“Research it!” But how do I research it?
‘Brian, that’s what we have just been talking about, haven’t you been listening?’
I shook myself and realised where I was. In the middle of our regular, excruciatingly boring Monday morning meeting. The principal purpose of which seemed to be for all of us to listen to Gabriella our new, up and coming CEO talking about the new Company image. She is an image-maker. In truth the sole purpose of our Company centred on her, and her ambitions.
‘Yes, absolutely, just thinking about your points.’
No not her boobs although they do serve as a pleasant distraction when she is presenting some new, exciting project to the Board, which is mainly, designed to assist her along her inevitable career path. The fact that I had usually thought up the idea as well as doing all the work never seemed to dull her sense of self importance.
I am an accountant you see. As the old joke goes, ‘What do accountants use as a contraceptive?’ Answer: ‘their personality.’
My mind was on another kind of research today. My dearest wife, Susan, had decided our sex life wasn’t up to the mark. Well to be exact my performance was average or words to that effect.
I might be an accountant, good old reliable Brian, but I also have feelings and being a bloke I am particularly sensitive when it comes to my sexual prowess.
Our conversation last night had left me a little flummoxed to say the least.
I couldn’t’t get her words out of my mind.
‘Because, Brian I knew you would take it the wrong way. All I’m saying is you could improve a bit. It does not ‘t mean I don’t love you. But sex is just sex. Like anything else you can always be better.’
‘And just how do you suggest I go about becoming better?’
‘Well I don’t know. You could research it I suppose. After all you do do that well.’
Research it! What did she mean?
‘It could be fun. Just think of it as a challenge.’
I think with my right-brain. Sometimes I think I don’t actually have a left-brain at all, so for me to try and fathom out what she is wants me to do is almost impossible. I love her dearly, we have been together since we were practically children but sometimes I don’t understand a word she is saying.
As for her last few words before she happily drifted into a self-satisfied sleep , I have no idea what they were about.
‘ I’ll tell you what. If you improve your technique enough to satisfy me I’ll let you have any fantasy you want with me. How’s that for an idea?’
Me have a fantasy! Women, I tell you they were sent to test us. Sometimes I think Adam should have left Eve behind, apples and all. Mind you she was the one who drew out Adams snake so maybe she was in control all along.
I left the meeting and managed to get through the rest of the day. I planned to keep working and dine in the city. Susan was planning to visit her mother with the kids this evening so I was relatively free – or so I thought.
‘Brian make sure you have that report on my desk tomorrow morning first thing’
I didn’t even have to turn around, ‘Yes Gabrielle.’
I did manage to get it done in a sort of fashion, and left work late to find somewhere to eat and contemplate.
Sex, I thought. Where does an almost middle-aged man learn about sex. I could feel myself turning red even thinking about it.
Talk to a friend? Who? Blokes, I should remind you don’t actually talk about anything quite like this and certainly not the intimacies of their sexual relationships. Once the emptiness of adolescent boldness has evaporated there seems little reason to assume other than we are all satisfying our wives who beg us for more every night.
As for sharing the fact that my wife thinks I am about average in performance with woman friend. Lets not even think about it.
Sex was on my mind. As I wandered along the streets I found myself heading toward the red light district of the town. Well where else would you find out about sex?
My hungers lead me into a bar blazoned with red, flashing neon lights, motley garish carpet and a smoke haze which created an atmosphere of raw human instincts.
I hadn’t been in a place like this since my stag night, which I can’t really remember anyway. I kept my sunglasses on to maintain some sense of anonymity. I could barely see and tripped on a tear in the carpet. Retrieving my dignity I stepped over to the bar and realised that all the other men were also wearing sunglasses, holding their brief cases close with their bowler hats over their crotches.
I soon realised why. The barmaid was topless with boobs you would die for. They tantalised as she lent over to give me a glass of red. Its taste was disproportional to its price.
I ordered oyster ‘A Le-cart’, which seemed to be the only palatable item on the menu .Turning around my eyes began to focus and I realised there was a large table with a pole in the middle. Rapt around the pole was a young, attractive girl whose energy could only make one envious. I had only ever seen these sort of shows on TV in American detective movies in which it seems to be almost mandatory to interview a stripper. She beckoned me over. With all the dignity I could muster I walked over and sat at the table with the other men whose eyes were now transfixed onto the gyrating, erotic creature a few feet from our faces.
I still felt detached. Her body was beautiful. Slim, small breasts and golden blond hair. As she rolled around the table she slipped off her remaining cloths and was now naked. I looked over to the guy next to me. His was rubbing himself as he watched and fantasised about the girl. Then he released his penis from the capture of his trousers. I watched. I had never seen a man with an erect penis before. Well not since my days at boarding school.
Then without warning another girl appeared wearing a slight, very sexy skirt and bear breasts. She lent over him and whispered, ‘Need a hand’. As she did so she slipped her hand down to his penis and began to ever so slowly move it up and down. Then she stopped and whispered more. ‘Come with me and I’ll give you a good time.’ He was beyond answering and soon got up with her holding his penis and leading him to a darkened corner.
Meanwhile my penis was well alight. The girl at the pole began moving her hands all over her body,playing with her boobs, running her fingers down between her legs. She had what appeared to be a possum’s tail ,which she moved over her body until it too was over her pussy, as she played with it while we all lapped up her youthful sensuousness.
I ate my oysters. I held them up and saw her pussy just in front of me. I felt them slipping down my throat.
I could smell cheep perfume. I sensed someone beside me. My glasses were fogging up. There was another young girl. Pretty, brunette, lots of makeup, a close fitting dress with loose buttons down her front.
‘Hi, I’m Gabriella’
‘Ah’ I didn’t quite know what to say! Only now I would always see my boss in a slightly different way.
‘I’m Brian’ I stammered as I ogled her.
‘You want to buy me a drink Brian’
‘Sure’ I was transfixed. What had I got myself into here?
Almost immediately the drinks arrived, cheap wine but never the less expensive drinks.
By now I was feeling a little light headed which makes self-justification so much easier.
Susan did want me to research, and research I had begun.
‘So what are you doing here Brian?’
‘Ahh Well my wife..’ but she interrupted me.
‘I know she doesn’t understand you and always wants more from you.’
‘How..’ I began.
‘Don’t worry, I understand and I can give you a good time to help you with this.’ She had her hand on my crotch which she was massaging tantalisingly slowly.
Without warning she stood and indicated I follow her as she led me into a dark corner.
Just as I was about to sit down, I thought I saw someone watching me, Then she slipped out of sight the woman seemed somehow familiar, but I guess it was my conscious and fear of discovery.
Gabriella sat me with my back to the wall, she began to dance, her moves like a gymnast, playing with my legs. Every time I tried to touch her she firmly put my hands at my side. ‘No touch Brian.’
She was naked. She played with her pussy close to me. I hadn’t seen another woman’s pussy since before I was married and even then infrequently. I could seen her clit, her wetness,and I could smell her.
She sat on me. Moving, squirming, massaging with her bottom on my penis. Then she quickly let my throbbing hard on from the confines of my trousers. Playing with it, playing with herself, faster and faster. I was beyond any self control. Then suddenly I burst. Spunk shot in the air, flying high. She rubbed until it was over. Milking me for every drop.
Then as though she had just severed me a drink or something equally innocuous she stood up, put her dress back on.
‘That’ll be $100 Brian’
‘I, Ahh, I…’ A very large shadow had come over us like a huge monster. I had a feeling her support staff had just arrived.
I hadn’t realised before why business men travelling home on the late trains sat with their brief cases on their laps and seemed intent on reading the morning’s edition of the Financial times. That was until tonight when I had to cover a very embarrassing wet patch and to hide my face, which if scrutinised might reveal more than I may have wished.
I arrived home to a darkened house. Susan was already in bed and the porch light was not even left on to greet me. I managed to sneak into the bathroom and make a hasty cleaning attack on my trousers.
I slipped into bed hoping not to waken my sleeping and unsuspecting wife.
My head sank into the pillow. I was safe.
‘Finished your report then?’
I jumped. Partly through guilt, surprise and a knowledge of being sprung.
‘Yes, yes, all done thanks’
Silence, nearly asleep.
‘How is your research going?’
‘Ah still in the early stages Dear.’
‘Oh lets have a feel then, ‘ without any by your leave Susan grabbed my still lifeless manhood. It was a hard grab, a sort of where have you been type grab. I froze.
‘Looks like its out of the question tonight then. You have been up to something.’
‘No, just a tiring day. You know end of year statements that sort of thing. Not a real turn on you know.’
Then to my dismay she turned the light on,looking at me straight in the eye.
‘I hope what you learnt tonight will make a difference.’
She had that knowing look which wives seem to acquire immediately upon uttering their wedding vows. It is a look, which can kill a man at a hundred paces without a word being fired.
With that she switched off the light and turned over.
I stared at the ceiling now wide awake. Does she know? How could she? No she couldn’t.
‘You might find some help on the internet you know’ was the comment that preceded her falling into a peaceful slumber.
Next Chapter Susan’s Research