Eighteen Months

by Giulia Napoli

  He did.

  He climbed on the bed next to me and began kissing me behind my ear. Then he covered my earlobe with his lips, taking it and the two studs I wore into his mouth. Ever since my ears were pierced, sucking on them has always driven me to passion. Rod was a master. I was already beginning to melt.

  His hand cupped my breast. I could feel his thumb lightly circle my areola. My nipples were already standing at attention. He rolled them between his thumb and finger with exactly the right pressure, as though he could feel what I was feeling. When his hand moved to my other breast, his mouth took over on the vacated one.

  Whatever he was doing to my nipples was causing waves of sensation to ripple out from them. I shivered with arousal as I experienced pulse after pulse. He seemed to have an instinct for timing that I’d never encountered before. His application of pressure, fondling, licking and sucking were exactly timed to coincide with the pulses of pleasure.

  He moved to straddle me, one hand still on my breast. He used the fingers of the other hand to titillate my pussy, sliding them in and around my slit and playing with my labia. My labia are very sensitive, especially the inner ones, which I don’t actually care much for otherwise. I don’t like how they stick out of the outers. They were never that way until I was about 17.

  That said, I’ve actually made myself cum from diddling them a few times. Rod, however, was a level above me, when it came to diddling. He was a master, and realized the effect his fingers were having ministering to my inner lips. He kissed me from breasts to pussy as his talented fingers worked me into a tizzy down there. I could feel the wetness of arousal flowing out of me, being captured by his fingers, and used to slide around and probe me everywhere but my clit itself.

  His lips reached my pussy and his tongue parted me and carefully flicked under my hood, gently brushing my already-swollen clit, which I could feel respond by swelling more. At that moment, I thought I was stimulated everywhere.

  I was wrong.

  As his mouth probed my pussy, sucking and licking with exactly the right pressure, his wet fingers began to circle my little rosebud in the back. No one had ever done that to me before. Now the arousal extended to back there, and seemed to dive up in me, even before his finger carefully parted me there and slid inside.

  Oh! All of my nerves tripled their signals of arousal in an instant. The touch of his tongue on my clit was an evanescent pressure so light that it was barely there. Yet it was perfect. I came with a sudden jolt followed by a stretched-out time at the peak from the skill of Rod’s attention.

  Never had my senses been so tightly directed to my own pleasure. His attentions made me forget everything except the taste, sound, smell and touch of him. Especially the touch! I thought the part of my brain that used to deal with vision must have been fully redirected to make his touches impact me like nothing I’d experienced before. During that time with him, I had no interest in vision at all.

  For a short while, I was happy to be blind.

  He let me rest a little and then continued, focusing on my pussy with his mouth and my rectum with his fingers. It felt like my nether regions were gripping my body like two giant hands, squeezing pleasure out of me. I began to play with my nipples. The second climax, when it came, filled my whole body.

  Rod moved up to hold me while I settled out, then began again. This time his erection was straining at me, pressing hard between my legs without entering. He pulled it back and used it to caress my clit. I started coming up again.

  This was so different than any other time. Rod made it completely about me.

  Finally, the head of his penis parted my inner lips and slowly slid within me. He was the perfect size to fit me snugly. He began to move all the way in, and almost all the way out, where his manhood was barely gripped by my inner labia.

  As he would thrust slowly back into me, his glans would push against my G-spot, and he would hold it there while he tap-tap-tapped within me, using the tip of his penis to repeatedly stimulate that nexus of nerves. Oh my God!

  I came vaginally as he continued to thrust. In a moment, he came too and I felt the rush of his ejaculate within me. My pleasure exploded in the best climax any man had ever given me.

  We’d exhausted each other. We lay there smoking, my head on Rod’s arm. The ashtray was sitting on his hard, flat, naked stomach. I was afraid I’d miss and drop hot ashes on him, but I didn’t. Or at least he didn’t scream if I did.

  “That was my first blind sex.” I told him.

  “I didn’t know. Was it okay?”

  “That I think you do know. It was far beyond okay. You could win an Oscar for that performance.”

  “I was performing, but not acting.”

  I laughed. “Based on one example, I’d have to say that sex is better blind. On the other hand, maybe it’s you. Wish I could have a visual experience with you to compare to.”

  “Seeing me might scare you off.”

  “There is no chance of that happening,” I laughed. “Does that mean you prefer me blind?”

  “I prefer you, and I’ve only known you, blind.”

  “Does it bother you?”

  “Of course not, why would it? You’re terrific. Being blind doesn’t take away from that.”

  Right then, I believed him. I really did.

  Before I drifted off to sleep, I thought about hobbies again. I liked to read, but that was mostly out until I learned braille well enough, if ever. It was only mostly out because I could get audio books. I like to read at my own pace, though, so that wasn’t as attractive as it might have been. I liked cooking, though I didn’t eat much, meaning I liked cooking for others. I preferred to cook for one-to-three others in an intimate setting. I wasn’t sure how well that was going to work out, especially where chopping was concerned. I wanted to keep all my fingers.

  I used to ski several times every winter. That wasn’t going to happen this year. I was never much one for working out in a gym, though I loved running or jogging. My running days were on indefinite hold. Maybe I’d need to join a gym to stay in shape. Assuming I could even afford it.

  Most of all, I loved photography, though I did it in spurts, not every day. I’d taken three elective photography classes in college and I was pretty good. I’d been told that I had a real talent. People were my favorite subject, though I liked city scenes too. That certainly wasn’t gonna happen anymore. Thinking about that did make me very sad. I snuggled up to Rod, trying to avoid tears.

  “Something wrong?” He asked. I could tell he’d almost been asleep.

  “I was thinking about hobbies. I used to love photography. It was my favorite pastime. I was good too. Obviously, I can’t do that now.”

  “I’m sorry, Alie.” He held me tightly.

  I didn’t say anything more. Rod was asleep moments later and I followed him, gloriously satisfied, but saddened.

  I hung out with Rod all day Sunday. We went for a drive along one of the four rivers that intersected the metroplex, the supposedly very scenic one that River’s Edge sat on the edge of. I had no way of telling if it were really scenic, but it smelled fresh and green all along it.

  Rod put the top down on his convertible and I had to admit that my short, tight curls did much better in the wind than my long bob would have done. No hair slapping my face, and no need to tie it back. Tying it back now would be totally impossible. Even if I let it grow for a year, I probably still wouldn't be able to tie it back.

  The day was great fun. I sensed the sights. That’s what we decided was the right word. I could smell the fresh, warm early summer air and, from time to time, the damp, musty scent of the river and earthy banks. I could feel the wind and the heat from the sun, hear the car race along, listen to the sounds of summer when we parked somewhere in a woods and made out.

  Did I miss my sight? Of course. I was too recently sighted to not miss it. But my blindness didn’t overshadow the entire day, or even a little of it. Its intrusive presence was there in the morning whe
n we left, and still there when we returned after dinner in the early evening, but maybe it wasn’t intruding quite as much.

  There were times during the day where I’m sure I forgot about being blind, simply because there were more important things to experience, to distract me.

  I worked on getting-around skills and braille for the next few days. I did hours of practice at both, learning how to tell something about where I was from the feel and sound feedback I created by tapping. Of course, I spent hours practicing reading braille text. As Rina found job opportunities, I sent out my resume, though none of the jobs were either very interesting or paid enough.

  By Thursday, I could actually read braille text at a decent rate, including some of the built-in contractions of Grade 2 braille. Part of my success was my own hard work, and part of it was directly attributable to John’s training pills.

  The pills also seemed to be helping to improve my confidence in going places alone. Subtly, they were making me forget about seeing, or perhaps simply burying it deeper in my consciousness, and helping me create non-visual images of the environment in my mind. These images were based more on relative distances, required turns, known obstacles, and feedback from my cane, which was slowly but consistently becoming almost an extension of my own arm.

  I had only a couple packs of cigarettes left too. I’ll always wonder if the pills had an effect on the nicotine addiction which had, unbeknownst to me at the time, snuck up on me.

  Chapter 8 - I Never Thought I’d See the Day

  I’d stopped in Rina’s office after my Friday afternoon braille session with John. We’d planned on a girls’ night out that night – Rod was committed to a volleyball match anyway – and I wanted to verify the time. She was hanging up the phone as I tapped her doorframe.

  “Come on in, Alie. I need to ask you something.”

  “Sure. I wanted to find out what time you were picking me up.”

  “I was planning on 7:30, but you might want to change that.”

  “Why? That works. What’s up?”

  “I have a potential job for you.”

  “Really? What does it pay?” At that point, pay was more important than what it was, especially because everything I’d applied for was only a dollar or two above minimum wage.

  “It pays well. Very well. And the tips would probably be triple the base.”

  “Tips? Rina, I can’t wait tables. I could never manoeuver safely in a room full of tables, let alone one crowded with people and tables.”

  “It’s not waitressing. Here, have a cigarette.”

  I took one of hers and lit it. I tried to think what else had tips. Obviously, I couldn’t drive a cab. Sometimes maids got tips but I couldn’t see to clean. “Then what is it? I finally asked.”

  “It’s something you do extremely well.”

  “No one’s going to pay to hear me complain about the system that blinded me, Rina.”

  She chuckled. “No, they certainly aren’t.”

  “Then tell me what it is!”

  “Dancing.”

  “Dancing?”

  “Yep.”

  Then it hit me. “Rina, what kind of dancing?”

  She paused before answering. I got the distinct impression that she was watching my expression closely when she said, “Exotic dancing.”

  “YOU MEAN STRIPPING?”

  “Ah … er … hmm … look … uh … probably yes.”

  I didn’t know what to say. I could think of a hundred reasons why I didn’t want to do that. What I said, though, was, “Who’d want to watch a blind girl with googly eyes take her clothes off while dancing?”

  “Anyone who’s ever seen you dance.”

  “I am not that good – even with my clothes on.”

  “Not true, Alie. You are the sexiest dancer I’ve ever seen in person. You’ve got all the moves – and I mean ALL the moves!”

  “Where would this be?” Not that I was ever going to consider it.

  “Out in River’s Edge, a short bus ride from your house. The club is called the Jolly Roger.”

  “As in skull and crossbones?”

  “No, as in Roger Ives, the owner. I got you an audition for tomorrow afternoon.”

  “YOU DID WHAT? THAT IS SO NOT HAPPENNING!”

  “What’s wrong with a little gratuitous nudity? It’s not like you can see the panting faces of the audience. You can pretend you’re alone.”

  “PANTING FACES?”

  “Forget I said that. You’d simply dance.”

  “With drunken men screaming obscenities at me!”

  “I think Roger runs a pretty clean establishment. It is in River’s Edge, after all.”

  “RINA! I AM NOT GOING TO STRIP FOR MONEY!”

  “It’s actually dance and strip and it’s a lot of money.”

  “I don’t care if it’s … Just for grins, how much money are we talking here?”

  “His average headline dancer clears about eight hundred dollars, including tips.”

  “Really? Eight hundred a week?” That was over 40 thousand a year – almost as much as the lab technician job I was no longer qualified for. But I couldn’t do it.

  “No Alie, not eight hundred a week. EIGHT HUNDRED A NIGHT! And you would dance at least 5 nights per week!”

  “WHAT? That’s … that’s … THAT’S TWO HUNDRED GRAND A YEAR!”

  “Bingo.”

  “That’s not possible.”

  “Of course it is. In spite of the name, the Jolly Roger is a class place. And with your ability to dance, you’re bound to do better than the average.”

  “What else goes on there?”

  “I don’t know, but you wouldn’t be involved. You’d be hired as a dancer. Period.”

  “Rina, this is nuts.”

  “Maybe, but you won’t know until you audition. I’ll go with you if you want.”

  “I didn’t say I’d go at all – with you or alone!”

  “Alie, this town has done you wrong. You know that; I know that. But there’s nothing we can do about it. This is your best bet for surviving for the next eighteen months.”

  “Easy for you to say. You wouldn’t be the one stripping for dollars.”

  “Because no one would pay me for my level of no-talent.”

  “Rina, I wouldn’t know what to do. I’ve never taken off my clothes to music. I’d look like a fool!”

  “Actually, you won’t. You’re too talented when it comes to moving your body. Instead of going out tonight, I thought we might pick some music and you can practice in front of me before your audition tomorrow.”

  “I can’t. I just can’t.”

  “Two hundred thousand dollars a year.”

  “Oh, Rina! I’m not that kind of girl.”

  “You mean not rich? Right – you aren’t. But you could be.”

  “No, I mean taking off my clothes in public and dancing around naked!”

  “You just need practice.”

  “THAT’S NOT WHAT I MEANT!”

  “We’ll go to your place and practice tonight. I’ll stay over so you can practice again in the morning. If you don’t look good enough to make a grand per night, I’ll tell you and I’ll call them and cancel.”

  “Rina … I don’t know … I don’t want to embarrass myself by parading around naked in front of you either.”

  “Suck it up. Give it a try. By the way, do you shave down there?”

  “I did … but I haven’t since they made me blind.”

  “Good. Then it’s probably long enough to wax. We’ll get you a Brazilian on the way home.”

  I screamed as they tore out my pubes. This was so not me …

  Rina picked up bottles of vodka and whiskey – for courage, she said - and we took Metrorail out to River’s Edge. I am not in any way a drinker, but I did need to loosen up. I wasn’t sure I could handle that stuff, though. At my house, Rina insisted that we drink and smoke and eat an early, light dinner. Then we drank some more. We decided I’d wear my only thon
g and a front-closure bra, under a sleeveless yellow button-up blouse and a red, wrap-around short skirt.

  She made me wear the only pair of 5” heels I had – black strappy sandals I’d bought without thinking and then never worn. I was convinced that I was going to break my ankle in them, so Rina made me walk around until she was sure I was walking naturally enough.

  We picked out some music Rina thought would fit my performance: Baby I Love You by Aretha Franklin, Tell Me What We’re Gonna Do Now by Joss Stone, and After Dark by Tito and Tarantula. Other than After Dark, not ideal, but I could strip and sway to them, or so Rina thought. I’d probably lead off with the shortest, Baby I Love You. We downloaded the MP3s from an internet site.

  I did my first improvisation. Rina praised me as though I’d won Dancing with the Stars. I was halfway sure it was BS, but it did give my ego the boost it needed. The smokes and the booze helped me relax, and pretty-much dissolved any inhibitions I might have otherwise retained. Rina wouldn’t let me overdo it too much. She wanted me somewhat alert in the morning.

  We took a break after about three hours. She made suggestions and I tried to improve. Maybe it was working.

  During the break, I opened my last pack of cigarettes.

  “Okay, Rina said. When those are gone, you’ve lived up to your end of the bargain. If you want, you can stop then.”

  “Yeah.” I said. For some reason, that didn’t sound as attractive as it had last week. To be honest, I’d found smoking to be consistently enjoyable. Right at that moment, quitting was too much to think about. I put it out of my mind until after the audition. I had enough to last until then anyway. During the break, we each drank a whiskey on the rocks. I consumed more alcohol that night than I had in the whole last year. I think we were both feeling pretty good when Rina said, “Maybe we should turn in now. I can use the sofa.”

  I had a perfectly good queen bed in my bedroom. The other bedroom was empty, except for some boxes; I had been planning to turn it into an office. No point in doing that for a long time now. I couldn’t have my best friend – yes, I thought, she was my best friend – sleep on the couch.

  To be honest, I thought she was interested in me – yeah, that way. I was … curious. I was also suffering from significantly reduced inhibitions due to the drinks we’d had.