Ladies’ Day – a little taster.

Posted on November 23, 2012 by lorelei

Update 2019: This short story has been unpublished some years ago, but it does form the basis of my novella, Beautiful Stranger, so I’m leaving this taster up, because in some form or other, it’s still relevant.

Why not get a little taste of it from the short except below:

“Excuse me, where’s your bathroom?” His call is coming from the back door.

“Oh please come in, it’s just over there…” I point at the door leading off the hallway.

Still the contrast between us is startling to me, he looks like everything I am not in his formals which probably cost more than my car is worth. At the same time I – at 25 – still dress like I did as a teenager, faded jeans and inappropriately tight t-shirts. The only “fancy” clothes I own are worn exclusively to job interviews and then too they’re Primark or at a stretch Next. You could mistake me for a simple idealist, not moved by worldly possessions, when in fact I am just a bit stingy and lazy.

But strangely, he looks at home, walking over the terracotta tiles and towards the door I’ve just shown him. Taking in the decor, glancing at the eclectic mix of paintings and photographs on my walls on his way. Like he is meant to be here, in my house. I try and shake off that thought. He’s just some stranger and I’m an idiot for doing this.

The ping of the oven timer brings me back to reality and I pile all the food, plates and cutlery high onto a tray, and head back out. After I’ve arranged everything on the wooden table and make another trip for the cushions, a water jug and the aforementioned cheap wine, he comes back out as well.

“Oh you didn’t need to…” He says, smiling at me. Looking at him now, more relaxed and at ease, I feel like I’m getting a hint of his usual demeanor. Charismatic is probably the best word for it. Like he should be a politician, but still strangely genuine and trustworthy.

“I sort of did, I’m starving,” I respond, “and Dominos doesn’t deliver here.”

He lets out a laugh while sitting down on the bench beside me. Thankfully it’s large and sturdy, quite over spec for my usual needs as a single woman.

“I wasn’t sure what you’d like,” I point at the food, wine and water, “unless you want coffee or tea, I can do that too.”

“Yeah, I don’t tend to drink much, is it that obvious?” He smiles again. My heart is pounding in my chest; I can’t get over how handsome he is, by body language perhaps even more so than simply looks.

“Well, whatever you need, just ask.” My eyes are drawn towards his, in this light they seem more turquoise than blue. He holds my gaze just a little longer than strictly necessary before picking up the wine and corkscrew.

“I suppose one glass won’t hurt. I promise I don’t feel ill anymore.” He doesn’t look it either, must be the fresh air.

“Don’t be so sure, you haven’t tried it yet. It’s probably nowhere near the quality you’re used to.” I say, still mesmerised by his eyes.

He grins at me. “Everything is only as good as the company it’s enjoyed in.”

I feel the corners of my mouth curl up practically by themselves, this is a game I know how to play.

“Well, and what do you know about current company other than that I was overly keen to get my hands on your car keys?”

“Firstly, you took a huge risk trying to help out a complete stranger,” winking at me, he adds, “car keys or no car keys.”

I take the glass of wine he has poured for me.

“Furthermore, I don’t recall the last time anyone has made an effort putting together a meal for me…” His gaze wanders out over the field again.

“Fine, if you say so,” I say, “but for all you know I could be a psychopath, only pretending to be friendly.”

He looks back at me again, the amused glint in his eyes reappearing. “So could I.”

“Cheers,” I say, raising my glass towards him, “to us, pretending to be friendly.”

We both take a sip, stealing little looks at each other in turn.

Growing up and other embarrassments

Posted on November 22, 2012 by lorelei

For some reason I’ve been looking back on my teenage years lately. My poor mom had her hands full, raising a volatile rebellious version of me by herself and I certainly did not make it easy for her. She never fully knew what I was up to, until years later (over a glass or two of wine) I answered some of her more prying questions. But I suppose the things she did get wind of, were probably stressful enough at the time.

My top 5 classic Teenage moments:

1. Sex Ed.

I suppose I was about 13 when our school had a 2 day special Sex education programme. Many topics were discussed in a typical European manner; one where children are encouraged to be open and honest, the aim being to instill tolerance for all things different. After a particularly long discussion in class about what we can and cannot discuss with our parents, I felt liberated. Plus I was already quite rebellious with a “don’t give a fuck what anyone thinks” attitude. Upon coming home, I decided to strike up a conversation.

“Mom, if I was a lesbian, what would you say?”

“What am I supposed to say. You are what you are.”

“Wouldn’t you mind?”

“No. Why are you asking?”

“Oh we had this discussion thing in school. About tolerance and stuff.”

….

“Mom, what do you think about oral sex?”

*spluttering, coughing noise*

“Err, you’re too young!”

“Yeah ok, but do you think it’s right or wrong?”

*awkward silence*

“Well, would you do it?”

*Mom turns bright red*

“That’s something everyone should decide for themselves.”

I never got my answer….

2. Extra-curricular Activities

I grew up in a small, boring town with about 100,000 inhabitants. As a result the town centre was particularly unexciting and had a poor selection of shops. But when I was 14 or 15, something exciting opened up, just a bit outside the normal shopping zone. Just a bit further from view, but it didn’t go unnoticed. Something with shiny latex outfits in the window, yet minus the seedy neon “Sex shop” sign.

Due to the lacklustre shopping avenues in our home town, of course us teenage girls would often take a train to a larger city nearby to do our shopping. One where dimly lit “Sex Shops” were nothing unusual. Those were scary looking from the outside though, the windows were darkened so you couldn’t look inside. And until you’d set foot in one you wouldn’t know what was in there.

So I’d never been in one.

This new, bright and airy shop with the kinky clothes was different and not so scary at all. Basically like Ann Summers in the UK, an entirely new concept to me at the time.

After noticing this shop on a previous trip to the town centre. One day I waited until the street was empty and ventured inside. I was a naive teen and a virgin. And I came home with my first little vibrator (the big ones just seemed physically impossible). Once I had paid I excitedly took the opaque plastic bag I was handed with this much coveted possession and left the shop. I was so over the moon that it didn’t bother me much that a builder loitering outside made a particularly rude remark. Not bothering with a comeback, I simply gave him the finger and walked off smiling.

3. My 12th Birthday.

Not quite teenage, granted. But the story fits in as being fairly embarrassing.
Let me start by saying my mother wasn’t a nudist; far from it. But I wasn’t brought up to be ashamed of nudity either and it wasn’t until I hit puberty that I had any issues changing in front of her, and vice versa. So yes, this may seem shocking to some people but I’ve seen my mother naked. But during the previous few months something else new did happen. Mom had started dating. For the first time since my dad passed when I was just a toddler, it wasn’t just us girls.

On the morning of my 12th Birthday:

“Happy birthday, darling. What would you like for breakfast?”

“Meh.”

“What’s wrong, why so grumpy?”

“You woke me, you know.”

*Mom giving me the WTF raised eyebrow look*

“You, and your boyfriend! I woke up and heard something really weird. It was freaking me out. Like sort of howling.”

*Mom turning pink*

“I got up to figure out where the racket was coming from, opened your door…”

*awkward silence*

“How could you! On MY birthday!”

That morning, after the first time her boyfriend spent the night, I discovered that my mother is a screamer. And my biggest worry was that she had disturbed my sleep on my birthday.

4. Stern instruction

I was a bit of a late bloomer when it came to boys. Apparently being a Goth was a fairly effective form of contraception in my school. My first boyfriend therefore didn’t go to my school at all. In fact he wasn’t in school anymore. And he wasn’t in the same country either.

I had an internet relationship with a guy 6 years older than me starting at age 15. When I was 16, he finally visited. Bearing in mind that I had just picked him up at the airport by myself, by train, and we’d spent about 1 hour face to face in total, coming home to face my mother was frankly the least of my worries. (Just to clarify; yes she knew and she agreed that he could stay. Us Europeans are cool that way.)

So while she offered him tea, he went to unpack his stuff to take out the various gifts and things he had brought for me. Some of it was clothes, prompting mom and him both to cheer: “Try it on! Try it on!”.

No sooner had I stepped out of the living room and closed the door in order to change in the hallway, I hear mom put on the distinctive voice she uses when she’s trying to be an authority figure.

“Please, whatever you do, use a condom!”

“Err.. Ma’m.. we’re not..”

“Whatever, use a condom. I do not want my daughter pregnant. She’s only 16.”

I nearly died laughing in the hallway.

At that point, we hadn’t even had our first kiss.

5. Busted

So as you’ve already read above. I had decided at around 15, that I wanted to try out vibrators. I was exploring my body and I really wanted to give myself an orgasm. One vibrator wasn’t quite enough, because it was a fairly simple one. I especially went back to the same shop and had them order one in that was different, waterproof.

I anyway love to take long showers, that day it was even longer. I experimented and did my best with the new toy. I didn’t quite cum but it was interesting. I vowed to try that again until I would succeed.

Later that same evening the conversation went something like this:

“May I make a request.” *grumpy expression*

“What, mom?”

“Don’t leave your… THINGS… in the shower.”

“What?”

“Your thing. Your fake PENIS.”

“Oh.”

The Amazon Free Promotion Experiment

Posted on November 2, 2012 by lorelei

My last blog post, for those who read it, already announced that I have self published my first ever work on Amazon. For better of for worse I opted to enroll in KDP Select which means I can choose to give away the ebook for free during 5 days in each given 6 month period.The downside is I am locking myself into an agreement to exclusively sell on Amazon, and not on any other ebook market places such as Smashwords, Apple iBooks, etc.

Now, obviously I’d prefer people to buy it so I get paid royalties, but I have read on other author’s blogs that a free promotion can do wonders for future book sales. So I thought I’d give it a go.

For 24 hours yesterday, my ebook, “Ladies’ Day” was available for free on Amazon Kindle. Now I was planning to be very productive and promote this fact on Facebook and Twitter, and also on this blog, but it didn’t quite work out that way.

Instead of waking up fresh and ready to spam the internet, I woke up with a terrible sinus headache and opted to stay in bed all day. I didn’t post a single link to my book page, didn’t tell a soul that it would be free for 24 hours. Though not ideal, at least I figure this free promotion can serve as a benchmark for any future marketing I do. And for the benefit of other self publishing authors out there, I decided to publish my figures for what might happen when you give away an erotic story (normal price $0.99 or so) without doing a single bit of promotion for it.

Downloads:
Amazon.com – 87
Amazon.co.uk – 33 (one of these was me)
Amazon.de – 11
Amazon.fr – 1

Rankings:
No idea what it was like yesterday but this morning I was ranked 98 in the Amazon.co.uk Free Bestsellers within the Erotic fiction category. My book was nowhere to be found in the Amazon.com bestseller list. This tells me that potentially the market for Erotica in the UK is very small, if I can make it into the top 100 with only 33 downloads.

Reviews / Likes:
I don’t see any discernible increase in Likes on my book, but then I haven’t really been keeping tabs a lot on how many likes I had before. There have been no reviews.

Verdict:
I have no idea yet if this was worth it. But it seems once you start giving stuff away for free, someone or other will notice and download it. This alone is quite promising. I’ll have to assume that at least some of the people who got a free copy will read it, at least in part. And just maybe they’ll later be inclined to leave a review, even if it’s negative.

On the other hand, the next time I do a free promotion, I hope to actually manage to plaster my link all over Facebook/Twitter and maybe websites that list free ebooks. And if I do that, I should be able to see fairly easily if the downloads I’m getting are similar to these current figures, or if there will be a visible increase in downloads due to the social marketing efforts I’ll be putting in.

2 Weeks later:
Although of course I was very pleased that I managed relatively many downloads with zero promotion, it’s the commercial results that count. To be honest there haven’t been any that I could find.

No reviews as a result of the free promotion.
No increase in sales that could be attributed to the free promotion.

Next time I give away my book for free and actually advertise that fact, I’ll write another post which should show a dramatic difference in exposure and hopefully an increase in sales by the end of it.

Oral Sex & Hygiene

Posted on October 8, 2012 by lorelei

Somehow I feel compelled to write about this topic today. Not sure if it will turn into a rant or what, but a quick Google search revealed that I am not alone with my, shall we say, “concerns”.

Firstly, let me explain my position on oral sex. I am not very fussed about it myself, it feels nice but it doesn’t make me cum. But, I am extremely conscious that I make sure things are clean and in order before anyone goes near there with their mouth. As in – I don’t mind sex during that time of the month, but I don’t want anyone licking stuff I wouldn’t want to taste back if I get a kiss afterwards. If I have any doubts, I’ll have a quick clean beforehand or refuse and suggest something else instead.

Even though I don’t quite see the attraction in receiving oral for anything other than a warm up to the main event, I understand that most men love getting it. I’ve never had any complaints about technique or anything, perhaps I had watched enough porn before attempting it for the first time to know roughly what to do. I don’t mind giving head, but I have serious issues when it comes to personal hygiene.

I’ve tried the whole wipe-it-down-with-a-wet-cloth-beforehand routine. It doesn’t work. Neither does rinsing it under warm water for a bit. I don’t know if it’s a circumcised vs. uncircumcised issue but somehow no matter how hard I try to put it out of my mind, when I try giving head, it tastes of urine.

It’s not that he doesn’t shower, and he has even started to wipe off any stray drops after taking a wee but somehow it doesn’t seem to help. Always after a blow job I just have this aftertaste in the back of my throat that seems to find its way into my nose and doesn’t go away for at least half an hour. And I particularly dislike if he pulls back his foreskin wanting me to lick his head directly. Even though it looks clean, it smells pretty bad. I don’t think I’m very fussy, I don’t mind tasting a bit of sweat, or even swallowing.

I just mind that public toilet smell.

I guess it’s more difficult keeping it clean, but it just irks me that for noticing it, I’m apparently picky. Because this never used to be an issue. I have two theories about that. Firstly, apparently when you’re super aroused you are less likely to find things off putting. In the beginning of our relationship we were absolutely crazy which may have caused me not to really notice these things.

But my second theory is probably more viable (and less insulting): We were in Asia, where he didn’t use toilet paper but instead washed after going to the toilet. Perhaps it was just cleaner that way?

Well anyway. I guess I’m just a bit annoyed. I know what I smell like and base my decision on whether or not to agree to oral on that knowledge and I wish others were as self aware. Judging from what I found googling the topic of urine smell during oral I have come across entire discussions of women noting the same thing. And surprisingly a lot of men who think wiping their dicks instead of a halfhearted shake or two is gay. All I can say to that is if you’re happy leaving drops of piss all over your underwear all day, don’t expect more than a handjob.

But if he’s making an effort keeping things clean, why the hell does the smell not go away?

At Last They Meet

Posted on October 1, 2012 by lorelei

OK, I admit, I skipped some parts of the story, but writing this passage got me so excited I simply had to share it. Read The Job Interview and First Day at Work first for a little introduction into the characters.

I’m half asleep, nearly swallowed up by the massive sofa and no longer really registering the blue flicker of the TV, when I hear the doorbell. I glance at the clock, 1 am, who’s at the door at fucking 1am?

I get up to check, smoothing down my pjs as best I can but I know I look like I’ve just woken up. Well tough, whoever it is will just have to deal with it if they’re going to come to my place this late.

I open the door slightly with the chain on, and catch a glimpse of John. I immediately close the door again to open the chain and open wide to let him in. He looks upset, the smell of booze hangs around him.

“What the fuck, Cath!” He’s slurring his words. “Why? Why do you toy with me?”

“Umm, not sure what you’re talking about, John” I step back, giving him space to enter.
He staggers into the kitchenette and leans on the counter, his head hanging down. What’s made him so upset?

“What do you mean, toy with you?” I ask.

“You know, acting all nice. If I didn’t know any better I’d think you were dropping hints. You think you’re the first to do this? You think I’d fall for it? And then you leave me this..” He shows me the crumpled up piece of paper in his hand. The note I’d left in his bag earlier that day.

“Fall for what?” I ask, while putting my hand on his arm. He flinches as soon as I touch him.

“This, what the fuck is this?” He gestures down at my hand, then looks at me. His expression is wild, angry, yet the anger does not extend to his eyes. “It might not be a big deal to you, just a gesture, but don’t you understand… this drives me crazy!”

“Oh but it is a big deal to me.” I whisper.

“And I know, that sooner or later, when I can’t take it anymore, and I want more,” he continues to rant, “it’ll be like I’m fucking 15 all over again. If you are actually as nice as you pretend to be, you’ll let me down easy – say you just wanna be friends…”

He is looking down at the floor again, I can see tears in his eyes. I can’t believe it, he actually likes me that way. All this time it had felt like I was talking to a wall, like nothing I did could make him notice me as anything other than a colleague. But he had noticed, and misunderstood me completely.

“John,” I say, while taking his face in my hands. “You don’t understand.” I can feel tears welling up in my eyes too as I look at his troubled expression, but his gaze evades mine. I stand up on my toes, our faces only inches apart now. “I’ve had a crush on you since I first saw you…”

His eyes widen in disbelief, and our lips meet in a near perfect first kiss. Hesitant and gentle, his lips so soft against mine it makes me ache for more. One tear is started to run down my face as I kiss him, I drink in his scent, although masked by how much he’s had to drink, I can still taste him. My hands have moved on, fingers running through his hair and pulling him down into me. He is starting to react, returning my kisses, until we’re both equally breathless. I coax his lips open more, allowing my tongue to find his, dancing around it. While our tongues meet, it’s as if the floodgates open inside of me, releasing all the desire I had locked up inside. Blood rushes outwards from my core into even the farthest parts of my body until even my fingertips are buzzing. His large, strong hands find their way onto my back. He holds me so tightly against him. I can feel his warm body crushing against me and it drives me wild with pleasure. I’d been dreaming of this moment so many times and it does not disappoint. I take a step back, and he abruptly releases me.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…” he stammers.

I shake my head and smile, and pull him towards the sofa by his hand.

“I’m not sorry,” I say, pushing him down, “I’ve been wanting to do this for so long…”

The disappointment that had appeared in his eyes is replaced by surprise again. I kneel next to him on the sofa, leaning in for another kiss. The excitement inside me is growing with every shallow breath I take and I can tell I’m having a similar effect on him. I keep losing myself in the moment, the only thing reminding me this isn’t just a dream is when I manage to open my eyes every so often and see is face right in front of mine. He’s here with me, finally, I can hardly believe it. His eyes seem to be losing focus, as though the long day as well as the drink is catching up with him.

“You look knackered,” I say, while tracing the tired lines under his eyes. “Here.”

I hand him the nearly full glass of water that has been sitting on the coffee table for the better part of the evening.

While watching him drink, and in spite of the fire he stirred in me I can feel how exhausted I am myself. He’s here now. We have nothing but time, and I’d rather have him sober before we do anything else.

To find out what happens next, take a look at Morning After.

Kinks & Fantasies 2 – Food

Posted on September 28, 2012 by lorelei

It is a well known fact that some foods are considered to work as aphrodisiacs; Oysters or chocolate for example. I’ve never tried oysters so I cannot comment on them but like most women I am a firm believer that chocolate can at least cause happiness, if not arousal. Really though, there is more to food than just the way certain items are meant to affect us physically. I’ve not chosen my pen name without reason, I am a hedonist indeed. I seek pleasure and food can be oh so good at delivering just that.

Have you ever eaten something so lush and tasty, that it left you speechless? That you sat still, eyes glazed over, with the spoon still in your hand in mid air, savouring the moment? Whether jokingly or otherwise, certain foods can actually be “better than sex” or at least as good as. But how good would it be to combine the two?

I’m not sure our brains really differentiate between different types of pleasure. And when arousal heightens our senses, what would be better than to stimulate our taste buds as well.

Sometimes I fantasise about becoming a living buffet. Laying out delicious foods over my naked body in a flattering and tempting manner. Rather than wear pretty underwear to keep some of the mystery alive, I could use lusciously rich icing, piped over myself in an intricate pattern, covering my nipples instead as a tastier alternative to pasties. I’d lie back, waiting to be discovered, hoping he’s hungry for the Belgian chocolates I’ve stuck against me with more icing just circling around my belly button. Wishing he will enjoy the process of discovering my exposed body underneath the tasty treats. And hopefully receiving the benefits of his increased pleasure after reaching a chocolate and sugar high from licking me clean of icing.

Who’s hungry?

First Day at Work

Posted on September 20, 2012 by lorelei

This is part two in a longer story, please read The Job Interview first.

For these past two weeks it seemed as though time was moving at a crawl. The job promises to be the usual 9-to-5 drudgery but I can hardly contain my excitement. The reason is of course the prospect of working with Jonathan, I wonder if my memory could be deceiving me. I suppose I’ll find out soon enough if he’s really as gorgeous as I recall.

My buzzing phone brings me back to reality. A text message from my best friend, Jase. “Best of luck, girl. Go kick some ass!”

It makes me smile. Of course he remembered, I haven’t been able to shut up about this job ever since the interview. Well, not about the job, but about the guy. Same thing really.

Now, what to wear… After pulling out nearly half the contents of my wardrobe and dumping it on the bed I settle on a slightly too tight plum pencil skirt and a cowl neck black pullover. A tad more conservative than my usual style, but I wouldn’t want to fall foul of any yet to be discovered dress code. Plus there is still that sleazy idiot, Dick Porter to contend with. A pair of back seam tights and heels should do nicely to keep things interesting.

I’m 15 minutes early coming out of the elevator at my new office. Most of the desks are still empty, as is the office in the corner. I’m guessing Dick doesn’t take punctuality to extremes himself. Good.

I hesitate a bit on the office floor, looking around for any familiar faces. Sharon – Dick’s assistant – is just now walking into the office as well. She is quite imposing, a bit taller than me and slightly heavier build as well as impeccably dressed. There appears to be an air of self importance surrounding her, but I don’t want to judge too quickly and give her a friendly smile.

“Hello, I’m Cath. We met two weeks ago when I came in for my interview. Today is my first day..”

“Oh yes, Catherine. Richard isn’t in yet, he’ll be here at nine. Why don’t you take a seat over there -“ Her tone sounds authoritative but polite. “- and make yourself comfortable.” She gestures towards the right side of the office where I already expected to be sitting.

“Thanks,” I mutter while looking around anxiously for Jonathan. There is a backpack lying on what I remember to be his desk but he’s not around. So I put my stuff on the desk right next to him and sit down to wait. If there was any way I could be more nervous than I already had been since last night, now would be the time.

“Hi.” His baritone voice behind me makes me jump up instantly. It sounds pleasantly warm but slightly raspy as though he’s fighting a cold.

“Err, Hi. I’m Cath Davies. I mean my full name is Catherine but nobody actually calls me that. They tell me I’m going to be working with you…” I babble, my nerves already getting the better of me. I look at his face while offering my hand to greet him formally. Gorgeous as I remembered. But in spite of the rose tinted specs which are currently clouding my vision, I can’t ignore that he looks tired. His formerly flawless face is showing the signs of stress or sadness, I’m not sure which. Grey circles under his eyes are the most obvious indicator, paired with slightly puffy eyelids. Even his skin tone has changed from the healthy subtle tan I remember to ashen and dull. I fight the urge to stare, my fingers itching to reach up and touch his face.

“Yes indeed. I’m John Hall,” he says as we shake hands. His hand slightly colder than mine but strong, it takes a lot of willpower to let go..

I hold my breath to fight my nerves and look into his eyes momentarily. They’re a warm shade of amber, but at the same time betray more than the rest of his appearance has already done. Tired and empty. Looking into them feels like a stab right through the heart, forcing me to look away again.

I dare not look make eye contact again all morning while he is giving me the introduction on all the systems I’m supposed to be using. There is no hint of small talk, only work and even then he is a man of few words.

Whenever I glance at his face, I notice he’s consistently avoiding the sight of me. If he’s not looking at the computer screen, he’s leafing through the mountain of papers on his desk. Now I’m not expecting every man to act like Dick – pervert – Porter and shamelessly ogle my boobs all day (I can only imagine how he’s looking at me while I’ve got my back turned). But to avoid looking in my direction completely is another unusual extreme. And it’s especially frustrating because I really want him to notice me.

While John busies himself with some papers in the filing cabinet behind his desk, I allow my eyes to wander. Ever since I could remember I’ve liked men with a bit of meat on them. I don’t quite understand it, I don’t have any identifiable reason for this preference. But I’ve long given up trying to analyse myself. All I know is, I want to feel his soft skin under my fingertips. I want his belly brushing against me as he leans down for a kiss. I want…

“So,” says a familiar voice behind me, shattering the devious fantasy I had started to play out in my head, “how are you enjoying your first day?” Dick. His presence makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up, and not in a good way.

“Great,” I say, “there’s so much to learn.”

“Good, good. Carry on!” I can hardly suppress a sigh of relief as he stalks off towards another cluster of desks.

“What time is lunch?” I turn to ask John.

“10 minutes.”

The lunchroom is spacious and bright. There is a buffet of sandwiches on offer and a suspicious looking “Soup of the day”. I buy myself a ham and cheese sandwich and join a group of women who are already sitting and chatting at one of the two large tables. There is no sign of John.

“Hi, I’m Cath. I’ve just started today,” I introduce myself as the 7 or so women give me the visual once over. The only one I’ve already met is Sharon, who gestures at me to sit down next to her.

“Catherine, join us. I’ll introduce everyone.” She’s smiling at me but her eyes look guarded. Maybe my first impression was correct after all, looks like she is the big gun of office politics. Sharon quickly rattles through the names of everyone at the table.

“This is Linda, Shelley, Jessica, Miranda, Heidi and Jackie.”
I nod at them before taking a seat.

“So, Cath. How do you like Aspect so far?” The woman further along the table asks, I think her name is Miranda but I’m not entirely sure. Her smile seems a tad more genuine than Sharon’s, but perhaps she’s just a better actress.

“Oh, it seems nice. Of course I’m just overwhelmed at all the new things I’m supposed to learn.”

“Right. So you’ve been paired with John,” she says. I can detect a hint of contempt as she speaks his name. “How’s that going?”

“Fine… He seems knowledgeable,” I say.

“He should be, he spends more time here than at home. Sometimes I wonder if he has a bed hidden in the office supply room,” one of the others buts in. The group laugh in response.

I smile politely and eat my food. The group moves on to other topics such as TV talent shows and Big Brother. Exactly the type of things I have nothing to say about.

***

Fucking great. Not only have the past two weeks been hell, now that moron Richard has me train his insufferable new recruit.

I had caught a glimpse of her from behind as she arrived for her interview. Exactly Richard’s type. Long legs leading up to probably the greatest ass ever to have set foot in this building. I’m sure she’ll fit right in with Sharon and her gang, so why couldn’t one of them train her?

This whole thing must be his idea of a joke, parading her in front of me for a few days before swooping in for the kill. She will most definitely go for it too, they always do.

I hadn’t even seen her up close until this morning. She’s his ultimate check list personified; gorgeous figure, curves in just the right places, obvious underneath the slightly clingy outfit she’s wearing. And her face… I am not the type of guy who tends to objectify women, far from it. But this one- I can’t even look at her without having to fight one physical reaction or other. So I’ve been trying my best to ignore her. I just want to get this training over with, preferably without making a total ass of myself.

I look at my watch, lunchtime is almost over. Back to the grind… Quickly I hide the bottle of vodka behind the stack of unused copier paper.

When I get to my desk she is already sitting at her computer, peering at the screen with intense focus. I sit down and retrieve the sheet with today’s training topics from the mess on my desk. The letters are blurring a little, but I can just about manage. At least I’ve managed to numb myself a bit. Here goes nothing…

“Let’s continue, shall we?” I say, wishing for the day to just end.

I’ve just added a new part to this story – At Last They Meet, admittedly skipping some bits to get there. If you want the full thing, you’ll just have to wait until the book is ready 😉

Not Enough – II

Posted on September 19, 2012 by lorelei

Note: Please read 1 August 2006 and Not Enough – I first to get the full story.

2 August 2012. Another day, a fresh start? I’m not sure I believe in that cliché but I do feel a little better today. At least I’ve had a good night’s sleep. My alarm hasn’t yet gone off but that’s only a matter of 5 minutes. Not too shabby considering I am currently reconsidering my entire life.

Of course he’s still asleep, looking at him makes me smile. Would I want to give this up? Not really. I like waking up next to him. To have someone I can cuddle with when I’ve had a bad dream. Someone who will make fun at me when I am being my stupid clumsy self; making me laugh when I’ve stubbed my toe hard on the coffee table leg. Again. He has an odd way of showing his love for me at the best of times but I know he’s sincere.

But I AM jealous. Why? I wish I was a stronger, more confident person. (I also wish I was 3 dress sizes slimmer, had bigger boobs and didn’t have two left feet, alas I can’t have everything!)

I turn towards him and half asleep he hugs me and I press my face into his bare chest. His scent is intoxicating, as it’s always been. I hug him back and run my hand over his shoulders and back. Almost immediately he moves closer, pressing his hips against me. I can feel that he’s ready. He usually is in the morning. Nevermind, strike that last part. He usually is, the horny bastard. His eyes open slowly and he looks at me half sleepy half aroused.

“Morning” I kiss him softly and he responds by returning the kiss deeply and passionately. His tongue runs over my teeth, plays with the tip of mine and he pulls me closer into his embrace. A kiss like this can only mean one thing, he wants me. Or does he really? Does he want me or do I just happen to be convenient at this time?

We kiss some more as he runs his hand over my back, down to my ass. He grabs a handful and squeezes it firmly. I quickly try to shake off my negative thoughts, I can do without the mindfuck right now! Let’s just focus on what’s in front of me. As he presses into me slowly but firmly I can feel he’s fully erect. He feels so good, his body moulded against mine, I want more. I guide his hand up over my hips and side to my breasts. He loves fondling them, playing with my nipples. In fact he can grope like an overeager teenager even now while in his thirties. It tickles like hell when I’m not in the mood. But right now, I’m loving it.

I run my hand in a circular motion over his ass cheek, down over the back of his thigh and around his hip until I’m caressing his cock slowly. His whole body shudders as I touch him there. He moans softly and presses his face into the side of my neck, kissing and softly sucking the skin in that special spot where it is most sensitive. It gives me goose bumps every single time. I may not feel the same passion for him as in the beginning, but he certainly does not leave me cold either. Already, I am getting moist between my thighs.

“I love you,” he whispers in my ear, “don’t ever leave me…”

Oh he knows how to charm the pants off a woman, the player!

“Take me then, I’m all yours!” I moan.

I wiggle out of my panties as I turn onto my back. He quickly takes off his PJ bottoms, letting his fully erect cock spring forward, pointing right at me. It knows exactly where it wants to go! He gets on top of me, kissing me deeply again. I can feel my breathing changing, and he hasn’t even entered me yet. I grab his cock, it is rock hard in my hand as I squeeze my hand the way he likes it. Irresistible silky soft skin. He comes closer, so I can almost guide him inside me but holds back. He loves to tease. All I can manage is to brush his foreskin against my now dripping wet lips. Round and round a few times, it excites him as much as it does me. I want it in me so badly but he won’t let me have it yet. He loves to watch me squirm.

“Oh please, what are you waiting for?” I plead. He just looks at me and smiles wickedly. Nothing can wake him up as quickly as the prospect of sex.

“Why, what do you want?” Of course, he’s toying with me. That’s what he does. It’s what he enjoys.

“You, in me, now!” I breathe. I can hardly take it, he’s so close to me and yet it feels so far away. He’s supposed to be all mine, and that bitch he’s been talking to can go to hell for all I care.

Finally he gives in, lowers himself down. He feels so big as he enters me that I can’t help but cry out.

“Ohhh yes!” I grab both his ass cheeks and pull him deep into me.

He complies and I can feel him filling me up completely. Any bigger and it would be painful, any smaller and I doubt I’d be satisfied. The first few strokes are slow and gentle, but quickly he’s picking up pace. I am still holding on to him and pulling him into me all the way. I look up at him and he looks gorgeous, his messy shoulder length hair frames his face and his eyes seem like they’re burning into my soul. He can certainly be difficult to read, doesn’t like to express his feelings, except during sex. Then he comes to life.

There’s a sparkle in his eyes as he looks at me. By now he’s moving faster, pounding me, encouraged by my fingers digging into his skin. He leans in for another deep kiss, this time it’s wilder, messier. But he doesn’t stop moving. I grind my hips upwards to meet his, finding my rhythm , getting ever wetter and more slippery. As I tighten myself, stimulating his full length inside me with every movement I can tell he’s getting closer to match my excitement. I moan with anticipation, grinding faster, tightening more.
“Oh baby, fuck me harder!”

I catch a glimpse of him still staring at me, a subtle smile on his face. My eyes close involuntarily and my neck arches backwards. He’s really picked up speed now, he’s fucking my brains out and I love it. I’m so close, it feels amazing. I contract and release my pelvic muscles again and again until I feel the warm tingling sensation of an orgasm envelop me completely.

“Ahhh! I’m yours, take me with all you’ve got!” By now I have very little control over my muscles, I try to keep up with his rhythm grinding my hips, but I miss a few beats as I’m trembling with the aftershocks of my orgasm. He’s slamming into me hard now, again and again and suddenly he freezes as his cock inside of me twitches violently and he releases. He’s fully tensed up and I’m still holding on to his hips, now I’m grinding against him with newfound energy, trying to make this moment last just a little bit longer.

As he catches his breath he’s still got a glimmer in his eyes “Waking me for sex? Hmmm?”

I feign innocence. “I’ve no idea what you’re talking about, I was sleeping…”

We’ve just got time for a quick shower each before rushing to work.

Sex on a working day morning isn’t all that common, though it does happen every other week or so. In fact I don’t feel our sex life is all that bad considering we’re not newlyweds anymore. We manage a few times a week mostly, but I guess it’s too much of the same old moves for him. I like the idea of being adventurous, but not the reality. And I rarely make the first move. I know he dislikes this about me, but before him I could happily go without sex for months. Or at all. This is a huge change from the old me and he knows it.

But I guess it’s not enough.

The day is not very memorable from then onwards. After work we cuddle up on the sofa and watch some TV. My mind is elsewhere though, mulling over everything that’s happening. I want him to be happy, and if that means letting go a bit and giving him more freedom, perhaps that’s the right thing to do… After all we did talk about this before, the rational part in me agrees with him.

“I’ve got a few rules,” I interrupt the TV, “Not in our bed. I don’t want to come home and have our bed smell of someone else.”

He nods.“Alright… I don’t think I’d want to bring her here anyway.”

“And you don’t make me feel secondary – ever.”

“I would never. ”

“You wear a condom. And you tell me immediately if it’s more than just sex…”

We’re both quiet for a few minutes. “Does she know that I know?”

“No, our relationship is none of her business,” he says.

I quietly start watching TV again. He puts his arm around me and caresses my hair as I lean it against his shoulder.

“Oh, The Fugitive is on, we haven’t seen that for a while..” His seemingly innocent remark makes me chuckle. They’ve been showing that film every day for a week now.

“You do know you’re the only one for me, right? Who else would put up with me watching the same shitty movies over and over… Who else do I talk to? Thanks for letting me be myself.” He whispers. I close my eyes and take a few deep breaths. Maybe it’ll work out this way.

While we get ready for bed, his phone buzzes a few more times.

“I said good night already, pesky woman!” He mutters under his breath.

Is the appeal waning already? 23 days to go…

Continue to Not Enough – III…

Not Enough – I

Posted on September 18, 2012 by lorelei

Note: This really needs to be read after my previous blog entry 1 August 2006 which serves as a prologue to this true story.

It’s the 1st of August 2012, 25 days left until my husband is going to fuck another woman.

He’s asleep next to me but I am awake, confused. I can’t help but stare into the darkness, my eyes welling up again and again. It feels like I’ve been lying here like this for hours, my head is throbbing as I keep trying to swallow the urge to cry. And the stupid thing is I’m not sure why I’m so upset. I’ve always considered myself to be rational and open minded. I’ve never fully understood the limitations our society imposes on relationships, why one should be monogamous. Why not live for the day, enjoy life and follow your desires?

We’ve had this discussion a number of times, even before we became a couple we spoke about how couples with open relationships or open marriages have it all figured out. Only the lucky few manage to find a partner who is totally compatible in every way even sexually. And whether or not the relationship survives this incompatibility depends on your priorities I suppose.

Until very recently I would’ve said we’re happily married. Of course we argue – viciously even. With the kind of rage that can only be ignited in people who have felt real passion for one another. But I wouldn’t have thought this was odd in any way, after all we’ve been married nearly five years. And we’re both extremely stubborn people. Until recently I would’ve said we were content, used to each other’s strange habits, finding common ground often in our varied likes and dislikes. But he’s not content. We’re just not compatible in the bedroom.

The topic has come up so often I’ve lost count. He knew very well what he was getting himself into because I’d told him beforehand about my relationship with my ex. It resembled more of a platonic friendship towards the end. We hardly had sex, we had hardly experimented with anything, I was pretty inexperienced.

Then along comes this passionate man, who knows what he likes and takes it, often. He could probably go for days without food if he was given enough “distraction”. In the beginning of our relationship sparks would fly whenever we spent time together. Our hormones went absolutely wild and we could not keep our hands off each other. Over time this passion ebbed away, but only from my side. I have no doubt that he could still keep up the same level of lust. He wants things in the bedroom that I cannot provide. I can’t be ready and willing all the time. It’s not that I reject him every time he’s in the mood, but I guess he notices that I’m not as much into it as he is.

So when he told me two days ago, that he’s been texting with one of his colleagues – flirting – it wasn’t all that surprising. Apparently she has similar tastes, and she’s in a relationship of her own with a man who’s not all that into sex. Little things like that don’t tend to wind me up. I don’t care if he looks at other women, watches porn or chats to his ex online even. In fact the latter I find highly amusing, how could a former couple be any more different.

I trust him completely; he’s never given me a reason not to. But then he said “You know how you keep telling me I should find someone else to fill the gap in our sex lives… She’s home alone on the 25th…”. I kept quiet but my feelings were written on my face.

Now this early morning on the 1st of August, I feel lost and sad. I don’t quite understand what’s happening.

He’s right; I did tell him! I told him numerous times. Sometimes in anger when he’d get frustrated that I wasn’t receptive to his advances. Sometimes in despair when we’d calmly talk about his needs not being met. I didn’t think you’d actually DO it! I also said I wouldn’t want to know about it!

I should have known. He’s painfully honest; can’t keep a secret. He’s told me over and over that he wouldn’t lie to me or hide anything from me. He’s not like me at all, in comparison I feel like I’m full of secrets. I’m going to need time to digest this information.

It didn’t quite strike me until 3:30 am, when I woke up – eyes wide open . Shit, he’s actually going to go ahead with this! I wipe my tears away with a corner of the duvet for the umpteenth time. Damn, I’m sure my eyelids will have ballooned up after all these tears. I try and soothe my eyes with the back of my hands, listening to his deep and regular breathing next to me. I settle back into my pillow and try to relax to make the thumping pain in my head go away. I’m exhausted and slowly drift away.

*Beep beep beep beep..*

My eyes open again, the alarm! Already! I look over and he’s still asleep, he has no idea I just spent hours crying over something that was basically my idea. I drag myself out of bed to get ready before it’s his turn. Today is going to be long and tiring, my headache is still here, and as I glance in the mirror – yes indeed. My eyelids are huge, reddish and my eyes are watery. I look quite pathetic indeed.

“Wake up sleepyhead!” He groans and turns away, eyes closed. “Come on wake up!”

I shake him a bit until he wakes. I quickly get off the bed again and walk off to continue getting ready.

“You’ve made my eyes puffy, I look hideous and it’s all your fault!” I shout while brushing my hair. I can hear him getting up and stretching; he walks over and looks at me.

“What’s wrong? You’ve been crying?” I swallow hard and look at the floor. “You’re jealous!”

I can’t bear to look up, or the waterworks are bound to start again.

“I don’t know” I whisper. He hugs me tightly – unusual considering he can be the grumpiest person on earth in the morning. Not just that, he generally doesn’t tend to be overly affectionate at all.

“You know I only love you! It’s only sex… You were the one who told me!” His voice sounds soft, again unusual.

“I know I did, I’m not quite sure why I’m upset.”

“You are jealous, aren’t you! Look, I love only you. Before you, I didn’t believe in marriage, I never wanted to spend my life with anyone. You’ve changed me and I’m happier for it.”

“I know…” I can feel the tears coming back. He hates it when I cry but I really can’t help it. “I just… I’m confused. There is just this conflict going on inside of me. I’ve been trying to think all morning. And I can’t quite put my finger on it yet.”

It’s true, I really still don’t quite understand. I truly believed I could be more mature about this. I love him and I want him to be happy. He likes sex, a lot. Why can’t I think of it as a hobby? But a lifetime of cultural brainwashing apparently can’t be undone because at the same time another voice in my head says: You deserve better! This is the beginning of the end.

“Nothing will change between us, I need you to know that! I will always want you.” He’s holding me again and I bury my face in his chest. Oh but it has already changed hasn’t it. I didn’t feel this sad before!

My drive to work that morning isn’t any better. In the car I’m more preoccupied with this inner struggle than paying attention to the traffic. Just another day at the office lies ahead. Luckily a lot of people are on holiday so there are not many around to scrutinise why my face is patchy and bloated today. I just get on with it and ignore my colleagues for the most part.

But I just can’t shake the heavy feeling in my chest, the lump in my throat that just tries to travel upwards with every breath; the burning sensation in my eyes which are about to flood again. I realise that I have felt this before. It reminds me of 6 years ago, when I decided to leave my ex. Even though I didn’t have feelings for him anymore, in fact I was extremely unhappy for the last year or so, I did feel an immense sadness, a sense of loss I guess. The crying had gone on for days and I was petrified of being alone. But I couldn’t be with him anymore either. After dragging out my decision for months, our breakup was final. We didn’t stay in touch.

Is this where we’re headed? Do I need to cry my eyes out now for days, weeks? Will this calm down the battle within me until the only voice left inside my head is the one telling me to walk away? It certainly would be easier to try and cut myself off from all emotions and shut the door on this part of my life. Five years is a good run. A lot of people don’t make it this far. But I’m not ready to be a soon-to-be 27 year old divorcee. I’m not ready to give up.

It’s 5 o’clock and I wonder whether I should go shopping in order to avoid home for as long as I can. In the end I decide against it, I’m exhausted and shopping wouldn’t cheer me up anyway. As I reach home I try to avoid eye contact.

“Hi, how was your day?” I ask.

“Oh, same old. Some customer giving me grief.”

“Yeah me too.” I quickly walk to the kitchen to cook. At least I can hide in here for a while. I try to listen to the TV to distract me from my thoughts. I just don’t want to cry anymore.

Thank god for the TV. Until I sort out the mess in my head I have nothing to say anyway. His phone is buzzing on the table; he responds to the text. I try and ignore it as I quietly eat my dinner.

We go to bed at about 11, I’m exhausted from all the emotional turmoil inside me and as I drift away I think, 24 days to go…

L. Moone

Contemporary Romance & Women's Fiction