Out Of Peoria Ch. 09

Out of Peoria: A Story of Innocence lost.

Chapter 9: Love at last?

We met at an office gathering, a celebration of some kind of milestone in the companies’ history. I can’t remember what this was because from the moment I set eyes on her, all I could think about was Heidi.

Cecil introduced us.

“I don’t think you’ve met our new Head of Special Accounts,” he said to the tall bronzed, blonde lady at his side. “Heidi, meet Susan. She’s the most successful “HSA” we’ve ever had. Susan, my wife, Heidi.”

I took the proffered hand and registered that gleam in her eye. She knew. She knew everything, and yet she did not care. I think we both knew in that instant. It was love at first sight.

We did not talk that evening. Heidi was too busy doing the rounds --- Cecil’s trophy wife being shown off! We eyed each other, though. at every available opportunity, but it was only as the evening drew to a close that we came again in close proximity.

Occasions of ‘corporate celebration’, which fortunately happened only rarely, brought many influential men into town and, as the world turns, important “intimates” of the company, if they were in high favor, got to spend the night with me at my apartment. This was a singular honor because the location of my apartment along with my unlisted phone number, were closely regarded secrets. So my ‘partner for the night’, my third in three nights, was a ‘close friend’ of Cecil’s, at least so he said and so he must have been to gain the ‘honor’ of my attentions.

As a close friend of Cecil’s, it was inevitable that we would not leave without taking our leave, as it where, and while he was saying his good-byes to Cecil, Heidi took the opportunity to say goodbye to me too. Her voice was cool and proper. It was our eyes that dazzled. When our hands parted I found a small sliver of paper left behind. I pocketed it silently, and with a parting, final glance into those piercing blue eyes, set off to ‘work’.

I don’t know whether my companion of the night noticed anything, almost certainly not. He was fairly drunk and drank an additional ample portion of the Macallan before we got down to business. He laid a hand on his thigh, but moved up too quickly and his clumsy attempts to stimulate my cunt did nothing for me except to strengthen my already strong desire to ensure that he was rendered ‘neutral’ as soon as possible. Murmuring appreciation, I fished his cock out of his pants and went down on it. He fingered me avidly as I did so, his forefinger penetrating my vagina, again too soon. Feigning arousal, I invited him to the bedroom where we unclothed each other. Then I laid him down on the bed and started serious work on his cock.

He came in my mouth even before I had him properly hard. Then he fell sound asleep. On my way back from the bathroom, I washed the remaining taste of him away with a slug of scotch and hastened to pick up the jacket of my suit from where it lay on the floor. In the pocket was that precious sliver of paper. All that was on it was a cell phone number. That was all, but it was enough.

Returning to the bed, I slipped in next to my gently snoring companion, and began to masturbate. And you will not need to guess who the object of my fantasy was, as I frigged away and orgasm succeeded orgasm!

In the morning my only thought was to get to my phone. But my companion, it seemed was a morning person. I awoke with his hand on my cunt, and this was soon followed by his tongue and lips. I spread my legs like a good whore does, and let him have his way, moaning and groaning as though his ministrations were doing for me what in fact was the opposite from what they were really doing! Rarely have I been so thoroughly turned off when having my cunt licked! I simulated an orgasm, but this just encouraged him, and with an agility that belied his age and girth, he straddled me and kept on tonguing my clit while I worked on his cock. I sucked him hard and kept on sucking, but this only encouraged him yet further and after a while he was fully erect. I had to mount him and ride him, which as you can imagine I did with full force, banging down onto him so we sank deep into the mattress before riding up, pausing, teasing his cock tip with my pussy lips and then falling on him again with the full weight of my body.

But even this did not get him off and I groaned inwardly as I felt his cock turn limp again. Dismounting, I sucked it back to life. A further round of hard-fucking, with the same result. No matter how hard I tried, I could not get him off. We sucked and fucked in every conceivable position and if he was surprised at the urgency with which I bounced up and down on his cock, he would have been even more surprised if he had known the reason for my alacrity!

Eventually, a ferocious, prolonged two-handed wank with him standing and me kneeling at his feet had him cum, again in my mouth, but I did not care. I was only too relieved that it was over.

I declined his enthusiastic invitation to lunch, pleading urgent business, and heaved a huge sigh of relief as the door closed on his back.

I lunged for the phone. She answered immediately, a husky, sexy voice with a slight foreign accent.

“Where are you?”

“At home.”

“Where’s home?”

I told her.

“I’ll be there in half an hour.”

Hastily I showered, feeling as nervous as a high school girl on her first date. I had just finished shaving and oiling my vulva when the bell rang. Throwing on a robe, barefoot, hair wild, free and all over the place, I raced for the door. She entered silently. Neither of us spoke. The robe and Heidi’s dress slipped simultaneously to the floor. And so did we. Right there on the carpet it began, fondling, scratching, biting, rolling over and over, groaning, moaning, screams of ecstasy, on and on, into the bedroom and onto the bed for more, more and yet more ---- there was no end to it, and neither of us wanted there to be.

But end it had to, and with a jolt. We were lying side by side fingering each other playfully, working up the energy for another bout when Heidi’s eyes cast a glance at the clock.

“Mein Gott!”
She staggered to her feet.

“I have to leave you darling,” she said. “I promised Cecil --- he’s having ‘very important people’ to dinner.”

She accented ‘very important people’, indicating sarcasm. “Trophy wife has to be there.”

As she was pulling on her dress she looked down at me, lying spread-eagled on the bed.

“I don’t make many concessions to Cecil,” she said. “But some are smart.”

“Don’t feel bad,” I said, glumly. “I have to entertain one of his friends tonight. Obviously not a ‘very important one’.” My tone mirrored hers.

“Ha! There you go. At least I don’t have to shag them!”

I looked up at her, but her wicked smile diffused the remark of all offense.

“Don’t worry,” she said. “I’ve been there too. There aren’t many places where I haven’t been.”
I paused, then said, tentatively,

“Have you been before where we just were?”

Heidi did not hesitate a moment. She leant down and caressed my cheek.

“No, dear. I have not. There I have never been before.”

Then her manner turned business-like. “You better get working on yourself. Your mate for the night is going to think you been rolling in a gorse bush!”

I looked at myself and realized what she meant. My body was covered with thin red lines, blotches and bruises.

“Holy cow!” I, too, leapt to my feet, surveying the damage.

“Serves you right for being such a tiger,” Heidi said playfully. “Gotta run. Ciao!”

“Stop!” I almost shouted. “When will I see you?”

“Soon!” she said. “Very soon. I’ll call you.”

The door closed behind her with a bang.

I rushed for the bathroom and spent an hour trying to repair the damage. I did the best I could to cover everything. Oh well, I thought. If the lights are low, he’ll never know.

My companion of the evening was a courteous gent in his early fifties (I would judge). I was still in a whirl from the afternoon’s love-making, by far the most extraordinary of my life. This left me with the surety that I had not deceived myself, but that Heidi was as hooked on me as I was on her and my spirits were so elevated, I was, I believe, better ‘company’ that night than I had ever been before.

And this extended to the bedroom. The men I had been with (there were more than enough for me to collect statistics!) tended to fall into two categories. Some men talked mainly about their wives. An amateur psychologist would probably conclude that these were the ‘guilt-ridden’ ones and their chatter was designed to rationalize to themselves just why it was they were ‘cheating’. The second category comprised men who did not mention their wives at all and said nothing about themselves either. Some of them, however, catgory three, went on for ever about themselves, covering up perhaps an innate inferiority complex, but they did not mention their wives. These, one would surmise, had long since accommodated to the deficiencies of the marriage bed and rationalized to themselves that ‘cheating’ was ok.

My companion of that evening fell into the first class. So much so, in fact, that he blurted out his entire marital history even before we were ‘properly acquainted’ so to speak. He’d been married three times, it emerged, and his current wife was thirty years younger than he was. All of them were beautiful, he said, and they turned him on. But, he said, he had not succeeded in persuading any of them, not even the latest one, who had been born in an age when sexual promiscuity was the norm rather than the exception, to suck his cock. (He did not exactly use this language, but this is what he meant!). The most recent wife, he solemnly asserted, enjoyed being licked and tongued by him, but would under no circumstances return the compliment. He seemed to find this unfair, possibly with justice, but I could not help but think of Brad, who on rare occasions, would work away at my cunt with his tongue, lips and teeth without having the slightest idea what he was doing nor being the slightest bit sensitive to the effect this was having on me. Turn off or not, I encouraged him to stimulate me orally nevertheless because however inept he was the lubrication his saliva generated eased penetration, when he decided it was time to fuck.

Such revelations as my companion of the evening had vouchsafed are of course grist to the mill of the true professional, and so it was that I spent the night ministering orally to his cock. And most appreciative he was. I would work him until he was hard, then straddle him so we could ‘69’ and step up the pressure until he came. Three times around and he was still going --- I believe the poor sod had not had sex for months!

“Heavenly!” he would say.

Never has ‘work’ seemed so effortless. I was on top of the world. I could suck this man’s cock until kingdom come.

Fourth time around he was definitely flagging and on the fifth an entire harem probably could not have got him up.

“I’m afraid, my dear,” he said, “there’s no gas left in the tank.”

I smiled at him brightly.

“Well perhaps,” I said audaciously, “you wouldn’t mind just finishing me off ..?”

What a vixen! I lay back on the bed, legs wide apart and let him lick me and caress me, tongue me, finger me ---- Oh, how I made that man work ---- until pity gained the upper hand and (if I may say as I shouldn’t) I effected one of the best simulated orgasms of my career!

And he was so grateful. How simple it is to please a man!

When he was asleep my hand strayed to my groin and I masturbated myself again to orgasm, this time a real one. And again, the fantasy was no man, but Heidi. And she was no longer fantasy. She was real, and she was mine.

========================

In the morning my companion seemed ready for more action, but his cock just would not do it for him. Try as I would, there was no juice left in him. Rather than have him leave embarrassed, I praised his performance of the night before and begged him to ‘bring me off just one more time’, which he did with alacrity. Honor satisfied, he left, readily accepting my excuse that ‘urgent business’ precluded me from joining him for breakfast.

I am not sure he left an entirely happy man, but if not, then nothing a woman can do for a man would have made him so.

My urgent business was, of course, waiting for my cell to ring.

It didn’t.

I became anxious.

I called Jim on a landline. Did I have any appointments that could not be postponed?

“Well,” Jim’s voice was entirely calm and neutral. He knew nothing! “.. Mr Witherspoon had inquired whether you might be available later on this afternoon…..”

I recalled it was Friday! It had been ages since I had had a Friday session with Cecil, and he would want one now, exactly at the wrong time! But Jim continued,

“…. Apparently there is someone he would like you to meet.”

I groaned inwardly! But then recovered. It wasn’t Cecil, it was some mongrel of his he wanted to dump on someone for the weekend! I decided enough was enough. Whoever got this one, it was not going to me.

“Can you put him off. I’m really feeling rather exhausted. Actually, I think I may be coming down with something.”

“I’m sure Mr Witherspoon will understand,” came Jim’s soothing voice down the line.

“Thanks, Jim,” I said. “Have a good weekend.”

“Have one yourself, Ms Sandersen,” came down the line. “And look after yourself.” Try as I would, I just could not get Jim to call me Susan.

Still that damn cell did not ring. Impatient, I called Heidi’s cell. Her answering service responded.

An hour later I called, with the same result.

Eventually, exhaustion overcame me and, unwillingly, unwittingly, I drifted into sleep on the bed.

I awoke to the trilling of a phone and immediately leapt for my cell. But when I pressed the appropriate button the ringing continued. Still drowsy, it finally dawned on me that the phone that was ringing was my landline. Hastily, I lurched across and grabbed the handset from the cradle. How had Heidi got my landline, was what I was thinking. But the voice on the end of the line was not Heidi’s, it was Jane!

“Hihowaya!”

“Oh, er, is this Jane?”

“Herself. I tried you at the office but they said you were home today.”

“Erm, um Yes! Not feeling entirely 100%,” I said, still half asleep. Inwardly I cursed myself for giving Jane my home (unlisted) number.

“Sounds like Cecil is working you hard.”

“There’s some company thing going on,” I said woozily. “It’s been a bit too much, all round.”

“Been there, Susan, been there. Hang in. Anyway, I’m just touching base, how you’re doing and all.”

“Doing fine, Jane, just fine….. And, by the way, I’ll never forget how you set this up for me.”

“You see. I had more confidence in you than you had in yourself.”

“Very right, Jane. And I appreciate it, I really do. And if there is every anything I can do to replay you, do let me know, won’t you.”

There was a pause. Something was coming. I was sure of it.

“Well actually”, Jane’s voice changed perceptively, “it’s interesting you should say that!”

Another pause.

I was silent, fearing the worst.

“Listen,” Jane said. Her tone turned businesslike. “Not to beat about the bush, I do need you actually. Right now. This weekend to be precise. In fact tonight and tomorrow night. Can you do it?”

“Oh shit Jane,” I was suddenly awake, “not this weekend, please!”

There was a silence.

“Why not this weekend? Cecil usually leaves weekends free, or has he changed?”

I paused. I had said it, damn my eyes, and Cecil did leave weekends free.

Finally, I said “Jane, I do truly want to replay you, but does it really have to be now, this weekend? It’s really inconvenient.”

A long silence.

“Susan, I would not be asking if I did not need you. But I do. I’ve just been let down by my regular partner -- Tina, remember her? -- for a threesome tonight. I could cancel, but it is someone very, very special. He’s come down to San Diego just to see us. And there’s no-one down here with the class. You are the only person I know who has…..”

I remained silent.

“…. And I have a big event arranged for Saturday that I’m committed to and believe it or not half of my regulars have quit on me. There must be a bug going around. I managed to pull in three, but I need three more urgently for tomorrow, and believe me, I would not be calling you if it were not an emergency. There’s a reputation at stake here. Please believe me, I wouldn’t be calling in the cards like this if I had an alternative. Help me out. Please!”

What should I do. I willed that damn cell to ring. It refused.

“Jane, can you give me some time?”

“How long?”

“I thought hard. “An hour?”

“An hour max,” she said. “Please believe me I would not ask this of you if I did not need to.”

“I believe you. I’ll do my best. I’ll call you within the hour. That’s a promise.”

I tried Heidi’s cell again, with the same result. In desperation I left a message, appropriately veiled --- who knew? One hour. She had said she would call. Why did she not call?

Fifty-five minutes into the hour she did.

“Where were you? You said you would call!”

“I’m calling! What’s with?”

Calmed somewhat, I explained. I had an obligation. It would take me out of town. It was something I did not have to do, but that I felt I ought to do. Helping a friend and benefactor.

“No problem,” Heidi said. “Obligations are important. If this is someone who matters to you, you should go.”

“But I want to be with you!” I said, a tone of desperation in my voice. “You matter to me much more!”

“And I want to be with you,” came the reply. “But life is not always the way you want it to be. I will be here when you get back.”

“Are you sure?”

“Do you doubt it?”

“No!”

“Then what’s your problem?”

And therein lay the rub. If I were sure of Heidi, what difference, indeed, did a weekend make? But such is the insecurity that love brings, I was very far from sure. One afternoon of intense passion was not enough. Especially not in California!

I called Jane on the hour precisely. And two hours later I was on a plane to San Diego. I wish I could say I was sure I had done the right thing. But I was not. I was almost certainly the most reluctant passenger on that plane.

Jane met me at the airport and after falling all over me with gratitude, she took me straight to the hotel, a discrete, elegant place up the coast in La Jolla. She chatted like a magpie the entire way.

“Pietro’s a sweetie,” she said. “You’ll like him. He’s ‘something’ in the movies, at least I think he is. I used to see him with Tina in LA, but since I’ve moved down here he’s taken to coming down once in a while. Just to see me, fancy! Well, he likes Tina too, and it was all set up, only she called this morning. Came down with something. No-one down here can take her place. Pietro is extra special. I had Tina perfectly trained and we worked very well together…..”

“…. But I’m sure Pietro will get on with you even better,” she continued. “I had to train Tina, but you’re a natural. You’ll fit in like a glove on a hand. …..”

“…. His real name is Peter, but he is proud of his Italian background and he really likes it when you call him Pietro. I think he’s nouveau riche, but he plays the part of the aristocrat very convincingly. That’s why I can’t just take anybody. Here’s the deal.”

Pietro, she said, liked very long and sensuous sessions. Nothing hasty or hurried, but long, very long. We would start with a dinner, which would be out of this world and last forever. Then around midnight we would go up to his suite and get to work. Pietro liked a fixed routine. Always the same. First he would pour us all drinks and then he would settle down on the couch. Jane would start to fondle him and work on his cock while I did a slow strip.