Loading...My warmest and deepest thanks to LadyM12 for her constructive comments as well as her efforts in editing this document.
“Are you Mr Williams? I think I’m expected.” Martin Williams looked up from his desk to see a rather tall, long-legged blond standing in the doorway. She was about 5 feet 11 inches tall, with long hair past her shoulders. Probably 36-24-38, but the jacket hid the true size of her waist.
Her lips were painted a bright red, drawing attention to them, and giving thoughts as to what they would look like wrapped around a pencil or a thick straw. She was wearing a dark skirt and a jacket top. Normally this would be worn over a blouse, but the lady had decided that the jacket was enough. There was plenty of creamy skin on display. Her high heels were very high, which meant that she was not embarrassed about her height, and probably that she liked the idea of being rather tall, and the dominance that this afforded her.
“Yes I am, please come in,” he said
“Sorry. There was no one at the reception desk and I have an appointment, so I thought that I would come in.”
“My secretary must be off elsewhere. She has a wide range of duties and these often take her away from the desk. Normally she tells me, but in this case she must have forgotten.”
“My name is Laura Ashton.” Laura held out her hand, which Martin accepted. The grip was firm; she was obviously accustomed to shaking hands with men. Her skin was cool and dry and the handshake was an almost erotic experience. “My doctor, Dr. Hawood, said to give you this letter.” Again Laura held out her hand, this time with a letter. Martin took it and placed it on the desk.
“Please sit down.” Lara sat in the chair, somewhat on the front edge of the chair. Her tight skirt rode up her thighs, revealing a delicious show of creamy flesh. Her back was perfectly vertical, and her hands were clasped in her lap. She looked like a tiger defending the pack, on the alert and very watchful.
“Let’s fill in this form while we talk. Most of the details are on the back of the envelope. We finally got Dr. Hawood put them on the outside and it saves so much time. It says you are a ‘Ms.’, which type?”
“Miss.” Martin transcribed the details from the envelope onto the standard interview form.
“Okay that’s all done. What seems to be the problem?” inquired Al.
“It is all in the envelope. Doctor said the notes were very complete.”
“Yes they probably are. However, they were written by a doctor for a doctor and I am neither.”
“Then why am I here?”
“I run a type of resort. In the past we have been able to help many patients of Dr. Hawood, and others, in areas that traditional medical practices have been unsuccessful. We have doctors at the resort, but they are for medical problems that arise while guests are staying. Occasionally there may be a ‘flu case or strained muscles from the activities but nothing more serious.”
“Well the doctor did send the note and perhaps it is all clear in the letter.”
Martin groaned internally. She was going to be one of those! Martin did a quick estimate and decided to go with his gut instinct.
“Let me see. Your sister is younger than you.” It was a statement rather than a question.
“Yes.”
“By?”
“Three years.”
“Two children?”
“Yes,” replied a perplexed Laura.
“Type?”
“Both boys.”
“No more planned?”
“Medical problems left her unable to conceive after the last birth.”
“Live close to your mother?”
“Around the corner,” Laura was getting somewhat frustrated. The purpose of the visit was to help her and instead this non-doctor was asking very personal questions about her family.
“Does your sister work?”
“No she is married to an accountant and he has a reasonable income; nothing special but enough for them.”
“Your mother spends a lot time at your sister’s?”
Eventually Laura’s frustration became too much to bear, “Yes! What has all this to do with my being here? You haven’t started to discuss my problem!”
“Haven’t I? You own your own company?”
“Yes,” responded Laura, rather shocked at both the change of tack and the accuracy of the question.
“This is a guess: advertising? About ten people work for you.”
“Public relations. There are about twenty people, but not all are full time. Many work from home. The Internet has been great in allowing us to expand the business without people needing office space.”
“The business must be very good. Only the high-income patients are referred here. There must be long hours involved in such a high-pressure business; some clients would need 24/7 care and attention.”
“Yes! Some of our clients are so demanding, and most are high maintenance! As well as their own needs there is additional trouble they can get into and need some help in extracting themselves. Others are never happy and I seem to spend my entire life dealing with other people’s petty problems. A ninety-hour week is nothing. But my clients pay big money and they expect a corresponding level of service. They can easily change companies and, to be truthful, there is probably not much between the various organisations. We all offer the same service, which is often damage control. And we all try and make egocentric overly demanding people happy.” Laura visibly relaxed as the topic of the conversation turned professional rather than personal. “We need to convince each of our high paying clients that we are doing something more than they can get from another company, when probably any differences are very insignificant and handle problems that should never have happened. And if a ten year-old did the same things you would smack their rear, at least that is what my mother would have done. Today, who knows?” However, the next question was very disconcerting.
“When did you break-up with you last partner? Male?”
“Most definitely male! VERY male! On our holiday in January. We went to Vietnam for two weeks. We left as a couple and came home on different planes. He arrived first, and cleaned out his stuff from my apartment. The last I saw of him was him leaving the hotel screaming that the he was sick of me and sick of being on vacation alone.”
“When did the problem with sleeping start?” Laura glanced at the doctor’s letter to reassure herself that it was still unopened. How could he possibly know that? she wondered.
“About a month after that.”
“The lack of concentration? Headaches? Lack of energy?”
“Around the same time.”
Martin decided a change of topic was necessary. “How long did you dance for?”
Laura sat bolt upright in her chair. “How the hell did you know that?”
“You just told me.” Laura looked less than pleased with this flippant answer. “It was the way that you walked and sat. Rather than a flop it was a very elegant sit. You have very powerful and graceful legs, someone who is concerned with appearances. We have had several people that have previously stayed with us who were dancers for some time. They all moved the same. It seems to be a once learned and never forgotten thing.
The next question was even more disconcerting than the previous: it was completely different and unnervingly accurate. “Since the break-up, have you been spending a lot more on clothes and shoes?”
“Well I never! I did not come here to be insulted, or to be interrogated about things that are of no concern to you. Goodbye.” She started to get out of the chair, pivoted and bent down to pick up her handbag. She was so upset that she hadn’t considered her position and Al’s location. Rather than bending at the knees she simply bent at the waist and this presented an excellent view of her almost perfect behind. Her tight cotton skirt was pulled tight as she bent showing a perfect circle and a smooth surface. Either she had neglected her panties today or she wasn’t wearing a full brief. No panty lines for this girl.
The next question was a slap in the face. “How long do the batteries last? A month?”
“What the fuck? How dare you? How dare you! I came here for help and all you have done is to insult and degrade me, and generally treat me like dirt. Thank you. Thank you for nothing! I am so out of here!” Laura stomped past Martin to the door.
He waited until she was almost to the door before he gently said, “This is the first part in the process. A solution requires an understanding of the problem, and we both need to understand the problem. All of these questions help us both to define the problem. People only come to me as a last resort. If you leave now, where will you go next? If you want a solution then please sit down, but sit down with an open mind. Remember that I am not a doctor, and I am looking for a solution. The other medical practitioners have not been able to help you. We have over 200 guests that came to this place with a similar problem. Some found this to be a permanent solution; others found it a workable temporary solution. In all cases the client found the initial concept hard to understand and then hard to accept. It may not work for you, and in ten minutes you may again be going to the door. In that case I will not try and stop you.”
Laura returned to the chair and again sat gracefully on the edge. “The clock has started. It’s your ten minutes.”
“Would you like a cup of coffee? I have my own cappuccino machine. One of the perks of the job.”
“A cappuccino would be nice. No sugar.”
Martin left her to cool down while he made the coffee. He quickly returned and placed the coffee beside her on the table. As she was sitting and he standing, he was offered a great view down her jacket. Her low cut bra pushed her breasts upward and provided a nice curve. The deep valley between them and the shadows were intriguing. Laura caught him looking but did not look displeased. She rather looked bored. She interrupted his concentration with, “You were saying?”
“Oh yes.” He picked up the letter for emphasis and moved it across his desk, near the edge. He then picked up his folder and started to read. “This is profile that I have of you, based on the questions that you have answered and the similar cases that have stayed in this resort.”
Laura nodded her head and seemed to become more interested in the conversation. “You are a workaholic. Your business is the most important aspect in your life. On the last holiday you probably spent more time ringing the business each day than with your partner.” Laura looked down at the floor and barely nodded her head. “Your staff are uninterested in the business and constantly make mistakes. You need to check all their work as well as you do your own. Your mother is continually nagging about your marital status and never fails to remind you that your sister is married with two gorgeous children.
“Although you have a high income you also spend big time. Often as a reward for the alone time that you have and as a reward for the work that you do. However, there is also the need for some affection and a moving toy is a poor substitute. But, it does allow you to sleep at night.
“At the end of the day the thought of looking for someone requires too much effort and a late night bottle of wine, an application of a vibrator between those beautiful legs and the day is done.” Laura’s eyes grew bigger and bigger as Martin spoke. When he mentioned about being “between those legs” Laura turned a bright shade of red and started to glare and almost stood up to leave. Before she could act on the impulse Martin continued.
“The first step in the process is to recharge and rejuvenate you. This means have a holiday.”
At this Laura leaned forward and said with a great deal of venom, “After being insulted, degraded, and embarrassed, this is your solution: have a holiday? That’s it? Have a holiday!”
“You did not let me finish,” replied Martin with some authority. “Obviously a typical holiday will have you calling the office everyday, frustrated with how they are doing things. Frustrated with all the other couples having a good time, and you will end up flat on you back, legs spread, with the first young guy that asks you the time of day. The holiday will end and you will be poorer and worse off than you are at the moment.”
“So what is you solution?” the sarcasm dripping from each syllable.
“You need a holiday from,” here Martin paused for emphasis, “you. Rather than a holiday where you make decisions and still do work everyday, we give you a holiday free of decisions. Every minute is planned and the only questions that you will face are what to order off the menu. Your telephone is confiscated. A receptionist will answer all calls. If they are deemed important they will be forwarded to you. Since we opened the only call that has been forwarded was about the death of a relative. You will be placed in a team of 4 and there will be group and individual activities with a team leader. Most people find that the complete change of pace and the loss of control changes them: it breaks the cycle. Sleep patterns improve and they leave here much better prepared to handle the stress of their working life.”
Laura looked at Martin with a great deal of disbelief. “I understand what you are saying, but I am really having trouble believing this is going to solve my problem.”
“How about a very simple experiment in losing control and developing trust?”
“Well … Ok.”
“You must trust me! Through that door is a bathroom. Go in there and remove your stockings and panties. Put them in your bag so that I can see them. Return and sit down. Do not cross your legs.”
“This is getting ridiculous!”
“Trust. Anyway, it is not really a big thing. Many people never bother with these items every day.”
Laura could see she was cornered. If she refused then it was proof that Martin was right. However, the idea of being exposed in such a manner before this man was very threatening. Of course, this is exactly what Martin was after. It was the change of power that would bring the change in Laura. With a grim face and she went to make the required changes. Martin made them both another cup of coffee. He also moved the chair so that it was facing him directly.
When she returned she sat down with her legs clamped together. She took a sip of coffee. Okay a do or die effort, thought Al.
“Now Laura, please take the Sharon Stone pose.” Laura went white. What was he suggesting? He couldn’t be really? She decided to act dumb and hope that she had misunderstood him.
“Huh?”
“In Basic Instinct, Sharon did that famous scene. You know it of course?” Laura nodded. “In that scene she crossed he legs but left them slightly apart as she did when she re-crossed her legs. Just sit as she did with your legs not touching, just slightly apart. Your dress is so long that you will still be hidden.”
Okay that’s true, and he is over there, thought Laura. The change in the power relationship was becoming unsettling for Laura. She moved her legs slightly apart.
Martin left the far side of his desk and sat in front of her. “Laura, how do you feel?”
“Okay I guess.”
“Now lift your dress higher, above your knees.” Without comment, Laura moved the hemline just above her knees. “No, higher. Mid thigh.” Laura took a breath a moved the dress even higher.
“Now you are not sure what I can see or not see. Move you legs further apart.” In salience Laura did as she was commanded. “It is exciting to think that you could be on display? No one is forcing you. Now put your hands on the arms of the chair. Remember trust.” Laura moved her hands, grateful that she could grip the arms of the chair. As she moved he hands Martin stood up and picked up a roll of duct tape.
“Do not move,” he commanded, for the first time putting some authority into his voice. Rather fearful of his authority, she did not move and he bound her hands to the chair.
“Now I am in control. You will not be harmed. You are safe. But you have no control, no self will.” Martin kneeled down on the floor directly in front of Laura. He put his hands very gently on the inside of each knee and applied outward pressure. When Laura refused to allow her legs to be spread any further, Martin gently massaged he legs with his thumbs, in a gentle but firm pressure. Both thumbs started from the inside of her leg and moved up and over the top and then down to the inside. The left hand moved in a counter-clockwise circle while the right hand moved in a clockwise pattern. Both had gentle but firm pressure subtly pushing outwards. The continued movement, the lack of male attention for so long, combined with Al’s authority reduced Laura’s resistance. Gradually there was a slight movement, very slight, of her legs.
“Laura you are now totally exposed, but I cannot see anything because your skirt is in the way. How do you feel?”
Silence as Laura was unable to comment.
Martin asked in a softer but more commanding voice, “Is it wet?”
Laura went white as the colour drained from her face. She refused to consider the question. It was too obscene; too personal. She had never been asked such a question before. She sat there, dumb. However, Martin was not going to let her escape. Even quieter he repeated the question, this time with greater emphasis on “it”.
Laura could not look him in the eye. She knew that she had to answer the question or he would simply keep repeating it. The emphasis on the pronoun somehow made the question even more threatening. With barely a hint of movement she nodded her head. Martin was pleased with the developments. Here was a true submissive. She was unable to hold his gaze and the smell in the room left no doubt as to the degree of her arousal. He moved each hand further up the leg and slightly downwards so they were now actually between her legs and continued the gentle massage in wider strokes so that each pass of his thumbs covered more area and increased the pressure to open her legs further.
“I can stop if you wish. Simply ask me to stop.” Laura knew that she should and also knew that she could not. His hands continually moved. “I am in control.” Her breathing became shallow. Afraid of what he would do next, and just as afraid that he would stop.
His voice dropped a tone and had both a hypnotic effect, laced with control. “Everything is mine for the taking. You are exposed and your mouth is just at waiting to be used. That red lipstick is very striking. The idea is to make someone think of using those lips. A kiss somewhere.” His hands moved up and slightly rotated down on the inside of her leg. Each hand was barely under the skirt; just the fingernails on each finger. He applied pressure and gripped the warm, soft flesh. Again there was a gasp and an almost imperceptible movement of her legs further apart. They couldn’t open any more because of the arms of the chair.
His hands went further up her leg, under her skirt to the second knuckle of each finger. The thumbs were almost touching between her legs. Again the massaging pressure of his hands, kneading the wonderfully soft flesh. Laura’s eyes were closed, mouth slightly open as she prepared for the inevitable, almost moving her hips forward to make contact with those fingers.
“Further?” he asked.
“Yes.”
He moved his hands further up her legs til they touched the outside of her pussy. Very gently he moved his fingers down the most sensitive folds of her sex. He could feel the moisture mix with her almost silky fur.
It had been so long since there had been a male this close to her. It was even more powerful because the owner of the fingers was virtually unknown, and within a few minutes of meeting him, he had his hands under her skirt, her legs apart and had taken total control of her. Yet he was denying that which she wanted most: penetration and release.
“You are very close, aren’t you?” An even smaller nod of the head.
“Move forward and sit on the edge of the chair. Open your legs as wide as you can.” Laura had given up all resistance. Normally she would have been affronted by these words, now she meekly moved forward and finally exposed herself to this virtual stranger. Martin could see the sparse blonde hair each side of the widely spread puffy lips of her sex. The smell of lust filled the room and Laura bit her bottom lip.
“I can stop.”
A very small, “No.”
“You want me to continue?
“Yes.”
“All the way to?”
“The top.”
“Ask nicely.”
“Please move your hands further up my legs.”
Martin moved his hands up her legs. The thumb on his right hand gently moved the lips ever so slightly. Laura shivered and pushed up from the chair trying to increase the pressure from his fingers. Now, rather than touching the lips he was actually making contact with her flesh inside. He barely moved his finger from one side of the lips to the other. Laura again tried to raise her hips but this time Martin held her down.
“I prefer a bare effect, at least on the lower section. Have you ever shaved here?”
Barely able to answer she replied, “Sometimes in summer.”
“Would you shave there for me?”
Laura could not believe her ears. This guy almost had his fingers inside her and was discussing if she shaved between her legs. Why wouldn’t he push a bit harder? She could feel her wetness dripping down onto the chair. Why wasn’t he excited? His calmness and self-control only added to her frustration. Normally, the guy was hot and she was in control. Not with Al; his voice was so calm and yet she could hardly breathe.
The pattern of his fingers changed. Now they were moving around the skin on the lips, each movement of his finger actually pushed the fold closed and produced a very gentle and yet exciting pressure on her clit. The smell in the room was palpable and added to her excitement. Again she tried to push up but Martin held her from moving.
“What should I do now?”
“Put something in.”
“In where.”
“My vagina.”
“Where?”
“My pussy.”
“Where?”
“My pussy.”
“Where?”
“My fuck hole.”
“Still not sure.”
He couldn’t really want her so say that word! No!
“Where?” he echoed.
“In my ..”
“Tell me or I will stop.”
“Oh fuck! In my cunt. My cunt! In my fucking open, wet cunt!”
“You want me to what” Give me detail!” Martin commanded.
“Finger-fuck me! Finger-fuck my cunt; my wet open cunt.” Laura cried.
“Lift your legs up and show me the hole. Show me the hole that you want to have filled with my fingers. Open those legs and show me the slut that you really are.” Al’s instructions were delivered in a calm, almost calculating voice that drove Laura wild. How could he have his fingers almost in her cunt and still talk as though he was giving a stock market report wondered Laura.
She lifted her legs and placed the soles of her shoes on Al’s shoulders. She was exposed; she presented an obscene view, and even as she craved the penetration of something, she was also infuriated that he could manipulate her. What was happening here? she wondered. Men begged to fuck her, men begged to be in the same room. Here he was with a hand full of her most precious area, making her use obscene language, and she was begging like a school girl taking to impress the local foot ball hero. He probably didn’t even have a hard on, a portion of Jane’s brain thought.
“Now. Now. Now!” she screamed.
With that he filled her with two, then three fingers. Martin started slowing fucking her and then slam-fucking her cunt with his first with almost brutal force.
Her pussy could not take such an assault, her hips started bucking, her legs clamped together, holding Al’s hands in a vice like grip; they rubbed against each other as her orgasm subsided. Martin removed his hands and sat on the chair behind his desk. He let her sit without comment. As she returned to normal, and still without comment, he removed the bonds and in a voice that was completely devoid of emotion he instructed, “You know where the bathroom is. You may like to clean up and replace your underwear.
With her head drooping from embarrassment, she went to do as she had been told in the bathroom. She returned shortly, still rather pale and walking unsteadily. Laura flopped in the chair and picked up the cup with shaking hands, and took a few sips. She eventually lifted her head and asked, “What just happened? I have never felt anything like that and I never said words like those before!”
“You are a very attractive woman: great legs, great body and a beautiful face. I can only guess at the number that have wined and dined you with the single goal of getting between those thighs. You have a very successful business that has allowed you to dress to impress. You have power and you are accustomed to using that power. People do things for you, because you have money, because you have power, or because they want to fuck you. Today I took that away. The submission, even on this small scale, was exciting; like doing something for the first time: there is novelty and thrill of something new. When you are a kid everything is new. As you age and your income increases then the range of new things decreases. Your own pent-up sexual energy from the past six months, the frustration from our earlier discussions, and my total control allowed you to release all that energy at once. Like a big bang.”
“You mean that I’m all well now. No more sleeping problems, no more batteries.” At that Laura went red and looked at the floor.
“Actually, it will probably be worse. If you have a broken arm and take a pain killer the pain will go away. But the arm is still broken and it needs to be fixed. Your lifestyle is the key issue and that needs to be adjusted. I know this sounds like a sales pitch, but you do need to stay here for about a month.”
Frustration and disappointment exploded in Laura. “This is fucking great. I cannot leave my business for a month. There is no way there would be a business to return to if those arseholes run the operation. This is so fucking great.”
“Three minor points. If your staff are so bad, why did you hire them? If they are so bad, why haven’t you trained them properly? If they are so bad, why do they still have a job? I wish I had a dollar for every person that has sat in that chair and said the same thing only to discover that their business did survive, and in same cases actually improved. In all cases, all cases, not one business has failed to survive because one person left the business for a short while. It is a planned departure, and appropriate steps can be taken to ensure that there is minimum disruption. It is the role of the manager, a good manager, to develop people for small problems. Your clients may welcome a new face, and perhaps a bit more enthusiasm. You can hardly be performing at your best in your present emotional and mental condition: your people are going to suffer and your clients will also suffer. The longer this goes on, the harder it will be to change.”
“What actually happens here?”
“In the mornings there is an exercise schedule. Afternoons are recreational and free time. Evenings are other activities. There are generally groups of four women and a leader who will devise activities to help you release stress and make you a happier person. You pick your preferred leader from our staff and we assign you to a group. We have video tapes and interviews that allow you to pick the best person that suits you. A program is developed that will take control of your life and teach you how to enjoy life without work, in a different lifestyle.”
“How much?” Martin gave her the rates.
“Fuck, for that type of money there must be more.”
“Okay, you the complete picture? In the morning there is an exercise class.”
“I go to the gym and I am not fat!”
“These exercises are designed to prepare you body for very athletic sex. Nothing about fitness, but obviously fitness is part of it. Can you put your ankles behind you ears? After our classes you will. The second class of the morning is sex education. Yes I know: there is nothing we can teach you. Can you put a condom on for him?”
“That is so easy and so stupid, why bother?”
“Can you put a condom on for him,” Martin repeated, “with your mouth?”
“You are kidding! People can do that?”
“And more. We aim to keep sex fresh and exciting. Afternoons are fun time with water skiing, surfing, other water sports, gardening, etc. We have an excellent chef who will prepare some amazing meals. In the evening there are other games.”
“But how does this help me sleep?” queried Laura?
“You will pick your team leader. It is to this person that you give up all control and power. He will use you for what sexual purpose or need that he feels, with the exception of the exercise periods, any time of the day or night. You might find yourself waking up to find him fucking you, in the pussy, mouth, or elsewhere.”
“No. No. There is no ‘elsewhere.'”
“Also, you swallow.”
“That is disgusting.”
“After 5 pm, panties are forbidden, and bras are optional. However, your leader may also forbid them. There is punishment if you break any of the rules. There is also punishment to remind you of your position and not to break any of the rules.”
“No.”
“Punishment will be dealt in the playroom. Excursions will provide a different perspective of the relationship and the experience here.”
“This is not possible.”
“Your group is taken to a restaurant or other public place and you follow the instructions of your leader. Ever flashed a tit on a train? Been fingered in a restaurant? Crawled under the table to get a nice helping of man juice?”
“This is perverted. This is insane. This is sick,” pleaded Laura.
“Why?”
“Because it is!” she exclaimed.
“Why?”
“Explain how this will help me,” she demanded.
“By doing this we will break the cycle. You have been under pressure from friends, family, and work. I would guess that in 2 years you have kept up the same pressure or even increased it. It gets to a stage where the body says ‘Why?’ I have enough money and I need a reward, a change. We will give you a change as I have suggested and in others. You will regain your enthusiasm for your business and for finding new relationships. You will get balance in your life and with what you will learn here, your new relationship will be also new and exciting. The cost of batteries will decrease and you will be a new exciting person.”
“And this works for everybody?” Laura questioned, her voice heavy with sarcasm.
“Nothing works for everybody. There are some people that spend their holidays here every year and then survive for the next year. One lady comes here for a month and then works herself silly for the next six. What you do with the change is up to you.”
“This is all stupid! It is just a rip-off and you are some sick sex manic!” Laura almost yelled the last response.
“Put your hand between your legs. What do you feel?”
Laura did as she was told. To her horror she was wet, and not from the previous activities. Her pussy juices were flowing from these ideas. The look on Al’s face said that he was aware of her state of arousal. She went red with embarrassment.
“Laura, let me ask you one question and answer it honestly. The answer will decide whether you walk out or sign up for a holiday.”
“Okay, you are on.” Laura was supremely confident that she was not going to sign up here and even more confident that this opinion could not be changed by a single question.
With a soft gentle voice, Martin asked, “Your last boyfriend broke up with you while you were on holiday together?”
“I told you that!” she spat at him.
“Was it because of a telephone call?”
Laura went white and cold at the same time. “I fired an employee while we were on holiday, so what?”
“If he knew that could he know?” Laura dreaded the next question, and she wished and prayed that he would not ask it. In an even softer yet even more dominant voice he asked, “Were you having sex at the time?”
Laura sat there rock solid, quite unable to believe that he had had asked that question. And she knew that if she lied he would know.
With her hands on her knees, and in a voice that could barely be heard she said, “I took the call while he was fucking me. Julie had failed to transfer some money which caused all sorts of problems and I lost it, lost it big time. I called her everything and fired her while he was inside me. He stopped and almost ran from the room and my, our, bed. He slept on the beach and left the next morning. I haven’t seen him since. How the f… did you know that?”
“It was a guess. People don’t usually break-up on holidays because they are enjoying themselves and doing all sorts of exciting things together. For you two to break-up there must have been something extremely serious. He left so it wasn’t another woman. Another man didn’t seem to fit the profile so I took a guess.
“If you think this is a rip off, then let me suggest an alternative, free and easy option. Buy the smallest thong that you can. Put it on, then a pair of pantyhose, then a pair of average nickers, and then a pair of granny panties. Go out tonight. If you find someone that you like go on a second date. On the second date lose the grannies. On the next the average nickers. On the next replace the pantyhose for stockings. On the next date lose the thong and enjoy yourself. Lose the control and work at it for him. Leave work at 5:00 and no calls until the next day, especially when you are with him. Spend the weekend with him, again no calls.”
“I chose you.”
“Pardon?” said Al
“You said that I need to pick a leader, I have and that person is you.” Laura said simply.
“I am too old, and I don’t do this anymore. I am too strict and too demanding.”
“I chose you. You started this and you are going to finish this. I chose you. Name your price. I will double the fee. Fuck you. I chose you.”
In a very even and casual voice, Martin said, “Then we have a problem.”