2 comments/ 4033 views/ 2 favorites Dramatic License By: Blind_Justice Author's Notes: This story is based on true events. I have changed some situations around for a better flow and changed all the names to protect those involved, but that's it. Thanks to those who helped make this a much better read. You know who you are. All participants are 18 or above. ***** "Uni will be rough," my former English teacher had cautioned me. "There will be no special treatment for you. You'll have to give 110 percent. But I know you can manage." She had hugged me back then and went back to the bar for a refill of her beer glass. My girlfriend, Sarah, shot me a long, hard look. "What?" I asked her. Hanging around the Abiturparty wasn't my idea of fun either. Most of my friends were too busy for a proper goodbye, it was too loud, too crowded and the idea that my school days, generally smooth sailing, were over and I was to attend University was a huge, looming spectre. My teacher's words weren't helping at all. You see, I'm nearly blind, with about two percent of eyesight remaining. In my case it means usable vision out to about ten feet, in colour and on both eyes. I can read printed material, if the script is large enough. Going from an environment which was tailor-made for people like me into the wilds of University, with their huge auditoriums and possibly dozens, if not hundreds of people attending the same course wasn't something I really looked forward to. "I was wondering if she wanted to kiss you goodbye," Sarah hissed. "You two were awfully comfy." "Don't be ridiculous," I told her, killing the rest of my Coke. She had been extra-jealous the whole evening through, little barbs flying each time when I tried to say my goodbyes and I ended up in a hug or a smooch to the cheek. By now, we'd been together for about two years and I had always been faithful. Her jealousy was totally uncalled for and so unlike her. Normally, Sarah was a sweet, caring girl and the main reason I was still in Marburg, a small university town in Hessen, Germany. I had been at Blindenstudienanstalt Marburg, a boarding school for blind and visually impaired kids, the last seven years, up until I finished my Abitur. Directly afterwards, I had applied for English Literature and Media studies at Marburg University, starting in the winter semester 1996/1997. My parents hadn't been very happy when I confronted them with my wish to stay in Marburg instead of returning home, to work at my father's place. In fact, they refused to support me with any kind of money. Maybe they thought I'd eventually give up and crawl back home. So, instead of renting a room in a Uni dorm, which would have eaten up what little money the government paid to support students, I moved into a sleazy apartment building. I had no intention of going back home. And then it was Monday, the first day of University. I had spent the weekend learning the route to the Language Tower, the building which housed, among others, the English faculty and classrooms. From the bus stop, it was a ten-minute walk along the bank of the river Lahn. But the last leg of the way, finding the classroom for my Reading Comprehension class, I had to do the hard way since the building had been locked up for the weekend. Amongst droves of other freshmen, I made my way towards the Language Tower, my cane leading the way. Once inside, things got very crowded. Either the other students hadn't seen blind people before or they just didn't care, but finding "my" classroom turned out to be a major chore. No one seemed to have time to stop and help me, and I got jostled time and time again. Fearing for my cane, I folded it in half, so that no one would trip and break their necks, which made things even more complicated, because now it wasn't that obvious that I was blind. I used my ears more than my eyes, following a bunch of people animatedly chatting about what they were expecting from their first couple English courses. Keeping close to them, I found the stairwell leading up to the English faculty and made my way towards the classroom. Most of the seats were taken when I came in, leaving only the seat closest to the professor's desk. I flopped down onto the chair and checked my watch. It was ten past nine and the professor hadn't appeared yet. Good. I wanted to leave a decent impression, that I was able to get my shit together as well as any sighted person. "Excuse me, mind if I sit here?" The voice yanked me from my thoughts. It had a hint of a Saxon accent and was very smooth, silky almost. I looked up. The voice belonged to a gorgeous redhead, easily six feet tall, her red curls halfway down her back. She wore mostly black with bits of purple. Most seats were taken by now, only the one next to me remained empty. "Sure, be my guest," I said, indicating the empty chair. She sat down and I could see the friendly smile playing around her lips. Things got a little crowded as she wriggled out of her bag's shoulder strap and placed her bag under the chair. I got a whiff of her perfume, a slight note of patchouli. "Sorry," she said, again looking straight at me. Her eyes were emerald green. Cat's eyes, burning with intensity. Then she closed her fingers around my hand. "I'm Sylvia." "Nice to meet you," I said, changing my grip to a more traditional hand shake. "Chris." "The pleasure is all mine." Her purr sent shivers down my spine. I wondered what that gorgeous woman saw in me. I had just turned nineteen and was, visually speaking, hardly exciting. At five-ten and a hundred thirty-odd pounds, I was a hand shorter than her. Granted, I had broad shoulders from all the sports they had us do at Blista, my old school. I wore my hair long, to show my devotion to my favourite music. If she liked heavy metal, too, that might have helped. She sounded like she had just found the man of her dreams, and I hardly felt like I fit the role. "Good morning, class," a distinct voice with a strong Oxford accent said in English, pulling me out of my thoughts. A small man with a ring of white hair around his bald pate, wearing a pair of glinting round spectacles, had entered the room and put some items onto his desk. What he lacked in stature, he made up with attitude. His voice was loud and demanded respect. "I am Professor Kaiser, your instructor for this course. Before we begin, a few ground rules. Class starts at nine-fifteen, at which time I will check for attendance. Anyone who comes in later will not be noted down on the attendance sheet. We are all adults here and as such I'm expecting a measure of responsibility. Next, all talking will be done in English, no exceptions. Practice makes perfect after all. Use of dictionaries is allowed and encouraged, but I hope by the time we'll wrap this up in six months, you'll be fluent enough to get your points across. And don't expect any slack from my colleagues either," he said grimly when some students groaned. "Pussies," Sylvia whispered my way. I nodded in assent. Why would you go studying English when your command of the language wasn't up to scratch? Professor Kaiser went on, "This course is labelled as 'Reading Comprehension', but I think since we're all new here, we should use this occasion to get to know each other a little better. Who wants to go first?" Silence greeted him. From my vantage point, I couldn't see anyone raising their hands. But then, I could hardly see past Sylvia or the professor. "No volunteers?" Kaiser looked pointedly around the room. "Well then. You there." He pointed. "Stand up, man." I heard a chair scrape across the floor. "Umm. Hi. My name is Markus. I am twenty-one years old. I am from Marburg and I want to be a teacher." "With his attitude, his future students will laugh him out of class," Sylvia whispered. I had to fight to keep a straight face. "Thank you. Who's next?" Kaiser looked around. Sylvia shot me a fleeting smile, then raised her hand. "Please, by all means," Kaiser said. Sylvia gracefully rose. "My name is Sylvia. I'm twenty-six and originally from Dresden. My last lover moved here to work with a few friends so I joined him." She sounded a little bitter. "It didn't work out. So, instead of going back home, I've decided to stay here and continue with my education. My major is Law and I'm doing English just for credit. Besides English, I speak German and Russian and I love to dance." She spoke fluently, without any hesitation. I liked her slight accent, neither British nor American. She sat down again. "Now you," Sylvia said, challenging me with a smile. "Why?" I whispered back. "You'll have to eventually, and I'd like to know my seat neighbour a little better. Humour me. Please." "Heck, why not?" I raised my hand. "That's the spirit," Kaiser said. I stood up. Every eye in the room was on me and I felt like a butterfly under a magnifying glass. I played in a band, but the good part about being a drummer is that you're hidden away behind your drum set. Being this exposed left me nervous as all hell. I cleared my throat. "Hello. My name is Chris. I'm nineteen, fresh out of Blista." "What's that?" Sylvia asked. "It's short for 'Blindenstudienanstalt'," I explained. "In English, please," Kaiser admonished me. "Umm... The official English translation is 'Study Center for the Blind'. It's a boarding school for - you guessed it - blind and visually impaired kids, going from seventh grade up to the Abitur. Besides school, Blista offers activities to improve self-confidence and mobility of their students, from cooking to music to sports." "So, you're blind?" some unknown girl's voice asked. "It's complicated. I can still see a bit, even read printed paper, but it's too low for a driver's license or pretty much anything else. Anything ten feet or farther away is just a blurry mess." "Good to know," Kaiser said. "I'll make sure to pull magnified copies of your assignments for you." "Thank you, professor. Anyway, I do play in a band, I listen to heavy metal and I read a ton of fantasy literature." Sylvia snorted. "Thank you," the professor said. Sighing in relief, I sat down again, glad to have that behind me. Kaiser had the remaining students give a little bit of their background. With about twenty or so people in class, two hours flew by. After class, students milled around, packing up their stuff and rushing from the classroom while Sylvia walked around me to the professor's desk. "Excuse me. Can you tell me about the English drama club? I saw the posters down in the foyer," she asked him. "Oh, are these still up? They're from last year. I'm afraid no one has reformed the drama club yet. If you're interested, you can assemble some people. I can offer you rooms for practice and other support with the faculty." "That would be lovely. I'll get back to you on that," Sylvia said. I was done packing my bag as well and prepared to leave when her hand touched my shoulder. "Say, Chris... Have you ever done drama before?" "I'm more a music dude," I told her. "I've been in some plays, but mostly in supporting roles. Why, are you offering me a spot?" "That's the spirit," the professor laughed. "At this rate, we'll have our drama club in just a few days." "So, you're in?" Sylvia asked, squeezing my shoulder. Good question. I hardly knew that woman. Heck, I hardly knew anybody here. I could decline her offer and hope to get to know other students in due time. Or I could say yes, get a foot in the door as early as possible. She seemed nice. "Ah, what the fuck," I said, shrugging. "I'm in." * * * * "You are what?" Sarah looked up from her homework. When I was done with Uni for the day, around five in the afternoon, I had headed straight to her dormitory at the school for the blind "I said, I'm in an English drama club. Informally for the time being, until we've got enough members." "Wonderful. We don't have enough time for ourselves as is at the moment, with my full schedule, and now that." "Do you listen to me? It's informal. It's just the two of us right now. I don't think there will be five-hour rehearsals every night from now on." "You and who else?" "This woman I met in Reading Comprehension. She seems nice. Hey, if things get too rough, I can always quit, right?" "Which woman?" Now she sounded suspicious. "Her name is Sylvia, she's twenty-six and she studies Law and English. She's a redhead. Tall and curvy." Sarah's mood darkened even more. "I don't like her." "You haven't even met her!" I protested. I always tried to be fair and open-minded around new people. Even though Sylvia had practically dragged me into this, I was excited about the drama club. Sarah wasn't, that much was obvious. Well then, time for the magic touch. I circled around her chair and placed my hands onto her shoulders. They were hard as granite. Sarah was on the final stretch towards her Abitur, had nine hours of school a day plus sports and other extracurricular stuff. No wonder she was tensed up as all hell. I caressed her neck and whispered into her ear, "Listen, there is no need for hostility. I hardly know her. What do you think will happen? We meet and I jump into bed with her?" "I don't know what will happen," she said, tensing up even more under my touch. "And that's the point." "Relax. I'm a big boy and can watch out for myself." I placed my hands on her shoulders and began to massage her, gently, just how she loved it. With a sigh, she leaned her head back, against my stomach. "What would I do without you?" she whispered. "You'd manage," I said, leaning down to place a kiss onto her lips. She chuckled wearily and took my hands off her shoulders. "If you want to treat me, let's do it right," she said, closing her books. She got up from her chair and yanked her sweatshirt off. The bra came next. My smile grew. Maybe I would get lucky tonight! The closer she got to her finals, the less often we had sex. She was too tired, not in the mood or myriad other reasons. Seeing her so agreeable all of a sudden was a nice surprise. With a soft rattle, her belted trousers hit the floor. She kicked out of her socks and shoes and proceeded to the bed. Sarah was maybe five-six and a bit on the heavy side, which I didn't mind one bit because it gave her splendid breasts and a wonderfully rounded ass and hips. She was a brunette, usually wearing her hair in a tight braid. She always preferred practicality over flash. "You coming?" she asked, sliding onto the mattress, face down. A moment later I was at her side, naked. No idea how I managed to get out of my clothes. I straddled her legs and placed my rock-hard dick between her panty-clad butt cheeks. She tensed up. "You know I don't like it back there," she hissed. "That's my ass, after all." "I know. I love your ass, like everything else about you. My dick won't bite." "Oh well, you win. This once," she sighed. "How about that massage?" Sarah indicated her night stand. I leaned over her to reach it, fondling one of her breasts and nibbling on her neck. The drawer held a bottle of rose-scented massage oil. Heck, why not? After all, I offered, right? So I squirted a generous helping onto her shoulders and set to work, like I had so many times before. Sarah occasionally squeezed her butt or egged me on with sighs and moans. The massage was a mix between real muscle relaxation and thinly disguised foreplay as I worked my way down from her neck to her behind, unwillingly vacating my place on her legs. When my hands reached the elastic of her panties, I pulled them to mid-thigh and slipped a finger between her labia. Despite her earlier complaints, she was dripping wet. "Okay, turn around. Your front now, eh?" I said, nudging her. "Sarah?" A soft snoring answered me. I gently shook her shoulder. I kissed her neck. I called her name. I could have gone really loud, but what would that accomplish? She was out like a light. Even if I were able to rouse her, she would be pissed I yanked her from her beauty sleep. Frustrated, I put on my clothes again. A quick look at my watch showed me that I could catch the last bus if I hurried. I wrapped Sarah in her duvet, breathed a kiss onto her cheek, and left her dormitory. As soon as I opened the door to the apartment building's hallway, I knew there was trouble. In my mail bin I found a note from my landlord reminding me that I had to pay my rent in advance and thus owed him already. As I said, it was the cheapest room I could get my hands on, sixteen square meters with an old, creaky bed, a sink and a few wall pegs as clothing storage. I mostly lived out of a couple of cardboard boxes. I didn't have my own bathroom either. I shared a toilet with two other men on that floor, and both were pigs, always pissing past the bowl and blaming the blind man who pissed sitting down for just that reason. Because a previous tenant had rented out the shower to other students and racked up a humongous water bill, the landlord had dismantled the whole cubicle. Thankfully, I could shower at Sarah's dorm, but that wasn't the most elegant solution. My two pig neighbours were shouting at each other down the hall. When they saw me, both turned on me, demanding I clean up the bathroom yet again. I had lived there for about a month and already hated it, but since I only had a pitiful income to see me through, I couldn't just up and move out. Half an hour later, the bathroom sparkled. At least I couldn't feel any smears or puddles. The dismantled shower cubicle stood in one corner, mocking me. I went into my room, each step causing harsh echoes to come from the walls. At least I had a window, to let the stench out. I undressed down to my briefs and used my sink for a quick wash down. Didn't help much, but it beat crawling into bed stinking of piss and puke. I tried to pleasure myself, but after that ordeal, any kinky thoughts had left me. Grumbling in defeat, I turned onto my side, killed the small light clamped to the windowsill next to my bed, and fell asleep. * * * * The first month at University blazed past. I had almost all of my English Lit courses with Sylvia and within a week, she waited for me at the Language Tower's entrance each morning. We spent a good deal of each day together except for my Media studies classes and her Law courses. Between classes, we talked. Though she was only seven years older than me, she was very sophisticated. She had read all the classics, German, English and Russian. She loved dancing. She was a massive Prince fan. When I told her my hobbies were reading fantasy literature, playing pen-and-paper roleplaying games, and heavy metal, she burst out laughing. "What are you? A teenager?" There was enough common ground for a friendship still. She respected that I played in a band. We both appreciated Mary Shelley, although for different reasons. She admired her role as a female writer while I enjoyed Gothic horror for its own sake. We had heated talks, sometimes bordering on arguments, but always ended up on an amicable note. I broadened my horizon by picking up some books she recommended and learned to appreciate Prince for his artistry. Sylvia brushed off my attempts at enlightenment with a curt "I'm too old for this." And when I brought up doing a D&D game just for her, she thanked me politely and said "You know, the only kind of roleplaying I do happens in the bedroom." Sylvia and I were sitting in our favourite lunch spot, the terrace of a small bistro close to the Language Tower. The sunshine emphasized everything on her. Her hair threw brilliant reflections, her green eyes sparkled and her lips appeared even redder than usual. "What kind is that?" I asked her, intrigued. "The naughty kind," she whispered. "My ex had a big thing for scantily-clad nurses." I took a bite from my pizza, to let that sink in. Dramatic License Sylvia nudged my knee with hers. "What's your favourite fantasy? And I don't mean 'Conan the Barbarian'. Or is it that? Muscular hero saves naked slave girl and she gives herself to him?" "Girls." That slipped out before I could've stopped it. "Hm?" I took a deep breath. By now I was somewhat used to her going off on a tangent during our talks, but this was heading straight into very intimate territory. "I said 'girls'." I leaned closer and lowered my voice. "A threesome with two girls." "That's pretty specific," she said with a dazzling smile. "How come?" I took a gulp from my Coke, stalling for time. "Come on, tell me," Sylvia prodded. "Or are you embarrassed talking about sex?" I looked around. The terrace was packed and people were chatting quite loudly. "Let's just say that me and my ex ended up consoling a friend of hers after her boyfriend dumped her in the midst of a party a few years back. It started out innocently enough, but we all were a bit drunk and things escalated from there." "Ah, so you would like a repeat performance, hm?" Sylvia leaned back, fixing me under half-closed eyes. "Yup." Sylvia sipped her red wine, a thoughtful look on her face. When the silence stretched further and further, I shot her a questioning look. "What?" "Oh, nothing," she said, waving her hand dismissively. "Say, can I ask for your help?" "Of course. Unless you want me in a threesome," I jokingly added. "No, silly. Recruitment for our drama club is taking much longer than I anticipated. We need to step up our game. You need to help me find more people." "You are the only one I know," I said, biting into a slice of pizza. No lie. Between my own shyness and her overpowering presence, I barely had opportunities to chat with other people. "What about your Media Studies people? Come on, there has to be some crossover potential," she said, sipping her red wine before spearing at her Spaghetti Arrabiata with her fork. "I can try. We should put up flyers as well." "Good idea. You're better with computers than I am, so that part is yours." I nodded. My band's guitarist, Thomas lived in the same hell hole I did and let me use his PC from time to time. "We share the copy costs?" I looked up just in time to see a strange little smile tug at her lips. Then I felt her hand on my thigh, underneath the tablecloth. That was no affirmative squeeze. Her fingertips crawled up the inside of my leg, sending sparks right up into my dick. "Sure thing," she purred. Sylvia squeezed my thigh once, her fingernails emphasizing how close she had gone to my crotch already. Locking her eyes with mine, she emptied the rest of her wine. "One other thing. What's your phone number, in case something comes up?" My room didn't have a phone and I spent only the minimum amount of time there, anyway. No cell phone either. No money for that. The only phone number I had was the one for Sarah's dorm. I pulled a bit of paper from my Uni bag and scrawled the number onto it, as legibly as possible. "For emergencies only. My girlfriend isn't too keen on you," I cautioned Sylvia. "What have I done to her?" she asked, taking the slip of paper. Her fingers caressed the back of my hand. "I wish I knew. She's close to her Abitur and very short-tempered right now. Maybe she's jealous. I do spend an awful lot of time with you," I said with a grin. "And good times they are," Sylvia said, favouring me with one of her dazzling smiles. "See you tomorrow then, right?" she asked. "My law class begins soon. I should run." She handed me money for her half of our bill and went past me, her fingers ruffling my hair. I waited until the goosebumps on my spine had died down, then I finished my pizza, paid up, and went back to Uni myself. * * * * A few days later, Sarah asked me to take her to University Administration. "Why?" I asked her. "Because I don't intend to make the same mistake you did. I may have another year to go before I can enroll, but I want to put our names on the waiting list for a cheap apartment. And I don't mean an adjacent room to yours." "I don't know if we'll have enough money for that," I said, hanging my head. Sarah closed the distance between us and hugged me. "Don't worry about the money. We will manage." "Easy of you to say. You know the joke my financial situation is." "Between what my parents will send me, the government support and your share, we should be able to afford the apartment and still have enough for a few warm meals a week. So, shall we?" Sarah grabbed her bag and cane and off we went. The late summer day was much too bright and friendly for dark thoughts. We chatted about everything but University, instead talking about our regular D&D game. "I can't wait to finally level up my wizard," Sarah said, squeezing my elbow. "Make sure to toss enough monsters our way tonight, okay?" "Which reminds me: I'd like a break from being the Dungeon Master once in a while. Help me convince the others." "For a couple thousand experience points I will do anything," Sarah said with a huge smile. "Is it much further?" "No, just down this road here and we should-" "Peek-a-boo!" It became dark around me as someone placed their hands over my eyes from behind. That someone pressed a sizeable bust against my back. "Who are you?" Sarah snapped. "Come on, tell her, Chris." "Hi Sylvia," I said. Just the thing I needed right now. "Where are you two going? You don't have any courses today, do you, Chris?" Sylvia asked, removing her hands from my eyes. She leaned in and pecked a kiss onto my neck, a gesture Sarah didn't notice. Then she came around to our fronts. She wore a white, faintly translucent blouse and a red skirt going to just about her ankles held in place by a broad black leather belt. She looked dazzling, especially compared to Sarah, wearing a simple T-shirt over her jeans. "So, you're the one hogging my boyfriend all the time," Sarah said, deadpan. "We keep each other company during class and go out for lunch on occasion. Nothing to worry your little head about," Sylvia said dismissively. Sarah's hand closed around my elbow like a vise. "We done? I've got something important to take care of," Sarah snarled her way. "When I saw you walking down the road, I wondered if you wanted to join me for lunch. I'm paying," Sylvia offered. "Thanks but no thanks," Sarah hissed. "We're busy." "How about you, Chris? You haven't said a peep," Sylvia prodded. "Listen, as much as I'd like to, I can't just leave Sarah in unknown territory like that. Another time maybe?" Talk about making things uncomfortable. "If there will be another time," Sylvia huffed. "See ya tomorrow." She twirled away from us, her skirt flaring up and presenting a lot of leg, then she walked away, her steps throwing receding echoes off the closest houses. "Explain to me why you bother with that insolent bitch?" Sarah snapped at me when Sylvia was out of earshot. "For a second I thought you'd let me stand here all by myself." "You should know me better than that," I snapped back. Forgotten was our playful banter from earlier. I really didn't deserve that kind of a shitstorm. I guided her to the administration building and sat quietly while she applied for a couple's apartment in one of the university dorms, only speaking up when the clerk needed my information. Then I took her back to her dorm and excused myself. The mood between us was poisoned and I wanted things to settle down again. So I went back home and joined our band's guitarist, Tom, for a few hours of small talk and gaming. * * * * The recruitment of new people for our drama club went miserably, to say the least. The faculty supported us informally, but without outspoken support and the guarantee of practice space, many interested parties held off until the situation resolved itself. Without a certain head count, we couldn't get official faculty support, so we were stuck in a no-win scenario. We tried anyway and my respect for Sylvia grew. She was a super-energetic whirlwind, seemingly knowing the whole English crowd in the time it took me to chat up a handful of people in Media Studies. Halfway through the semester, I managed to sweet talk a girl from Media Studies, Monica, into attending a preliminary meeting. Looking back, I think she mostly did it so I would finally shut the hell up about that drama club. Sylvia said she had four more people on hand willing to listen. We were sitting in an empty classroom, discussing our progress. It was the beginning of November, around five in the afternoon. I was supposed to be at Sarah's at four, but outside, the heavens were crying without any apparent desire to stop. The Language Tower was a good distance away from Sarah's dorm. To reach her, I had to take the bus and the closest bus stop was a ten-minute walk away. By the time I arrived there, I would have ended up totally drenched. Thankfully, the Language Tower had a payphone so I could at least call Sarah and let her know. Of course she wasn't thrilled about me being late, but her mood would have worsened dramatically if she'd known that Sylvia was with me. "As good a time as ever to plan our meeting. We need a water-tight game plan to win them over," Sylvia said, sitting on the table next to me. She wore a dark burgundy blouse over a pair of black pants, adorned with a silver belt. I yawned in assent. It had been a long day already. "Come on, let's pick which play we're gonna do," she suggested, producing a handful of booklets from her bag. I looked at them. "King Lear", "MacBeth", "Hamlet". "The classics, eh?" I said, tapping the booklets. "What, not good enough? Wait, I came prepared," Sylvia said with a laugh. "How about this?" She placed a well-worn copy of "A Streetcar named Desire" in front of me. "I think we'll need a bigger cast for that," I chuckled. "How about something easy for starters?" "We're in University, not your old school any more. We need to impress. And we need to show we're prepared or we'll never get anywhere with this," she said, placing her hand on mine for emphasis. "So, pick one." "The Case Of Charles Dexter Ward, how about that?" I suggested. "Huh?" "H.P. Lovecraft. Classic Horror author. We could try to do the script ourselves." Sylvia was silent for a moment. When I looked back at her, the smile had gone. She looked angry for whatever reason. When she caught me looking at her, she caressed the back of my hand and her smile came back. "Let's not make it more complicated than it needs to be," she said, then she switched to English. "Ever heard about K.I.S.S.?" Now it was my turn to shoot her a quizzical look. "KISS? The hard rock band? Of course!" "No, silly. 'Keep. It. Simple. Stupid'," she explained. "Oh, and this." She leaned into me and placed her arms around my shoulders. Her lips brushed mine. I was much too surprised to pull away. She took this as the go-ahead and kissed me for real, one hand holding my head while she licked my lips with her tongue. I wanted to say something, maybe even "Wait", but when I opened my mouth, she invaded it with her tongue. Before I knew it, we were kissing deeply. Or rather, she was devouring me. She snatched up one of my hands and placed it onto her breast, her nipple hard through bra and blouse. "Ahem," someone coughed behind us. Sylvia licked my lips one last time and straightened up. "Oh. Hi!" she said, as if nothing had happened. "What are you doing here, if I may ask?" I recognized the voice of our Reading Comprehension professor and felt a huge blush coming on. Sylvia snatched up one of the booklets and showed it to him. "We were just picking which play to do. What would you like?" "That one right there," he said, tapping the booklet she held. "Hamlet has always been a favourite of mine. I'm interested to see what you can come up with." Then he left the classroom and deliberately closed the door behind him.I exhaled, for what felt like the first time in ages then I turned to face Sylvia. "Mind telling me what that was supposed to be?" I asked, more confused than angry. She knew I was in a steady relationship. I had never made a secret about that. "Can't a woman shower her friend with some love now and again?" she asked, sitting down again. Casually, she took my hand and placed it on her thigh. I withdrew it. It was bad enough that she had kissed me, but my body was firing on all cylinders. My dick was uncomfortably hard inside my jeans. Worst of all, I had no answer to her question. My head spun. I knew kissing another woman wasn't appropriate. Sarah and I had been together for the better part of two years and I had snubbed off my parents for her. If they had any say, I would have left Marburg as soon as the ink was dry on my Abitur, to work at my father's place. Everything was prepared for me, including an internship and possible job afterwards. Too bad I didn't envision my future as a paper-pusher. Numbers weren't my strong suit anyway. My parents weren't amused when I told them hell would freeze over before I'd leave Sarah, the band and all my other friends behind. "If you want to make it on your own, have at it," my father had said, very quietly. "But don't expect any kind of support." Yet, here I was, having a murderous hard-on for the woman all but laying on the table in front of me. Sylvia caught me looking at her. Deliberately, she reached up and undid the first two buttons of her blouse, revealing a generous amount of cleavage held up by something lacy and purple. "I think I'd better go," I said, getting up. "You can't!" Sylvia said, sitting up straight again. "You'd be drenched the moment you get your foot out of the door." I ate the "Fuck that" ready to burst out. Instead, I said, "I need some time to think. See ya." Grabbing my jacket and bag, I left the room. No. To be honest, I fled. When I reached Sarah's dorm, I was drenched, cold and miserable. What the hell was up with Sylvia? Whatever it was, it had to stop. Not that I wasn't flattered, but her hitting on me was a problem I didn't want to deal with right now. I hit the door bell. No one answered. I rang again, cursing at the incessant rain dripping down my neck. Eventually, the door was buzzed open and I squished up the steps. One of Sarah's dorm mates awaited me. "Whoa man, you look horrible!" he exclaimed, slapping my shoulder. It sounded very wet. "No shit," I growled. "Is Sarah in?" "Yeah, why?" "Because I've been ringing for like ages." "You might be careful around her today. She seems super-pissed." "Since when?" "About ten minutes ago. Someone called her and she totally flipped. I've never heard her use such language before," he said, awe in his voice. "So, can I come in already? I'm freezing my balls off." "It's your funeral, dude." He stepped aside and let me pass. I headed straight for Sarah's room. She was listening to Emperor, a Norwegian Black Metal band. Infernal noise, volume turned to 11. I skipped knocking and entered. She sat on the bed, stone-faced. I walked over to her stereo and dialled the noise down. Her head flew up and her eyes lasered into mine. "You have a meeting this Saturday," she said, her voice icy cold. "And I am supposed to give you this." She grabbed a Braille note pad and tossed it at me. "What am I, your fucking secretary?" "Hey, why don't you calm down?" I asked. "Can I use your shower? If you haven't noticed, I'm soaking your carpet." "I thought we were going to that concert on Saturday," Sarah said, softer. I checked the Braille note. A phone number and the name "Sylvia". "I'll re-schedule. After the shower. Okay?" "When you're at it, tell her to never call here again." "What exactly did she tell you?" I asked. My lips tingled all of a sudden as I remembered how hungrily Sylvia had kissed me. I got two towels from Sarah's wardrobe and the small bag I kept at her place. I needed fresh clothes, the ones I had on me were soaked through. "Oh, just how much she loves working with you and what a great help you are." Sarah spat. "She didn't stop praising you. Sounded like she wanted to marry you. I hate that bitch." Only wearing my briefs, I walked over to Sarah, knelt down in front of her and hugged her tight. She recoiled. "What?" I asked, irritated. Here I was, about to tell her I only loved her, and she pushed me away? "You're ice-cold!" Sarah gasped. "For heaven's sake, into the shower with you!" I closed my mouth again and swallowed the annoyed remark I had ready. "Let's talk after I'm done thawing, okay?" Sarah nodded and practically threw me out of her room. I padded into the dorm's bathroom and hit the shower. The hot water was divine and I prayed that was enough cold prevention. I picked up the shower gel and soaped myself up. My hands roamed over my body, distributing the foam and taking much of the stress with them. When I reached my cock, images of Sylvia flashed through my head. The hungry look in her eyes when we broke our kiss. The moment when she unbuttoned her blouse, saying without words what she'd like me to do. By the time I was done washing myself downstairs, I had a raging hard-on. For the wrong woman. The bathroom door opened. We weren't allowed to lock the door, in case someone slipped and hurt themselves. School rules. At least you learned to knock and wait. "Hey, it's occupied!" I yelled. A moment later, the shower partition opened and Sarah joined me. "I know," she said. "I'm here to apologize. I'll wash your back if you want." I did as she asked and turned around. She took my shower gel and squirted it into her hand. A moment later, her fingers were on my neck and shoulders. "I'm sorry," she said, barely audible over the running water. She hugged herself to me, pressing her breasts into my back. "I don't know why I'm jumping down your throat like this." "PMS?" I asked, half-joking, earning a quick slap to my ass for that. "No idea, really," she said, sounding a lot less agitated now. One hand slid around to my front and sought out my dick, still hard from when I had washed it. "Is that me or her?" Sarah teased, slowly pumping her soap-slicked hand up and down the shaft. I blushed furiously. The guilt washed over me like a cold squall and I promptly deflated in Sarah's hand. "Hey, come on, I'm only joking!" Sarah complained, turning me around. She grabbed the retractable shower head and rinsed away any gel remains from my crotch, then she knelt down. "I'm really sorry," she said, puffs of her breath on my cock. She took it into her hand again and gave it a friendly little shake. "You hear me? I'm-" and the 'sorry' got muffled as she closed her lips around me. I leaned my head back and tried to relax. She knew exactly how to suck, nibble and squeeze me. Much too soon, I came, shooting thick spurts into her mouth. Sarah smiled up at me and visibly gulped before licking up a few errant drops from my dick. I was still hard as a pipe. Helping her back on her feet and hugging her close, I said, "Thank you for that." "I love to help," she said with a smile, her arms going around my neck. She melted against me, her thighs trapping my cock between them. "Still not enough?" she asked, nibbling at my neck. "From you? Never," I said. Despite arguing with her more than I wanted recently, I loved her with all my heart. I knew how she felt, after all. Our school was very thorough and the workload was high to make sure we were fully prepared for a world where blind and visually impaired people received no slack. I was more than ready to forgive her for her short temper. "Let's meet in my room and put this to good use," she purred, gently squeezing my dick. "We're here already," I said, turning her around. My dick brushed against her butt. "Why not here?" Dramatic License "You know why," she said, ducking out of the shower. Sarah wasn't a big fan of experimentation. She was happy when her room's door was blocked against undue intrusion and we did it on her bed, missionary-style. "It's more comfortable this way," she always said. Comfortable for her, yes, and fucking her felt good, but after two years of this, the novelty had worn thin. I sighed, rinsed myself off one last time and, wrapped into a towel, I joined her in her room. She used her desk chair to block the door handle from moving, then she slid onto her mattress, spreading her legs invitingly. "Come here, stud," she purred, smiling my way. I dropped the towel and joined her on the bed, kneeling between her spread thighs. Bending forwards, I placed a wet smooch onto her pussy, causing her to raise her hips and giggle appreciatively. My tongue parted her folds. She was in a good mood, despite our earlier argument, and her pussy already was pretty wet. I licked her for a few moments before moving up and lining my dick up with her entrance. She wrapped her legs around my hips and pushed. Slowly, deliciously, I slid into her, accompanied by her moans. "Remind me," she sighed, "why we're not doing this more often." "No time? Homework? Band practice? Too many reasons," I grumbled. She pushed her pelvis up, forcing me deeper into her. We groaned in unison, it felt that good. How long had it been? I honestly had lost track. My pelvis brushed against her pussy lips. I was in all the way and it felt so good, so right. Sarah sighed happily too and pulled me closer for a kiss. "So good," she whispered, keeping perfectly still. Somewhere in the distance, a phone rang. I pulled out halfway and pushed back in, savouring every inch of the way. She liked what I did, going by the soft little whimpers she made. Knocks on the door. "Sarah? Phone for you!" "You gotta be kidding me," she groaned at me. Louder, she yelled, "Who is it?" "Your mom. Bad time?" I could picture her dorm mate's lewd grin. "Let's continue this later," Sarah panted, pulling me as deep into her as she could. "Okay?" Louder: "I'll be there right away!" "Can't you just stay here?" I asked, frustrated. I knew a phone call from her parents would take ages. "You know I can't. It's my parents," she hissed. "Get off me." Grumbling, I pulled out of her and let her dash from the bed. She grabbed a robe and rushed out of the room, leaving me with a throbbing hard on. When she wasn't back five minutes later, I resigned myself to my fate, put on fresh clothes and joined her in the living room. Sitting in an armchair, wrapped in her robe, Sarah was animatedly talking with a member of her family. To add insult to injury, the minder in charge of the dorm showed up, which meant that I couldn't even stay the night and finish what we started. Half an hour later, Sarah was finally done. Any thoughts of sex were forgotten because the minder dragged her into the kitchen for some serious talk, which would no doubt include the topic of me hanging out at the dorm all the time. I called Sylvia. She picked up and breathed a warm "Hello?" into the receiver. "Hey, it's me. Chris." I wanted to keep this strictly professional. "I thought you'd never call," she said. I knew the tone, that slightly teasing lift in her voice. "Listen, I need to re-schedule. Saturday doesn't work." "Your girlfriend didn't say so. Besides, I've already told everyone. It won't look very professional if I were to call them again a mere hour after we set the date." "Thanks for asking me first," I growled. "If you hadn't run out on me, we could have cleared that up beforehand," she said, her earlier playfulness replaced by something strange in her voice, something dark. "So, this is partially your fault. Saturday it will be, half past eight. Talk to you tomorrow." Then the line was dead. Sighing, I replaced the receiver. That could have gone better. I returned to Sarah's room. Naturally, she wasn't happy when I told her how my phone call had panned out. "I really was looking forward to that concert," she said, sitting on the bed. What had happened in the last few hours to make my life so complicated? Oh yeah. A twenty-six-year old bombshell had practically devoured my mouth and she had let me know, in no subtle way, that she would go even further, given half a chance. Not something I should tell my already stressed-out girlfriend. I needed to talk to Sylvia, straighten things out. And if all else failed, I would have to quit this drama club of ours before it even had started. I hoped it wouldn't come to that. Despite her strange behaviour earlier, I liked Sylvia as a person, the idea of being involved in a big play intrigued me, and I hated to walk out on people when I said I would help them. It made me look like a jerk. "I will talk to her tomorrow, see if she changes her mind," I said, patting Sarah's thigh. "And now I should be off. Your minder wanted me gone half an hour ago. I hope we can pick up soon where we left off." She rose and hugged me close. "Postponed, not forgotten. How about Saturday, after the concert?" "I'll remind you," I said, waving a threatening forefinger in her face. She snatched it with her lips and gave a playful suck. "No need. I'm looking forward to that as much as you are," she said with a giggle once she released it again. "Now off with you. I don't fancy another of her sermons about you wasting our electricity and water." I pulled on my semi-dry jacket and shoes and prepared to leave. "Hey, wait," Sarah said, snatching my hand. "I almost forgot. University sent a letter. We've got us an apartment!" "What? When?" "Next June. Isn't that awesome? We can live together. No more interruptions when doing it," she said with a dazzling grin. "Fantastic news. And I can finally get out of that hell-hole I live in." I hugged her close. Things really didn't look all that bad. * * * * The next morning, a dreary and cold-grey Thursday, Sylvia wasn't at her usual spot when I arrived at University. I checked my watch. Usually, she was already there when my bus dropped me off and I wasn't late. Maybe she had overslept? I waited until I had just barely enough time to complete my walk to the Language Tower. She wasn't in the classroom either when I arrived, at the same time as our Creative Writing tutor. She shot me a questioning look. "Sylvia not with you? Did you argue or something?" I looked at her in surprise. "Normally, the two of you are inseparable. I was just wondering." I was about to tell her to mind her own business, when the door opened and Sylvia came in. Her hair hung down her back in wet, dishevelled tangles. She didn't wear any of her customary dark red lipstick and her jacket and blouse didn't match. "Overslept," she said by way of apology, but if it was to me or our tutor, I couldn't say. "Lucky for you, I just got here myself. Didn't do roll call yet," the tutor said, sitting down behind her desk. Sylvia flopped onto the chair next to me, pushed a few errant hairs behind her ear and grinned at me. "Say it." "You never oversleep?" "Yeah. First time for everything. Must have had a little too much wine yesterday. Let's talk later." "Yes please," the tutor cut in, handing out our assignments for the day. We were to describe a random person from the room and put him or her into an imaginary scene. I sighed inwardly. Getting up and leaning into one of my co-students to get a good look at them would totally give away who I had picked. So I just picked Sylvia and turned her into a mermaid, describing her wet hair framing the shell bra straining to keep her cleavage in check and the emerald green fish tail languidly churning the waves while she waited for her Prince Charming in the sunset. The alotted hour was over far too quickly. "Okay, now exchange your papers with your chosen 'model'," our tutor commanded. "He or she will read it to the class and judge if you did him or her justice." I nudged Sylvia and passed her my paper. She skimmed over it, a grin tugging at a corner of her mouth, then she rose and handed someone at the other end of the room a paper. "Here," someone said next to me and handed me a page. "I've written extra-large, so you can read it. I hope." I looked up. A petite blonde girl stood next to me, wearing a jeans jacket over a brightly colored t-shirt. "I think you'll like it," she said. "And I'm Jessie." "Nice to meet you," I said. She nodded and slipped away into the fog, beyond my usable eyesight, becoming a blurred shadow amongst the others. Sylvia slid back into her chair, after chatting with someone off to the side. I busied myself with Jessie's page and smiled. She imagined me as Apollo, golden hair shining in Olympus' eternal sunshine, who got tired of the lute and invented the electric guitar instead. I liked that very much and made a mental note to chat with her should I ever find the opportunity. "Everyone got their papers? Good. Chris, you're first." I read Jessie's page to the class, trying my best to keep a straight face for the grande finale. "So? What do you think?" our tutor asked. I raised my fist and made the devil horns. "Totally!" I said in my best James Hetfield voice, earning some laughs and a squealed 'Heavy Metal!', probably from Jessie. "Hey, you got fan mail," Sylvia said, not the least bit amused. She turned the page around and tapped it. I looked closer. The back, which I hadn't bothered to check, read: "Here's my phone number. Let's talk music some time, Apollo." I looked at Sylvia, but she was busy sorting her pages. She had gotten more than one. The first one she read described her as a moll, smoking a cigarette while cleaning her Thompson after a shoot out. The second one turned her into a model, parading expensive furs down a runway in Paris. Then she stopped. "Your verdict?" the tutor asked. "I don't do furs," Sylvia said, deliberately tearing up the page. "And I have people doing the gun cleaning for me." Laughs all around. "Apart from these two tiny things, well done. And I think someone else should go on, or you'll be hearing my voice all morning." More laughs as she waved more pages around. The rest of class flew by as we heard more descriptions, from the inane to the poetic, the generic to the outright erotic. Our tutor laughed out loud. "Romeo, turn down the heat. This is the classroom, not the bedroom. But I have to say, well written. How are his chances of that happening?" The girl who had read a steamy description of herself naked, on a picnic cloth amidst colorful flowers, giggled. "I dunno," she said, before erupting into another giggle fit. "Maybe." I could hear her blush, in how she stretched the word. The bell rang, signalling the end of class. "And that's a wrap. All those of you who're in Professor Kaiser's course, listen up. The professor is sick today, course is cancelled." That was our Reading Comprehension course. The opportunity I needed. I turned to face Sylvia. She cleaned up her space and put some papers into her bag. "Since you overslept, you didn't have any breakfast. How about I invite you? We can talk then." "No." "Why not?" Sylvia sighed in exasperation. "I'm tired, my head thumps like crazy and I'm not hungry. If you need to talk so badly, you can take me home and we can talk on the way." "Excuse me," someone cut in. I turned towards the voice and recognized Jessie. "Ummm... did you get my message?" she asked. "The one on the back..." "Yes, he did. Now shoo," Sylvia snapped. Jessie flinched as if someone had slapped her. "He's not your property, you know," she hissed. Sylvia rose from her chair, inhaling sharply. I did too, catching Sylvia's hands. "That little-" the furious redhead began. I heard quick steps receding. "What's up with you?" I asked Sylvia. "That's so unlike you!" "No idea," she said, embracing me. My head ended up on top of her breasts. Her hands slid down my back and grabbed my butt. "Hmmm, that's nice." "Come, I'll take you home," I offered, gently breaking her embrace. She ground her pelvis against mine one last time and when I could look into her face again, she wore a bright, knowing smile. Yeah, I got hard, but who wouldn't? Quietly, we left the Language Tower. At some time during Creative Writing, the grey clouds had opened up and slivers of blue laced the sky. We walked side-by-side and I had my cane out. In this light, I could see well enough ahead, but the fallen leaves everywhere had the nasty habit of concealing pot holes. I made sure to check with the cane's tip where I stepped. It was pretty cold, so I had my free hand buried in the pocket of my jacket. Sylvia suddenly threaded her hand through the nook of my elbow. "Is this the way one guides a blind man?" she asked, acknowledging my handicap for the first time since we met. "No, not really," I said. "Want to learn?" "I should. Or do you know where I live?" "Good point. Right now I can see where you walk though." "Come, humor me." "Only if you answer a question." "I'm not sure if you are in any position to make demands," she said, her voice dangerously low. "I could have just left," I said. "For that trash can you call home?" she sneered. She got me there. Sarah and her dorm mates were still at school, so there would be no one to let me in and I didn't have any keys. School policy. Once you were out, you were out for good. But that wasn't the point. I was giving her a chance, after everything she did yesterday. A bit of slack would have been nice. "Come on, don't be like that," I said, nudging her. "Fine. Ask." "Why didn't you read my page?" "Later. Now show me how to guide you." That wasn't the answer I wanted. Heck, that wasn't an answer at all. But what could I do? Maybe she would tell me once we reached her home. "Here's how it's done. I'll take your arm just above the elbow. Use it to warn me of incoming danger, by nudging my hand into the direction you want me to go. No pushing me into the river, please," I said, trying to lighten the mood. Sylvia caught on pretty quickly, navigating me around puddles, patches of slippery leaves and other people heading for the Language Tower. We walked in silence for a bit, then I remembered why I was doing this. "Hey, listen," I began. "If you want to talk about yesterday and why I kissed you, can it." "But-" "I said 'can it'. I'll tell you, but not now, not here. Deal?" "You're awfully difficult today," I complained. In response, Sylvia accelerated. "Just a bit further now," she said, leading me off the main street we'd been walking along the last couple minutes and into an alleyway, past pre-WWII houses. I hadn't been in this part of town often. This was the "trendy" part of Marburg behind the University, newly restored houses with shared apartments, little coffee shops, book stores and vegan restaurants. She stopped in front of a beautiful white-washed house with green shutters, pulled out a key chain and unlocked the front door. Still not saying a word, she tugged me into the hallway and guided me up a creaking flight of stairs. On the second floor, she unlocked another door and led me into what I presumed was her apartment. It was pretty dark in the main hall and smelled of flowers. Sylvia shrugged off my hand and closed the door behind us, then she flicked on the light. Five doors led away from the hallway. "Nice pad you got," I said. "It's huge!" "Used to share it with a friend. She's done with Uni and left me the keys," Sylvia said, shrugging out of her coat. "Give me your jacket." "I don't think I'll be staying that long," I said, folding up my cane. "Nonsense. I owe you at least a cup of coffee. Besides, you wanted to talk, not me. Jacket." "Oh well." I stashed my cane in my bag and handed it to her, followed by my jacket. Sylvia took my hand and guided me towards one of the doors. She opened it and we entered a small kitchen, barely wide enough to stand in side-by-side. One side held the stove and fridge, the other was entirely made of shelves. Ahead, under a window facing the door, was a table with four chairs. Crowded, but cozy. "Sit. I'll fire up the coffee maker and change into something comfy," she said, busying herself at the shelves. Still a bit uncomfortable, I slid onto one chair and watched her. With quick, precise movements, she poured coffee into the filter, filled the water tank and flicked the switch. "Be right back." Sylvia slipped from the kitchen without bothering to close the door. I heard her rummage in another room. The gurgling of the coffee maker had a somewhat hypnotic quality to it. I didn't notice my mind had drifted off until her fingertips caressed my cheek. "Hey." I looked up, startled. She wore a dark red robe, just going to her knees, her hair pulled back into a long ponytail. "Got your attention, huh?" Sylvia asked with a mischievous grin. Then she took my hand and pulled me to my feet. "You wanted to know what happened yesterday?" Unsure of what to say, I just nodded. She took one of my hands. With the other, she parted the dressing gown, then placed my hand straight onto her sex. She wore panties, lacy ones by the feel of them. Sylvia moved my hand further, bending my fingers between her thighs. Her panties were soaked. "That's what happened," she said, voice trembling, grinding my hand against herself. "Whenever I'm with you, this happens. I want you. So much." "But.. why?" I tried to withdraw my hand, but she wouldn't have any of it, trapping it between her thighs. "You know I'm with someone else." "I don't give a fuck," she hissed. Then she used her free hand to grab the back of my head and kissed me again with full tongue and all. She leaned into me, pressing as much of her body against mine as possible. I took a step back and bumped into the table. She followed suit as if she wanted to lay me right there on her kitchen table. "Please," she gasped, breaking the kiss. "Just once." "No!" I protested. Her hands flew to my crotch, trying to get my fly open. I intercepted them and leaned into her, trying to get her off me. Like a madwoman, she tried to slip from my grasp. This was getting ridiculous. "That's quite enough!" I yelled. She recoiled as if I hit her across the mouth, giving me enough room to get into a more vertical position. From there, it was much easier to push her off me. With all the struggling, her dressing gown was open completely. Apart from that lacy purple pair of panties, she was naked underneath. Not helping. I shook my head and growled at her. "Like what you see?" she asked, almost as if she was seeking my approval. My heart thumped in my throat and I was a bit surprised at how horny I was. I took a deep breath. "Listen. I won't sleep with you. Forcing yourself on me won't help," I said with much more patience than I actually felt. Yes, this was incredibly hot and being wanted this much felt awesome, but at the same time totally wrong. Sarah was never that forceful when she said she wanted 'it'. This was new, overwhelming. And wrong. To my horror, Sylvia was crying. I let go of her hand. "Did I hurt you?" I asked, mortified. Maybe I had grabbed or pushed her too hard? She leaned against the shelves and swabbed at her eyes with the sleeve of her gown. She sniffled and shook her head, pulling the gown closed around herself. "I'm a total idiot," she whispered, choking the words past a huge lump in her throat. "You must hate me." "No. I don't hate you. You're confusing me, that's all." I pulled up a chair and sat down again. "Maybe I should quit the drama club, to make it easier for both of us." "No!" she yelled. "Please, no."