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They were at it again.
This was the third day this week that Steve was having lunch with Jennifer, and today she was all over him. Well practically, thought Sara. She had followed them out today and managed to not lose sight as they picked a different place for lunch. Sara could not for the life of her imagine what he saw in Jennifer. Her hair was bad bleach job, and her clothes were just a little, well, they made her look loose. Steve was the section manager and would surely be the division manager within a few years, and the youngest at that. He was smart, good looking, and drove the nicest German import. Jennifer would never make a good wife for him.
As Sara got up to leave she was taken aback by a man at a near by table speaking to her. An average--very average, plain, not that well dressed, she thought--man at the table next to her said, "Pardon me, Miss. May I ask you a question?"
Sara was even more surprised by her reply. "Um, OK." She said as she stopped at his table.
"You look upset. Is everything alright?"
And now it occurred to her that maybe he was just being nice. "Well, I guess I'm just not having a good day." She replied, still a little astonished that she continued to talk with him. He did look like an interesting person, though.
"Is there anything I can do? Would you like to talk about it, perhaps?"
And now that he mentioned it, it would feel good to talk to someone about her frustration. It seemed that any opportunity with Steve was slipping through her hands like sand. If only she could get a date with him, at least. Again she felt astonishment, though very muted, as she pulled out the chair across from him and sat.
"It's just that a lot of really frustrating things are happening around me these days. Things going the wrong way and never getting a break." She looked at him more closely now as she paused. He really was quite plain and non-descript, a real average joe. Not the kind of person she would normally give the time of day to; but he seemed kind of nice, and he looked like someone with a lot of experience, the kind of person who might be interesting to talk to. "My name's Sara, by the way."
"Oh, yes. Well, uh, my name is, um, Joe. Nice to meet you, Sara."
She nodded in reply and he continued. "I do know what you mean. I have been on that end of life many times, pounded mercilessly by circumstance."
She thought so, now wondering for the first time about the kind of problems these average guys have. She thought that being in the middle of the road like that took away the all of the major conflicts in life. Sara was a pretty girl and kept herself in very good condition by running and playing racquetball. In high school, she had been on the cheer squad and always in the popular circles. She did not make Homecoming Queen, but she was runner up. She was definitely not average; but he was continuing to speak.
"Some years ago I made a wonderful discovery in myself and spent some time refining my abilities, which I find to be unique."
He paused a second as he saw her attention come back to him, and she prompted, "Abilities?"
"Yes, well, it's a long story. And kind of like the Midas Touch, a blessing and a curse."
"What kind of a blessing?" She asked.
"Well, early on in life I spent a lot of time trying to understand other people. After some time, I found I could feel what they were feeling."
"Empathy is what it's called, except that no one really does that--except me. I wonder where that word came from, or if I need a different word for what I do."
He was getting interesting. "So, what is it that you do?" Sara's attention was now on him entirely, and she failed to notice Steve and Jennifer leaving and heading back to work.
"Well," he said, "I feel what they feel, sometimes see what they see. Mostly it's sensory and emotional."
Now she became a little confused, and she asked, "So, how do you know it's real, and not just what you're thinking?"
"Well, that's what I thought at first, but after a time I learned I could also broadcast."
"You mean like make people think what you do?"
"No," he replied, "I can make people feel what I feel, emotionally. Kind of."
Now she thought she was getting it. "You mean like if you're happy you can make others happy?"
"Hah. Yeah, I guess if I was happy I could make other people feel happy."
The way he said that started to creep her out, but it was still kind of interesting. Sara didn't even realize that she forgot what was bothering her. Reluctantly she asked, "So what's the curse part?"
"Simple, I'm not gay."
"Yeah, so? Neither am I. I don't get it. What's the problem?" And Sara was confused.
"While I can control the ability, it also slips out at times."
"Slips out?" Confusion was still in Sara's voice, and deep down, she was getting that creeping feeling again.
"Like sometimes it requires conscious effort not to perceive what other people are feeling." Sara was silent so he continued, "Another aspect is that it only works if it's true. That is, I can only project things that I really think or feel."
The creepiness was rising within her, but this was really getting interesting. "I'm still not following you."
"Sara, I'm an average guy. The women I'm attracted to aren't attracted to me. How can I ever have a real relationship?"
"I don't get it." Her confusion was growing. With the tone of his voice the creepiness was now on a par with her interest in hearing him continue. She prompted as best she could, "But, there are a lot of women--"
"Sara, be honest, would you date me?"
"Well, I, uh--"
"Of course not, but I find you very attractive." She did like to hear that, even from average guys, as long as she could shake them off easily. Still, now she was getting uncomfortable.
He saw here confusion still there so he turned and pointed to his left. "You see that waitress over there?"
"I think her legs are almost as nice as yours, and I really," his voice dropped to a whisper and he leaned closer, "like her ass."
Sara looked over and could see what he was saying. The waitress did have nice curves, and an ass. But my legs are better, she was glad he admitted that. Her eyes lingered on the woman, waiting to see the waitress' face when she turned around. Kind of cute.
Joe said, "I think she's kind of cute. I'd do her."
And suddenly her discomfort met that creeping feeling and she quickly turned back to him. "Is that? Did you? I mean--were you?"
"Yeah, it's a curse."
Sara wasn't like that, she didn't like girls that way, like those scary megs in high school. Still a little confused at what he was telling her, she said, "Curse?"
"It's a combination of that old power/corruption thing and, well, I'm not gay. You see, Sara, I can transmit my attraction and more to a woman, but that only makes her want to make love to herself or another attractive woman. For the life of me, I cannot imagine why a guy would ever do another guy. In the throws of passion, it's hard not to feel what she's feeling and that's a major squick out for me." He paused and shrugged. "I guess you could say I'm a lesbian."
"Oh... kay..." She was still a little lost. "That's the curse?"
"That kind of precludes me from using it for my own direct enjoyment."
She shifted in her seat and started to feel something. Sara thought she was starting to catch on, then, "Direct... ?"
"Well, I have to admit that the experience can be incredible, and probably beyond anything I could hope for as a regular guy. And that's where the corruption comes in."
The waitress chose that moment to brush by their table. They smelled her perfume and had a nice shot of her ass as she walked away.
"Oh, Yeah..." Sara was distracted, and then realized she had whispered that. And now she could feel she was getting turned on. Her head snapped back around to Joe, and she kept the whisper, "But I'm not gay!"
"So? I told you there was that corruptive aspect of this. Maybe it's just me, or maybe most guys have some deep desire to be gorgeous lipstick lesbians."
Sara was struggling with what she was hearing and what she was feeling. Her nipples got quite sensitive when she was turned on; and as they hardened, her bra helped her to feel it happening. She squirmed in her seat and glanced over her shoulder. Sara realized with a sickeningly sweet feeling that she was looking to see where that waitress went. I'm not gay, I don't like girls, Steve! Sara struggled for that image of Steve in her mind that drove her to two orgasms last night.
.... There is more of this story ...