Excited by the prospect of starting her first job, Justine stood in the darkened room, her hands sliding slowly over the thin material of her dress; the silky folds clinging to the curves and hollows of her body.
She knew the dress was black silk and that it went well with her strawberry blonde hair and tawny complexion. For the millionth time she wished wistfully that she could see what she looked like and didn’t have to rely on the advice of her friend Mani for style advice. The last time she’d seen her reflection in a mirror Justine had been fourteen and just days away from losing her sight to the progressive macular degeneration that would rob her of her sight and leave her alone in the dark for the rest of her life.
Back then she’d thought her legs too skinny, her arms too gawky; all elbows and angles attached to a slender torso just beginning to show signs of maturation. Her heart-shaped face and wide green eyes had looked back at her for the last time as her vision narrowed to a dim tunnel and faded into a murky darkness.
Seven years, she thought. I haven’t seen myself in over seven years. Those seven years had been filled with countless doctors visits, consultations and slowly, reluctantly, acceptance that she would never again be able to see a sunrise or the color of the flowers growing in her mother’s garden.
Next came the school for the blind. Learning to navigate in a world of darkness; learning to read by touch, to walk by hearing, all her other senses stretched to their limits as they substituted for her absent sight.
It hadn’t been easy. She’d cried for her loss too often to count; railed against fate that robbed her so easily and left her trapped, alone in her dark world. In time she’d learned to cope with her handicap, pushing herself harder and harder to learn all the skills she needed to be as independent and capable as she could become.
And worst of all, to her nascent teen romanticism, she’d been denied the normal everyday rites of passage; no prom, no dating, no first kiss. Boys her age were too frightened of her blindness to see past the disability to the lovely, intelligent and wickedly witty young woman, blooming before their eyes.
She’d gone away to a special college after graduating; a university on the east coast dedicated to the sightless. There she’d learned to rely on her self, learned to trust her self and make her way alone in a world she could never really be a part of again.
Today, though, things would be different. Today she started her job teaching school at a prestigious private secondary school near her home. It wasn’t a school for disabled or special needs children. No, the high school had taken a chance on her; freshly graduated from college she would be teaching English Literature to ninth and tenth graders. The school itself was something of a phenomena; becoming an instructor at the school was by invitation only. Graduates from MIT, Harvard, Stanford and Cal-Poly left highly-paid positions in research and academia for a chance to teach at Mount Holyhoke Academy.
Justine was more than surprised at the invitation to interview even before she’d graduated from university. Even more surprised to be accepted as an instructor. It was a dream job that she would have thought way beyond her accomplishments and skills. She was determined to show them they had not made a mistake in taking a chance on her.
It would be challenging in many ways. Would they accept her as she was? Could she give to them the attention they needed or would her blindness prove too difficult a barrier to overcome? She’d spent the last month refining her lesson plans and implementing the new technology that would allow her to teach a sighted group of students. The task was made easier by the assistance and helpfulness of everyone she’d met at the school so far. They seemed to want her to succeed even more than she did.
Justine’s hands traced the contours of her hips and brushed the fabric against her slender thighs. Mani’s advice could usually be trusted, but still she wondered if the dress was truly appropriate for her first day at school; it seemed too thin, too clingy, too low cut as she adjusted her bra and felt the scooped neck revealing a deep plunging cleavage between her high firm breasts.
Mani often admired her breasts; claiming they were very nearly perfect apple-sized mounds topped with light pink nipples. Justine had long ago lost any awareness of her body as a visual image easily showing her nudity to her best friend as they tried on outfit after outfit in her room.
It meant nothing for her to be nude in front of Mani. She’d never seen Mani having met her at the school for the blind when she was eighteen. Mani’s younger brother had been born blind and Justine had struck up a friendship with the tall girl in the years she’d been coming to the school to pick up her little brother.
Mani was easy to talk to, understanding intuitively Justine’s situation and her fears and dreams. Theirs was an easy friendship that had only deepened over the years. Justine trusted Mani as she trusted few others.
“Are you going to stand there all morning?” Justine’s mother asked from the doorway. Justine heard the click of the light switch as her mother flicked on the light. She never bothered with light switches, of course.
“No. No, I’m ready, I suppose,” Justine shrugged in her mother’s direction where she knew the woman stared at her with her typically worried expression.
Justine’s mother approached; her steps whisping across the carpet. Tucking a stray strand of Justine’s page-boy cut coif behind her ear, she cupped her daughter’s face. “You can do this,” she encouraged. “You’ve never failed yet at something you set your heart on.”
Justine sighed, “Oh, I do hope so. This is the beginning of everything.”
Her mother hugged her close, wishing once again that life hadn’t been so cruel to her beautiful daughter; wanting to smooth the difficult path before the young woman and knowing there was little she could do. What came next would be up to Justine; succeed or fail; Justine’s destiny lay entirely in her own hands.
The realization didn’t make it any easier to let her go.
Justine left the house soon after, her brand new valise tucked under her arm as her folding cane tick-ticked from side to side as the young woman gracefully made her way down the steps and walked confidently up the street; never once making a misstep or awkward motion.
Justine disdained the usual conceit of sunglasses to hide her blindness. There was nothing wrong with her eyes after all; clear bright green irises set in sparkling white orbs spaced wide on her gamine face had always been one of her best features. If the lack of focus disturbed some when she looked at them; well, that was their problem, not hers.
Looking back on that day in the months after, Justine was astounded at just how little she’d understood about the difficulties ahead of her. No matter how good the technology or how practiced her curriculum and lessons, getting control of a classroom full of high-spirited energetic teenagers had been almost too much of a challenge.
At first the students had been a bit stand-offish, intimidated by her blindness. Using her prodigious memory and her acute senses, Justine had soon put them at ease when she unfailing identified each student by their customary sounds and scents in the first days.
Seeing that Justine was more than a match for them, some of the students had begun testing her, as children will; the pranks had begun. Justine caught them out, each and every one, much to the chagrin and embarrassment of the older boys. They’d soon come to the conclusion that this petite blind girl was more than a match for their adolescent willfulness and settled into a more constructive routine.
It hadn’t been easy to get to that point. Only the intervention of Roland allowed her to gain the upper hand on several occasions. Roland was a godsend.
Roland Childes taught chemistry in the next classroom. He held a PhD from MIT in chemical engineering and molecular biology and was a veteran of
Mount Holyhoke Academy having taught there for the last eight years. She’d met him that very first morning as she settled into her desk before the first bell.
She’d been cuing up her introductory notes and arranging her handouts when she heard his calm, confident footsteps approach down the hall and pause at her door.
“Can I help you?” she inquired, turning to face the doorway.
“I imagine we’re hall-mates,” Roland’s voice, a deep contralto with melodious tones tingled her ears, “thought I’d come introduce myself before the little heathens crashed the party. I’m Roland; I’ve the room next door.” His steps drew nearer as Justine stood behind her desk.
Justine stuck out her hand in greeting, “Nice to meet you.” Roland’s hand clasped hers; warm, dry and masculine he shook her hand firmly, failing to treat her like the fragile cupie doll so many assumed her to be. “I’m Justine.”
Roland continued to hold her hand as he welcomed her to the Academy, “I’ve been looking forward to meeting you for some time,” he added.
“Oh?”
“Yes. You’re presence here has been much anticipated and a matter of not a little discussion amongst the staff.”
“Oh?” Justine felt like a broke record, “Because I’m blind?”
Roland’s hand clasped her palm tightly; she felt his pulse rise and sensed her own respond as he paused before answering. “Not at all. It’s just that you’re the youngest instructor the Academy has ever invited to teach here. We’re all dreadfully curious about how you managed that considering how selective the Committee can be in hiring matters.”
Justine reluctantly slid her hand from Roland’s grip, “I’m afraid that’s even more of a mystery to me,” she admitted, her hand tucking a stray hair behind her ear. “If truth be known,” she continued, “I feel a bit out of my depth.”
Roland’s eyes watched the diminutive girl as he considered her admission. In his early thirties, Roland had never given much thought to anything other than his studies and his research. Of course he’d had desires and even dallied on occasion with willing undergrads, but it had all been secondary to his interest in his work.
But then, he’d never met anyone as attractive as this young woman before either. And she apparently had absolutely no concept of herself as an object of desire. She wore no makeup, yet needed none. Her lips a perfect iridescent pink, skin tanned and flawless with a light sprinkle of freckles across her pert nose. Short reddish blond hair hung just below her chin framing her heart-shaped face.
The calf-length black silk dress clung to her like a second skin showing every curve and contour of a youthfully vigorous body. Roland felt a far distant part of him awaken like a sleeping mountain disturbed from its eternal slumber.
The unusual sensation disturbed him.
It didn’t fit in with his plans at all. “I’m sure you’ll do just fine. You wouldn’t be here if the Committee had any doubt about your abilities.”
Justine took heart at Roland’s encouragement. “I hope you’re right.”
“Never been wrong before,” Roland confided wryly.
Justine laughed at his confident statement. “Perfection must be a terrible burden?”
“I manage,” Roland grinned. “Well, just call if you need me,” he added, once again taking her hand in his. “It’s been a pleasure meeting you.”
“Likewise,” Justine voiced breathily as her palm again tingled at the sensuous contact.
Despite her fears, Justine faired well the first day. By lunch, she’d memorized the names of all her students. Roland appeared again as the mid-day bell rang and escorted her to the staff room for their lunch break.
That first day began a pattern that became both welcome and familiar in the days and weeks to follow.
Justine found herself looking forward to their lunches and the growing friendship with this strangely intelligent and confident man.
Though he never pressed his attentions, Roland often touched her arm, her hand, her shoulder; using his hand in the small of her back to guide her down the hallways as they strolled through the school.
Before long, Justine found herself yearning for more than the familiar friendliness as his touch excited long buried feelings in her heart.
Roland appeared oblivious to her blindness; treating her as any other colleague. Yet, he didn’t shy away from the subject as so many others did in an awkward attempt to spare her embarrassment, often asking her detailed and highly technical questions about the origins of her affliction.
There were times, in fact, when Justine felt those conversations drifting into the realms of a clinical examination so deft and incisive were his questions.
“Oh sweetie,” Mani responded when Justine had informed her of Roland’s attentions, “it’s obvious he has the hots for you. Won’t be long before he’s trying to get into those pretty little panties you’re wearing.”
Justine felt herself blush at the thought. She was wearing tiny little panties as she and Mani were in her room changing to go for a swim on a late sunny autumn Saturday. Having taken off her shorts, she stood beside her dresser clad only in her bra and bottoms.
“Don’t be silly,” Justine objected, “I’m just a girl. He’s a grown man. What could he see in me?” She turned and released the clasp on her bra, sliding it off her arms as she felt around in her drawer for her bikini top.
Mani came up behind her to help her having already changed into her own one-piece. “I could guess that he’s been having a pretty good time looking at these,” Mani offered, her hands coming up under Justine’s apple-sized breasts and cupping them, her thumbs sliding across the soft underside.
Justine jumped causing her to stumble back into Mani’s tall body. She felt the slender woman’s hips press into her bottom. “Cut that out,” Justine remonstrated, slapping at Mani’s hands just as Mani’s thumbs started making circles across her pink nipples.
Justine couldn’t repress the moan that Mani’s thumbs forced from her, nor could she ignore the sudden warmth welling in her loins.
Mani lowered her mouth to Justine’s ear. “Can’t you just imagine your Roland holding your pert tits in his palms,” she whispered, “as he strokes your nipples again and again.” Mani’s hips began rubbing against Justine’s ass. Justine clearly felt Mani’s mound through the thin silk of her panties as the tall girl kept caressing her breasts.
In her mind she could indeed imagine Roland’s hands touching her breasts. His thumbs flicking her nipples, causing them to stiffen and swell.
“I know you want to feel his thick cock pressing into your ass too,” Mani continued in a whisper, forcing her hips harder against Justine’s backside, her mound wedged between the girl’s round globes.
Justine moaned again, closing her eyes as she imagined what it would feel like to have Roland’s cock between her ass cheeks, his right hand sliding lower down her flat stomach and underneath the think silk covering her sparsely haired cunny.
She felt Roland’s finger slip between her cunt lips and slide across her clit. Justine’s body shuddered in pleasure as she imagined how it would feel.
Mani’s tongue flicked at her ear just as her finger delved into her virginal cunt to the first knuckle. Justine bit her lip but was too late to hide the groan that escaped. Mani’s finger, wet with Justine’s desire, returned to her clit and rubbed the moisture in circles around the swelling bud.
Justine couldn’t help herself. Her hips started gyrating against Mani’s mound as she followed the woman’s finger in its erotic orbit. “Oh, God, Mani,” Justine moaned, her left hand covering Mani’s as the woman continued to masturbate her, “what are you doing to me?”
Mani pulled Justine tight to her body; using the blind girl’s ass to rub her own clit against Justine’s firm flesh.
“Imagine what he would do if he could see you like this?” Mani moaned into Justine’s ear, her lips softly brushing the young woman’s neck. Mani’s finger dipped between Justine’s labia once more scoo
ping fluid from inside and spreading it up the writhing girl’s sensitive folds as she continued her ministrations.
Soft butterfly kisses across Justine’s shoulder sent tingling sensations into her chest and nipples as Mani’s left hand stroked her breasts now grown hot with pleasure. “Mmmmm,” Justine moaned again, “that feels nice.”
Justine felt Mani’s kisses trail down her back as the slender woman lowered herself. Soft, warm wet lips slithered across her shoulder blades, her spine, into the hollow of her back. Moaning now in disappointment as Mani removed her hand from her panties, Justine started to turn, but Mani, grabbing her hips, forced her to face the dresser.
Using both hands, Mani lowered Justine’s panties down the girl’s toned legs and to the floor. Lifting one foot, then the other, Mani removed to the panties entirely.
Mani’s hands stroked up the outside of Justine’s calves to her thighs and down onto the firm curves of her ass. Gliding downward she urged Justine’s legs further apart.
Complying, Justine found herself leaning into the dresser as she spread her legs a shoulder width apart. Mani’s hands continued to stroke up and down her legs.
First on the outside, and then she moved upward between her thighs onto her high curving ass. The woman’s fingernails left hot trails of pleasure in their wake as Mani stroked her again and again.
Leaning forward, Mani softly brushed her lips against Justine’s naked ass. Her tongue emerged as Mani kissed every inch of the young woman’s cheeks, her hands never stopping their pattern of caresses.
Justine couldn’t believe the sensations running through her body. Though she’d often masturbated, she’d never thought it could feel so wickedly different when it was someone else’s hands touching her. And for those hands to be Mani’s!
Mani’s hands grasped Justine’s ass cheeks, her tongue and lips licking along the firm globes. “Mani,” Justine moaned leaning into the dresser for support as her legs weakened, “Please,” she begged, not knowing whether she meant for Mani to stop or, like a beggar-boy, asking for morel.
The Eyes of Justine Page 1
