Dramatic License

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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 emily in paris izle 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 erşan kuneri izle 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 everyone else burns izle 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.

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