I had no luck on my search. Sure, there were a few pairs at the various thrift shops, but nothing that I felt worthy of a place in my collection. And this is a pattern that I have been noticing more and more lately. I have so many pairs already that I have gotten a lot more selective in my purchasing. And, as for ladies with glasses, I spotted a few, but none with a strong minus prescription. Finally, I had had enough. I had purchased some shirts, but had found no jeans that were reasonably priced in my size, so the shirts would have to satisfy my bargain hunting. My old laptop doesn't even have a CD ROM drive, and I want to buy one - preferably a used one, so I headed for a few electronic stores. But one thing was driving me crazy. All afternoon, every time I saw a pretty young lady, wearing glasses, I would wonder if she might possibly be the one I was looking for. I didn't find what I wanted in any of the computer stores, and none of them knew where I could find computer access so I headed for a large mall in the south end of Reno.

On my way, I spotted a new, old looking stainless diner, so I stopped in for some nostalgia, and a darned good old-fashioned meal. Sometimes I am glad that we are going back in the future. The mall produced nothing except sore feet, so I headed for one of the large downtown casinos. I checked out all the lady dealers, but to no avail. I spent my allocated twenty, although it took me a while to lose it to the machines. I should have quit after my first jackpot, but I never do.

Then it was back to the motel. Tuesday's meeting went as expected, and I was again free to look around some more. I was determined I was going to find a library, as most libraries have Internet access. I checked out a few more thrift stores and found some glasses cases, as well as a couple of interesting pairs of glasses. Then I found the Sparks Library. Would you believe it - no Internet access? They have it at the downtown library, but not the one I found. It was late enough that I decided that I would have to call it quits. I was just not going to be able to meet this young lady. I ate at a conventional restaurant, and headed back to my motel. I was bored, there was nothing on television, and I didn't feel like gambling any more, so I wandered over to the truck stop. I walked in, and saw a chap that looked like he might be the manager, so I asked him if he knew where I could get access to the Internet to check my e-mail. He pointed to a sign that said "drivers only" over a door, and told me that there were machines through the door and up the stairs. Boy, did I feel foolish - right under my nose, if I had only asked.

So, I checked my e-mail, and sure enough there was a reply. "Sorry, but I don't tell anyone where I work. And my husband would be upset, if I met anyone in person that I had met on the Internet. I hope you understand." Sure I understood - a very wise policy on her part. I had meant nothing underhanded, I just wanted to meet her and see her wearing her glasses, and maybe have a quick chat over a cup of coffee, but it was not to happen.

I was disappointed with my meeting on Wednesday. I thought it had gone badly, but only time would tell. I didn't want to hang around Reno any longer, so I headed back East on I 80. I had been wearing my c/l's and glasses combination, since I had left home the previous week, and today they were so comfortable I could hardly feel the contacts. For driving I had put on my thickest glasses, as I like the feel of the CR39 plastic lenses. After 5 hours of driving, I was approaching a little town called, Wells, about 50 miles from the Utah state line. I have a CB radio in my vehicle, and over the airways I heard, "For some friendly conversation with no obligation take the next exit, and turn left."

I knew it was a house of Ill Repute, and so far in my life, I had never obtained the services of a professional, but I was curious, so, still wearing my CR39's, I exited.

It was a pretty little house, set in the middle of a huge parking lot. I went in the front door, and was greeted by a lady named Donna, who asked me what my preferences were. Thinking fast, I told her that I wanted a girl who wore glasses that were thicker than mine. I thought she would be fazed, but she picked up the phone, dialed an internal number, and told Debbie to come down wearing her glasses. A few minutes went by, and Debbie appeared. She was really beautiful, but the glasses were fantastic. She wore a pair of myodiscs in a small oval plastic frame that really set off her face. The lenses minified her eyes, and gave her a seductive look. I was hooked.

We went up to her room, where we stripped and Debbie bathed me in an oversized tub. My glasses were steaming up, as were hers. At one point, she took hers off and wiped them on a towel. She was lovely without glasses, but to a glasses lover like myself, they were the icing on the cake. We clinked glasses for the next little while, and when we were getting dressed, I casually asked her how strong her prescription was.

She replied," Jeez, I don't have a clue. These were Sheila's old glasses, and when she quit, Donna had so many requests for a girl with thick glasses that she got the local eye doctor to fit us all with contact lenses so we could wear Sheila's glasses whenever we had a girl with glasses request."

Oh well - it was still fun.

Specs4ever, written in 1999, with editing by Aliena in June 2003

With special thanks to Sandy for the story idea.

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