Death by Fucking
This story is © 2004 by Andrew Wiggin and is not to be
reprinted without the expressed written consent of the
author. It contains sexual situations that are to be read
by readers above the legal age of consent. It is not to be
read in locations where such stories are illegal, even ones
as innocuous as this one.
Note: This story contains quotes and paraphrased
references from popular culture. The author uses these
quotes and references because it amuses him to do so and
because he has no life. I leave it as an exercise for the
reader to identify any quotes that may have been used. If
you are interested in learning what quotes were used, you
may request a copy of the crib sheet by emailing the author
at costcontrol97@yahoo.com
Chapter 1 Chemical Attractors: Andrew’s Story
There can’t be such a thing as love as first
sight. That’s certainly impossible, regardless of what
you’ve heard. People are mistaking love for lust. I
believe lust at first sight happens occasionally. I’m an
eyewitness.
I talked to her long before I physically met her. The
first time I talked to her on the phone I hoped her voice
was reflective of her looks. I saw a movie recently where a
guy got off of the phone with a woman he had never met and
said that she was ‘audibly blonde’. When I talked to
Deirdre on the phone I thought she was audibly fuckable.
I’ve never had that happen before. I made a simple business
call, asked to talk to someone who had called my office
requesting me while I was out. I was returning a call, for
crying out loud. I wasn’t expecting a life-altering
experience with a simple phone call.
Deirdre was with a consulting firm that was supposed to
tell my company how to do its business. Our company has
only been in business for 55 years. Why should we know how
to do our job? It was obvious we needed someone to come in
to tell us what we were doing wrong. Deirdre was a
consultant with Brown and Raymond Management Consultants. I
was one of the liaison guys who were supposed to give BRMC
the lowdown on how things worked. Then they were going to
tell us what to downsize, who to downgrade, how to cut
expenses and generally fuck up the atmosphere in a
previously great place to work. I think I can safely say
that only upper management in our firm thought kindly of
BRMC.
I reluctantly returned Deirdre’s call. It was my job,
after all. I was to cooperate in everyway possible with the
BRMC team. The lady called me. I called her back; simple
as that. I hate those voice mail systems that a lot of
companies have installed in the last decade. They are a
major indicator of the decline of the quality of life in our
country, generated in part by an over dependence on
technology. Just because we can do it doesn’t mean it
should be done. Fuck voice mail.
After dealing with “please listen carefully because our
menu options have changed” and blah, blah, blah, I finally
reached a real person. She answered the phone “Deirdre
Martin”. I didn’t know that I was about to be hit by a
truck.
Our company is located in the mid-west. We aren’t near
to being a Fortune 500 company, but we are publicly traded
and have over 5000 employees in three facilities, two in
Ohio and one in Indiana. We’re respectable.
I’m the fair-haired boy. I’m a department head, even
if it is only a small department. I’m the youngest
department head in the company. The next youngest
department head is twenty years older than me. She’s forty-
five, so that makes me twenty-five. I’m in charge of
software development for our process control division. I
also have a hand in some web-site development and in
supporting some people in our general area who don’t have
time to wait for the IT department to actually respond to
their requests.
I have three arrogant little pricks working for me as
software developers. They’re all teenagers, right out of
high school. Some jerk-off in Human Resources heard that in
today’s market you either farm your software development out
to India or Israel or some such shit, or hire little dork-
faced numbnuts who are so young they don’t cost any money.
They also have no experience other than playing around with
other computer nerds with no life. And they don’t know how
to follow through. They get 90% through a project and they
get bored. They keep giving me buggy programs and don’t
understand why I’m upset with them. I end up finishing up
the programming myself, or the damn shit just wouldn’t work.
Yes, I learned how to do all this stuff when I was a kid,
but at least I was never a dork-faced numbnut.
I have my own axe to grind. I’ll admit it. These BRMC
guys are coming in here to tell us how to do business, but I
already know what it’s going to take. We’ve got to get a
real internet presence and start conducting eBusiness. We
are in the Stone Age in computing terms. We have a “calling
card” kind of internet presence. We don’t have our
customers on-line for purchasing and delivery info. We
don’t try to sell our products on the net. We could be
targeting new markets. We could be moving into the 21st
Century. Instead we’re using the tried and true same old
method of doing business, while everyone else is trying
something new. Eventually we will be shit out of luck. At
least that’s my opinion.
So I’m one of the guys who are dealing with BRMC. I
have nothing else on my plate except trying to clean up half
a dozen almost completed projects that will not go live till
I have debugged them and given them a professional look.
These kids wouldn’t know a professional look if it came up
and bit them on the ass.
Deirdre Martin has the kind of voice that turns my
knees to putty. She speaks with a Southern drawl, but she
certainly has been influenced by her time in the North,
because it’s not as strong an accent as I’ve heard from
other people from Georgia. I asked where she was from when
I first heard her speak. It was a natural question. I guess
she gets it all the time, being a transplanted Southerner.
She’s been in Ohio for three or four years working for BRMC,
doing her business consulting thing.
Her voice was magic. It’s a kind of little girl’s
voice, soft and charming. There was laughter in it, and
sultry sexiness. My secretary walked into my office while I
was on the phone with Ms. Martin. She stood waiting for me
to finish.
When I hung up, I just shook my head and said, “Wow!
That woman is audibly fuckable. She has the greatest voice
I’ve ever heard. What a Southern accent! Maybe this
assignment won’t be as bad as I had thought.”
My secretary, a very nice but rather dumpy 48 year old-
mother of four shook her head at my language. “Drew, please
don’t use language like that unless you plan to back it up.
Besides, she’s probably an elderly black lady.”
“Thanks, Carol, for bursting my bubble. Well I’ll see
it when I believe it; or vice versa. This woman is going to
be a goddess. In a just universe, a voice like that would
have to be attached to a heavenly body. Please, universe.
Be just!”
Over the course of a week or two, Deirdre and I
exchanged emails, faxes, databases, spreadsheets, all the
paraphernalia that are the hallmark of the modern business
world. I even slipped in some of my own ideas about
developing an internet presence designed to keep us current
with standard business practices. I figured it wouldn’t
hurt.
We became friendly over the phone. She had a great
voice, but I never forgot that her voice belonged to a
potential enemy. Maybe a potential ally, too, and you can
never have too many allies, especially ones who are going to
have a major say in how your company is going to be run. It
was a sticky political situation. I was in a position to
push my own agenda if I were able to catch Deirdre’s ear.
Sure, I would benefit from that, but I really believe that
it’s a good course for the company to follow.
We did all of this preliminary legwork, but the real
work was to begin when Deirdre spent two to three weeks at
our plant to learn first hand how things worked and what our
methods and problems are. I was to spend two to three weeks
in a room with Deirdre. The thought occurred to me that
this could be heaven or this could be hell. What if she
doesn’t look like her voice? Well, I could live with that.
That’s only my wishful thinking at work. I really had no
reason to believe that my relationship with Deirdre Martin
was going to be anything but professional. She might be
able to help me professionally. She might be able to
emasculate me professionally. She wielded power over me.
That was an uncomfortable thought.
It was a Monday morning. I was a few minutes late (a
tractor trailer flipped over while making an exit off of the
interstate and everything was a mess – that was the story I
planned to tell). When I got in Carol told me that Deirdre
was in the conference room waiting for me. I took a deep
breath and marched to my potential fate.
Deirdre was sitting at the conference table when I
entered, and rose to greet me. I was stunned. She had
stolen Joanne Woodward’s face: the young Joanne Woodward,
the Joanne Woodward of “The Long Hot Summer”. Her hair was
short with curls: blonde. Of course she was blonde. She
wore a business suit that concealed her body effectively
except that she was obviously slim with curves, but I didn’t
care about her body. I couldn’t see her body. All I could
see were her eyes. She had these blue-green eyes: round,
innocent eyes; eyes that beckoned, invited, questioned. But
there was more. She smiled and reached out to shake my
hand. Her eyes lit up as if she had turned on a switch. I
was mesmerized! She was enchanting and I was enchanted.
And then it happened.
Our hands touched. She shook my hand in a friendly
business-like greeting, but I was suffering from sensory
overload.
I need to interject a crackpot theory I’ve been working
on. It’s a theory I developed because my most sacredly held
beliefs are now being challenged, and I need something to
meet that challenge head-on or I may see the total
destruction of my belief system.
It’s a chemistry thing. That’s what it is. It must
be; chemistry and physics, too. Electricity comes in there
somewhere. Our hands touched and it was like I had come
home. A simple hand shake, but every point of contact
seemed to be an energy source. Her skin is like velvet:
soft, very soft, smooth and tanned: velvety. Something in
her skins cells, some chemical, some DNA thing, some hormone
or whatever, attracts like-minded somethings in my skin
cells.
My theory is this: certain people are chemical
attractors to certain other people. Their body’s
chemistries are meant for each other, attract each other
like iron to a magnet: some kind of endorphin thing, maybe.
Her endorphins fit into my receptors. Something fit into my
receptors, because I was receiving big time.
That touch was the most exciting instant I had
experienced in my life. I didn’t know what had come over
me. This was a simple damn business meeting with a person
who might have life or death power over my job, and I was
acting like a love struck teenager. I could feel myself
flush. My breathing became a little labored. I was lost in
her eyes, holding her hand. Worst of all, my erection went
from 0 to 60 in five seconds. If she had been standing any
closer to me it would have knocked her over. As it is, I
think she had to jump to get out of the way.
I was in a situation here. I couldn’t seem to let go
of Deirdre’s hand. I have no idea if I was saying anything
to her or was merely making little gurgling noises in my
throat. My ears were buzzing, so I couldn’t hear much
anyway.
Deirdre gently removed her hand from mine and sat back
down. I came to my senses and took a seat opposite her at
the conference table. Checking her out I could see that she
was older. I couldn’t guess her age. She could be a mature
twenty-five or an extremely well-preserved forty. Somewhere
between 25 and 40 was my guess. She got right down to
business as if she weren’t facing a semi-crazed stranger
with an erect cock.
I could see instantly she was way out of my class. I
had absolutely no hope of getting close to this woman. She
was beautiful. She was smart. She had a big time job,
probably making four times as much as I made. She had those
eyes. But she was out of my class. I felt like the high
school nerd looking at the head cheerleader with envious
eyes, knowing that he had no chance to ever get close to
that magnificent creature.
I knew she was unattainable and that helped me regain
my self-control. Okay, I said to myself. Okay, enjoy being
around her. That’s all that can come of this. You can
spend some time with the most magnificent thing you’ve ever
been around. Just don’t get involved, because no
involvement is possible. Talk about whistling past the
graveyard.
We talked. We talked business. I had trouble
concentrating at first, but then I learned I could
effectively focus on the business information we were trying
to glean while at the same time keeping my total attention
on Deirdre. We sat there all morning talking about this
department or that, various reports that I had given her and
the meaning of some of the trends those reports highlighted.
And the whole time, through it all, I maintained a hard-on.
My face was stoic through it all. I never let my
emotions show on my face. I’ve been studying Mr. Spock
since I was a kid, and I know how to turn a Vulcan face to
things. After my first indiscretion of acting like a child
(well, a child with a hard dick) when we first met, I
thought I had done a good job of staying on task, giving her
the things she needed for her to do her job properly.
But it was hard. She was a continual distraction to my
attention. I wanted to memorize everything about her. From
her point of view, I was a little kid with a questionable
education, and maybe she was thinking that I’ve risen as
high on the corporate ladder as I was ever going to rise.
It took me a while to integrate my logical cogitations of
things into my emotional being. But I finally did it. I
finally knew deep down that she was desirable, eminently
desirable, but entirely unreachable. My entire body finally
understood that. Well, all of my body understood it except
one 8-inch tube of unquenchable lust. It just wanted to
fuck her.
Two days passed. We were making progress, but I could
tell she was getting uneasy with my distractibility. And I
had maintained an erection for the entire time she was in
the room with me. I couldn’t help it. On Tuesday and
Wednesday I wore looser fitting pants, just so it wasn’t so
obvious what was going on down there. It didn’t make any
difference. It was obvious anyway. I was hard. Nothing
could change that.
Frankly I tried to mitigate Deirdre’s effect on me by
jacking off as much as possible. Well, actually, I just HAD
to jack off or I was going to die of a terminal case of blue
balls. I jacked off before I came to work, thinking it
might take some time for me to rejuvenate. I rejuvenated in
the time it took for my eyes to take in Deirdre’s entire
body.
I want to tell you this was not fun. I was in an agony
of unfulfilled arousal. Wednesday morning was a replay of
Tuesday and Monday. I was distractible, nervous, ill at
ease, and generally doing a less than perfect job as an
interface between the company and BRMC.
Deirdre had lunch with another BRMC person who was
working in another area of our building. I sat at my desk
with a sandwich and wished I was dead.
We met again in the conference room after Deirdre had
come back from lunch. I was waiting for her when she
entered the room, sitting at a laptop trying to get some
numbers together while I was free to act outside the range
of Deirdre’s female pulchritude. She came into the
conference room, gave me a wan little smile, and then closed
and locked the door. Uh, oh, I thought. Here it comes.
She’s had the shits of me.
Deirdre looked at me, not unkindly and said, “Andrew,
we have to talk.”
Everyone calls me Drew. I guess the only person in the
world that calls me Andrew is my mother. And now Deirdre
calls me Andrew. It was one more distraction I didn’t need.
I tried to get my head together.
“What’s the problem, Deirdre?”
“Andrew would you rather not work with me? You’ve been
a bundle of nerves since Monday morning. I’ve been assured
by your business associates that you are normally a calm and
confident person. I enjoy working with you, but I get the
feeling you would rather be anywhere in the world than
here.”
I quickly shook my head. “That’s not true, Deirdre. I
enjoy working with you!” Wait a minute. Maybe I said that
a little too forcefully.
She gave another sad little smile. “We have to talk,
Andrew. I need to know what the problem is between us.
We’ve got a big job to do. There are a lot of people
depending on us. We can’t allow some small conflict between
us interfere with the progress of our project. If you don’t
like me I can deal with that. I talked to Bob Simon over
lunch, and he agreed to exchange liaison people if we feel
it necessary. Melissa Thomas could work with me, and you
could work with Bob.”
I felt a surge of panic. I was screwing this thing up
so badly that Deirdre couldn’t even work with me anymore.
That will look great on my record. Worse, it would mean I
couldn’t spend my days with Deirdre. Talk about a disaster
of biblical proportions!
“Deirdre, it isn’t like that at all. There is no one I
would rather work with than you.”
There. That didn’t sound too bad. I wasn’t falling
all over myself slobbering on her like a schoolboy. I’d
made a simple statement of fact, spoken with practically no
inflection. I wasn’t throwing myself at her. I merely was
saying that I liked working with her and would prefer to
keep it that way.
I could tell that Deirdre wasn’t buying. “What’s the
problem, then? Either you are the most nervous person I’ve
ever met, or something else is wrong. Little boy, I’m told
that nervousness isn’t your problem. So what is?”
I was in a corner, looking for a way out. Coming clean
with this woman just wasn’t an option. First, she’s way out
of my league. Second, we are business associates. Third,
there is such a thing as sexual harassment. That’s three
strikes. All I could do was look unhappy and claim that
everything was fine.
“Andrew, you’ve got to talk. I don’t want to switch
partners with Bob, but I will if I have to. This job is too
important.”
I guess I looked miserable. I said, “Deirdre, I’m
afraid that my problems aren’t work related. They have
nothing to do with the work that we are doing. They
certainly aren’t caused because I don’t enjoy working with
you. It’s just something I will have to deal with myself.”
“Now Andrew, we’ve known each other for weeks. I know
we only met in person the other day, but don’t you feel
enough confidence in me that you can let down your guard a
little? I promise that whatever you say will be held in the
strictest of confidences. I won’t hold it against you.”
I muttered “Yeah, sure.” I knew better. But what
could I do. I was damned if I did, and damned if I didn’t.
Nothing I could do or say or not do or not say would make
this situation better. It’s difficult to speak when you
know that what you say is going to make you look like a
complete jackass.
“Deirdre, I’ll talk. But I’m holding you to your word.
You said you wouldn’t hold it against me, and I’m counting
on you to mean it. I’m harmless. You’ve got to believe
that I don’t have a mean or aggressive bone in my body. I’m
not the kind of person to become fixated on another person.
I’m an easy going guy. That’s my story and I’m sticking to
it.”
Deirdre again gave that little half smile of hers.
“Okay, you’re harmless. I never thought otherwise. So
where is this leading?”
I guess the only option I had open was to tell her my
theory. “It happened when we shook hands on Monday.
Something magical happened to me. Only it wasn’t magic. I
theorize that it has something to do with your skin. I was
predisposed to react to you favorably, I’ll admit that.
“Your voice is like music. I’d been kidding around
with my secretary for weeks, wondering what kind of body
would be attached to such a voice. But I wasn’t like
obsessed with your voice or anything. I just thought it was
a fabulous, fabulous voice.
“I was excited to meet you because of that, but
otherwise I had no preconceptions about you, I had no
contingency plans in case your person lived up to the
impossibly high standards of your voice. Carol had me half
convinced that you were a sixty year-old black woman.
“And then I met you and you were beautiful. Okay, I
could deal with that, happily. It just meant that for the
next three weeks I had someone very easy on the eyes and
ears to work with. I was happy as a clam. But then you
smiled. Deirdre, your smile is unfair to men. When your
eyes lit up like they did, I was mesmerized. Don’t try to
tell me that you don’t know what I’m talking about. Men
would probably die for the opportunity to look into your
eyes. I know I would. But I could have survived even that.
It was your touch.”
“When you touched me I was a lost cause. It has to do
with your body chemistry, I think. Something in your
physical makeup fits perfectly with something in my physical
makeup, at least from my perspective.”
“It’s an addiction, I guess. Whenever I’m near you
this chemical attraction seems to take over from my normal
self. Suddenly you’re all I can think about. I’m sorry,
Deirdre. Don’t be concerned. I’m not a stalker or
anything. I may appear to be obsessed with you. I guess I
am obsessed with you.”
“But you never have to worry about me stepping outside
of ethical boundaries. I’m telling you this because you
insisted that I tell you. In a way I’m glad I told you,
because someone like you deserves to hear every day of her
life how incredible she is, how alluring, how attractive,
how totally enchanting.“
“I won’t say another word about this. You don’t have
to worry about any trouble from me. I’m a feminist, would
you believe? I’m strongly opposed to sexual harassment in
the workplace.”
“Please believe me; I never intended to make you
uncomfortable. I have no expectations whatsoever of you.
If it’s okay with you, I would like to carry on our business
as usual. I would consider it a real favor if we could just
let this whole thing fade away”, I finished desperately.
Deirdre had this enigmatic look on her face. I was
resigned to my fate, regardless. I had thrown myself on the
mercy of the court. It was out of my hands.
“Andrew, do you realize that I’m thirty-five years old?
I’m ten years older than you.”
“Deirdre, you might be a million years old. You’re
ageless, timeless. You’re the Mona Lisa. You’re Cleopatra.
If you lived forty thousand years ago, some Cro-Magnon
artisan would be carving your body into eternal stone.
Plato would have considered you the perfect model of
‘woman’, the essence to which all other women must be
compared and found wanting. Age means nothing with you.”
I had opened my mouth and all these words came pouring
out. I didn’t think them through. These were the thoughts
that had been running around my brain for three days. She
asked me to say them and I said them. If nothing else ever
came of it, at least I had my say.
I’m afraid that this wasn’t what Deirdre was expecting.
I guess maybe she thought I had a little crush on her, and
she could defuse it with a few kind words. But now she
could see that this was far more serious than she had
previously thought.
“Andrew, I’m just some old lady who, let’s be frank,
could carry a lot of clout with your employers. Is that it?
Do you think you can flatter me in order to improve your
position? Well, buster, you better believe that isn’t going
to happen.” I could see she was making herself angry.
“Hold on, Deirdre. You made me talk, remember? It
never occurred to me that you could help me if I flattered
you. I figured you could get me fired, though. That’s part
of the reason that I kept my mouth shut. The rest of the
reason is just that you’re way out of my league. You’re a
step way up in class from me. You’re that unreachable star
that people sing about. I know that to you I’m just a
little kid. If you want me to be honest with you I will.
I’m the best. I’m the best person working in this company.
I’m the only one I know who sees where we could be going.
Most of these other guys are just old farts with no vision.
I like them, don’t misunderstand me. I don’t hold them in
contempt, or anything. I just know that of the management
group here, I’m at the top. But that is damning this
company with faint praise. That’s why you guys are here.
If I’m the best, we’re in trouble.”
“I’ll admit that I’ve tried to make you aware of some
of my ideas about the company’s future. But they’re good
ideas. And I would have told them to you regardless of my
feelings for you. I would have told them to you even if you
were a sixty year-old black woman. It was just business,
not personal.”
Deirdre seemed to be at a loss for words. She said,
“Andrew, I’m a committed businesswoman. I took this job
knowing that I would be working 80 to 100 hour weeks,
traveling all over the country; staying in hotels; never
having relationships. I don’t have relationships. I don’t
have time for relationships. And I’m almost old enough to
be your mother. You’re a very sweet boy. I really like
you. I do. But I don’t have relationships.”
“Deirdre I already told you I have no expectations of
anything from you. I’ve known all along that nothing would
develop between us. You’re from an entirely different
planet from me. I can’t help my body’s reaction to you.
Believe me, if I could stop it I would. It’s a chemical
attraction that’s beyond my ability to control. “
“It’s no fun knowing that the woman of your dreams is
totally beyond your reach. I know that in a few weeks
you’ll be gone. Maybe it will assuage your ego a bit
knowing that somewhere there is a young man who loves you
passionately and forever. But nothing is expected of you,
nothing is required or requested. But let me say that there
is no way you can hide behind this age thing. I know you’re
busy. I know you are married to your job. I know that you
went to Duke and I went to East Podunk State. Tell me those
things and I’ll believe you. But don’t use age as an
excuse. It just doesn’t wash.”
Deirdre actually smiled; not a little half smile, but
one of those smiles that turns on some kind of switch and
suddenly her eyes sparkle. When she does that I’m helpless.
“I think that it would be wise for us to try to resolve
the short term situation. Our first obligation is to finish
this project on time and under budget. I’m a management
consultant. You’re a systems analyst, Andrew, between the
two of us we should be able to come up with a solution that
will make us both comfortable.”
How women can change gears like that is a mystery to
me. I’m here pouring my heart out to her and she wants to
talk business. I guess it’s her way of re-establishing
boundaries.
I didn’t know what the fuck she was thinking. I said,
“I don’t have a clue. If you can come up with some way that
we can work more smoothly together, I’m all for it.”
She nodded her head. “Good. Because I do have a
possible solution we might try. I hope you don’t find me
too blunt, Andrew, but it is fairly obvious to anyone that
you’ve spent the entire week in a state of shall I say
tenseness. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a man as tense as
you; and certainly not for as long as you’ve been tense, if
you know what I mean.”
I’m afraid I did know what she meant. I wasn’t sure
how I was supposed to respond to that. I mean, how do you
apologize for that sort of thing? Sorry, Ms. Martin that
I’ve had a hard-on for you for three days in a row. I
figure she has one of two possible responses to my
constantly engorged dick. One: she might think I am a sex
maniac who goes through life in a constant state of arousal
no matter what. Two: maybe she realizes that my condition
was directly caused by her. How would a woman respond,
knowing a man finds her constantly arousing? She might be
disgusted. But then again, a hard-on is the sincerest form
of flattery. Maybe it doesn’t hurt her ego to know that she
has it in her to make a 25 year old man almost crazy with
lust. This might have a certain appeal to her. I resolved
that henceforth I was going to be totally honest with
Deirdre. I wouldn’t hold things back for fear of whatever.
I probably will only get one shot at this, and damn it, I’ve
got to go for it.
“Can I be open with you Andrew? You’ve been honest
with me and I truly appreciate it. I can’t be in a
relationship. You know that. I never become involved, even
a little involved, with my customers. That’s just bad
business practice. The possibilities for conflict of
interest are endless. That’s a major consideration. But at
least as important, is that we need to get this project
done. We can’t be distracted by sexual tension. “
I could see where this was going. “So, what are you
trying to tell me? You’re saying that I should masturbate
to relieve the tension? Well honey, I’ve jerked off ten
times in the last two days. It doesn’t do any good. As
soon as you get close to me I have no control over how my
body responds. It responds on its own. It doesn’t ask me
what I think of the situation. I’m only along for the
ride.”
“Don’t get testy, sweetie. I wouldn’t ask you to
masturbate, and frankly I’ve already received more
information on your masturbatory life than I care to know.
I’ll tell you some unpleasant truths about myself. I never
date. Never! I haven’t been with a man in almost three
years. I miss it desperately, but I don’t have time for
relationships. It’s true. I’m alone in strange motels more
often than not. How hard would it be to walk down to the
bar, pick up some lonely businessman, and work off some
tension? That’s not who I am. Perhaps you will consider it
prudish, but I don’t do one night stands. I’ve never had
sex with a man I wasn’t at least a little in love with.
It’s not prudery, really. I just don’t enjoy sex without
love. If I need to let off some of my tension, well I can
do that very well for myself. “
“But now we’re in this situation where you are
suffering from this condition, and I feel obligated to help
relieve your suffering. What I’m saying is: how would you
feel about relieving that tension the old fashioned way?”
Her face maintained that even keel smile as if she were
asking me if I wanted a doughnut.
I on the other hand, knew that my mouth was wide open.
I slammed it shut before flies flew in.
I finally found words. “Old fashioned way? Old
fashioned way!! Yes, I would be more than willing to attempt
to relieve the tension the old fashioned way. Did you just
say that, or was I imaging things?”
Deirdre reached across the table and took my hand.
God, her hand in mine was so hot it felt like a China
syndrome meltdown. It could have burnt its way to the
center of the earth. She began speaking softly, wistfully
telling me about her feelings.
“Honey, I took this job and I never looked back. My
eyes were open. I knew what I was getting in to. But I do
miss a man. You’ve touched me somehow. It’s been a long
time since I felt attracted to a man. You seem to think
this is all one sided. It isn’t. I’m not offering myself
as some sacrifice on the altar of good consulting in order
to make our group effort improve. Frankly I could stand to
get laid. And I like you. I like you a lot. So maybe we
can give each other something. I’ve never made anyone an
offer like this before. Are you willing, or are you still
wallowing in your inferiority complex fantasy?”
What was I supposed to say? “Yes! Of course! I’ll
accept any scrap that falls from your table. I’ll hate
myself in the morning, but this thing is out of my control.”
“Okay, then. Pick me up at my hotel tonight at 7
o’clock. We’ll have dinner and then we’ll attempt to
relieve your tension. Are you okay with that, Andrew?”
“Absolutely. Whatever you want. Your every wish is my
command.”
Deirdre smiled and said, “In that case, my command is
that you relax and we get back to work.” As if.
After work I stopped at home, showered and changed,
then made my way to Deirdre’s hotel. I called her cell on
the way and she was waiting in the lobby when I arrived.
Deirdre is always lovely, but tonight was the first time I
had seen her in something other than a business suit.
I stood with my mouth opened, taking in the beauty of
the woman before I was able to croak out, “You look lovely
tonight”.
Deirdre smiled that smile that ignites a beacon in her
eyes and stepped forward to take my arm. Her hotel was in
the center of town so we strolled a couple of blocks to one
of my favorite haunts, a small Japanese restaurant that
served exquisite food in an atmosphere that suggested Japan
but didn’t hit you over the head with it. Deirdre had sushi
and assured me it was very good. I’m not a sushi kind of
guy, but was pleased she liked it. I prefer my food
cooked. Whatever, we had a wonderful time, with an
attentive but unobtrusive waiter. We drank sake and I
reveled in the chance to sit quietly with Deirdre outside
the office and just talk.
There was still tension there. When she reached out to
take my arm when I met her at her hotel, my dick sprang to
life and stayed that way through the entire evening. She
does that to me. It’s just something I’ve got to get used
to, I guess.
I loved talking to her over dinner, but was getting
very impatient by the time the waiter had asked if we were
interested in desert. She looked over the desert menu for a
second, then looked me in the eye as she said to the waiter,
“No thank you. We have something else planned for desert
tonight.”
When the waiter brought the check I didn’t give him a
chance to leave me with the bill and then pick it up later.
The money was flying from my pocket and Deirdre and I were
flying down the sidewalk almost immediately. I was
practically dragging her back to her hotel. I was desperate
for her.
We were barely into her room when I pushed her against
the wall and kissed her for the very first time. I wanted
it to be a tender loving kiss; a kiss to convey the depth of
my feelings for Deirdre. But I couldn’t do it that way. My
tongue plunged down her throat. My body pressed against
hers, my hands roaming. I began to ravage her. I worked at
removing her clothes. I couldn’t get them off fast enough.
In my dreams my lovemaking with Deirdre was gentle,
adoring, romantic. I would hold her lovely face in my hands
and kiss those sweet lips. Reality changed everything.
I had her naked. I finally got a chance to see her
lovely nudity. But I barely noticed. I was tearing my own
clothes off so fast I’m lucky they are still intact. I had
to have her. I had to have her right now!
I hurried her to her bed, laid her down. She reached
to me with welcoming arms. I wanted to hold her and whisper
sweet nothings into her ears. I wanted to slowly explore
her body from top to bottom. I wanted this to be an
experience she could never forget. That’s what I wanted.
Instead I practically raped her. My cock found her
center and forced itself into her. I was out of my mind. I
fucked that beautiful woman. I was brutal. I pulled out,
plunged in. Harder and harder I drove. She just laid there
and took it. I could see I was overwhelming her. I wanted
to slow down and take it easy. I wanted to. I couldn’t. I
hammered into her over and over again. It was a driving,
plundering, thoughtless taking of her.
I was like the first australopithecine male who
discovered pair bonding. I was possessing her with my cock,
marking her with my seed. I was shouting from my soul that
this woman belongs to me and nobody else!
I was hammering my cock into her helpless pussy,
brutally assaulting this bewitching creature. She tried to
protest initially. I heard her say, “No, wait. Ouch, it
hurts. No. No. Oh my God! Oh my God. Oh God! Oh GOD!”
Soon she stopped talking and seemed to grunt each time
my cock slammed into her. She seemed to be screaming from
time to time, I’m not sure. Then she was just making noises
that didn’t seem to mean anything, little gurgling sounds
coming from deep within her throat.
I have no idea how long this lasted. My penis was like
a piece of steel. I fucked her and fucked her and fucked
her; harder and harder and harder. Suddenly a bolt shot
through me like an electrical shock. My dick swelled within
me and I was hosing the inside of Deirdre’s pussy with my
seed, pumping time and again, deep within her. I was
screaming. Deirdre was screaming. It was primal lust.
Then it was over. I slowly came to my senses. I was
lying on top of Deirdre. She had her eyes open, looking off
to the side of the room, saying nothing, appearing to be
dazed. I suddenly realized that I had blown it. I had the
opportunity of a lifetime handed to me and I let my raw lust
overcome my common sense.
I was very upset. I tried to explain it to her.
“Deirdre, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to do that to you. I
dreamed of making love to you, tenderly, lovingly. I had no
intention of fucking your brains out. I’m sorry, Deirdre.
God, I hope I didn’t hurt you. Are you all right?”
I think Deirdre suddenly realized that I was talking to
her. “What? Am I all right? Certainly I’m all right. Why
shouldn’t I be?”
“Deirdre, I’m sorry for being so rough, for ignoring
your needs. I’ve always been a considerate lover.
Something came over me tonight. I’m not like that. Won’t
you tell me what you’re thinking?”
“Why, Andrew, I’m not thinking anything. I have no
brains.”
And then she laughed.