The Real Rita

Copyright (c) 2007 by Corcyra

Some old relationships, long after they end, continue to resonate. One such relationship was the one I had with Rita. I have recently written a free computer program to aid blind persons like myself in accessing information on (Linux) computers, and have inserted the following dedication in the package:

----------

Who Is Rita?

Rita The Reader follows in a long line of free file reading software

--- snip ---

Author's note: Any further description of the software is omitted, since the only fact important to the story is its name.

--- end snip ---

But who is Rita, really?

As a blind professor of psychology at a university, I was constantly on the lookout for talented readers among the student population. Enrollment time was a strategic time to post a notice on a bulletin board, to the effect:

"Middle aged blind professor wants to meet talented undergraduate psychology major: Object, employment."

In the fall of 1977, while advising students at enrollment time, One such student mentioned the notice I had posted, and inquired about employment. We agreed on a trial task or two. My strategy was to meet in person once a week with a reader for in-person reading chores, and then to organize additional reading to be done elsewhere, with a tape recorder, so that each week we exchanged tapes discussed problems, and shared feedback. It was a useful strategy, efficient for both the reader and for myself.

The student, whose name was Rita, was a winner. She was highly motivated, very bright, in financial need, and fascinated by everything she read. She was older than the norm, a divorced army wife with three late-teen or young adult children. Rita read for me from 1977 until 1981, and we kept in touch from time to time after she graduated.

So, it is hoped that Rita The Reader (the software) will be as versatile and reliable as Rita The Reader (the person), although she will certainly fall short in some intangible respects.

Thanks, Rita, you were the best!

Chuck, 30 years later.

---------

There was, of course, more to the story than that. The following fragments may help to complete the picture.

1. Rita sought more contact with me than our regular weekly appointment. She would occasionally drop into my office when I was not otherwise occupied, with a question about something she was reading for me, or something she was reading on her own, or something she had heard about, or something she had thought about. She was a talker, was Rita. But an intriguing one. She knew a lot about Wicca, witchcraft, and the occult, topics practically taboo in a modern psychology department. She usually avoided discussing such interests, but grew comfortable sharing them in our conversations.

2. Rita sometimes confided in me concerning conflicts she would occasionally have with other faculty, or with issues surrounding her retarded teen aged daughter's sexuality, or her youngest daughter's rebelliousness. I would normally shun such confidences, but something about Rita led me to indulge her need for a confidante. We never had a "teacher student" relationship exactly, since she never enrolled in a course I taught. She was my reader and my friend, but not my student.

3. During the following summer, when my regular readers normally disappeared, Rita remained available, and I was grateful for that. Since I spent less time at my office over the summer, we often met at my home, where my basement study was a really great place to work, and to play. While it was a basement study, it was not underground, and had a picture window with a pleasant view into the yard, due to the slope of the property. The opportunity to "play" was often uppermost in both our minds. Rita was a flirt, as it happens, and I loved it! We normally embraced "hello" and "goodbye" with much body contact and freedom of touching. She was tall, with a great figure, not an easy assessment for a blind person to make. She loved to share access to her body, but not too much. There was always a line not to be crossed, which she would often dare me to discover. I generally did. The line seemed to shift from day to day.

4. During the summer months I participated in a co-ed baseball-like activity for the blind, called "beep baseball." We practiced once or twice a week and played regularly in a local tournament. We often went out for pizza and a beer afterward. Rita began "hanging out" with us, and would sometimes offer me a lift home in her car. One day she remarked about how different my "body language" was from the others, and she named them, who played on our team. When I pressed her, she explained that I would often stand with legs slightly apart, hands on hips, pelvis thrust forward, a rather aggressive posture, according to her. The others normally "withdrew" their pelvis, as if for protection, with knees slightly bent, leaning a bit forward at the shoulders to do so. They screamed vulnerability" according to Rita, whereas I screamed confidence." It was all a matter of what you were willing to do with your pelvis. This woman knew her way to my heart, that's for sure.

5. One evening after we finished our activities, Rita offered a ride to both me and Nancy, a blind single woman who played on our team. Nancy invited us in for a beer and we accepted. Rita and I shared the couch, while Nancy settled across the room from us, after fetching us all a beer. Nancy began a long involved story about something or other, and we kept her talking with occasional encouraging comments. But Rita was stroking my thigh, and laying her head on my shoulder, impossible gestures to ignore. I turned to kiss her and she turned to accept me gladly. She stroked my swelling member, while I lifted her T-shirt to caress her breasts. She allowed me to unhook her bra and fondle those perfect globes. Nancy of course was oblivious to all this, or at least we thought so. Imagine interrupting a kiss to mumble to a third party, "Yes, and then what happened?"

When Nancy ran out of story, it seemed like we should stop "fooling around." I got up, dropped to my knees in the middle of the floor, and petted Nancy's dog. I was anxious to let my erection subside. But Rita got up too, and from behind me as I squatted, used her foot to stroke my crotch while I was playing with the dog. We left eventually, and were both overcome with the appalling rudeness we showed Nancy, but also with the erotic humor of the whole scene. Sex was over for the moment, but a playful friendship was flourishing. We learned later that Nancy had figured out what we were up to during her story, although her version was much more explicit than the real thing.

6. I would occasionally need to travel to a V.A. hospital in a city about 30 miles distant, where I was a consultant. Transportation was no problem during the academic year, since many students commuted daily, and were happy to share a ride. But summers were a problem. Rita offered to provide transportation one summer day, if I would pay for gas and lunch. I did, and gratefully so. It was a sweltering day, 100 degrees plus, and Rita's small car was not A.C. equipped. On the way home, around 3:00 PM, while cruising at high speed on the turnpike, with windows wide open and the wind blasting us, Rita announced that she was still hot, and was going to remove her blouse, to hell with everyone. She did, and tossed it onto my lap to prove it. It seemed unwise to play with a driver's tits while speeding, although I was sorely tempted. But I did confirm that her arms and shoulders were bare except for bra straps, and gave the straps a couple of firm upward tugs of appreciation. She was matter-of-fact as she paid the toll, and so was the toll booth attendant. Well, it's her tits, if she wants to advertise them, why not? I guess anything goes, in 100 degree summer heat.

7. On another hot summer day, I was in my basement study when Rita came by unexpectedly. My wife let her in. I heard Rita say, "Is he down there? I've got tapes for him." and she was sent down to my study. It turns out she really wanted me to admire her new outfit, which she called a "moo moo." It was a very thin, loose fitting, one piece garment, totally shapeless. It hung straight down from the shoulders, hardly touching her body at all. I happily admired it, which of course revealed her body quite clearly to the touch. She seemed to be naked underneath. Impishly grasping the hem, she lifted the entire moo moo up to her armpits, revealing her bra-less, but panty clad body in full glory for my admiration. "See?" she said, "it's just like wearing only this!" and as quickly as the moo moo rose for my enjoyment, it dropped again for propriety. Rita loved to be naughty, and the danger of discovery only enhanced her playful naughtiness.

8. Rita graduated from our university, and began graduate studies at another school a couple of hours distant. She kept her local residence, but during the week lived in a dormitory on her new campus. She would occasionally call or stop by when she was home to take care of household matters. Rita was astonished at the easy sexuality of her fellow students, most of whom were half her age. She admitted to one or two unhappy liaisons with inappropriate people, after which she was resigned to passively witnessing the casual coupling going on all around her.

In the meantime my wife and I had divorced, or rather had separated and would eventually divorce. I lived in a small townhouse a couple of blocks from campus. I was in a new relationship with a woman whom I would eventually marry, but who was out of town for the long Labor Day weekend. I ran into Rita that Saturday afternoon while walking home from the office. The streets were quiet. I heard a car go by and someone said "Hi!" but did not slow down or stop. Instead, the car seemed to turn a corner not too far ahead of me. As I crossed the dead-end side street, Rita called from where she had parked. "Hey, handsome," she said, "want a lift?" I went to her car and got in. We were delighted to see each other. I gave her directions to my house, and she drove me home. She had just come home for the holiday weekend, she said, but had not checked in with the kids yet. They didn't expect her until Sunday. I told Rita about my new love, but admitted that I too was free for the weekend,

So of course I asked Rita to have dinner with me. She agreed. We went downtown for a fine dinner with drinks and all, and then back to my place to chat and listen to music. I decided just to enjoy her company, and not take advantage of our circumstances. But Rita had other ideas. One of the tapes we listened to was a poetry reading. One poem was by a woman poet, describing a rape scene. She exclaimed in great distress, Don't come in me, mister! Please don't come in me! Just don't come in me, okay?" Rita made me stop the tape, she found the rape scene too upsetting. I held her close, and helped her quell her tears. When she had collected herself, she said, simply and directly, It's getting late, please take me to bed? Just for tonight?" All my good intentions vanished in an instant, and I could simply not think of a good reason not to take Rita to bed at once.

We made love for the first and only time that night, and finally enjoyed each other immensely and without reserve. Her 40 year old body was well preserved, her firm breasts a little on the smallish side, a slim waist, generous hips, long dancer's legs, and a completely shaved pussy. That was my first view of a totally hairless pubic area.

I was not a very skilled lover. Neither was Rita, as it turned out. But we fucked with our hearts that night, as much as anything else. I lasted reasonably well, but came inside her before she finished. Following a tip from something she read, or what someone told her, she went down on me, intending to restore my erection. But she was not prepared for the rich combined juices that still coated my member, and gagged in the act. She was greatly embarrassed, and we abandoned any further fucking in favor of simply clinging to each other and indulging our brief opportunity for intimacy.

9. A couple of years passed before I saw Rita again. By then I was remarried, and Rita had completed her graduate work. She returned to town to dissolve her home here, and called to ask if we might store a few valued things for her until she could retrieve them from us. She was about to leave for a new career in the desert southwest. We had the space, and I agreed. Rita brought her things by, and we visited briefly. As she was departing, she stood very close to me, and became silent for a moment. It was the perfect time for an embrace, perhaps a kiss, perhaps a quick rekindling of a former intimacy, but I resisted the temptation. At least I had the good sense not to shake her hand. I squeezed her shoulder instead, and made her promise to keep in touch. She never did. Rita was apparently testing the bond of my new marriage, and believed it to be stronger than our attraction for each other. But it was my cowardice, not my fidelity, that kept me from acknowledging the power and the reality of our love.

The Real Rita

Copyright (c) 2007 by Corcyra

Some old relationships, long after they end, continue to resonate. One such relationship was the one I had with Rita. I have recently written a free computer program to aid blind persons like myself in accessing information on (Linux) computers, and have inserted the following dedication in the package:

----------

Who Is Rita?

Rita The Reader follows in a long line of free file reading software

--- snip ---

Author's note: Any further description of the software is omitted, since the only fact important to the story is its name.

--- end snip ---

But who is Rita, really?

As a blind professor of psychology at a university, I was constantly on the lookout for talented readers among the student population. Enrollment time was a strategic time to post a notice on a bulletin board, to the effect:

"Middle aged blind professor wants to meet talented undergraduate psychology major: Object, employment."

In the fall of 1977, while advising students at enrollment time, One such student mentioned the notice I had posted, and inquired about employment. We agreed on a trial task or two. My strategy was to meet in person once a week with a reader for in-person reading chores, and then to organize additional reading to be done elsewhere, with a tape recorder, so that each week we exchanged tapes discussed problems, and shared feedback. It was a useful strategy, efficient for both the reader and for myself.

The student, whose name was Rita, was a winner. She was highly motivated, very bright, in financial need, and fascinated by everything she read. She was older than the norm, a divorced army wife with three late-teen or young adult children. Rita read for me from 1977 until 1981, and we kept in touch from time to time after she graduated.

So, it is hoped that Rita The Reader (the software) will be as versatile and reliable as Rita The Reader (the person), although she will certainly fall short in some intangible respects.

Thanks, Rita, you were the best!

Chuck, 30 years later.

---------

There was, of course, more to the story than that. The following fragments may help to complete the picture.

1. Rita sought more contact with me than our regular weekly appointment. She would occasionally drop into my office when I was not otherwise occupied, with a question about something she was reading for me, or something she was reading on her own, or something she had heard about, or something she had thought about. She was a talker, was Rita. But an intriguing one. She knew a lot about Wicca, witchcraft, and the occult, topics practically taboo in a modern psychology department. She usually avoided discussing such interests, but grew comfortable sharing them in our conversations.

2. Rita sometimes confided in me concerning conflicts she would occasionally have with other faculty, or with issues surrounding her retarded teen aged daughter's sexuality, or her youngest daughter's rebelliousness. I would normally shun such confidences, but something about Rita led me to indulge her need for a confidante. We never had a "teacher student" relationship exactly, since she never enrolled in a course I taught. She was my reader and my friend, but not my student.

3. During the following summer, when my regular readers normally disappeared, Rita remained available, and I was grateful for that. Since I spent less time at my office over the summer, we often met at my home, where my basement study was a really great place to work, and to play. While it was a basement study, it was not underground, and had a picture window with a pleasant view into the yard, due to the slope of the property. The opportunity to "play" was often uppermost in both our minds. Rita was a flirt, as it happens, and I loved it! We normally embraced "hello" and "goodbye" with much body contact and freedom of touching. She was tall, with a great figure, not an easy assessment for a blind person to make. She loved to share access to her body, but not too much. There was always a line not to be crossed, which she would often dare me to discover. I generally did. The line seemed to shift from day to day.

4. During the summer months I participated in a co-ed baseball-like activity for the blind, called "beep baseball." We practiced once or twice a week and played regularly in a local tournament. We often went out for pizza and a beer afterward. Rita began "hanging out" with us, and would sometimes offer me a lift home in her car. One day she remarked about how different my "body language" was from the others, and she named them, who played on our team. When I pressed her, she explained that I would often stand with legs slightly apart, hands on hips, pelvis thrust forward, a rather aggressive posture, according to her. The others normally "withdrew" their pelvis, as if for protection, with knees slightly bent, leaning a bit forward at the shoulders to do so. They screamed vulnerability" according to Rita, whereas I screamed confidence." It was all a matter of what you were willing to do with your pelvis. This woman knew her way to my heart, that's for sure.

5. One evening after we finished our activities, Rita offered a ride to both me and Nancy, a blind single woman who played on our team. Nancy invited us in for a beer and we accepted. Rita and I shared the couch, while Nancy settled across the room from us, after fetching us all a beer. Nancy began a long involved story about something or other, and we kept her talking with occasional encouraging comments. But Rita was stroking my thigh, and laying her head on my shoulder, impossible gestures to ignore. I turned to kiss her and she turned to accept me gladly. She stroked my swelling member, while I lifted her T-shirt to caress her breasts. She allowed me to unhook her bra and fondle those perfect globes. Nancy of course was oblivious to all this, or at least we thought so. Imagine interrupting a kiss to mumble to a third party, "Yes, and then what happened?"

When Nancy ran out of story, it seemed like we should stop "fooling around." I got up, dropped to my knees in the middle of the floor, and petted Nancy's dog. I was anxious to let my erection subside. But Rita got up too, and from behind me as I squatted, used her foot to stroke my crotch while I was playing with the dog. We left eventually, and were both overcome with the appalling rudeness we showed Nancy, but also with the erotic humor of the whole scene. Sex was over for the moment, but a playful friendship was flourishing. We learned later that Nancy had figured out what we were up to during her story, although her version was much more explicit than the real thing.