Insight

Blind people have some advantages - not many, but a few. The two senses that I've found superior to that of most sighted people are hearing and smell. There's also a third sense that is often enhanced in the blind, the sense of touch. With the right person, in the right situation, touch offers a very fine way of "seeing" someone.

While wedged into the booth at the Hilton coffee shop with colleagues, I could tell from the tone of the conversation that the guys were deferring to the lady from the Boston office in a way that meant that she was either very attractive or high up in the organization. That's how men relate to women in a business environment; most guys aren't aware of how their voices and conversational style give them away.

Her voice sounded a bit low and husky - and showed self assurance. As for how she smelled, I was too far away to figure that out in the crowded restaurant, and there were all sorts of food odors in the air.

But if I could get close enough to check that out, well...we'll see about getting close. It's only the beginning of a three-day sales meeting.

At a lull in the conversation I said in her direction, "Sorry, I didn't get your name. Mine is Brad."

"Katherine," she said. "Kate to my friends."

"Pleased to meet you," I replied. "Welcome to the Big Apple."

The conversation continued, with the usual bullshit. There was complaining about organizational problems, but people were guarded in how much they bitched. No telling who might be a snitch in this sort of group, most of whom were strangers. I can usually detect guarded conversation; that's not difficult. It's not only what they say, but there is a special quality that affects speech when one is not completely at ease, something like tightening of the vocal chords. Big deal to know such things! I think of those skills as "survival tools." They're quite helpful because I can't read facial expressions.

I lost vision after a nasty fall from my bike as a teenager - I ran into a fence and took a sharp spike in the forehead. At first the doctors thought that I wouldn't survive or would suffer brain damage, but blindness was the only major loss. That makes me lucky, I suppose. The folks were great in keeping me from feeling sorry for myself and making sure that I would develop skills (and attitudes) to survive in the sighted world. As proof of how well I developed such skills, I'm now chief system software guru in the NYC office.

Life is pretty good but I've been lonely since Sonia moved out. She went to L.A. for a new job. However, we'd been cooling off for a while before the move. She decided that I'm way too "intellectual" for her, whatever that means. She was a hot lady and very inventive in bed - I miss that a lot.

We headed back to the meeting after lunch, as a group. I had my hand on the shoulder of Mark from our office. I get around that way without pulling the folding cane out my jacket pocket and doing the "tap-tap" dance with the cane to move around. Mark's a good friend and a hell of programmer. At meetings like this he helps out a lot.

She was walking next to me. Before she spoke I knew that she was wearing "Fleurs de Provence." I've learned to identify most perfumes, a side effect of a long affair with a woman in the fragrance business. Then I heard the low voice that I would come to know much better before the weekend was over.

"I'm looking for a place to have dinner tonight. The guys from my office are going to a hot strip show tonight - that's not my thing. Can you recommend something?"

"There's a wide choice here. What kind of food do you want? French, Chinese, or you-name-it."

"French, that's my favorite."

"Like your perfume, eh?"

"How did you know that? Most guys don't know much about perfume. And I'm not drenched in the stuff. It's supposed to be quite subtle."

"I'm good at that for a reason. I'm what they now call 'visually impaired'. That means I'm blind."

After a long pause, "I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry. I'm not sorry for myself, and it bothers me for anyone to feel that way."

After another pause, "Sorry for feeling sorry. How can I make up for that?"

"Have dinner with me. I'm free tonight and would be happy to show you the town - well, so to speak."

She laughed at the lame attempt to be funny and responded, "I'm free and would be pleased to accept your invitation. How about 8:00 at the registration desk?"

"Fine, meet you then."

I dressed carefully. My things are well organized. I have little braille labels sewn into my suits and ties so that I can avoid looking like "Andy the Clown" when I put my duds on. Having cleaned up and dressed, I touched the face of my watch to check the time. At 7:45 I headed down to the lobby.

Just before leaving the room I unfolded the cane and used it to get to the elevator bank. The cane is a dead giveaway, saying, "careful, cripple here." I hate that, but one must survive. I suppose there are worse things, like having no legs. But this is all stupid shit; you play the hand dealt to you and don't feel sorry about yourself. I got over all that a long time ago. A stray thought crossed my mind: Of course I hope she isn't repelled by the "handicap", but what if she is the opposite - a strange doll who is attracted to cripples? There are weirdos like that. All I want is a normal date with a nice woman. Come on, man - this is a dinner date, nothing more!! Lighten up!

At the registration desk she came up to me and I had the same experience as before - damn, she smells good! "Been waiting long?", she asked. I turned toward the voice and responded.

"No, I just came down. I called for a reservation at a very nice restaurant on 53rd, just three blocks east of here. It's called 'Coq d'or.' We can walk it easily."

"The gold cock," she said. "Fine with me." I wondered if she almost laughed at the name of the restaurant. It sure sounded that way to me.

"Look," she said, "why don't you fold up that cane and put your hand on my shoulder - just like you did with your buddy at lunch. I can walk us over there. Is that OK with you?"

"Sure, lead the way."

As we started to walk from the Hilton I said, "Kate, please slow down just a bit when approaching an intersection. Pick up the pace again when it's safe to continue."

"Sounds like 'Seeing Eye Kate'... Sorry, I didn't mean to make a wiseass remark."

"Don't be sorry about anything, like I told you earlier."

I managed to get to the table without stumbling over anything by following her lead. We ordered drinks and sat there without saying anything for a few moments. I broke the silence, "I've been here before but have no idea what the hell it looks like."

"Well, it's dimly lit - the usual thing in an overpriced restaurant. But that's a bit cynical on my part; it's quite romantic. Decor is Pseudo Right Bank - definitely a sign of being overpriced. You can hear the piano playing softly in the corner; now that's a turnon for me. I'm a sucker for romantic background music."

I hesitated and then asked, "Would you tell me how you're dressed and how you look. I know that's a strange request, but please humor me."

"As for the way I'm dressed, I'm in an outfit I use for evenings out, but I didn't bring the fanciest stuff from my closet. I'm in fashionable black - black top with a scoop neckline, and a jacket over that. My skirt is black also and tightly fitted. I'm wearing the pearls I bought in Hong Kong last year. Is that enough of a description?"

"How much cleavage is showing with that scoop neckline?"

"Enough to get most men interested. Are we done with the clothes now?"

"Yes, that's fine for how you're dressed. How do you look? I know that you're about 5 feet, six - but I don't even know the color of your eyes or your hair."

"Brunette, with hazel eyes. Enough?"

I don't usually push the envelope fast when I meet a new woman. But Kate seemed friendly and answered my question about her cleavage without hesitation. Besides, this meeting would last only three days. I decided to ask about her body - we'd see how that turned out.

"Tell me about the best and worst features of your body. Please."

"This is getting complicated; I don't know how to answer that kind of question. I don't know what I look like to other people. And I feel uneasy about the direction of your questions. Not offended, just uneasy. I suppose it's because I'm used to people who can see what I look like - nobody has ever asked to describe myself the way you have. Besides, my own opinion may be different from that of an unbiased observer."

"If you're uncomfortable we can stop this line of talk. But tell me honestly what you think are your best and worst body features. I won't divulge such information to anybody else. And I won't publish it in the corporate monthly newsletter..... I was trying to be funny with that last remark, but more to the point: whatever you and I discuss will remain strictly between the two of us. That's a promise."

"OK, but this is turning to be the strangest conversation of my life. My worst point is my waist; it's too thick and I dress to hide that feature. Even with lots of aerobic sessions and dieting, I'm still too thick in the middle. Oh, I guess my eyebrows are too thin, but makeup covers that."

"That doesn't sound so bad. What are the best things about your body?"

"I'm blushing. Good thing you can't see that. I have nice boobs - not real big but perky and well shaped. Probably my best body feature is my ass. It's tight and perfectly rounded. Not a bit of flab back there. I've been complimented on my ass quite often. I dress to show it off. That's enough of such talk for now. I'm embarrassed. It must be the drinks that loosened my tongue."

"Besides being embarrassed, aren't you a wee bit aroused by this conversation?"

"I am. I shouldn't say this, but I feel some moisture in a very private place. You haven't told me about your body."

"Not much to tell. Abs could be better, but I work out when I can. I'm in decent shape. As for a tool, mine is adequate but not gigantic. It seems to have been good enough for all the women I've known. Is that enough detail for you?"

"Yes, that's a bit more frank than I expected... .I'm not sure what I expected. You responded to my direct question with a direct answer. Let's order dinner and talk about less intimate things."

During the conversation I put my hand on the table close to her, she responded after a few minutes by putting her hand on top of mine. It was no big deal, I suppose. But it was great to feel that physical connection with her.

Over dinner we discussed the company, among other things. Something clicked in my mind. I said, "Hmm, your name is 'Katherine.' Are you the 'K. Jamieson' in the Boston office who I hear is shaking up Marketing there?"

"Yes, that's me. Marketing in Boston was run by a bunch of assholes. By now I've managed to correct the situation and sales projections are way up."

"You really chopped off some heads, from what I hear. You must be a hardnosed boss."

"I go after what I want. I'm not the helpless female of myth. I usually get what I want."

"Does that carry over to your personal life?"

"If you mean do I go after a guy who appeals to me, the answer is yes. Most guys are put off by an aggressive female, so I have to be careful about that."

"Do you feel aggressive tonight?"

"Maybe..... Let's see what happens."

On the way back to the Hilton we held hands, rather than having her hand on my shoulder. It worked very well - I'm sure nobody noticed that she was leading me. Recalling our conversation, I was getting worked up. Down below my cock was stirring to life - it had been a while since Sonia left town and I'd been going solo for too damn long!

In the Hilton lobby Kate was direct, "Brad, come on up to my room for a nightcap. I'll get drinks and a setup sent up from Room Service."

Holy shit! She didn't come right out and say, "Let's fuck." But it was close enough for me to get aroused as hell.

When we got up to her room she called Room Service for the drinks and we sat side-by-side on the couch. I leaned over and met her coming my way. It was our first kiss and a winner. Our lips seemed almost glued together and our tongues make love to each other! "My God", I thought, "this is some passionate woman."

I had pushed my hand under her skirt and my fingers were exploring her panties when Room Service knocked on the door. I pulled my hand away and from her crotch and noticed that my fingers were wet. I smelled them; it was definitely "eau de cunt", my favorite fragrance.

Drinks were an unnecessary diversion. She poured them out for us, but there they sat for the rest of the evening - we were too busy with more important things.

After more deep kisses and some groping she pulled away with, "I'll be right back. I'm going to the bathroom."

When she returned she sat real close to me on the couch. My hand touched her thigh. I had touched real girly flesh! She was either naked or had stripped down to undies. The great detective Brad used his fingers to find out which of the possibilities was true. She seemed to enjoy my exploration and put her hand on my cock (which was sticking way up by this time) as I examined her body with my fingers. She had on only a brief bra and frilly panties.

After I unhooked her bra and started kissing those lovely globes and teasing her nipples with my tongue she pulled away slightly and said, "No fair. I'm almost naked and you still have most of your clothes on. Get those things off. I want to see if the tool you mentioned can provide what I need."

I got my clothes off as quickly as possible. Disrobing wasn't all that easy because we were in the midst of an embrace that just kept going. Finally I had all my clothes off. She seemed to be looking carefully and gave a considered judgement, "You'll do just fine." Then she put her hand around my cock and stroked it gently. That was great. All I could think at this point was something stupid, like "She has me in hand - and I love it!" I guess not having had sex for such a long time had affected my mind.

She paused for a moment and said, "This is a hell of time for conversation but I want to tell you how erotic I find this. Normally I would hope to impress a guy with sexy underwear and my bare body. Then, in the normal course of events, he would usually grab a tit or put fingers into my pussy. He would be the aggressor; most men like to feel that they're in charge. But I have to go beyond that with you and take the initiative. Taking the initiative suits me just fine. I'm a take charge woman and right now I'm taking charge of getting fucked by a sexy man. The first thing is to get you good and hard. That seems to be going well. I'll keep stroking your cock but not too fast right now - I want us to come at the same time. Please bend down to my pussy and make love to me with your mouth and tongue."

Kate was already slightly wet before I went down on her. She was going to be a hell of a lot wetter and exhausted after I licked and sucked her cunt for the next half hour.

I consider myself an expert on giving head. Any guy who doesn't like the smell and taste of pussy, or is simply put off by the idea, will never satisfy his woman. You CANNOT FAKE IT, when it comes to cunnilingus. Happily, I don't have to fake it. I bent down close to her glistening labia. Before using my tongue I stroked her cunt lips and the entire area around her pussy. She started to breath hard and her pelvis started moving up and down, definitely a good start. Then I planted some kisses over the same area, letting my tongue extend just enough to let her get an idea of what would be happening shortly. She was breathing harder by this point and moaned a bit. It sounded to me like she hadn't had oral sex in a long time and was really hungry for action. I extended the main weapon, my tongue.

My tongue penetrated past the outer lips and into her vagina. She was so wet that my tongue slipped right in. I was deliberate in slowly moving my tongue toward her clitoris, licking as I went. I did tease her a bit by removing my tongue and then putting it back into her slit. As this was going on topside, I was touching and petting the area between her pussy and her asshole, the perineum. That area is full of nerve endings and a surefire way to arouse any woman that I've ever been with. Finally my tongue got to her clitoris. It was well out from the protective hood and just waiting to be stimulated. Kate has an unusually large clit, an adorable female penis. I licked her little pseudo-cock and then sucked on it. Kate had been making noises and moving her hips up and down for a while. Sucking her clit brought her over the edge. Her body went into spasm, she screamed loud enough to make we wonder if anybody in the next room thought I had killed her - and then there was only the sound of her heavy breathing.

After a bit I dried the sweat from her body with a big bath towel. Smart lady - she brought towels from the bathroom and put them next to the bed before we started.

A great way of having sex is to take turns bringing your partner to climax, rather than trying to orgasm simultaneously. That's what happened the first time for me and Katie.

After she climaxed we lay there for a while holding each other. Then she said, "Brad, I'm going to return the favor. You were terrific at oral sex and deserve a trophy of some sort for the performance. But I'm not ready to award you First Place in the Hilton Hotel Oral Sex Contest. I won the Harvard Square Cocksucking trophy my last year at Radcliffe. Let's see how I do tonight. Hon, get on your back and let me take care of you. Let Auntie Kate work her magic on you."

Kate turned around, with her feet toward the headboard. Then she straddled me with her knees bent. She bent down to my cock while keeping her weight on her knees and her snatch over my face. To get your cock sucked by your sweetie while she has her still steaming cunt over you face is an unforgettable experience!

She made love to my cock like an expert - that's the best way I can summarize the blow job. At first she used a finger to trace my swollen cock, from the sensitive tip down to the base, and then on to my balls. After enough of the finger exercise almost caused me to explode, she used her mouth and tongue. Kate was a she-devil with much experience. She teased me, almost brought me to climax, backed off, and started again. The final blow (so to speak) was when she put a finger into my asshole and wiggled that around while sucking on my cock! That did it. I spewed forth a bigger load than I remember having since I was an over-sexed teen masturbating to pictures of lingerie ads in the Sunday paper. That was before I was blinded. I haven't seen a lingerie ad, or anything else, for a long time.

You can't spend all your time fucking and sucking - sometimes you have to take a break. At those times, while lying in bed, we got into some interesting conversations. She asked me at one point, "You seem to think that I'm good looking, but how do you know that? You know that I wasn't lying about my boobs and my ass, but I could be a crone and you would never know that."

The great philosopher Brad hesitated all of 30 seconds and replied. "I've thought about that many times. By now it seems simple enough to me; each person constructs a so-called reality different from everyone else's reality. Blind people just have fewer visual inputs. You might be a crone, although I doubt that. Even you were, it wouldn't matter one bit - especially now that we've come to know each other so well. I like what I've found and hope you feel the same way."

After that little speech, she put her arms around me and put her hand on my thermometer - it rose, to indicate increasing heat. Oh well, a stud's work is never done.