Over the next few days, things get back to normal. Sort of. As it's my week off, I don't have a chance to run into Cyn or Yvonne at the school, and neither one shows up at my doorsteps. I have a chance to get into a bit of a routine at work. Not that this is enough for my boss to forget my various past transgressions, or for him to say a word of encouragement (he still thinks I'm something suspicious and worrying that he's afraid to show his doctor), but I know I'm doing good work, and I'm sure it'll pay off in the end. Not that it's meaningful work, of course. But that's my problem. The thing is that I want to build something for myself and for Chloe. Get better things, share greater experiences, which require money that I don't have at present, and, maybe, set a bit of an example. Twenty years in the workforce without a single promotion is not much of an example for your child.
I don't smooth things out with Sarah, but that's expected. You don't smooth anything out with an ex-wife. You just forget each other's existence for a few days, or weeks, or even months, until she drops a bomb on your civilian ass, or you detonate a grenade in the middle of her existence. But it's a truce for now. I'm actually sure she's stewing over things and is planning her revenge. Maybe she's just waiting for the right time, or she's just letting the inner temperature rise until she bursts into flames. But I enjoy the radio silence from her, and I ignore as best as I can the thought of future retaliation.
Monday morning, Chloe and I set foot onto the school grounds. The air is getting warmer every day. The kids have a newfound joy in their playing and their chatting and their singing that can't be ignored. I watch Chloe join her friends and be magnetised by their energy, and I smile to myself. She's happy. After all Sarah and I have done to her life, she's still happy.
I see Cyn still hanging around. She zeroes in on me and, as soon as I say goodbye to Chloe, she's next to me.
'One week is long,' she says.
I smile to her, while secretly wondering if she knows about my side project with Yvonne. I wonder how she would react, if she did. Would she be jealous? Competitive, maybe? I realise I don't know the first thing about this woman: the only side of her she shows me is so fundamental to her being, and yet everything else is kept behind a well-drawn curtain.
'Yes, long and frustrating,' I reply.
'Let's go,' she says with a smile.
I shake my head. I kind of savour the feeling of superiority I get from saying no to a beautiful woman.
'Sorry, but I need to be at work.'
She scowls, and the scowls quickly becomes a more combative expression: 'Fuck you,' that's the message.
'Already bored?' she asks.
How frankly she admits to her insecurity surprises me.
'No, really: I have to be at work. We need to find another time.'
'You have your kid, don't you?'
Fair point. When would I have time to fuck around if not during work hours?
'We'll find something. Look, next week I'm on my own, and you can pop in after dinner, or maybe early morning before work.'
She looks at me, annoyed that I'm dictating her the schedule to have her needs fulfilled.
'I have my own shit, you know,' she says a bit too loudly.
I shush her:
'Keep it quiet, will you?'
She bites her lip. Cyn is realising all of a sudden that she's losing ground very quickly. She can't understand how she's the one who has to do the begging. I guess she's not used to it.
'Fine. I guess I'll see you around then.'
She walks away with a black cloud over her head and small lightning bolts darting from it.
Did I say goodbye to a great fuck? Did I really turn this opportunity down?
Be strong! I need to keep my resolve. I can't indulge on this feeling too long. So, I simply walk away, across the yard, through the open corridor, past the reception door and the project veggie patch, and finally through the gate onto the street outside.
'Hey!'
I turn around. Maybe Cyn has decided to calm down and schedule a catch-up for another time. But it's the other woman, the blonde Scandinavian-looking mum that's friends with Cyn and Yvonne.
'Oh, hi,' I say.
'Here,' she says in a business-like fashion.
I look down at what she's handing me.
A business card.
I read it. It turns out her name is Rachel. She is the CEO of some company whose name I don't recognise.
'Yes?'
'My office. 12:30. On the dot.'
'What for?'
She seems impatient, but she says, as if this is the most obvious thing in the world:
'I need my fine tune.'
'A what?' I ask.
'My fine tune, that's what we call it. Get the engine lubricated? The valves vented? You choose the metaphor. I know all about it, you know.' A pause. 'So, are we good?'
I look at her. God, this is getting hard. Being good is way too hard. She's tall and slim. She looks like the athletic type – you know, well defined armed, flat stomach, powerful thighs. Sure, determined gaze. Her blonde hair is cropped short to the side, which showcase the thin, long neck. All the features are as sharp as blades, her lips, her cheekbones, her nose, her blue eyes. She seems vital, energetic, extremely alluring.
I mentally calculate the distance between my office and the address in mid-town where her company is. The whole thing shouldn't take more than one and a half hours. If I rush back to work afterwards and stay a bit longer… That means picking up Chloe late… But that should be ok.
'Yep. 12:30,' I say.
'Good.'
She begins to walk away.
'Bye. See you later,' I say, a little miffed by the abruptness of the exchange.
Work is just a drag. Once again. My thoughts are far away. I daydream about a building in the city, walking through the foyer, then up the elevator. I imagine undressing the woman.
'I have a doctor's appointment,' I tell my boss, as he walks past my cubicle.
He walks this way because I'm on the way to the toilet. Otherwise, he would not be anywhere near me.
'If (If!) I'm out past lunch break, I'll stay late. Is that ok?' I reassure him.
He breathes deeply, wondering if this is the day he asks the doctor if this growth should be cut off. It's pretty obvious it's not benign and something must be done…
'Fine,' he says without looking at me.
By 11:50, I have barely made twenty calls.
Ok, don't panic! Do the thing you're dying to do, then come back, smash out fifty calls, then pick up Chloe. It's all doable.
I figure out public transport would be too slow, so I hop on a cab. I stare at the driver's license for the whole trip: Raj. Badge number AF203450. The guy in the picture is nearly bald and has a moustache. My driver has thick, black hair slicked back and a clean-shave face. I swear he's Mexican, not Indian.
The guy, who I refuse to believe is actually Raj, charges me thirty bucks. Fuck! Not much I can do about it.
He drops me off outside a tall, grey, non-descriptive building. I walk through the foyer, which is smaller and darker than I imagined. There's a front desk but nobody manning it. There's something a little depressing about this building. I check the address board bolted onto the wall: dentists offices, lawyers, a watch maker, more lawyers.
The lift is being refurbished. The mirror is blanked off by a sheet of plywood, and I have to search for the buttons behind a heavy sheet of black PVC. I press level five, as per the business card.
In the back of my mind, the notion that I am going to have sex shortly is becoming louder, like the siren of a fire truck.
The doors of the lift open onto a long corridor with various businesses. The one I'm looking for is the last one.
I open the frosted-glass door, and I find myself in a large office. Not much different to the one I go to five days a week. There are probably fifty desks, maybe even more. On the walls, various posters of fitness-related images: athletes frozen mid-sprint, big, shiny droplets of sweat about to slide off their muscles; smiling women holding a bottle of pills; two men in sports gear drinking off bottles filled with a bright-pink drink.
A woman at a desk sees me and gets off her chair.
'Yes?'
'I'm here to see Rachel.'
'You're the 12:30. Let me buzz her…' She lifts a phone on her desk and speaks into it: 'Your 12:30 is here. Shall I send him in? Sure.'
The woman walks me to a set of timber double doors.
'She's waiting for you,' she says and walks away.
I slowly open the door.
'Hello?'
'Yes, I don't think it's a problem… Well, that's fine: we'll do it your way… If there's an issue…'
Rachel is running on a treadmill and talking on headsets. There's a row of exercise machines along the wall.
She gestures me to come in and close the door.
'Look,' she continues, still talking to some invisible person on the phone, 'I have someone here to see me… No, later I have the guys from Dubai… Just call me if they have an issue with the terms, ok?... Yes, I said we can't compromise, but we can compromise on that. Yeah? Ok, bye.'
Rachel presses a button on the treadmill. The machine slows down. Rachel runs a few more steps then gets off. She grabs a small towel and wipes her face.
'Hey,' she says, a little flushed.
'Hey. Cool office.'
Rachel looks around. The office is large. The wooden desk near the window is large. There's a door that probably leads to a private bathroom, so Rachel doesn't have to walk past troublesome employees on her way to a good shit.
'Yeah. It's temporary,' she says, still panting a bit. 'Once Round C goes through, we will double the staff and will move to something nicer.'
'Looks good to me,' I say.
She shrugs her shoulders: she really doesn't care what I think.
'So, you ready?' she asks.
'Should I lock the door?'
She stares at me, as if I was stupid.
'If my door is closed, it means I'm not to be disturbed.'
Fine. God, this woman is getting on my nerves. She's everything that's wrong with power, and work, and money. For some reason, she's powerful, she has power over the people out there, and she has money. And she looks sexy, and I want to fuck her so bad! I want her to come, and I want to be the one deciding how and when that happens.
'Fine,' I say. 'You good with twenty other offices in the other building seeing us? It's cool with me,' I dare her.
She exhales. She walks to the desk and presses a button.
Instantaneously, the glass surface of the windows becomes opaque.
'Cool trick,' I say.
Rachel takes off her top. Her movements are efficient. There's no effort to seduce. I might as well be her GP checking for lumps, or her tailor taking measurements for a dress. She just needs the job done.
I look at her. Her torso is lean. She has a six pack and a vee that points towards her lower abdomen. Her breasts are almost non-existent: just the pink areolas and two small chunky nibs to signal the way to the mammary glands.
She takes off her leggings and her undies.
Her body is pale. She's perfectly shaved. Not a hair in sight. Above her pussy, I noticed the thin line of the C-section, a brighter shade of pink.
She takes the towel and puts it on the edge of the desk. This is where she will sit, I take.
'Here?' I ask.
'That works for me,' she says.
Fine. Your office your rules, I think, although I instantly rephrase it to: your pussy your rules.
She sits on the edge of the desk and spreads her legs, resting her heels next to her hips. With one hand, she lifts the top of her vulva to give me a better view of her thin, pink labia. She gives her clit a few slaps, as if to prepare it for an injection.
I walk up to her, and I run my hand on her cheek. I touch her lips with my thumb, and I stare into her eyes. I calmly run my hand along her neck, then on her breasts. I feel the nipples, then go further south, until I rest it on the crest of her ass.
I feel some unrest in my pants, but I won't show her any impatience.
I move slightly closer to her, and, at that moment, I see a quick cloud pass on her face. Her tough front is about to be exposed; she's with a stranger; she will soon lose control; she's giving the keys to her pleasure to him; she's about to come.
I smile, and I see she's a little nervous and, instead of smiling, she swallows and lowers her gaze.
See? You're not as tough as you think…
I move my face closer to hers.
She swallows again and gives me a little nod: she's ready.
I move even closer and feel the warmth of her body after her jog. I smell her scent on her neck. Then, I move lower. I give her left nipple a small suck, but I'm here for a job, and I keep going down. I give her bellybutton a little lick.
Rachel shivers and holds her breath.
I kiss her stomach, then I go lower. I hold her ass with my hands, and I plant my mouth in her crotch.
I can smell sweat and a faint scent of urine. Her skin is smooth and warm. I hover with my lips over her labia and gently blow air. I give the plump, split apricot a few kisses.
Rachel shivers again.
I puck my lips and suck her clit. Then, I circle around it with my tongue. I lick it. Lap lap lap!
Rachel gives a little moan:
'Mh!'
I then move down to the outer labia, which I nibble a little.
'Ah!' she says, catching her breath.
I don't relent. I start licking the inner labia. I apply some pressure with my hands against her ass, so that Rachel has to slide forward and open her legs even further.
I am bending in front of her. She's sitting above me, as if on a throne, but I am the one in control.
With my tongue, I part the inner labia, and I run my tongue along the smooth area inside them. I search for the opening, and I penetrate it with my tongue. I extend my tongue as far in as I can. I'm still pushing her against me, so she has nowhere to go: she can only open her legs and let me give her the fine tune she asked for.
She's breathing heavily, but I have just begun.
I go back to the clit, and I lick it with precise and determined strokes.
'Oh, fuck,' she says, unable to hold in her surprise.
I taste her flavour on my tongue. I inhale her smell, and I'm suddenly conscious of the painful erection in my pants.
I lick back and forth, back and forth. I listen to Rachel's breathing, which is now broken, like small hiccups. But I'm not letting her off so easily.
I release my grip on her butt, and I abandon her pussy for a moment.
'Ow?' she whines, disappointed.
I kiss the inside of her thighs, feeling the definition of the muscles. I also kiss her mons pubis, her lower abdomen. Everything but her pussy. I want her to want me, to beg me to finish her. She needs to be so full of pent-up desire that she might explode.
'Please,' she whispers.
I smile to myself and look up to her.
Rachel's looking down to me. Her strong front has melted.
'Please,' she says again.
I smile and stare into her eyes. See? See what I can do to you? See what I can turn you into?
Her eyes have this unexpected warmth.
'This is who I am,' they seem to say.
I give her tummy a little kiss, and I close my eyes. I kiss her again, lower, lower. I hold her by the waist, and, once again, I begin to circle my tongue around her clit.
'Yeah,' she says. 'Mh! Don't stop.'
I lick harder, pressing against the folds, moving them apart, tormenting the turgid protrusion within. I quickly move down to the vagina, and I stick my tongue inside, licking around, trying to reach every spot.
Rachel takes little mouthfuls of air and reaches down with her hands, clutching my hair with her fingers.
I know she can't resist any longer, and I move back to the clit. I suck on it, and I lick it. Suck lick, suck lick. Hard and relentless. Over and over and over.
She breathes in, fast, small, noisy, broken mouthfuls that don't seem to reach her lungs:
'Oh… oh… oh…'
Then she explodes:
'Mmh… Ah, ah, ah! Aaaaaah… I'm comiiiiing!'
She tightens her grip on my hair, pulling hard; then she lets go.
I stand up.
Her head is tilted back, her neck stretched, her back arched and her nipples hard, and she's now resting with both hands firmly planted on her desktop. She slowly raises her head again. She's panting a little.
'Oof!' she says, as if she's just finished some intense exercise.
She stares at me.
'Just what I needed.'
Just what she needed…
Then, she considers me for a moment:
'I have some investors coming in soon, but if you need…'
She glances at my crotch.
I unzip my pants and show her my erection. Yes. I need.
'Just don't make a mess,' she says, and she kneels before me.
'Don't worry,' I say.
Rachel takes my dick in her hand, feeling the erection as if a mysterious object fallen from the sky. She gives it a few disjointed strokes, almost unsure about what to do with it.
'Come on,' I say, and I delicately place my hand on hers.
I guide her hand, back and forth.
'Like this?' she asks.
I nod and give her a moment to sink into the rhythm.
'Now with your mouth,' I tell her.
She nods seriously, as if to commit a lesson to memory, and puts the tip in her mouth.
'That's fine, keep stroking it with your hand. You can also play with the balls,' I say, and I guide the hand.
She gently explores my testicles, while holding my glans between her lips and in her mouth. She's staring at me with those sharp, blue eyes, as if to ask: am I doing ok?
I nod and move her hand towards my perineum.
Rachel adjusts her position a little, and with one hand she masturbates me, while with the other she caresses my testicles.
I put a hand behind her head and invite her to move back and forth on my dick. I do it gently and slowly.
Rachel closes her eyes and gets on with the job.
Now, I feel a finger curiously exploring the contour of my anus, then quickly retreat to my ball sack. I open my legs a little and take her hand (it's all good: nothing's out of bounds here), then move it past the balls, then further back.
Rachel puts the tip of one finger into my ass. She opens her eyes and checks my reaction.
I'm smiling and, even though her mouth is full, I see she's smiling too.
From this position, I also get a good view of her back. Under the skin, a thousand muscles are moving about like little goldfish under the water surface. Her waist is thin, and her ass is perfectly defined, thanks to countless hours on the treadmill and the ellipticals.
'I want you to stick one finger inside me,' I tell her.
She obeys.
'Deeper. Good girl. Now, two.'
She follows my instructions, and I enjoy the stretching of the orifice and the fullness deeper inside.
'Look at me and open your mouth.'
Rachel opens her mouth, and I draw out my dick. I am now free to masturbate on my own. She knows where I'm going with this and sticks her tongue out, ready to receive my load. On her face, she has an expression of expectant curiosity.
She's moving her fingers up and down, and I can feel the familiar tingling sensation. My balls are bouncing back and forth with every stroke of my hand. A warm wave surges from my lower abdomen, and I move my dick closer to Rachel's mouth.
'Aaah!' she says, jokingly, opening her mouth wide.
One, two, three…
'Mmmmh!' I groan, and a warm jet floods her mouth. 'Uhmpf!' now, another. Then, a third one.
She now realises her mouth is full of semen. She seems unsure of what to do, then, she closes her lips, and swallows. She winces for a moment, then she realises it's not that bad.
I milk a few drops more out of the urethra and let them fall into her mouth.
'Now a few big sucks to get it all,' I instruct.
She puts my dick back into her mouth and obediently sucks.
'That's it.'
She collects herself, then she stands up.
'I need to give myself a wash before my next meeting,' she says.
She's now a little self-conscious of how happy she looks. She can't wipe the smile on her face, but she doesn't want me to see it, or she doesn't want me to gloat about it.
She makes a few steps towards the en-suite bathroom then turns towards me.
'Thank you,' she says.
I watch her walk away. I look at her blonde mop of hair, her neck, her back, her ass, her legs, her feet. I can still taste her in my mouth.
I quickly get dressed and rush to work, where I don't make my fifty calls. Instead, I draw tits and asses and dicks inside cunts, and more tits. All on company stationery.
When I get to the school, it's nearly dark.
Right outside the gate, I meet Alice with her kid. They're heading home.
'So, how are you?' she asks brightly. 'Have you had a chance to read the book?'
I'm flustered and in a rush. I can barely blurt out: 'I've been busy,' which sounds like: 'What the fuck do you want from me?'
She gives me a look.
'That's fine. When you have time.'
She gives me a smile out of politeness.
I feel like a piece of shit.
And with that, she walks away.