The Man Who Knew All

by Specs4ever

Sam was one of those people that everyone called one of the "in-crowd". He was, what many would call "drop dead gorgeous," tall and well built, with dark wavy hair. We went to high school and university together. He had been a star football player in high school and university, and he was good enough to have gone on to play pro ball, but he chose to have a business career over football. So, he went off to law school, and became an attorney. Sam was a very good lawyer, and he rapidly became a partner in one of the cities more prestigious law firms. From what I could see, as one of Sam's closest friends and a lawyer with his firm as well, he was making quite a lot of money.

Along with making money, Sam was a very popular guy with the girls, and he was always escorting very attractive ladies around town, usually with the top down on his Mercedes or his Jaguar, or whatever car he was driving that month. Sam had some sort of deal with a leasing company so that he could drive a different car every month. Now, I happened to know that Sam was pretty tight with his money, and I am sure that since he was the lawyer for the car leasing company, the deal was probably for a car instead of fees, but I really don't know or care, as I often got to ride around with Sam, as we went from society party to society party. Yes, Sam was my ticket to the good life, and I was riding his coat tails to the best of my ability.

Now, the one thing that I didn't like about Sam was that he was a real jerk about anyone with any sort of a handicap. Anyone with a bit of a limp became a cripple to Sam, and he referred to him or her as such. Some of the girls around the office were not the most attractive ladies, and Sam had no finesse at all. He would flat out call them ugly, and would refer to them as one bagger's or two-bagger's (for those that don't know this terminology, this means that the girl is so ugly that you would need one; or two bags over their head before you would take her to bed.). It seemed that Sam would pick out any imperfections in a lady, and would take great delight in embarrassing them.

I lived in a building that was nowhere near as fancy as the one Sam lived in, but then again, I didn't feel that I had anything to prove to the world. My neighbor across the hall was one of the nicest girls that anyone would want to meet, and she was single to boot. But I didn't dare ask her out, because I would have lost my friendship with Sam, and I wasn't ready for that at this stage of the game. Melanie was 28, and worked as a salesperson in a fairly upscale women's clothing store. She had a good figure and was just tall enough to be the right height for almost any guy. She had a very pretty face with high cheek bones, clear creamy skin, and long blond hair. Her one drawback was her glasses. They were what we used to call coke bottles. The lenses were so thick that I figure they must have been at least an inch or more. This didn't bother me, but every time Sam saw Melanie, he had to make some sort of crack about her thick glasses, and how bad her vision must be. So, I knew that if I were to go out with Melanie, Sam would be his usual insulting self, would get me upset, and I would likely end up decking him, with the result being the end of our friendship.

Now, you might ask, why would that matter. Well, it is true that I am a lawyer. But I am a detail lawyer, and I get no chance at the big bucks that the partners like Sam bring in. My only hope at fame and fortune is for me to meet a nice young lady at one of the society functions that I was attending with Sam, and for me to marry into wealth. And, I was doing just that. My present girlfriend, Cassandra, or Cass for short, was the daughter of a wealthy businessman, and newly elected city alderman. Cass was pretty, bright, and very nice. And, I think she loved me. I knew I liked her, and I was sure that in time I would love her. I know - this makes me every bit as bad as my friend Sam.

It was late one Sunday night when I was awakened by the ringing of my phone. The local hospital was calling to advise me that Sam had been in a car accident, and was in intensive care. I wanted to rush over to the hospital, but the nurse who called me told me that there was no need, as Sam was unconscious, and would be undergoing an operation in a little while to relieve pressure on his brain, so that the swelling would go down.

It was an unusual experience for me the next morning. I rode the subway to the office for the first time in years, as Sam had always picked me up. All the talk around the office was about Sam, as the accident had been featured on the morning news. I phoned the hospital, and received a guarded, but hopeful report on his condition. I couldn't concentrate on my work, so I begged off early, and went over to the hospital. Sam's parents had died a few years ago, and he had no family, so I was listed as next of kin. This made it much easier for me to find out what was going on. The doctor who had operated on Sam to relieve the pressure was kind enough to speak with me, and I was in total shock when he told me that in addition to the operation to relieve the pressure, he was able to remove a small tumor that was on Sam's brain. The report had just come in that the tumor was benign, which was a great relief for me.

Sam was unconscious for another day, but by the third day I was able to go in to see him. He was trussed up like a mummy, with one leg in traction. As I went into the room, I remember thinking to myself that I sure hoped that Sam didn't end up a cripple.

"Don't worry, I won't." Sam said.

Now, I was sure I hadn't said anything out loud, but I must have.

The rest of the visit was scary. It seemed that Sam knew everything I was thinking before the words even got out of my mouth.

"What is this crap? Can you read minds now?" I asked.

Sam answered carefully after a minute or two of hesitation." I think I can. I don't know what the doctor did, but I seem to know what is in a person's mind before they say anything."

I wasn't too worried about Sam reading my mind. I had always told him what I thought about everything, and he knew that I thought that he was an asshole about some things. But it was still a bit unnerving to know that I couldn't have any private thoughts.

"You can't let anyone know that you can do that," I advised him.

"I know, they will treat me like a freak." he replied.

So, while Sam was in the hospital, he was very careful to not "second guess" anyone. When it was time for his release, I picked him up, and brought him to my apartment, where I had converted my spare bedroom into a recovery room for Sam.

As we waited in the lobby for the elevator, Melanie came in the front doors, and joined us. Sam had always made some sort of comment about her glasses, or her lousy vision, but today he remained strangely silent. When we got to my apartment, I wheeled him in, and helped him out of the wheelchair, and asked him why he had remained silent.

He said, "she has just come back from her eye doctor, and her eyesight has gotten much worse. She has to get even stronger glasses. She is terribly worried that she is going to go blind, so I didn't think it was a very good time for me to make any comments".

Well, this was indeed unusual. Here was a new, and much more sensitive Sam. I thought that I might like this Sam even better than I liked the old Sam. And it was true. He never again seemed to pick on anyone about their appearance, or their defects. And, since Sam no longer made snide comments about Melanie's thick glasses, she quite often dropped by to keep Sam company, and to help him with his exercises. He was still not able to walk by himself, but he was getting to a point where it was only going to be a matter of days.

I arrived home one night to find Sam sitting in the recliner, watching T.V. I said hello, changed out of my work clothes, and sat in the other chair. After sitting for a few minutes, I got up, walked into the kitchen, made myself a cup of coffee, which I hardly ever drink, and came back into the living room. I sat down and started to drink my coffee. I stared at the coffee in the cup, and thought, "what the heck is this, this coffee is black, and I take cream and sugar. Sam is the one that drinks black coffee." I looked over at Sam, and he had a sheepish grin on his face.

What was going on? Was it possible that Sam could take over a person's mind and control their actions too?

"Yes, it is true. I can project my mind into your mind, and it is just like me being there instead of you. I first started doing it with Melanie. I was curious and wanted to know exactly what she saw without her glasses, so I entered her mind, and had her take her glasses off," Sam said.

Now also curious, I asked him what she saw without glasses.

"It is scary. When Melanie takes her glasses off, she sees nothing but a gray blur. She has to bring everything right up to the tip of her nose, before she can see anything," Sam responded. Since Sam knew everything that was going on around him, and since he could even control minds and actions, I figured that this was a good time for me to drop out of the picture, and let Sam tell you what happened next.

Sam's Story:

If this is frightening to others, in some ways it is even worse for me. I know what a person is thinking just by coming within about 10 feet from them. Sometimes their thoughts are not worth listening to, but other times people have some really dangerous things going on in their minds. And if I let anyone know, then I would be labeled a freak and probably routinely avoided. Actually, if I overheard the wrong things, my life could be in danger.

But, I figured that I would just carry on with life as best as I could. I was almost to the point where I could return to my own apartment, but I didn't want to go. I had gotten to the point where I was very fond of Melanie, and I got a real thrill out of transporting my mind into her body, and taking her glasses off. There is something erotic about not being able to see anything, and then putting your glasses back on, and slide them up your nose, bringing things slowly into focus. At least, there is for me anyway. And, where before her poor eyesight and coke-bottle glasses would have been something for me to laugh at, I had become intrigued by her severe myopia and inability to see without her glasses.

The first day that I ventured out of the apartment by myself, I decided that I would meet Melanie down at the bus stop. She was always home at exactly the same time. So, I went down, and walked down the street to the bus stop, feeling quite clumsy on my crutches. The bus pulled up, and I saw Melanie slowly come down the steps. Because the thick lenses in her glasses give her very distorted vision at the outer edges, she has to be extremely careful going down steps. As she was almost off the bus, a young punk with a head full of earrings, nose rings, and pierced things almost everywhere one could be pierced, elbowed her aside. She fell to the sidewalk, and her glasses flew off. Thinking no one was watching, the young punk stepped on her glasses, smashing them.

There was a rather large man waiting to get on the bus, so I projected my mind into his. He grabbed the young punk, smashed him up against the bus, and told him that he was going to have to pay for the ladies glasses, as he had smashed them on purpose.

I switched my mind to the young punk, and told the big guy where he could go.

The big guy wasn't pleased with the young punk's choice of words, and the young punk was soon writhing in agony on the sidewalk. The large earring that he so proudly wore in his left ear had made a perfect finger handle for the big guy to use to propel the punk into a telephone pole, and I am sure that when the tongue stud, the nose studs, and the cheek studs hit the pole, the pain was a bit intense.

As the punk lay on the ground bleeding from his nose, I managed to make my way over to where Melanie was frantically searching for her glasses. The right lens was completely shattered and the frame was broken, but I managed to hand the unbroken left lens to her, and she put it in front of her eye, so that she could sort of see what was going on.

I suppose that the bus driver must have summoned the police, as a police car came to the scene, their siren announcing their arrival.

By the time everyone had given their testimony, and the bus was on its way, the young punk was in handcuffs in the back of the police car. I had told the police what he had done, and the other witnesses corroborated this. When I told the police that the young punk had tried to hit the big guy first, a couple of the other passengers had also agreed with me. Of course, it didn't help the young punk's case when he cursed at the officers for arresting him. Or was that me projecting my mind again.

All good things must come to pass, and soon I had to go back to my own apartment. I couldn't, however, stop seeing Melanie, and we soon were sleeping together most nights. She insisted on keeping her glasses on during our lovemaking, and I found that looking at her eyes behind the thick lenses aroused me. My big advantage was that I could slide into her mind, and feel what she was feeling, so that our timing was great.

After I returned to work, I was never able to get as passionate about being a lawyer, as I had been before. Any client that wore thick glasses, male or female, found my mind taking over their mind, and I would then have them remove their glasses. I was sometimes more interested in their vision than I was their legal problem. But, my practice became very unusual and sometimes even bizarre; as I was now able to enter the minds of my clients, and make sure that they were telling me the whole story. And, especially advantageous was my ability to read and jump into the minds of the prosecutor, the judge, as well as all the members of the jury. I still had a sense of justice however, and I only used my powers to elicit the truth. This indeed gave me a big advantage, and my fees, for the cases that I chose to accept, rose astronomically, as I became known as the lawyer who never lost a case.

My interest in myopia, especially the severe forms of myopia, continued to increase. I found myself at parties, entering the minds of young ladies that I had spotted wearing contact lenses, and I would have them go into the washroom and remove their lenses, because for some unknown reason their eyes had become very irritated. Some of the ladies that I did this to would go the rest of the evening bare eyed, but more than a few would leave the washroom wearing glasses with a fairly strong prescription. But no one seemed to have glasses as strong as Melanie's, nor did any of them attract me sexually as much as Melanie did.

So, I knew I had a pretty special girl in Melanie. I asked her to marry me, and I had absolutely nothing to do with her saying yes she answered yes on her own.

We had a great wedding, and have been very happy for a number of years. Our 2 children are both very nearsighted, but nothing as severe as their mother. And, I have pretty well stopped entering other people's minds. Oh, sure, once in a while if I am out somewhere and spot an attractive lady wearing strong minus glasses, I can't resist the temptation to enter their mind, and have them remove their glasses for a moment. I get such a thrill from the blur, and then when I slowly have them slide their glasses up onto their nose, it seems very sensual, even erotic, the way everything changes from a blur into sharp clarity.

So, if you are a female, and wear fairly strong glasses for the correction of myopia, and you remember that time you removed your glasses for some unexplained reason, and squinted myopically into the distance, then put them back on the end of your nose, and slowly slid them up to the bridge, it just might have been me checking out your vision.

Specs4ever. June 2001, with special thanks to Andy for the idea, and A.J. for her wonderful editing.

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