Empathy I: Point of View

"Hello there."

I looked up from the book I was reading. It was a bright fall afternoon, and most of the benches in the campus quadrangle were occupied by students like myself, taking advantage of the warm weather to study, or not study, under the turning colors of the trees.

The man standing near the parking lot looked familiar to me, but I couldn't place him. "Yes?" I said.

"You're Zöe, right?"

"Right," I said.

"Zöe W. Martin," he said, taking a few steps toward me.

"Yes," I said. "Do I know you?"

"Not really," he said, "though you probably saw me at the big assembly a few weeks ago."

"Oh, that's right," I said. "I knew I'd seen you somewhere. You're the school counselor, right?"

"You remember," he said with a smile. "Most kids don't. I'm sorry," he added without a break, "I shouldn't say 'kids'. That's condescending. How old are you, nineteen?"

"I will be in November. That's okay, really. I don't mind." He was kind of cute in an older guy sort of way. I mean, he wasn't old, he didn't have liver spots or anything, but he was probably at least my father's age. He had a rumpled collegiate look, pretty classic really, even patches on the elbows of his corduroy jacket. And his eyes were blue, which always kills me. "I recognize your face, but the name escapes me," I said.

"Oh, of course, how rude -- " He crossed the verge of grass and the pathway in front of my bench, and put out his hand. "I'm Kevin Carlson, but everybody calls me Dean."

"Dean," I said, shaking his hand. Wow, those eyes. "It's nice to meet you, Dean."

"Same here. Anyway, I see you're reading, so -- "

"Not really, I'm just kind of leafing," I lied.

"Mm. That sounds like the perfect thing to do on a fall afternoon." It took me a second, but then I caught the double entendre and laughed. He smiled, and all the little lines around his eyes crinkled up. My insides went flip-flop. "Do you mind if I join you?" he asked.

"No, go right ahead," I said, scooting over on the bench.

He came and sat down. "Thanks. Hey, nice view of the river. You've got a good seat." Far down the valley, we could see a tiny coil of the Lashaqua River curling between the red and gold trees. Somewhere under all that foliage was the town of Ferngrove, which I'd barely seen before arriving on campus. There wasn't much to see, from what I'd heard; a general store, a post office and a combined police and fire station seemed to be about the extent of it. Ferngrove needed the university, not the other way around.

"I think all the seats are good," I said. "Is it always this beautiful here?"

"Always," said Dean.

I sighed and crossed my arms. "That's good," I said. "I think I'm going to like this place."

Dean inclined his head toward me. "I think so, too."

I could feel him watching me. I kept my eyes on the river.

"What's the book?" he asked.

"Oh." I picked it up, turned it over. "Pride and Prejudice. It's for a class."

"Zeller?"

"Uh huh. I'm not really a big Jane Austen fan, she's a little too soap opera for me, but -- you know -- it's not bad."

He laughed. I liked his laugh; it made me feel strangely proud of myself, like the way I felt when I got an A on a test. Approval.

"So what does the W stand for?" Dean asked.

It took me a minute. "Oh, that W. It stands for Willow."

"Willow," he repeated. "Zöe Willow Martin. Beautiful."

"Thanks." I could feel myself blush. "I'm a little self-conscious about it. It's such a hippie name."

"Absolutely not," Dean said.

"No?"

"No. First of all, the willow is a tree that predates hippies and all the rest of American culture by thousands of years. It figures prominently in classical literature. Nothing to be self-conscious about. Second, the term "hippie" should be stricken from our language. It's an obsolete pejorative. It refers to the youth counterculture of a generation that's no longer young."

"Were you a hippie?" I asked.

Dean laughed. "There were probably people who thought of me that way. I suppose it's a matter of perspective." I met his gaze, and his eyes were really amazingly blue. Bluer than the sky.

"So -- Dean -- " I fumbled. "I'm, I'm curious -- how did you know who I was?"

"Your name's in the records," he said, looking mildly surprised. "Incoming freshmen. I always look over the new crop, you know, try to get acquainted with everyone. It makes it easier for people to approach me later, if they have a problem with something. Or just want someone to talk to."

"I notice you said 'people', not 'kids'."

"That's right. You're very perceptive, Zöe." Again, I had a flip-flop sensation inside, like something turning over quickly. My heart was beating a little faster, and the blush that had just gone away was back in my cheeks. Wow. Pheromones.

"So, about how many people do you counsel?" I asked.

He looked up, knitting his eyebrows. "Mm. All of them."

I started to laugh. "All of them? You mean everybody at this school?"

"Everybody at this school. Everybody in Ferngrove."

"You're exaggerating, right?"

"No, I'm not."

"But that's, like, thousands of people. How could you possibly have time for everyone?"

Dean mused for a moment. "I'm very efficient," he said, and he glanced at me again. With a smile crooking the corners of his mouth. And his eyes. . . . his eyes were calm, deep canyons of blue.

"W-wow," I stammered, "you must be. What do you do?"

"I listen and I offer suggestions."

"You make it sound so simple," I said.

Dean smiled. "It is."

"Does it work?"

"Every time."

"So what makes you so good at this?" I asked. My heart was racing now. I could feel the blood rushing through my veins, going everywhere, circulating madly through my body. I couldn't remember ever feeling so hyped. I was praying I wouldn't say anything stupid.

Dean didn't answer me. He just looked at me out of his still, fathomless blue eyes, that little crook of a smile on his lips. Then he said: "You look lovely, Zöe Willow Martin."

I thought I was going to swallow my tongue.

"Your name is beautiful, but it barely does you justice. It has been a while since I've spoken with a student as attractive as you."

I could feel my whole body begin to tremble. I couldn't move or I'd start to shake. I had to remain perfectly still. "Thank you," I gulped, "Dean."

"In answer to your question," he said, "I simply provide another perspective." I loved the way he said 'perspective', but I couldn't remember what my question had been. What was this? What was happening to me?

"I like talking to people, helping them to understand," he went on. "Most people who are having some kind of emotional discomfort just need to consider things from a different point of view. I provide that point of view."

I wanted to talk. I wanted to be witty and charming, but I didn't think I could be any longer. I felt like if I opened my mouth I might say something really dumb, something I didn't want to say. Something inappropriate.

"I can show you what I mean, if you're interested," he said.

I nodded my head and smiled. I was interested. I wanted to know more about Dean. He was such a fascinating man. Oddly fascinating and oddly handsome; more good-looking, in fact, every time I looked at him. I tried not to look.

"Stay here," he said, getting up. "I'll be right back." He walked out onto the grass, heading out across the quadrangle. I sat there and didn't move, just watched his back recede. Then I averted my eyes. I looked down the mountainside to the river, a little silver curve down in the depths of all the shifting trees.

It was so strange, this sudden surge of feelings inside me. I mean, I wasn't naïve. I had a healthy resistance to pick-up lines, of which I'd heard plenty. Most 19-year-old girls -- women -- have. What made me unusual was that I had a fairly healthy self-image. I wasn't stuck up, at least I didn't think so, and I didn't think I was perfect or anything; but I liked the way I looked, and I didn't need to hear a clumsy compliment to feel good about myself.

Some guys can't handle that kind of self-confidence in a woman. Others take it as a challenge, which it isn't; in fact it has nothing to do with them, but that's a concept they can't seem to grasp. Let's just say I had fended off my share of creeps, and I'd learned to take flattery from men with a really small grain of salt.

But somehow this was different. Dean was different -- although that wasn't his real name, was it? He had told me his real name, but I couldn't remember it now. Something like Ken, or Calvin. It didn't really matter. He looked like a Dean. It fit him. Everything about him fit like a glove. His voice was so calm and assured. And somehow, when he looked at me. . . .

When he said You look lovely, Zöe Willow Martin. . . .

"Zöe," Dean said.

I looked up. He was standing in front of the bench with a girl I'd seen before but hadn't met. She was noticeable everywhere because of her hair, which was white-blond, long and perfectly straight. She wasn't a natural blonde, I could see now that she was close; her roots were beginning to show. But it didn't matter. She had perfect breasts, perfect thighs, a perfect ass. I could only imagine how many creeps she'd had to deal with in her life.

"I want you to meet Jill," Dean said. "She's in her second year."

"You must be Zöe," she said, shaking hands with me. "I'm really glad to meet you. I love your name."

"Thanks," I said. "I'm getting a lot of that today."

"Jill, I was just telling Zöe about what I do here," Dean said, sitting down next to me on the bench. "She was asking how I'm able to counsel so many people."

"Well, you answered that," I said. "You said you're efficient."

"Yes, and then you wanted to know what makes me so efficient. What makes me so good at this, you wanted to know."

"Okay," I said, not sure what he was getting at. We looked directly at each other for a moment, and I saw his brilliant blue eyes again. The color was almost too intense to believe. I felt my heart accelerate.

"I mentioned that resolving emotional discomfort is usually just a matter of perspective," Dean said. "And then I saw Jill sitting over by those trees, and I thought it was a perfect opportunity to show you what I mean. Jill here has been seeing things from a new point of view since we got to know each other last year."

I looked at Jill. She smiled.

"Jill," Dean said. "I wonder if you'd consider a suggestion."

"Sure, Dean," she said. She seemed to be in a good mood, and just as fascinated as I was with him. "What do you have in mind?"

"You probably should consider taking off your shirt and your bra right now," Dean said, "and handing them to me."

"Really?" Jill said. "Huh. Okay," and then without further ado she reached down and pulled her shirt up over her head. Unhooked her bra. Peeled it off her chest, folded it into her shirt, and stepped forward, bare-breasted, to hand it to him.

I couldn't look away. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. Jill's nipples were dark pink, distinct and erect at the tips of her breasts. For a moment I couldn't use my voice.

Then I said: "What is this?"

"It's a matter of perspective," Dean said, looking at me. "Does it bother you?"

"Well, it's. . . . you. . . . she's naked."

"Half-naked."

"Half-naked, yes, and Jill, I think you should put your shirt back on before you get in trouble."

"I'd have to disagree with you, there," Dean said. "That's one way of looking at it, I suppose, but there are other ways that I think we should explore. The way I see it, Jill, this is a good thing. You might even want to take off the rest of your clothes."

"I've got to agree with Dean, Zöe," Jill said, shaking her head, looking at me with her eyebrows raised in shy apology. "I understand what you're saying, I think, but this still seems like a good idea." She slipped out of her clogs and began undoing the buttons of her jeans. "I've been here for a year already, and I'm telling you, Dean just has the best take on things. I swear. Whenever I'm feeling bad or confused or whatever, I just talk to him and it's like it all clears up, you know? Like those eyes, oh my God."

"Yeah, I know," I said. "Dean, did anyone ever tell you you look like Paul Newman?"

"Or Gabriel Byrne," Jill said.

Dean smiled and put up his hands in a gesture of modesty. I couldn't believe what I had just said. I couldn't believe I wasn't screaming at the top of my lungs and running for help. But that would have been. . . . I don't know, disruptive. Rude.

Jill didn't seem upset. Jill was taking off her underwear now, right out in the middle of the quadrangle in the afternoon sun; Jill was entirely naked now, and she didn't seem upset about it.

"I don't understand," I said to Dean. "How are you doing this?"

"What don't you understand?" he said. "I made a suggestion to Jill, and she followed up on it. That's all."

"Yeah, it's really no big deal," Jill said.

"But don't you care?" I said to her. "You just took off all your clothes. Everyone can see you. Don't you think that's dangerous?"

"It doesn't seem dangerous to me, Jill," Dean said. "You don't appear to be in any danger right now."

"No, I sure don't," Jill said. "I feel pretty safe."

"Isn't it nice to be standing out here in the sun, with no clothes on?" he asked.

"Oh yeah, totally. I wish I'd thought of this sooner. It's really warm and comfortable like this. You ought to try it, Zöe, come on. You'll like it."

"Um, I don't know," I said. "You're not embarrassed by this?"

"No, I'm not embarrassed," Jill said. "Should I be?"

"I don't see how that would be helpful," Dean said.

"Yeah, neither do I," Jill said. "It feels so good, anyway."

"I don't understand," I said again.

"Jill," Dean said, "how would you feel about having my cock in your mouth?"

"I think that would be nice," Jill said. "You know, kind of a change of pace. I talk too much, anyway."

"That's true, you do," Dean said.

"I sure do. I should stop talking so much. It would be a good idea to put your cock in my mouth and suck on it, because then I wouldn't be able to talk at all."

"That's an interesting perspective, Jill," Dean said. "I think you're on to something. Maybe you should unzip my pants."

"You're right, that would be a good first step," Jill said, with no trace of irony. She knelt on the pavement in front of Dean.

"She's following every suggestion you make," I said, finding my voice again. "She's agreeing to everything you say."

"Very perceptive of you."

"And I'm not leaving. I'm staying here watching this happen."

"That is also true."

"I don't understand why, you know?" I said to Dean. I was smiling, because. . . . well, I guess because it was funny. "It's strange. I don't know why I'm watching this. It's sort of offensive, the way she's naked, right out here in the open. And I don't-- "

I had been looking away, avoiding the sight of her down on her knees like that, but now I turned and saw that she was just parting her lips over the head of Dean's exposed cock. Inside I flip-flopped, flip-flopped, and then began to thump. I was thumping, and it wasn't my heart, it was my whole body. My whole body was throbbing hard. I rubbed my thighs together around the center of the pulse. My face felt hot.

"Uh, I mean, what if someone sees you? What if the police see you?" Her mouth slipped farther down the trunk of his cock. It seemed so thick. How could she get her lips around it? How could she breathe? It filled her mouth completely. Her lips were stretched taut around its girth, the smooth circumcised head of it buried somewhere very near the opening of her throat. It was obscene. Wasn't it? "Someone could call the police," I said. "I could call the police."

"I don't think the police would mind if they found out," Dean said. His hands were in Jill's long blond hair, holding her head as she began to suck in long, slow, deep strokes. "I know the sheriff very well. In fact, I know the entire police force. I'm pretty sure they wouldn't mind that this is happening. And if anyone else should mind, the police force will be able to detain them until I have a chance to sit down with them and listen, and offer suggestions." He paused for a moment as Jill circled the head of his cock with her tongue, around and around in a swirling motion, before plunging back down its length.

"I feel so strange," I said.

"In what way?"

"It's hard to describe," I said to his eyes, his blue, blue eyes. "I know something wrong is happening here, and I feel like I want to call someone I trust. Like my mom and dad. Maybe they could help me."

"But you aren't doing that, are you?" Dean asked.

"No. No, I'm not."

"Why do you think that is?"

"I really don't know."

"My guess is that it's because you're new."

"I'm new?"

"New to this school. And to me. Keep in mind that we've only just met, Zöe."

"Oh, that's right. We just met today." I felt so stupid. Of course. That was obvious. Of course I was new.

"I find that the longer someone's known me, the less upset they are by my point of view. Any point of view takes time to fully comprehend, and the longer people know me, the more they are able to understand how I see things. That seems reasonable, doesn't it, Zöe?"

I nodded. It made so much sense, what he was saying. The more I got to know Dean, the more I would understand him.

"So just give yourself time. And if you're ever feeling worried or confused about something, just come see me. By the way, you mentioned talking to your mom and dad. You didn't want to do that now, did you?"

"Oh God no," I said, laughing, "not now. Jesus. Some other time."

"Right, that's what I thought. But when you do decide to call them, why don't you come see me first? It's not a good idea to use the dorm phones for long-distance calls. The phone in my office is a lot easier to use, and while you're there maybe you and I can get together and talk. You know, no pressure, no agendas, just hanging out."

"Sure, that would be fun," I said, beaming. He wanted to hang out with me. Why me? I talked too much.

I was watching Dean rise a little off the bench so that he could thrust his hips forward. I watched him take Jill by the back of her head and pull her toward him firmly, all the way to the root, and I heard a "glk" sound as he entered her throat and cut off her air entirely.

"Jill, you're absolutely right," he said, looking at me. "You can't talk at all like this, can you?"

Then he reared back and in again.

glk.

ulkg.

glgk.

He came, holding her head firmly to him, his hips jerking and bucking as he emptied himself down her throat. His eyes on me the whole time.

"Aaah," I breathed. My whole body was pulsing, my thighs slid past each other, and I felt a damp trickle ooze down my leg. I was very wet, much wetter than I'd ever been. I was dripping.

I didn't know what I was going to do. I felt like I could hardly think, I wanted him so much. I hoped he didn't think I was stupid. I hoped he liked my body.

Dean sat back on the bench as Jill came off him, gasping for air. She panted for a moment, then said, "Oh Dean, oh wow, that was really exciting." Her voice was husky. "That was really intense. I couldn't breathe. It turned me on so much, not being able to breathe at all. You could have killed me. I was in your hands."

"You didn't come, though, did you?" Dean asked.

"No, I really wanted to, but I couldn't, somehow. I guess I wasn't supposed to come."

"I think you're probably right," Dean said. "When it's a good time for you to come, I'll let you know, okay?"

Jill blushed. "Oh, thank you, Dean. Wow, that is really sweet of you. You're so thoughtful. That would help a lot."

"Quite all right, Jill," he said. "Why don't you sit over there on the grass for a while? You can watch Zöe and I while we get to know each other better."

"That sounds like a good idea," Jill said enthusiastically, buoyantly, and she went over to the other side of the path and sat down resting on one arm, her legs tucked back under her.

Dean turned fully to me. I'm sure he saw me trembling. I must have smelled like sex. My cunt was dripping with sex, and I'd never thought of it as a cunt before, never really used the word before, but it was pretty clearly a cunt now. There didn't seem to be any other word for it. In fact, there didn't seem to be any other word for me. I was a sopping hole, waiting to be filled with something, and nothing else. Nothing else of any importance.

"Zöe Willow Martin," Dean intoned. "Such a beautiful name."

"Thank you, Dean," I said, shuddering. But smiling.

"I think if you consider the alternatives, you'll find you want to take off your panties, but leave everything else on, your skirt and your socks and shoes."

"That's probably the best course of action," I agreed. I reached under my skirt and got my underwear off and down around my ankles. I had to kick it a little to get it over my shoes, and it ripped, but that wasn't important. I'd been planning to get rid of most of my underwear anyway. The stuff was a nuisance.

"I have something I'd like to try with you," Dean said. "It might help you to get more in touch with how you're feeling."

"Whatever you think would help," I said anxiously.

"Well, to start with, I'll need you to come here and sit on my knee, facing me. I'd like to get a good, close look at your eyes. They say the eyes are the windows to the soul." I nodded, coming over to him, lifting my skirt out of the way as I sat down. My cunt lips glistened, and I heard them squish as I came to rest with the skirt falling all around, his kneecap bone-hard against me.

"I'm afraid I'm not good enough," I heard myself say to him. "I don't really deserve to have you as my counselor. I'm so weak. I ask so many questions."

"There's nothing wrong with asking questions," Dean said. "Just be sure to listen for the answers. Listening is the most important thing you can do, Zöe." He was looking straight at me with his crystalline clear, endlessly blue eyes. "That's the wonderful thing about college life. It's a time for inquiry, and it's a time to learn. The best thing you can do is to open yourself to new experiences, new points of view. Try to be receptive to what people tell you."

I was weeping. "I'll try," I said, rocking on his knee, pressing my cunt hard against his leg, mashing my little pleasure-button against his tight skin. I could see his cock, softened but full, lying against his thigh. "I'm so grateful to you," I sobbed, grinding my cunt, slipping down his leg a fraction. "I'll be open-minded. I want to know how you see things, Dean. Please. Tell me what you think."

His cock was stirring. I could see it begin to stiffen.

"Well, if you're asking my opinion, I think you're a slut," he said gently.

I exhaled. "That's just how I feel."

"Mm hmm. Tell me about it."

"I feel like all I want to do, all I can think about, is being fucked. That's the mindset of a slut, isn't it? I don't know what I was doing before, but it isn't important. I don't care about anything except the way my cunt feels now, pressed up against you like this and sliding on your thigh, and the only thing I want is to feel your cock inside me, filling my cunt the way you filled Jill's mouth. I want to feel your come gush into me. I. . . . I guess I'm a slut. A thing, really, for you to fuck. But it's okay. I'm supposed to be a slut. That's all I want to be."

"What you're saying makes a lot of sense, Zöe," Dean said. "I'm really pleased with your self-investigation. You're making remarkable progress."

"Thank you, Dean," I groaned, tears running down my face.

"I'm sure you'll understand that it's not really a good idea to have my cock inside your cunt," he said. "Not yet. Before that can happen, you'll need to go to the school clinic and be checked for venereal diseases. Are you taking birth control pills, Zöe?"

"Yes, Dean," I said.

"That's good. You'll go to the clinic soon, won't you?"

"Oh, absolutely," I said, rocking. "Tomorrow morning."

"Wonderful. You'll like the nurse, I think."

"I'm sure. . . . she'll be nice," I said, a pulse passing through me.

"You really seem to enjoy doing what I say," Dean said. He lifted his hand and touched my cunt. It was like a jolt of electricity, strong and shocking. He began to stroke the lips, brushing against my clit with his fingers.

". . .unh, y-yes, oh yes," I moaned. "I like to obey you. I want to be commanded. I want you to decide what I'm going to do next. I don't need to know why. Just use me. Please. Uh. Gh, gah, aah, oh Dean, oh God -- "

With his other hand, it must have been, he reached behind and followed the curve of my ass to the cleft, then down to the hole. He put a finger on the hole suddenly. I spasmed, grinding my cunt against the fingers of his other hand. There I was, caught between his hands, trapped fore and aft, and I couldn't stop moving, rocking back and forth, and every time I moved back I felt his finger dip into my nether hole. It was as if he'd tapped into my inner will, what some might call a soul, and every time his finger dipped just inside the rim I felt him tapping, tapping as if my soul was an egg. An egg that he could crack into a thousand pieces with one touch. I made incoherent sounds, gasping, rolling my head. I think I was drooling.

"This would be an appropriate time to come, Jill," I heard Dean say. I couldn't see her, but I could hear her. I heard her cry out sharply, climbing octaves: "Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh. OH, GOD!"

"Zöe, I'm using you," Dean said. "I'm using your mind and your body and you can't stop it. You are helpless. You are mine. You could come just from the pleasure of knowing you are being used by me."

"Come," I repeated mindlessly. "For you."

"Yes," he said. "Come now."

I came. I cannot describe it. I came apart, flailing, my still-captive body pistoning on his fingers. I made guttural sounds, spasming again and again and again, coming exquisitely like a flood of honey over his hands.

When it had subsided, I got up and sat down next to Dean. I watched him pull himself up a little, lift on his pants, and zip up. I was leaking like a river, and my skirt was already saturated with come. It felt cold under my thighs.

"Listen, I'm afraid I can't stay," he said, getting up from the bench. "I've got several other people to see today, but I want you to know I appreciate having had this little chat with you."

"So do I," I said. "It was really nice to meet you, finally."

"Let's keep in touch," he said, smiling, extending a hand.

"I'd like that," I said. "That would be great." I shook it.

"Jill, are you going my way?" he asked.

"Yeah, I'm headed in the same direction," Jill said, coming up behind him. She was wearing her clothes again.

"Great. Well, we'll see you later," he said, and Jill said "Bye, Zöe, I'll see you around." We waved, and they set off down the path. I could see his hand resting on her ass, cupping one buttock casually as they walked.

I looked back down at the river, so far below. It was in shadow now, no longer silver. The light was golden through the trees, all the way down the side of the mountain to small, invisible Ferngrove. Dusk had begun to fall.

This university was set high above the world, and the world it overlooked was nothing but trees. Seen from here, the world was a new place, and I was new in it.

I had a new point of view, now.