My Revelation Ch. 02-04

In the interest of story cohesion, and your possible enjoyment, please read the first installment of My Revelation.

My Revelation

Chapter 2

The next morning, it wasn't so much the images I'd seen on my laptop that crowded my consciousness, but the memory of me lusting so strongly, even desperately, to be the happy woman in the final scene that I'd watched. I sat up feeling not so much confused as completely unprepared to see this newly exposed version of myself.

"I'm a cocksucker," I whispered.

I thought back to my days in high school. Sure, there were signs of this. I remembered gym class, which I despised. The instructors made a point of seeing that everyone got into the showers after the class. They'd patrol the locker room with an eye out for anyone dressing when they should be heading for the shower room. I was very self-conscious of my penis which, judging by the myriad sideways glances I'd dared while my fellow students were undressing, was strictly in the lowest percentile. The ones with normal-sized dicks or bigger, all but celebrated their good fortune, rough-housing and hooting it up. John K was often in the center of such scenes. He was slim, sweet-natured and boyish. And he had a jaw-droppingly beautiful penis. I was in the same aisle of the locker room as he, but separated by eight or ten other boys. I played a game of cat-and-mouse with his cock. If he were turned the right way, and if the guys between us were not in the way - bending over to tie their shoes, for instance - I would see it from the corner of my eye, swaying slightly, as it must, due to its length. In a moment, someone would step into the line of sight, or John would turn away. But such glimpses were heaven. I would replay the brief moment going home on the bus many times, savoring my secret arousal and awe. I rationalized this fascination through comparison with my own meager member. I thought that it made sense to want to look at and study a cock of some proportion, in the same way that one could be entranced by a rare bird landing on the lawn. It was something you'd never seen the likes of before. But the excitement I'd felt went misunderstood or, as I now see in retrospect, was presented to my conscious mind in a tamed, rationalized form. Beneath it lay the measureless, desiring mass it had been cleaved from, pushed down,as it was, into the psychic depths. But now, here it presented itself, risen and insistent.

My sexual fantasies began to center exclusively around Steph and James. One would think that a sense of dignity might have stepped in and reminded me that Steph had rejected me and subsequently taken up with James in the most wholehearted and lustful way. But, to the contrary, the fact that I was all but forgotten, and Steph, as anyone with a pair of eyes could see, was wholly devoted to James, made the situation all the more stimulating for me. I renewed the fantasy that had taken shape as I peered at the two of them through the bedroom window the night of the office party. I imagined myself living in their home as their butler/slave. An unpaid position, naturally. Could I make this a reality? It seemed crazy to think it could come to be. But the fantasy involved me deeply and, at one point, I vowed, with no small sense of trepidation, to work toward its realization.

But how to start? Where to begin? Maybe they would feel repulsed by the very idea of having a slave. I did recall, though, gossip at the office about James and his weekend indulgences. It seems he liked to "party hard", as they say, and this apparently centered around drugs and sex. And a party, you know, seems to imply more than two people. Who knows what kinds of scenarios he might have been a part of. Steph, for her part, always seemed to take a kind of imperious pleasure in upbraiding me when I didn't satisfy her to her expectations in bed. She would also sometimes scold or belittle me in public, and this, too, seemed to give her satisfaction. Reflecting on these factors encouraged me. Maybe the two of them could find some special pleasure in having the man they'd cuckolded bowing, scraping, and jumping when they snapped their fingers. I intended to find out. I thought fondly back to Mrs McGuinty's address to the senior english class exhorting us to discover what it is we truly love, and then to give everything we had to fulfilling it. I decided, with wicked glee, to write to her anonymously when the time was right, informing her that one of her former students had decided to become the very best ass-licking, cumsucking doormat the world had ever seen.

My plan began simply enough. At the stationery store I bought a distinctive notepad with pages of varied pastel colors. I kept it on my desk. Every few days, at a time when I knew James would be occupied, I would compose a brief note on one of the colored pages. Here is the first one I wrote:

You are a symbol of true manliness, to me.

I would fold these missives in half, and take the elevator to the garage. If I were the only one on the elevator, I would use this privacy to kneel and hold the note to my chest, feeling the emotion and ardor of the written sentiment, and imagining James standing before me. In the garage, I would go to my car first, open the trunk, and pretend to look for something. When there was no activity, and I could see that the elevator was on one of the higher floors, I would tuck the note beneath the windshield wiper of James's car. I was careful to not allow myself more than just a respectful or appreciative expression in the notes - nothing hinting at my sexual longing. This went one for several weeks.

Meanwhile, I secretly courted Stephanie. I sent flowers every saturday, and with them a note. Here is an example of the notes I sent:

You are a queen on her throne.

I am your devoted servant.

Invariably, I sent purple irises and casablanca lilies. I knew these to be her favorites. This alone must have made her wonder. After the third delivery, I began to notice something different in Steph when we crossed paths in the office. Where before she would have breezed by with a perfunctory "hi", she now would cast a quizzical look my way.

The following monday, I was in my cubicle, wrapping up a phone conversation. I hung up, leaned back stretching, and swung my chair about. A shock ran through me as I faced Steph standing in the entry. I leapt to my feet, unnerved, but at the same time excited at the prospect of....what? Who could say? But something, certainly something was beginning to bubble in the laboratory, shall we say.

I cast my gaze down onto the carpet. I had no idea of what to say. I clasped my hands in front of me and slowly looked up to her.

"Hi, Steph," I said, my voice weak and constricted.

Steph leaned against the partition, her arms folded.

"How's it going, Jack?" she said, giving me that same quizzical look I'd begun to see.

I cleared my throat, "Oh, I'm getting along okay. You know."

I ventured a compliment. "You're looking well."

I felt my forehead begin to bead up, and I fidgeted with my hands.

"I want your opinion on something," Steph said. "Got a minute?"

"Sure!" I said, wondering what this could possibly be about. Steph gave me a small smile.

"It's at my desk," she said.

Walking down the hall, I followed behind Steph at what I considered to be a respectful distance.(Already, however discretely, I was occupying my role.) On Steph's desk was a monthly chart that she was responsible for setting up. It showed on which days agents needed to be on call during their off time.

Steph pointed to where I was scheduled. "I'm wondering if you could do these two days in a row. Phil will be on vacation. Anyway, if you're willing, Max said he'd toss in a C-note for you."

I realized that Steph was waiting for a response, but all I could do at that moment was look at the small flower arrangement in a slender vase on her desk - a single lily and a single iris.

"Those are nice," I said, excitement quickening in me as I spoke.

"Yeah," Steph said offhandedly. "They're my favorite flowers. I took them from an arrangement at home."

"Yes, I recall that you liked them," I said, acting as though absorbed in the chart.

"Do you, now"? Steph said, turning to me. "That is interesting. Actually, I've been receiving bouquets of them for a few weeks now. It's a bit mysterious. Just the flowers and an intriguing, rather flattering note attached to them. No name, though. I'd love to thank whoever is sending them. It's all so complimentary."

"I can do the extra day, just as you have it laid out, Steph," I said, keeping my eyes on the chart. I was having a little difficulty controlling my breathing.

"Jack", Steph said, "Have you been sending these to me?"

I was taken aback by the directness of the query. Still, here was my chance to see if any of this had a chance.

"You know, Jack, women like getting flowers. It's nothing to be ashamed of. And," Steph said, her voice measured and clear, "some women like to get notes like the ones I got,"

"I did," I said barely audibly. "I did send them. I'm sorry."

"Hey, no need to apologize. I was kind of digging it, having a secret admirer and all. And one with such a charming attitude. But, you know, I'm deep into my relationship with James. Who knows? Maybe some other time we could see where that goes. Anyway," Steph said, leaning towards me and kissing my cheek, "thanks for the lovely sentiments."

I left her then, returning to my desk with a sense of hope that I prayed was based on something real. Now I needed to turn my attention to the man I hoped would become my master and my mentor.

My Revelation

Chapter 3

I began to feel anxious about my efforts to get James's attention. Perhaps he thought that some neighborhood person had seen him coming and going and become obsessed with him. If that were so , he might simply decide to wait it out. He might have thought it was some lonely nut case. And he would be right, I guess. But I needed to expedite the matter. I needed to show my hand, somehow. In any case, I continued, for then, to leave my small, heartfelt notes on his windshield, feeling greater ardor and impatience as time passed. Soon, I decided on a strategy. While James was out calling on a client one day, I left a note on his desk. It hardly needs mentioning that the very same notepaper I'd been using all along bore my message. It was this:

Hi, James...

Do you have a copy of the state

statutes on life policy redemptions?

Can't seem to find mine.

Thanks!

Jack

I waited. James came back to the office later that day, but left quickly. It was the weekend, and he had plans, I imagined. As I looked from the window and saw him drive off, I felt an arousal and a stirring in my loins as I imagined just how he would be spending his time. I knew, as you are now aware, how naturally he took to riding hard on a pretty woman. I leaned back in my chair, my erection raising and lowering the fabric of my pants, and a deep craving to feel and taste James's cock in my mouth took hold. I imagined, too, Steph looking on, guiding me in the ways that she had been trained. I went quickly to the restroom, entered a stall, and found relief in mere seconds. I pressed the side of my face to the cool partition, my knees spasming, an image of James above me, squeezing his final deposit onto my face.

Naturally, when I came to work on monday, I was a nervous wreck. I had had the entire weekend to imagine the myriad disastrous ways all of this could turn out. If my ploys became public, I'd become the official leper at work. Let's face it. There'd be no work. I'd be cleaning out my desk. I arrived at my usual time. At my desk, I simply put a bunch of papers and folders on my desktop, put a pen in my hand, and stared in front of myself. I could barely think. After an hour or so, I calmed down and made a few calls. Lunch came and went. Perhaps James had completely forgotten about my request. To me, it made perfect sense that I could be readily forgotten, but I held out hope.

Around two o'clock, I saw James walking towards my desk. I turned to my monitor and began paging through the document I had on the screen. I had no idea what I was doing. James gave a light courtesy tap on the edge of the partition.

"Jack! How's the boy?" James said, "I got your message."

Just then, his cell rang. "Hold up a sec," he said, giving me a wink and quickly clapping a blackberry to his ear.

"Yeah," James said. I sat there waiting, halfway turned to the entry of my cubicle.

"That's right," James continued, " It's going to cover all of your inventories. ......exactly........yes, that premium is secured for two years........right. Within the fluctuation range I mentioned."

I began to feel uncomfortable or, rather, more uncomfortable as the conversation went on. Still it was strangely pleasant to be waiting idly as James talked to what seemed to be one of his big clients.

"You got it, my friend," James said, holding up a finger to me signaling that the call was soon ending. "Take care. Okay. Bye."

"Sorry about that," he said, stowing the phone inside his suit jacket.

"Oh! That's okay!" I spurted out, noticing a slight quaver in my voice. Had James noticed it?

"The guy's got a lot of questions. Not that I blame him. He's accountable to the "big kahuna". Carlton Imports. I hear Carlton can bite some heads off when he has a mind to," James said, chuckling. "So, about that statute book. I can just send you an e-copy. I've got it on my hard drive. But I thought I'd just drop by to see how you're doing," James said cooly. There was a silence. "So, then. How are things with you?" James queried. I saw him make a quick scan of the things on my desk. The infamous notepad could not be missed. It sat there in the glow of the computer.

"I'm good," I said. "You know. Life goes on."

"Yeah. Hey, I just gotta tell you something. I know how,.... you know, romance can go one way or the other when you're not looking. believe me, I've been through the ringer myself. Anyway, Ihope you didn't get banged up too bad when you and Stephanie fell out."

"Oh. Well, it was hard, you know."

"You bet I do, bro," he said, then took a step toward me and gave my shoulder a squeeze. "That's love for you."

The feel of his strong hand giving my shoulder a quick knead, and the sound of his commiserating words made my eyes moisten. I felt an instinct to lean my head down onto his hand, but, of course, I offered a more stoic response. A response that one real man might say to another in such circumstances. I turned my head to look up to him.

"Thank you, James. Your saying this means a lot to me. I didn't want our being with the same girl to be a wedge between us," I said. James let his hand drop away.

"Well, I know you two had your difficulties. Say, ...where can I get notepaper like that? That's kinda cool, "James said, his hand on my shoulder again. "Yeah. I could really dig a pad of paper like that. Know what I mean?"

I nearly wet my pants feeling that strong brown hand on my shoulder and hearing his suggestive words. My heart began to beat like a hummingbird's and I felt myself beginning to hyper-ventilate. James noticed.

"Relax, man We'll get back to this another time. Okay?"

"Sure, sure. Sorry. I've been feeling a bit strange today, is all."

"I know what you mean. Just relax. That's my boy."

My God! He called me "boy"!

"Hey. Let's have a beer after work sometime," James said, casually. "It'd be nice to talk things over. How 'bout it"?

"I'd really like that, James. I would," I replied, smiling timidly up at him. I was in utterly new territory for me. I felt like I was moving in a dream. "Thank you, James."

"Let me know when's good for you. See ya."

James turned and left. I placed my hand where he had held his on my shoulder and found myself smiling inside and out.

My Revelation

Chapter 4

On the following Thursday, after work, I met James at Bristol's, a bar popular with business types. Bristol's was on the swank side: oak paneling, plush carpeting, nicely upholstered chairs and barstools. As I approached, the door swung open as a couple left, and I could hear a piano being played. My eyes slowly adjusted as I stepped inside. The pianist in a far corner was in the middle of "Night and Day". The place was about half full. I looked around. Several of the tables were occupied with folks in business attire. There was a horseshoe-shaped bar against the wall to the rear. I saw James's profile on the right side. He was chatting with one of the bartenders. I took a deep breath, then another, telling myself, "You can do this, Jack." I had already had a couple of belts from a pint bottle I'd picked up on the way to work. I swabbed my brow with my handkerchief, thankful that the place had its AC going full blast. James was still talking to the bartender as I approached.

"He's out for the season, man," I heard him say. "Did a number on his knee."

James turned, "Hey there, Jack. Belly up to the bar. Another manhattan, Cal. Just like the last one. How about it, Jack? what's your pleasure?"

I swung into the barstool beside James, grinning like a fool, for some reason. Nerves, I guess, though I was also utterly ecstatic to be James's companion for the evening.

"A manhattan sounds good," I said. "I'm a bourbon guy, myself."

""Make it two, Cal, rocks. With bitters. You do like bitters in yours I trust?"

"That's what the recipe calls for."

"Damn right. But you gotta ask for it, most of the time. Cal here knows the score, though."

The drinks arrived. "Here's to insuring the world," James proposed, and we touched glasses.

"Mmmmm. That's what I'm talking about," James declared, sipping from his glass. "What do you think?"

"It's the best. Yeah," I said.

"Hear that, Cal? Jack is on board."

"Thanks guys," Cal said, turning from the cash register. "Enjoy."

"And so we shall," James said.

We talked about work for a while, James coaching me in the ways of effective salesmanship. I gave him my full attention.

"Don't be afraid to be a little bit familiar with a client, Jack. They'll see that as confidence on your part, and then they just naturally develop their own confidence in you. Unless you're a complete fuck-up, of course. But I know you know the business. Give it a try."

WE had another drink. Normally, I'd be getting kind of loopy at this point, but I was so charged up by the potential promise of the situation that, although I felt buzzed, I was aware of every word James spoke; every gesture he made.

The ice rattled in our glasses as we finished off these drinks. James nodded to Cal, and two more arrived.

James reached into his suit jacket pocket and withdrew several folded pieces of pastel-colored paper. These he proceeded to separate and arrange on the bar before us. I found myself speechless in the face of this. I just stared at them and at his hands as he shifted them into two neat rows.

"Now, on an entirely different subject...," James said.

" James," I said, "Could we please do this somewhere else? Maybe at a table?"

"What for?" James asked bluntly. "It's just a few scraps of paper. "

"The bartender," I said nervously, "He could see them. I mean...."

"I think Cal, here, has seen pieces of paper lying on the bar over the years. What's the big deal?" James said, sounding impatient.

"No! It's fine. Really. I was just concerned that he might see what was on them, and all. But, like you said, no big deal! Sorry I made such a fuss, James," I said, feeling anxious and smiling at him tensely.

"I really don't think the bartender wants to see what's written here, but if he did, let's say, express some curiosity, and if I felt it would be rude to deny him, what would you say to that? Would you tell me "no"? "