The Blind Girl in the Rain Pt. 04

Someone once said:

"It is not the moment itself that matters. What matters is you understand the reason why that moment matters in the first place.."

The silver 747 hung silently in the early morning Winter sky before turning slowly in a graceful arc as it connected to its ILS and headed towards a snowbound JFK as I made my way along the Coney Island Boardwalk towards Atlantic Avenue and home.

The long walk had done me good. Cleared the head. Concentrated the mind. Put a few things into perspective. I stopped and turned to look out to sea as the cold North wind blew gusts of fallen snow all around me. It was Saturday. The day after the night before when life had been simpler and I knew my place in the grand scheme of things.

I raised my hand and shielded my gaze from the low sun as the events of the previous evening continued to overshadow everything. Those simpler days of meaningless sex and worthless relationships were over.

*

Lucille Le Plante liked to say she was as old as the hills and made the best cup of coffee in the neighborhood.

She looked at me from the other side of the table as she poured me my first cup of chow of the day. The woman was pushing seventy and had owned the cafe that sat on the corner of my block for more years than I could count. Everyone hereabouts knew Lucille and Lucille knew everyone and their business. Lucille was the local oracle and wasn't shy about coming forward with words of wit and wisdom gained through years of living the New York City experience.

It had just gone eight and her cafe, styled like a 1950's drive-in diner, was already beginning to fill up with customers. Her waitresses Hannah and Lulu were doing their thing behind the counter as Lucille came over to sit with me as she usually did each Saturday morning. She sat back in her chair and reached up to fix a clip in her thick Doris Day styled white hair.

"Girl trouble?" she asked.

I picked up my steaming mug and responded with a pained smile and a roll of my eyes. "How'd you guess?"

She folded her arms across her impressive white apron covered bust. "Simple," she winked, "The fact that I'm sat in this chair opposite you for one," She fixed her eyes on me, "What was the last one's name again?"

I shifted in my chair. "Uh, that would be, uh, Suzie."

Lucille raised her right eyebrow.

"And Diane."

"Suzie and Diane huh," nodded the older woman, "At the same time I take it. I remember them. Good looking gals. Maybe you should spread them out a little more. You know, like, say, one a month. Until you wear them out or get bored like regular folk do," she smiled, "Though you don't seem to me to be the type who does regular. As long as I've known you it's been a different girl you bring in here every Saturday," She perched her folded arms and bust on the table in front of me, "Sweetheart, you can only go to that particular well so many times before it runs dry. There may be loads of fish in the sea but it's no good if all you're catching is tuna. You might miss that special one that sometimes comes along out of nowhere because all you've been used to is tuna."

I looked at her and sat back with a sigh. "I think I caught a mermaid, Lucille."

"Ohhhhhh," she exclaimed looking surprised, "Now there's a thing. A mermaid huh. Now that's a story I'd like to hear."

*

Saturday was usually the day to unwind. To let off a little steam. To live a little and maybe take in a movie, see a show, or dine in a favorite restaurant. Spend some quality time recharging the old batteries to be ready to go around again on Monday morning. Hell, if push comes to shove, hang on to number whatever and fuck around the clock until the lust was gone and I was able to think straight again. Having a high sex drive really did have its downsides.

This Saturday found me sat staring out of my apartment window as the sun crept across the sky and the hours slowly ticked by in the background. Unwinding was the last thing I was doing right now. More like winding up as my thoughts swirled around inside my head as I tried to answer the questions they asked. The main one being what was I going to do when I saw her again on Monday morning at work.

What the fuck was I going to say to her?

Sorry? I didn't mean it? It sort of just happened. There we were. Together. Close. You were touching me and I had this overwhelming urge to touch you. Then to kiss you. In front of everyone.

Oh, God. I slumped forward in my chair and shook my head. That sounded so ridiculous even though every word of it was true. I closed my eyes and the memory of those lips came easily and the way they felt when I tasted them with my own.

Then there was the way she came to me when I drew her close. The surprised gasp as I tightened my grip on her slim frame and held her against me. She had come willingly into my arms with no resistance. I slowly opened my eyes and stared into that place where the real and imaginary world meet. A place where your dreams and hopes live or die.

I hadn't imagined it. The way she had slipped her arms around my neck and the submissive parting of her lips as the kiss deepened proved it. Her reaction had been more than just shock and surprise. The flame had flickered for her too.

But the question was still there.

What the hell was I going to do on Monday?

As it turned out, Monday didn't matter at all.

*

It was the middle of the afternoon when there was a knock on my apartment door.

I opened it to find Janet standing there in her heavy black overcoat and wearing a matching woolen hat. She gave me a knowing friendly smile. "Hey, Mike."

Janet? What was she doing here? Her weekends were usually family time. Okay. This was different. I stepped back into the hallway and gave her a nod. "Janet."

She glanced over my shoulder. "Are you alone?" she asked, no doubt wondering if I'd hooked up with someone after everyone left the party last night. It hurt more than it should that she could even imagine me being such a complete shit that I would do something like that after what happened.

"Last time I looked," I muttered, feeling suddenly defensive.

What was going on? She looked at me again but didn't move. I stepped further back and held the door further open. "Want to come in?"

To my surprise, she shook her head and I saw her take a deep breath like she had made some big decision. "No, Mike," she replied as she turned to her right, "It's not me you need to talk to," She reached across with her hand and spoke to someone standing out of sight, "Come here, honey."

Heather came hesitantly to her side. "Hi."

*

Janet stopped at the elevator across from my apartment and pushed the button as I stood there watching her leave.

"We'll talk Monday," I told her. There were definitely things needing to be said between the two of us. I had no doubt Janet was thinking she was looking out for my best interests but after the events of the past few days, the woman needed to understand the limits of our relationship and the lines she shouldn't cross no matter how well-intentioned her reasons were.

She turned and stared at me for a moment before nodding. "I know," she replied softly. The elevator doors opened behind her and she stepped into the lift, "I'll be back in an hour to take her back home," she promised. She raised her hand as the doors closed.

There are those moments in life where you know before they happen that they will end up being specific events that will end up shaping the future not only for yourself but those around you. As I closed my apartment door, I could feel the quickening of my heart for one of those moments was sat waiting for me inside.

*

An hour later Janet returned and knocked on the door to take the younger woman back home. Heather got to her feet and waited for me to bring her overcoat.

"Here," I said to her, "Raise your left arm, I'm standing to the side of you. Okay, there you go," She eased into her coat and shuffled around until she was comfortable then folded her scarf across her chest before doing up the buttons.

She turned her head and looked over her shoulder as I stood behind her. I picked up her small bag and tapped her on the upper arm with it. "Thanks. Sometimes even the simplest things can be a pain," she smiled. She reached out her hand feeling for the edge of the sofa and carefully made her way to the hall, "I'm glad we had this talk. I wasn't sure if it was the right thing to do but I felt it was the best thing to do - if that makes sense. Janet called me and we talked things over. See, I have to be sure of things and where I stand. People are different to me. You're different. Putting my trust in someone is the hardest thing I have to do. I hope you understand, Mr. Sloane."

There was another knock on the door.

Heather was standing in the hallway clasping her hands in front of her with her face turned slightly to my right as she listened carefully to the silence between us.

I wanted to say something to her. Something to make her understand how difficult this was for me. This change I felt myself going through. All because of her. But I knew in my heart, she would have to be the one to make that first step - if there was going to be a first step at all. Who I was and what I needed to become weighed heavily and the old stubborn ways still kept me silent. The great irony made me smile ruefully inside; it was the blind girl who would have to lead me into the light.

"Where are you?" she asked suddenly.

I was facing her. "About twenty feet in front of you. Pretty much." I watched as she reached out with her right hand and felt for the wall. Then she reached out with her left and did the same to the other wall. After a moment, she took a hesitant step forward towards me. Then another until she was standing in front of me.

"Where are you now?" she asked again. Her head was slightly forward in that way she had when concentrating on the sounds around her.

"Right in front of you."

She nodded and gave me a brief smile. "Okay," She licked her lower lip, "Don't move."

I had no intention of going anywhere. I couldn't if I wanted to. I just stood there watching her do whatever it was she was going to do. Then, to my surprise, she did the most amazing thing. She tentatively raised her right hand and slowly reached forward until she touched me. She flinched and drew back slightly before her fingers rested on my chest again and she moved her hand down until it was over my heart.

She stood there listening with her head cocked to one side and the faint glow of a smile on her lips as she felt it thumping away faster and faster with each passing second. There was another knock on the door and she finally stepped back to look up at me with those sightless eyes. She gave a whispered, "Okay, okay," then turned and made her way back down the hall to the door where she fumbled for the latch before opening it to reveal Janet standing there waiting to take her home again.

I stood there watching as they had words and Janet frowned suddenly and glanced over the girl's shoulder to look at me. She said something to Heather who nodded and said something in reply that made the older woman rest a hand on her arm.

Then Heather closed the door, turned to face me, and waited.

*

I awoke sometime during the small hours.

The world around me felt so very different somehow. Life had clicked into focus and meant so much more than it had a mere twenty four hours ago. The old had slipped away and the new lay before me as I got to my feet and went to the kitchen. I returned a moment later and sat naked in a bedside chair sipping a cool glass of orange as I watched the girl sleeping peacefully with the sound of her breathing washing over me like a warm breeze.

So much had happened. Each step had been a surprise. Absolutely not what I had expected to happen at all. Whatever expectations I had about this young woman had been confounded time and again. What I thought she would do; she didn't. And what I thought she wouldn't do; she did. I watched quietly as she turned over suddenly and mumbled to herself. I wondered what she was dreaming about and the way she was dreaming about it. She rolled over more until she was face down and the duvet had pulled slightly to one side to reveal her bare right leg all the way up to the swell of her full ass cheek and I smiled at the memory of slowly slipping that black woolen stocking from it.

I took another sip of orange juice as that initial sex between us played out again in my mind.

Even that was different.

*

I took her hand and led her to the bedroom.

At the door, I paused and looked down at her as she pressed herself against my right shoulder and held tight onto my arm. Her eyes were wide and bright with the cast of a blush across both cheeks as she waited. I could see the rise and fall of her chest as her breathing quickened now that she stood there in a plain red v-neck sweater, white blouse, pleated black tweed skirt, black stockings, and boots.

"Are you sure?"

She felt for my hand and squeezed it hard. "I think that I am. Don't they say there is an ocean of doubt between imagining doing something and actually doing it?" She lifted both arms slightly away from her body and spread her fingers wide as she took a step into the bedroom and turned towards me, "See, here's the thing. The thing people don't realize or understand. I'm floating. I'm always floating no matter where I am and what I'm doing. I'm in my own little boat out to sea where it's always night."

"Maybe I can help you find your way." I replied, knowing that I would never truly be able to understand the way she had to live her life, "Just because you're different doesn't mean you have to face those things alone."

Heather stopped and I saw her frown. "Do you feel sorry for me?"

"No," I told her, "I do think you're pretty amazing, to be honest."

She reached both hands behind her back and clasped them together as she gently swayed on the spot. "Ah," she nodded, "You sound like my Uncles and Aunts who come every Thanksgiving and Christmas. They all call me that when they watch me doing what I do. But I'm not amazing. I'm stubborn. Impatient. Impetuous. Don't do embarrassment. Known to have a bit of a temper and throw the odd tantrum or two."

I walked over and sat on the bed. She turned slightly as she heard me move past her. She looked all of her eighteen years and not much more. In that hour before Janet came back, we had danced around each other making small talk and feeling our way as the real reason we were together sat in the corner of the room like some giant pink elephant.

I looked up at her as she waited for me to say something. "You make that sound like a bad thing."

She gave a short laugh and took a step back with both her hands moving around her. "I guess those things are for me to know and for you to find out, Mr. Sloane," she teased, "Do you want to?"

Now there was a question. And a challenge. Of course I did. Why else were we doing this?

I sat forward on the bed and studied her as she gently swayed in front of me. "Yes."

She looked slightly taken aback at my bluntness. She was back in her little boat again. Just her against the world. A little girl afraid of the dark. "I know about you."

I bet you did. "Good things, I hope," By God, she was good to look at as she stood there in the fading late afternoon sunlight. She was like a warm glow on a cold day and all I needed to do was reach out for it.

She reached up and tapped the side of her nose. "Some good. Some bad. A lot of the other. They think because I can't see that I can't hear either. But I can hear. I can hear real good and I listen when they think I'm not," she whispered as she leaned towards me as if she was telling me some big dark secret, "Talking. Gossiping. About me. About people. About you. They talk a lot about you. You have quite the reputation amongst the ladies of the pool."

What was she up to? Where was she going with this? It was like she was playing a game. Maybe she was trying to find some moral high ground to convince herself she was doing the right thing. Giving herself an out. An excuse if things didn't work out. Maybe it was something simple that was making her do this. Like being afraid. Afraid of being hurt.

"Do I have a number?" she asked suddenly.

I stared at her for what felt like an age. Yes, you do. But I'm never ever going to tell you what it was. That was the problem. I had been living a life of numbers. A different one each week - maybe even more than one. I sat forward further and held out both of my hands. "Reach out," I told her as I took hers in mine and brought them to my lips, "The only number I want you to be, Heather, is the last number on my list."

*

"Uh," said the blind girl as she stood in front of me as I sat on the bed watching her. She had both hands in front of her and was twisting her fingers nervously, "Do you want me to take my clothes off or," she said with a rushing gasp, "Or do you want to do it?"

Oh, I definitely wanted to watch. "You can do it," I told her, "This time."

I grinned as I watched her silently mouth "This time" to herself as she stepped back and forward a couple of times as if she was trying to gather her courage. I had every intention that there would be more times. More times than we could both count given a fair wind and a good sail. I had never felt more sure about anything in my entire life as I did right now.

After a moment, she reached up and began to tug her red sweater over her head. "Oh," she exclaimed suddenly with her face hidden under the garment. "You might have to catch me. In case I fall. I get dizzy sometimes and I have to be careful when I do things."

"Okay. Don't worry. There is no way I'll ever let you fall." I reassured her.

With a tug, she pulled off her top and held it at arm's length before she dropped it on the floor and began to undo the buttons of her sensible blouse with its ruffled collar. With each button undone, I could see her fingers shaking more and more. With each button undone, I could feel myself staring more intently at her as her fair skin was revealed to me. Heather was slight. She was waif-like in her appearance and I felt my jaws grinding together as she blushingly slipped off her blouse and let if fall to leave her standing there in a plain white bra which held a pair of moon shaped breasts that were perfect in size and weight. She lifted her head slightly and I could see the flush on her cheeks and the way her chest rose and fell as her own desire grew.

"You look beautiful, Heather," I said simply. And she did.

She stopped and self-consciously reached up with her right hand and touched her chestnut hair which fell around her shoulders in soft waves of Autumn. She gave me a shy smile then fumbled around with the clasp of her skirt. Hesitating, she drew a deep breath before she undid the fastening and, with a soft gasp of girlish surprise, she let the skirt fall at her feet and carefully stepped out of it to leave her standing there in nothing but her underwear and self-supporting stockings. She looked an absolute picture and I just savored the moment to take all of her in. She was so completely different to the types of women I was normally used to. A good different. A different I liked very much.

Suddenly, she reached out her left hand and I quickly knelt at her feet to grasp it and hold her steady while she gathered her wits and bearings.

"Ooo, dizzy!" she giggled breathlessly.

"Don't worry, I've got you," I was still kneeling there looking up at her. Her and her hidden breasts that were slowly rising and falling in front of my face.

We could both feel the moment. The only sound was the low hum of the city and the rise and fall of our breathing. I let her hand go and took hold of her hips that made her jump and go rigid in my grip. She was wearing a pair of hip cut flowery panties that snuggled up to her modestly wide hips and over her full tempting backside. This close, it was easy to see the soft mound of her hidden sex and the way her shape disappeared down towards her womanly "vee."