Insight, (c) 2001 by Lesly Sloan
Author: Lesly Sloan (firstname.lastname@example.org
All rights reserved - Copy/Duplication prohibited without
prior written permission.
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
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
"There's a wide choice here. What kind of food do you want? French, Chinese,
"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
"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!!
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
"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
"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 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
"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
"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
"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
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
"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
"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
"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 made 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
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 whispered, "Come to bed - follow me." Then she led me to the bed by
After we got into bed she paused for a moment and said, "This is a hell of a
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
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
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
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.
We wanted to avoid gossip that might threaten our jobs. Like most
corporations, our employer was frightened about any whiff of scandal. And
now, with all the crap about sexual harassment, the thought of sex on the
job is considered as bad as voting the Socialist Labor ticket, or some
such heinous act. We managed to sneak around, but that was a real pain in
the ass. I'd leave her room at an ungodly hour, go back to my room, and then
get down to the coffee shop to meet the rest of my group for breakfast. We
would rendezvous for dinner at a restaurant not likely to be frequented by
the others, have dinner, and then come back separately to the Hilton for our
sexual tryst. I felt like a character in a farcical comedy, but the sex made
It was our third night together, the last night before having to return
to work, that we discussed the future. We had avoided any mention of a
future together up to this point. I decided to take the initiative. "You
know, Boston and New York are only a one-hour shuttle ride apart. I'd like
to see you on weekends."
"What do you suggest we do during the week?"
"Concentrate on other things, or masturbate if we have to. Also, I'm
not saying that we shouldn't see other people. I'm not asking for an
exclusive. I know that being apart weekdays sucks, but it could be a lot
worse. One of us could be assigned to San Francisco. Do you think you
could act like a nun, well...sort of, during the week, and like a hot
slut on weekends?"
"The nun part doesn't apply to me, unless the nun is a sex-crazed bitch.
I am into having a serious relationship with a guy I enjoy and respect.
Sport fucking is great fun but it lasts for only for a moment. I was
going to propose the same thing you just described. You beat me to the
punch on this one. Let's try the weekend rendezvous plan and see how
it works. You know, three days isn't much time to establish something
worthwhile. But this is the best beginning to a relationship I've ever
had, and I don't want to just let it die. Besides, I'm one horny woman
and appreciate the fact that I've never had my pussy eaten as well
by anyone else."
She continued, in a very practical and organized way. It was what I would
expect from a woman who manages a department in Boston. "We'll each
have our own responsibilities in this relationship. Division of labor is
the basis of society, so they said in social theory class. Next weekend
I'll come to New York - you can see me in Boston soon after that. I'll
bring down some toys, and you stock up on condoms. Oh, and get some tubes
of nice tasting lube. Is that OK with you?"
Glumly I mumbled, "OK, but by the weekend I'll be horny as could be. I may
rape you right after you step off the plane."
As we parted the morning after the sales meeting, I kissed my new love
and put her into a cab. It had been a marvelous weekend, but it was time to
think about work again. Besides my normal job duties that week, I was
going to fix up my apartment so that it would look decent when she came
to stay with me the following weekend.
Mark must have come out of the hotel to the cab stand. I heard him, next
to me, "That's a beautiful woman you were talking to at the meeting."
"Yes, she IS beautiful."
About the author: Lelsy Sloan writes software for a living, and erotica for
pleasure. She has a web site: http://www.freespeech.org/erotica
Comments welcome to: email@example.com