It’s been one of those Monday mornings when I wonder why I bother trying to help some people. But I recall we’ve been here before.
I would have stayed at my desk and skipped lunch, but first my secretary, then one of the Associates, then my secretary again, and then someone else kept popping their heads around my door. Suddenly I’d picked up my lap-top and was heading for the exit as if someone had pulled a string attached to my legs and I had no choice but to go where they were leading.
I almost ran across the road. I didn’t want to go to the bar today, too many familiar faces. There was security in complete strangers, so I ducked into the first coffee place I came to that advertised free WiFi. Looking around would have meant making eye contact, so I kept my gaze pointing forward, picked up a caffe’ Americano and found a corner seat.
So here we are again long suffering Reader, where ever you are.
It had been Anna’s idea to buy the condoms. If we buy a gross between us we get a free vibrator, she said, showing me the magazine.
I scanned the glossy advert. “Do you think we’ll ever use a gross of condoms. That’s one hundred and forty-four Durex.”
“That’s only seventy two each.,” she said. “Spread over a year, with each of us having sex twice a week that’s an only thirty six sex weeks; which is only a trifle more than half a year. Perhaps we should get two gross, then we’ll be covered for whole year, with a few left over for good weeks, when we might get laid three or even four times.”
“When do we go to lectures and do any work?” I enquired, realising that she was deadly serious.
“When we aren’t in the sack, of course,” she responded. “Look they are even cheaper if we buy them online.”
“Ok, as an example, just how often are you getting laid at the moment?” She’d been seeing an American Harvard exchange student since about the third day of term.
She smiled. “Lets see – I stay at his place two nights out of seven, and we make love at least twice a night and sometimes in the morning, so that’s possibly five if not six times a week.”
“Oh…. I see.”
“Which compensates for your deplorable lack of action,” she continued, smugly. “I haven’t seen much of what’s-his-name recently.”
Following from: I had a bet……
I hadn’t seen much of what’s-his-name recently either. What’s-his-name was in the RAF and didn’t often manage to come over because he was in training to fly jets or something. I could count on the fingers of one hand the number of times we’d been intimate in the past five months. Only five condoms worth, and just over an hour in time.
I’d hardly slept; tossing and turning for hours I finally given up the contest around 5 AM, slid out of bed, went downstairs, brewed coffee and started to scribble notes on a long essay that had to be in at the end of the following week.
Earlier my little plastic friend and my fingers had produced a good orgasm, but somehow I’d still felt unfulfilled, empty and slightly ridiculous. Twenty minutes later I picked it up again. The result was the same. I needed something more; someone to hold me while the sensations racked my body; someone to kiss my lips and other hands to fondle my breasts.
Mary rolled in at about eleven in the morning, looking exactly as she had the night before, a yawn parting her lips as she came in through the door.
“For someone who got an early night, you don’t look so good,” was the first thing she said. “You might as well have stayed out and partied with the rest of us.”
“I’ve been studying since five,” I told her stifling a yawn myself.
She took the coffee pot from me and emptied the last of it into a mug bearing the motif – my pussy doesn’t do anything, but it always makes me smile. “Virtue won’t keep you warm at night,” she said. “I hear you blew him out, again.”
“I blew who out?”
“You told him you weren’t interested.”
“I’m assuming you’re referring to the rugby player.”
“He does have a name you know. And yes, I do mean Mark.”
“We came to an understanding, that’s all.”
“Is that what you call it, lady lawyer?”
“I informed him that I wasn’t available for sex, and he understood. Anyway, I don’t suppose he spent the night on his own.”
“No, as a matter of fact, he didn’t.”
“I’m not at all surprised.”
“You sound ever so mildly disappointed. Jealous are we?”
“Why should I be?”
“He took a girl he met in the bar back to his place for a good seeing to. I heard them going at it long into the night. He’s got a lot more stamina than mine.”
“I don’t want to hear the gory details.”
“You are jealous. It’s your own fault you know.”
“Why? I didn’t make him screw some woman he only just met.”
“I didn’t say he didn’t know her. He’s been screwing her for about nine months.”
“So, he already has a girlfriend.”
“She isn’t his girlfriend. She’s more of a….. fuck buddy.”
“That’s sad. For her that is.”
“He’s just using her for sex.”
“I don’t think she’s complaining. They’re both getting what they want out of the relationship.”
“How do you know she doesn’t want more from him?”
“I don’t, and frankly I don’t care. He isn’t interested in having a full on relationship with her, and I think we both know why.”
“That doesn’t make him any less of a bastard.”
“Why should you care?”
“I don’t, I just thought he was better than that.”
“So you do care! Why not just admit it.”
“I’ll admit that he was growing on me. But it seems I was right, all he wants is to get me into bed.”
“I think someone has been thinking kindly of someone else.”
“I was; I freely admit it. But now……”
“Come on, you can’t blame him for blowing of a little steam and releasing the pressure in his balls with a girl who’s willing.”
“Is that really all you think we’re good for?”
“Don’t get on your catholic high horse, sweetie. You can’t keep him at arms length and then expect him to behave like a saint. We all know how these things work; men play rough games, which make them horny; their cocks get hard and their balls swell, and they need somewhere soft and hot to stick it, or they’ll burst. That’s where the fun starts. Hopefully the pussy bearer is someone they care about, then, it can be a beautiful thing. But if she’s unavailable or playing hard to get, then any bitch with a wet crack will do. It’s purely a matter of bio-chemistry.”
“It can be. Or it can be just a satisfying, mind blowing fuck, like she and I received last night. But if you’re really not interested, I wouldn’t mind having a go at him myself, he sounds like fun. And as I said, he can go longer than mine.”
“Is that all it was for you?”
“I don’t deny it. Why should I? Mine has a beautiful body, a hairy chest and a good sized, tumescent cock. Other than that he’s not someone I’d consider spending the rest of my life with.” She laughed at my shocked expression. “Come on Sister Joan, I’ve not heard you say that you’re in love with Fly-boy, and I’d bet if he turned up now and wanted to shag you stupid, you’d let him do it to you, in spite of the fact that you’re starting to have feelings for someone else.”
I opened my mouth but couldn’t find the right words to refute her argument. I had been sleeping with Richard more out of habit than desire.
“If you want to fuck him, please, be my guest,” I said, shrugging and trying to smile. “Just don’t tell me about it.
She started to laugh, walked across and gave me a hug, “Don’t worry sweetie, I’ll cross him off my list. I have a feeling that I’m not on his list anyway. But if you really are stating to like him, I’d lower the drawbridge and let him at least cross the moat. You don’t have to let him fest at the table right away.”
“Very poetic; where did you read that?”
“It just came off the top of my head; my father isn’t the only writer in the family, you know.”