Seven Days of Service - Day 03

Putting the note in my pocket, I thoughtfully sipped my beer, asking Hattie, "Just what the hell were you guys laughing about anyhow?" Eyeing me carefully, Hattie replied, "Just 'girl talk,' Scotty; girl talk. You know, just like 'guy talk.'"

Looking at her I could see that I'd gotten all I could from her, at least for tonight, and settled myself in for Cathy's return. Leaning in to me once more, Hattie gave me one last piece of advice. "Those items on the list? Blindfold her before you apply them, and in addition to my earlier advice to take it 'soft and slow?' Soft and gentle this time; less will end up being more with this one." Then, winking at me, she moved on down the bar and topped off a couple of the other customers.

Cathy finally strolled back up to the bar, and since she'd finished her drink and it was getting late, I suggested that we return home to get ready for the workday tomorrow. After the workout in the pool that afternoon, and the drinks this evening, she was in no mood to argue, so we bid Hattie and Robert good night and left for my house.

* * * *

On the way back I tried to pump Cathy for information on what had gone on between her and Hattie while at the bar, but she had dozed off as I asked my questions. For some reason, I was a little put off by this evening, as I'd spent very little time with Cathy, and it seemed to me that my grip on her had loosened somewhat. It seemed that this 'domination gene' that I'd discovered in myself was asserting itself with a vengeance.

I woke her at the house, and invited her in to freshen up before she left for her apartment. I watched her carefully as she gathered her things in the living room, and was a bit surprised when she went about changing back into her dowdies in front of me, with no regard to her nakedness whatsoever. Apparently any concern about her nudity around me had been dissipated through familiarity. As she began to hike up her jeans however, I motioned for her to stop.

Wanting to leave a reminder for her who was the winner in this contest, I walked up to her, put my hands on her shoulders, leaned into her neck, and took her earlobe between my teeth. Nipping her gently until she flinched, I ran my tongue around the delicate shell of her ear itself. I then blew gently into her ear, gauging her reaction. I felt her tremble, and her head began to move into mine.

Moving my hands down from her shoulders, I brushed over her breasts, gently rolling her nipples between my fingers once more. Her moans were becoming addictive to me I discovered; I loved hearing them coming from her throat as I caressed her. Sliding my right hand down over her stomach to that little warning patch of pubic hair, I softly brushed the curly tendrils before inserting my hand between her thighs.

She was soaked in the juices of her own arousal, which in turn began to affect me as well. Shaking myself out of my stupor, I brought my hand up to my face, directly between hers and mine, and inserted my fingers into my mouth, licking them clean while looking her straight in the eye. "Don't let anyone ever tell you that you're not good enough to eat, m'dear." Gesturing for her to continue dressing, I intentionally left her hanging, just on the edge of frustration.

To the best of my knowledge, I was the only outlet other than herself for a sexual climax, at least for now, and the more on edge I could keep her, the more likely it would be that she'd invite me into the final consummation between us. I hoped. Just one 'crap-shoot' after another I thought. If and whenever she did, I had no idea what would happen to us after the terms of the contest were satisfied.

As she was about to leave my house, I gave her a new set of instructions for the following workday. "We have a staff meeting at 11:00 a.m. tomorrow," I reminded her. "During this meeting, I don't want you to say a single thing until we are summing things up. Nothing! Take notes; as many as you feel necessary to get the gist of what's being discussed. Once everyone has had their say, then—and only then—are you to issue your instructions to your crew. Understood?"

A little frown was beginning to form between her eyes as I was talking, but once I finished, she simply nodded her head, and left me to my own thoughts. As I closed the door after her, I began thinking.

My own thoughts . . . Shit! Where the hell were my thoughts anyway? This contest, as ill-conceived as it seemed, had forced two of the company's toughest managers together in a way that was impossible to predict when it started. Two solo souls, making their way through life with no clear goal in mind, being forced together to play a game; one of their own choosing no less. Only pride continued to bind the pieces together into a seamless flow. Damn! We were both just too stubborn for our own good.

Who wins; who loses? Hell if I know. It seems that we were quickly becoming drawn into this game more deeply each day. And trying to separate game from reality was becoming more difficult as each barrier was breached.

(To be continued in Seven Days of Service – Day Four)