Table For One

Erika squatted over the toilet and purged the quart of warm, soapy water. She pushed the nozzle back in and emptied the bag. She held it while she slid the second nozzle into her pussy and squeezed the bottle. She removed the nozzles and bore down, holding the liquids in her pussy and ass as long as she could.

In the tub she dialed the shower head to something resembling a heavy mist and soaped herself once all over, quickly. Then she shaved under her arms, shaved her legs, soaped up again, but at a more leisurely pace. The soap, the warm mist, it made Erika purr. They say that while guys focus on their dicks, a girl's body is one, big erogenous zone. That may be true most days, but at this time of month Erika was having a hard time keeping her hand from going between her legs and her nipples were driving her crazy. She washed her pussy, resisted the urge to do what she most desperately needed, to find relief. But she wanted to stoke the fire, not douse it. She hadn't diddled herself in three days. Normally it was part of her morning routine, even during her period. Someone had told her that orgasms cure cramps. Whether that was true or not, well, like they say - it can't hurt.

She soaped her tits enjoying the feeling, that combination of softness and firm. Well, not all that firm she decided. She could no longer pass the pencil test. But she often went bra-less anyway.

She wondered for the thousandth whether her nipples were pink or brown. Despite her Swedish heritage, and both parents being blonde, she had managed to have dark hair. She kept it dyed auburn, though she didn't know what that was. Peggy, her stylist, told her it was a reddish brown.

Clean and dry she stood in front of the mirror and did her makeup. Why stand in front of the mirror when you're blind? Habit, mostly. She didn't, couldn't do anything complex, just a bit of mascara, a smear of color on her eyelids, and lip gloss. For special events Peggy did her.

She spritzed on some perfume and put on her sexy underwear, the sheer white set. Well, at least she thought it was sheer. It felt sheer. She liked the way it felt when her tits moved under her clothing. She slipped on the pale blue sundress and white sandals.

She grabbed her purse and cane, reached for the door knob and realized her hand was shaking. She had made this trip most months for the last two years, but she felt as nervous as the first time.

Out on the street she tapped her way down four blocks, turned left, passed Phil's Deli, the place where this all started....

 

Erika sensed the woman, smelled her cologne.

"Is this seat taken?"

"Not that I know of."

"Oh?"

"I'm blind."

"Oh. Oh, sorry."

"Nothing to be sorry about. It is what it is."

The woman sat, ordered a gin and tonic.

"Do you come here often?"

"Are you trying to pick me up?"

The woman chuckled.

"No, but given the situation I figured you must live nearby."

"Yeah. It's kind of my hangout. I live around the corner a couple of blocks up."

"How's the food here?"

"Pretty good, but they stop serving at four. It's a deli during the day, a bar at night."

"Oh. Oh well, so much for that. Maybe I'll switch to a martini. At least I can eat the olives."

"You're not from this area?"

"Yes I am, but on the south side. I don't get up this way often."

"Oh. What do you do, if I may ask?"

"A masseuse."

"Really? I've never had a massage."

"Never?"

"Nope."

"What about you?"

"I'm a writer, what they call a content provider, what they used to call a freelancer."

"Oh. How does...I mean..."

"Because I can't see? I can type. Faster than most people because I'm not distracted by the screen. And my computer has screen-reading, synthesized speech.

"Wow. I didn't know they could do that."

They drank and chatted, drank some more. They introduced themselves. Her name was Sandra. She offered to give Erika a ride home, which was a good thing because tapping while intoxicated isn't something they recommend.

It became a regular date of sorts. Tuesdays at Phil's.

It was five weeks later, Sandra was holding the car door for her and when Erika sat down Sandra leaned in and kissed her. It didn't surprise her. Sandra either didn't understand the concept of space or she was, in fact, hitting on her. She always sat close to Erika even though she could sense space around her. Always found a reason to touch her, touch her arm when she talked, press her leg against hers.

"Sandra, I'm not gay."

"Oh. Oh, sorry. Damn."

She reached out and took Sandra's hand, squeezed it.

"But I appreciate the gesture."

It was a couple of weeks later. They were sitting on Erika's couch, drinks in hand. Both had one too many at Phil's and he had called a cab.

"Listen. I... I have to tell you something."

"Mm?"

"I like you. I like what we have. I know it's not going to go anywhere, I mean sexually. Which is a good thing. It means we don't have to wear those masks like when you're dating."

"Mm."

"That massage thing, well it's at a massage parlor - with all its implications."

"Really?"

"Yeah. It's a nice place. Clean. We have an upscale clientele, mostly."

"But wait, you're gay."

"Bi. Gay by choice, bi by profession."

"Hm. Never thought of that."

"You know, uh, you're not seeing anyone, haven't for a while you told me. We have a guy there, Reggie, and uh..."

Erika barked out a laugh.

"No offense, but not my thing."

"He gives a good massage. Really. We all do, actually. I mean, if not sex, that's all a lot of our customers want. Well, maybe that and a tug job. But some just want to talk."

"Thanks, but I'll pass."

But she didn't....

 

Erika continued past Phil's to the taxi stand at the corner. She heard a car horn, three toots. She walked toward the sound. There were footsteps, the sound of a door being opened.

"Hi, Erika. Where to?"

"South end."

Ferd (Not Fred, Ferd.) was kind of her regular driver. Took her grocery shopping every week, helped her run errands.

He drove south, turned onto Blossom, went three blocks.

"Call me when you're ready to go home."

"Sure."

She listened to the car drive away, heard it turn left at the next block, turned and walked back a block, turned left on Pecan. Tapped her way half way down the block, walked up the driveway, went in the back door.

"I'm here to see Reggie."

"Sure. Go on back. You know the way?"

"Yeah."

Erika opened the door, sensed he was there before he spoke.

"Good afternoon. Table for one?"

"Hi Reggie."

"Our special today is jasmine, but I think it would clash with your perfume. I'd recommend vanilla."

"Sure."

Erika stepped behind the screen, stripped and wrapped a large towel around herself. She lay down on the table, pulled the towel open, settled herself face down with her head in the padded donut.

"You're looking especially lovely today."

"You say that to all the girls."

"Yes, but when I say it to you I mean it."

Whether he meant it or not it had an effect. She liked being flirted with.

Reggie folded the towel down a bit and oiled Erika's shoulders, rubbed them, rubbed her neck. He prattled a bit. He always did at first. It was no use answering him with her face in the donut. Reggie was deaf. Face to face he could read lips, but he was as deaf as she was blind, which was totally.

He folded the towel again and worked down her back. He folded it up and rubbed her legs and feet.

"Feel good?"

Erika nodded.

"Any spots need special attention?"

She shook her head.

Reggie chuckled.

"You know that saying about the blind leading the blind and here we are the deaf kneading the blind."

Erika groaned. She raised her head to look at him. He gave her a wink. She shook her head and settled back in.

It was like being on a date. You know it is going to happen, but you're not sure when. Reggie took his time, did her legs again, paid particular attention to her feet. Then it happened.

He removed the towel, drizzled oil, and worked her ass cheeks. He ran his hand down between her cheeks, traced a line from the crack of her ass, down across the crinkled pucker of her anus, down across her pussy lips. He squeezed her thigh and Erika spread her legs a bit.

A stream of warm oil followed the path of his fingers and his fingers followed the oil. He caressed her, probed her, kneaded her pussy lips. And even though he avoided her clit she could feel the wave build.

He slid his thumb into her ass. Erika tensed a bit. She didn't particularly care for that. No one had ever done that, let alone sodomized her. And Reggie knew that. She sensed it. He was teasing her, toying with her. Getting her this close to release, then bringing her back. The wave was still there, but now with his thumb in her ass it wasn't close to breaking. Part of her wanted to tell him to stop (Not that it would do any good.), yet another part knew that he knew exactly what he was doing. She paid for the experience, paid for his expertise, as it were.

He continued to play with her, making her all squirmy.

"Oh, God! Reggie, please!"

She begged him knowing it would fall on deaf ears... literally.

And then her removed his hand, patted her butt. Erika turned over.

He resumed the massage, taking each of her hands in turn, working his way up and down her arms, rubbing each finger. Oiled her shoulders, her chest, her tits. When he found her nipples Erika bit her lip and turned her head. She was so close to coming that a bit of nipple play could easily drive her over the edge. Truth was, she could make herself come just by playing with them, not even touching herself.

Reggie rubbed his way down her legs, paid a bit more attention to her feet. And then... his hand was on her pussy....

 

Erika settled into the back of the cab.

"Warm one out there."

Erika wondered whether Ferd was just making conversation or if he'd noticed the blush. She could feel it. Could feel the heat in her face, her chest. More so, her pussy throbbed, almost painfully. Reggie was always a bit rough with her, but that's how she wanted it. She wanted to feel the ache tomorrow and maybe the day after.

She wondered what he looked like. She wondered what he saw when he looked at her - the blind, naked woman. Wondered if he was frowning or smiling. Wondered if he really liked her or whether it was just a job.

She wondered for the hundredth time if the room was soundproof.

 

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05.11.13