The Myopic Hooker

by Specs4ever

Well, this was, as my grandpa would have said, a fine kettle of fish. The little notice in my hand told me I was unemployed, a result of slow sales in the industry. My credit cards were maxed out, my apartment rent was due within a week, and I had my last $600.00 paycheck in my hot little hands. I needed food for the week, and I was planning to get at least one new pair of contact lenses. I figured now I had better concentrate on the most important things. Food was most important. I could wear my glasses if I had to, but they were thick, ugly, and a whole lot too weak, so maybe I really should get new contact lenses. And, I needed to pay down my credit card – at least the minimum payment.

I wandered home in a daze. This wasn’t supposed to happen to me. But it had, so I told myself “ Girl, get a grip on yourself, and see what the heck you can do.” As I passed the corner of 61st and Vine I saw some of the hookers hanging out on the corner. Well, I thought rapidly, this might be a simple solution. Get picked up by a few guys; charge them a hundred bucks a lay, and soon I could be back on my feet. I showered, and put on an extremely short skirt. I have a really decent body, and a good figure. Everyone tells me I am very pretty as well, so I figured I could do this. Ready for action I walked to the corner.

It didn’t take too long, before a car drove up, and the driver, a good-looking male in his 40’s suggested I might like to go for a ride. As we drove down the street he suggested that maybe a little sex might be fun. I had no experience with this sort of business, and I was unsure as to what I should do. I had heard that if I asked him directly if he was a cop, and he answered no, if it turned out he really was a cop this could be considered entrapment. So, I asked this guy, and he said no, he was not a cop. We went off to a motel, and I had my first paid sexual encounter. He was a decent guy, and after we were finished he gave me the $ 100.00. He drove me back to the corner, and before he left he suggested that in the future I should get my money first. Good advice, and I hadn’t even thought that I could possibly get stiffed.

Feeling a bit better about things, and with my hundred bucks in my purse, I hung around waiting for someone else to come along. But, it was a slow night, and there was no further action. I returned to the same location the next night, and again there was no action. I was getting pretty tired from walking up and down the street waiting.

The third night I made another hundred bucks. I was still $400.00 short of what I needed for the week. That night I went home, and took out my contacts. As I took the left one out, a big tear developed in it where it folded in my fingers. Now what was I going to do? My contacts are –14D, and I am as blind as a mole without correction. My glasses are old and outdated and have the really cheap plastic lenses. So they are thick – I mean really, really thick – almost ¾” at the outer edges.

The next night I realized I had no choice but to wear my glasses. I figured I could at least take them off when a john approached me. I stood on the corner for a while eyeballing the cars that were cruising the street. Every time a car slowed down I whipped my glasses off, and stared helplessly into the massive blur of my myopia. A car stopped, but I couldn’t see what was going on, so I tried to sneak my glasses back on.

“They told me that a hooker with thick glasses was working this corner tonight. For once they were right. Put those glasses back on little lady, and jump in.,” the man said.

Later that night I was amazed. I had earned over $500.00. And every one of the guys told me to leave my glasses on while we had sex. I had no idea that so many men got a boner over a girl with thick glasses and really poor eyesight. One of my customers had told me that word had spread like wildfire about the whore with the super thick glasses.

The following night saw a steady stream of customers. I couldn’t believe my good fortune. The night after that was Friday night, and I was prepared for a lot of lying on my back with my legs spread when a car pulled up. The driver, a reasonably good looking man in his mid 30’s asked me how much I would charge for the whole weekend, and I told him $2,500.00. I suppose I should have said $3,500.00, because he paid it without a question. It was a good weekend though. This guy took me all around to lots of bars. He wanted me to pretend that I couldn’t see very well, and he liked it when I squinted at things, and asked him to read what the signs in the distance said. He also liked it when I fiddled with my glasses a lot when I was trying to see things off in the distance. I didn’t bother to inform him that I really couldn’t see very well in the distance with these old glasses, and the fiddling I was doing wasn’t an act.

We spent a lot of time in bed in a very expensive, nice hotel as well. Every time we had sex I was asked to leave my glasses on. This was weird, finding out that some men really liked me wearing my thick glasses. Late Sunday night he dropped me back at my apartment, $2,500.00 richer, and he even gave me another hundred for a tip.

I really didn’t feel like going back out on the street to perform for a measly hundred bucks a trick after earning so much for a weekend, but I figured that I had better get it while I could. Monday was a bit slow, with only 2 customers. Tuesday and Wednesday made me $300.00 for each night, and Thursday was another $500.00 night. Friday was a kick ass night, with 6 clients. I wasn’t lucky enough to cop another weekend gig, but I was pretty busy, and I had a bankroll of over $ 6,000.00 for the 2-week period. I paid a couple of months rent on my apartment, paid off $3,000.00 of credit card bills, and I was planning to purchase a new pair of glasses and some more contact lenses as soon as I could get in for an eye exam.

Monday night I was back on the corner. A big black limo pulled up, the doors opened and 2 big burly guys got out. They grabbed me, and forced me into the limo. As the limo drove off I asked them what was going on, but all they said was that the big guy would tell me. Unfortunately I had a pretty good idea of who the big guy was. I just hoped I would get out of this without being worked over too badly by these goons. We pulled up in front of a gorgeous mansion, and my 2 escorts got me out of the car, and walked me to the door. The door was opened by an honest to goodness real life butler. We walked inside, and I was propelled towards a room that looked like a library. At the desk in the library sat a man, smoking a cigar.

“Sit down young lady.” The man behind the desk told me.

“Why was I brought here?” I asked.

‘You, young lady have been cutting into my girls territory. And, over the last 2 weeks you have been extremely successful. I am Sam Bonachi, and we provide protection for the girls all over the city.” Sam told me.

I had heard of Sammy Banana, as this man was called behind his back. He was “The Man”, the head of the mob in our city. I wondered briefly if I was going to be killed and my feet encased in cement, and my body dumped in the river. But I figured that there must be a better reason for me being here.

“Well Mr. Bonachi, what can I do for you?” I asked sweetly.

“Well, I have 3 options for you to consider. The first option is for you to come to work for me. I would want you to hire some other girls who wear strong glasses, and I would set you up in a nice house. Of course, I would take a major share of the profits, but I assure you that there would be plenty left over for you.” Sammy Banana told me.

“Well, since I am otherwise unemployed, and my prospects of future earnings in this business are likely very slim, I might just take you up on this offer. What is my second option?” I asked.

“You can marry my youngest son.” Sam told me.

I was incredulous. “ I don’t even know your youngest son, and I sure don’t think he knows me. How can I possibly marry someone I don’t even know? How could he want to marry me without knowing me?” I asked.

“He does know you. He is the one who asked me to go easy on you for stepping into my girls territory.” Sam said. He then leaned over his intercom, and spoke into it. “ Send Pietro into my office Louie.”

The door to the office opened and a fairly tall man entered. My eyesight isn’t that great with these stupid too weak glasses, so I had to wait until the man came closer. As his image appeared out of the fuzzy blur of my myopia I gasped. This was the good-looking man who had paid me $2,500.00 for me to spend the weekend with him.

“Hello Belinda.” Pietro said. “I am very sorry to cause you this trouble.”

“What trouble?” I asked a bit bewildered.

“Oh, pops hasn’t explained this to you then. You see, I thought that you were one of his girls, and when I stopped by earlier today to find out more about you, and to ask pops if he would consider letting me date, and possibly marry you, he immediately sent out a couple of the boys with the limo to pick you up and bring you here.” Pietro told me.

“But, but you don’t even know me.” I stammered.

“All I had to do was to stare into your myopic tiny blue eyes, hidden behind the thick lenses of your glasses to know that I wanted to get to know you better. I am very attracted to nearsighted women and I have been searching for years for a lady as attractive as you to date, and possibly marry.” Pietro said to me.

“But you are the Mafia. I don’t want anything to do with criminal activity. That just isn’t my style.” I told him.

“You don’t understand the set up here. I am not connected with any of my father’s enterprises. My older brother Mario is second in command to my father, but I am distanced from the family. I am Dr. Peter Stewart, and am a pediatrician at Our Lady Of Mercy hospital. My name was legally changed years ago. Of course, I still come to see pops from time to time, especially since momma died, but that is as far as it goes. Pops set it up this way many years ago.” Peter said.

“Ok, Mr. Bonachi, you said there was a 3rd option. What is it?” I asked.

“I hesitate to mention it, because I know Pietro would never allow it, but I would love to combine option one and two into option three. You could marry my son, and run a brotherel of very nearsighted hookers for me. It is a legal venture in this state.” Mr. Bonachi said.

“I know you are only kidding pops, because you spent a lot of money to get me and Annette away from the family. But just in case you are serious, if Belinda marries me there is no way I could allow that.” Peter said.

“I knew you would be a spoil sport Peter. Now, since this young lady has shown me there is a sizeable market, I am going to have to spend a lot of money to find a suitable nearsighted madam for my house of myopic hookers.” Sam said with a good-natured tone in his voice.

‘Glad you can accept that pops. If it is all right with you, Belinda and I are leaving. Can I offer you a ride home Belinda?” Peter asked politely.

“Well, I don’t feel like walking, and I doubt that there is a bus from here, so I guess I had better take you up on your kind offer Doctor.” I replied.

Peter and I walked out to his BMW. It was the same car I had been in the previous weekend. Stupid me – I hadn’t even noticed the MD license plates. He was a real gentleman, and opened the passenger door for me. He slid behind the wheel, and I looked at him over as well as I could with my darned glasses. My eyesight was terrible with these glasses. I knew I needed glasses that were at least a couple of diopters stronger. But, with my glasses pushed up tight to my nose, and with the best myopic squint I could muster I got a good enough look at Peter to know I still liked what I saw.

“Where to now?” I asked.

“We are going to see an ophthalmologist friend of mine, and see if we can get you a prescription for new glasses. I like girls who wear very strong glasses, but I like it better when they can see properly.” Peter said.

“Well I can see really good with my contact lenses. I know I am 20/20 with them, but I haven’t been able to afford a new pair of glasses for a few years, and my diopters have gotten a bit higher than the lenses in these glasses. I sure hope that I can see 20/20 with a new pair of glasses.” I replied.

“I hope you can too. Would it bother you if I asked you to never wear contact lenses again?” Peter asked.

I thought for a second before I answered. “Well, mostly I wore contact lenses because I never believed a guy would take a second look at me when I was wearing my thick glasses. Obviously I was wrong. So, if I was going with, or married to a man who liked me better wearing glasses, then I believe I could accept never wearing contact lenses again.” I replied.

“That is the answer I was looking for. But, I will not ask you to never wear contact lenses. I want you to get yourself a new pair of contact lenses, and I want you to wear them when you feel that you want to, not because you feel that you have to wear them to look beautiful for me. It will be enough for me to see you wearing glasses around home, and when making love with me.” Peter said.

That thought made me feel a lot better. I knew that there were going to be times when I wanted to dress up, and not have to wear my thick strong glasses to complete my attire. I knew in the past that there were times when I was out in public wearing glasses, and I could feel people staring at me, just looking at my thick glasses. Times like this made me want to shrink into the woodwork, so it was a relief to know that I could wear contact lenses still. And, I could not imagine walking down the aisle in my wedding dress with my thick heavy glasses perched on my nose. I had been to a couple of weddings of friends of mine who were nearsighted – nowhere near my prescription, but still nearsighted enough that they had to wear their glasses to see where they were going, and what they were doing. It was funny to watch them whip their glasses off every time a picture was taken. And, then later when I looked at the wedding pictures, the little red marks were still there – indents in the side of their noses that gave them away as glasses wearer’s anyway.

Peter’s friend, Dr. Owen Buckley sat me down behind the phoropter. I had been in this position before, and I have to tell you I really don’t like the feeling. Sure, as the dials go click, click, click, and the stronger lenses come into position I know that soon I will be able to see the eye chart clearly again. What I don’t like about it is that each time the dial clicks I know that my glasses are getting stronger and stronger. Oh, it is easy enough for you to say that there really isn’t much difference between what a –17D myope and a –18D myope can see with their uncorrected vision. But to me, -18D is just that much closer to –20D, and all my life I have heard my doctors tell me that as long as I am able to keep my prescription under –20D, I should be able to see fairly well, so it is a scary thought to me to have my prescription climb closer to that magical number.

When we were finished Peter was more excited than I was to see the final results. It wasn’t a big change. Actually, if I remember correctly I don’t think there was any change. My contact lenses were still –14D, and my prescription for my glasses was now –18.50D for each eye. Peter selected a rather large plastic frame for me, and he ordered regular plastic lenses in a myodisc lens. I didn’t know what a myodisc lens was, but Peter explained that it was a lens that had an area in the center of the lens that had the prescription ground into it. The part around this center area was called the carrier. We also ordered another pair with a much smaller, very modern frame with the most expensive hi index plastic lenses that were available. Dr. Buckley ordered my new contact lenses, and advised me that the contacts could be in the following day, but my glasses would likely take a week or so to get. Peter paid – thank goodness. I would never have spent this much money on glasses and contact lenses.

I figured that maybe Peter would want a little nookie, since he had just spent so much money on me, but this was not yet in his plans. Our next stop was the hospital, where I underwent a whole battery of tests. This was only understandable though. I remembered that Peter had been very careful to protect himself when we spent the weekend together, and I had been adamant about making all my customers use protection, but I didn’t blame Peter for making sure I was clean and disease free. What is that saying? – Aids is forever!

The following day I picked up my new contacts. It was wonderful to be able to see clearly again. Really, I didn’t care if the glasses were ever ready, but the glasses were what turned Peter on, so I guess I was going to have to wear them. After all, what was an unemployed girl going to do – I sure wasn’t going to upset my meal ticket.

It took a little longer than a week to get my new glasses. Peter wanted to go with me to pick them up, and he was insistant that I try them on right in the office. So, I did. The myodisc glasses were really weird. No way would I ever wear them out in public. I looked at myself wearing them in the mirror, and the mirror screamed “blind girl” back at me. I told Peter that these lenses were so strong they could start a fire, but he informed me that my lenses were concave, and you need convex lenses to start a fire. What do I know? But the really expensive pair with the hi index lenses and all the coatings looked good on me. I wasn’t going to mind wearing them.

I suppose my tests had come back all right, because our next stop was at Peter’s place. We spent the whole rest of the evening in bed. I found out that the myodisc glasses were to be my bedroom glasses. They sure worked pretty good. They really seemed to turn Peter on. And this time Peter didn’t want to use a rubber either.

Six months went by. I gave up my apartment, and moved in with Peter. That man had energy. He spent hours at the hospital, and when he did drag himself home, he spent a bit of time satisfying our inner urges. I liked being a kept woman, but I was looking for the other part that was promised – you know, the one with the minister, and the wedding ring and all that. So, I asked Peter casually on Saturday when we were going to get married, and with that he told me right now. There is no shortage of wedding chapels in our city, but a friend of Peter’s ran one, so that is where we went. After the service I must admit I was a little disappointed, as I had thought that a nice church wedding was going to be in the cards. However I now had my wedding ring on my hand, so that was all that mattered.

I don’t know if my becoming pregnant happened before, or after the wedding. I just know that 8 months after the ceremony I was in my 8th month, and I was feeling a lot like a beached whale. It was a Saturday afternoon. Peter got a phone call, and came into the living room, where he asked me to get ready to go out. None of my excuses moved him, he was insistent that we had to go. So finally I got ready. I was just too darned lazy to put my contact lenses in, and I waddled out to the car. It was no easy task getting my bulk into that BMW of Peters, but I did, and we drove around until I felt downright dizzy.

“It was a nice looking house,” I thought as we pulled up in front. I didn’t think that the area was right for a doctor and his family though. Peter parked the BMW, and with the aid of a block and tackle (just kidding) got me out of the car. It was an effort to walk up the front steps, and when we walked inside the front door we were greeted by a very attractive young lady in a short skirt, wearing glasses that looked to be every bit as strong as mine were. She escorted Peter and I into the living room area, and I saw my father in law - Sammy Banana and Peter’s brother Mario sitting there. Sam gave the girl a nod, and she disappeared. We sat and talked for a few minutes, and the girl who met us at the door returned, followed by 6 other girls, all of whom were wearing very thick strong glasses.

I think I knew where I was before Sam spoke. “ Welcome everyone to Belinda’s place.”

“You didn’t have to name it after me Sam.” I said.

“It was your initial experience that gave me the idea Belinda, so humor an old man, and let me name it after you.” Sam said.

So, I agreed. Now there is a very nearsighted madam, with 6 myopic hookers serving any men who are attracted to girls wearing strong glasses in a brothel named Belinda’s Place not too far from Vegas.

If you ever get to Vegas, look it up, and enjoy yourself.


Sept 2005