Life as Story Pt. 01

Her stiff nipples attested to her words. I reached for the bottle and spilled a lot of the oil all over her chest and fought to calm my nerves. Then I reached for the towel and placed it over her forehead and eyes, "I don't want you looking at me while I leer at your body."

Her lips turned into a smile. "You're good at this, Johnny."

I slathered oil all over her breasts and lightly pressed into them, feeling their softness, watching them change shape with my pressure. "Don't call me Johnny, no one calls me Johnny."

"Is it getting to you?"

"I've barely even touched a woman before, now I'm discovering every secret of their geography, what do you think?"

"I think I'm developing a plan."

"What kind of plan?"

She abruptly changed the subject. "I saw Patricia this morning. She called me, asked me over for coffee. I went ... to her place."

She just left it there ... as bait. But I didn't bite, I wanted to, obviously, but I didn't, I reluctantly left her amazing soft and pliable breasts (while thinking, what a burden to have to lug them around all day ... like walking in high heels or always having to carry a purse). I leaned over her and went down her rib cage. The woman actually has a fantastic body, not just because of her breasts, it has a far more youthful quality to it than mine, as if there was some vestigial youth left in it, a physical vibrancy that doesn't show up at all in her emotionally. Maybe it was this left-over youthfulness that stokes her fires; there has to be some reason that sex still matters so much to her. Or is it an obsession?

She was reading my thoughts, just like her daughter always does. "'Use it or lose it' ... I heard that a long time ago, the way it applies to sex. She said that if I didn't use my body it would just dry up. She told me to look around, you can tell which women are still having it, not just allowing their husband to do it to them but actually having fun with it. I decided then that I wanted to be one of those women, that's what got me started on having sex with myself so much. Now I kind of need it, I certainly want it, not necessarily with myself but if that's all that's on offer I can make do with it. She, Patricia, should have had someone tell her that a long time ago. She's pretty much a wasteland, or that's what she calls herself, a sexual wasteland. Her husband moved on long go ... to guys — she followed him once to a truck stop and saw him meet a guy. We masturbated together this morning, she and I. I loaded up some porn on her computer, we stripped and I showed her every trick I have, told her about various toys and helped to bring her off, the first true orgasm she's had in almost 40 years she said. Can you believe that? I can't go two days without one, or don't like to."

"So that's why you like sex so much, because you've decided to use it not lose it ... to make a habit out of it?"

"I guess I have, ya, not just doing it but thinking about it a lot; I love thinking about sex. I shouldn't tell you this but at the store all the people I deal with, mainly women, I speculate about them to break up the boredom, I'm always doing that, it's one of the main reasons I like dealing with people ... the speculation — it's fun; it's what keeps me interested: are they timid or eager; is it duty or fun; what do they like to do ... kink, that kind of things ... and what do they look like, in the nude and in the throes."

When I raked my fingers into her pubic hair I could hear a slight sigh and her chest heaved a little. "Do you speculate about men, too?" I asked.

"No, I just assume they want what the woman will let them have."

I was finding her admissions wonderfully erotic. "OK, so you've got a woman shopper, what do you do? How do you go about your speculations?" I edged a finger further into her sparse pubic hair and felt a wonderful jolt at the invasion.

She sighed again and opened her legs just a little more. "We all exude our willingness; it's not always accurate, I know, but we wear our willingness as a badge; I never have a hard time figuring them out — I've been speculating about them for so long I think I just know. I like to try to imagine how sex started for them, how it's going, how much cheating they do, the lingerie they buy, the sex toys they have — that kind of thing, and I try to imagine their one big sexual encounter ... how it defines them to themselves — I think we all have that one moment when our sexuality is shaped ... we get closed down or opened up or we assign ourselves to a routine, a lack of adventure. I know this sounds a little nuts ... this speculating about what women are doing ... Clair thinks it's totally nuts, but it's fun, the intimacy is wonderfully engaging and it lets me know a little about the women I'm dealing with, certainly far more than if I didn't do it ... and, as I said, it's great at breaking up the boredom."

I moved around so I could more easily access her vagina and I rubbed my thumb up and down her clitoris. I was looking for something to say but nothing came to mind — I was thinking that I had never once speculated on anyone's sexuality, not once when, suddenly, her fingers were on my belt and in a minute she had my pants down and my erection in her mouth. Her eyes were opened wide searching mine for a reaction.

I pushed my pants and underwear down and kicked them off then I bent down so I could see her clitoris through the hair and the folds of skin, it was awkward but I managed, feeling myself strain in her mouth. Where they huge and ugly, the labia? No, they were large flaps of skin falling a little out of her; they were oddly dark coloured with a fringe of black on the edges like her daughter's — I made a note to ask her if they fall like, says, breasts fall. The clitoris did surprise me; it looked a lot like a little penis and that kind of excited me; I had a flashback to the only penis I had ever sucked and went down on this one, I had to pull myself from her mouth to suck it but I couldn't resist, then I couldn't resist moving to the bottom of the table and bending in, holding the little penis in my fingers as I licked and sucked on it.

She is expressive, she leaves nothing to doubt ... the noises, she has a range of them and the humping, the woman is encouraging.

She was grinning and humping my face as I sucked the little cock. "That's another thing about the 'use it or lose it thing,'" she said, a little out of breath. "When you've been using it, you've been drawing on all kinds of thoughts and images — all those women for instance. It never takes me long to cum." No, I could tell, her juices were flowing, her little erection was rock hard, she rhythmically forced her pussy at my mouth. "I know women who can go at themselves for hours and never get off. If I'm in the right frame of mind, and I can get myself there really easily, I can cum in minutes ... I'll show you."

The face was all concentration now and the humping more rhythmically insistent as she proved her point with a long series of wonderfully melodious cries then she grabbed my wrist and pulled me around and I was in her mouth again, this time she had turned on her side, allowing me access to her breasts and she really went at it, stopping for a few moments to tell me she was probably lousy at it because she hadn't had much practise in a long time, she'd get better. I warned her; she ignored my warning.

We were up in the bathroom just about to take a bath when she faced me. "Did you enjoy that, the massaging, did you like your fingers on me?"

"What do you think?" The question didn't deserve an answer.

"So you'd like to do it again?"

I just snickered.

"Would you like to do it to other women, Patricia, for instance? I could ask her."

One of my strengths has always been my ability to focus, maybe that's because I had so little going on in my life outside of work. When I was married I always delayed going home for as long as I could, I just stayed at the office and worked. When my wife died the only reason to go home, as minimal as it was, died also.

But these days my focus has been wandering, really ever since Clair moved in. And wandering in troubling ways. I have always instinctively admired, while not understanding, women, as I've said. Now, thanks mainly to Clair, I have started to get curious about them: women I had known for a long time and knew well, at least in a business setting, I was starting to take a prurient interest in. And do you know what? My invasive mental intrusions have enriched my day, I am appalled to admit it but they have. What colour underwear did they have on? That's how it started, I didn't dwell on it or anything, I didn't stare at them wondering but it did flit through my mind, fleetingly at first then I'd imagine the bodies that never used to register with me ... in their underwear, in their bras — I was imagining and it titillated the hell out of me. But I wasn't feeling very good about it or about myself. Was it wrong? Well, I was causing no harm, but it didn't seem very ... wholesome.

Does he talk to Sally about this???

I was in a meeting when I got a call from Clair mid-afternoon. I 'had to' meet her at 5 o'clock at a downtown address she gave me, then, Clair being Clair, she hung up. I was annoyed the first time she did this to me, really annoyed but I'm not now, I expect it, in fact it's much worse than that. At a time when I am speculating on what kind of underwear my staff is wearing I'm revelling in finally having a relationship where I'm being pushed around. I think I'm finally understanding the father-daughter thing where the father is wrapped around the little darling's fingers. I liked it. I like it a lot. I like it a whole lot.

The address was right in the heart of an old section of the city that was in the process of being heavily renovated. I got lucky with parking; knowing I would be on time, something she never is, she was waiting out front in the street and without saying a thing — she absolutely loves drama, she led me up a flight of stairs into what was obviously a newly refurbished apartment, big and old looking, like it was a rehabilitated floor of an old mansion. Sally was standing in the middle of the room talking to Susan. I sized it up immediately: Clair and Susan had found a new place. I immediately felt a pang of suspicion that I was somehow going to be footing the bill ... the thought strangely thrilled me.

"Well?" Clair said impatiently, as if I was being slow in recognizing how important this was to her. I took my time and looked around, poking my head into a couple of the rooms before pronouncing that I liked it, and I did, it was a bit lavish but would be perfect for them, assuming they really were going to be together and assuming they had this kind of money — everything seemed to be really high end.

There are various ways to get over shock. One of the most tried and true is booze. I found a bar a few doors down and told Clair and Susan I wanted to be alone with Sally — Clair argued of course but not very hard.

We didn't talk while we waited for our drinks — I had ordered two beers for myself because I knew I'd need a fast fix. I had kept my cool, I've always been a pretty good negotiator but usually that was because I had made myself aware of all the variables. It wasn't the case this time.

"Do you seriously expect me to go for this?" I finally said, after a long swallow.

"No, Clair did ... but I want it ... you know that ... it's in the story."

"A lot of things are in that story."

"Ya, things we want to do together that will bring us the happiness neither of us has ever had — that was the theme, wasn't it? This is just one of the elements."

"Ya, but a huge one, it means I have to sell my house."

"And what's that to you?" She said, combatively. "It's filled with nothing but lousy memories and it's way too big, especially for a single lonely guy."

"Two stores?"

"I'm not going to sit around in that condo waiting for you to come home. I've always worked; I've always wanted to own my own shops; a cafe would be perfect."

"And a sauce shop?"

"Don't play with me. If you're going to say no, say no."

"And?"

"And nothing. You know what I want now, if you don't want it that's the way things go. We can tear up that story."

When I drank from the bottle I realized it was empty, like the other one. I turned and signalled to the server then looked back at her trying to read her. I didn't know her, obviously, but I did trust her, I don't know why but I did. "Obviously, if I take this deal I take you into my life."

"Obviously."

"And you want that?"

"Obviously. I think I've made that perfectly clear."

"You've known me less than a week."

"Clair has known you long enough. She thought you'd be perfect for me sight unseen. I agree."

The beer wasn't on the table two seconds before I had it in my hand. "You expect me to make a decision now?"

"Soon, the place is going to go fast, I told them to hold it until Monday." She picked up her purse. "Talk to your lawyer, your financial advisor, your life coach, whoever. Let me know. I find it a bit humiliating throwing myself at a guy, maybe it's because I'm just not used to it. The girls will be waiting for me." She put the keys on the table. "See you at home ... at your house. We're supposed to be at the party by 9, I thought we might like to go out to dinner first. Maybe not."