Taming the Scribe Ch. 1

ZAGREB CHEESEBURGER

I woke from the dream with a raging hard-on of an intensity seldom known these days by a body that has seen almost eight decades. Still slumped in the ancient recliner, with a glass of 25 year old single malt by my side and the embers of a December blaze dying in the fireplace, I battled with my mind for a few moments in that nether region where one is truly neither awake or asleep. Mustering the discipline to let the disappeared images linger, I subtly manipulated the throbbing sensation that remained the spiritual gateway to my dream.

Then, like an avalanche, the dream returned, cascading down the slippery slopes of an old man's mind. After all these years I had been thinking of Jennifer! Quickly I filed a handful of the long forgotten erotic images to the mental archives as I poured myself another tumbler of the smooth whiskey. Many years had passed since we had communicated and probably twenty since I had seen her last. A smile played across my lips as I fully realized, as only the reflection of time long passed allows, how Jennifer had served as the catalyst for my remarkable transformation -- and the journey into submission I began during the second half of my life.

Jennifer was the first woman to ever dominate me. Some dozen years after we had first met, she returned into my life as my immediate supervisor at the Outfit and instantly began to mould me into a form designed solely to service her career needs. She made it clear early on she planned to break through the Outfit's glass ceiling and into the seventh floor executive suites -- and those that worked for her were expected to devote themselves to this cause. Her methods in breaking me were clinical and always professional in nature, except for one notable exception; and in all honesty I deserved everything that occurred during that remarkable session as it was payback for the first time we met.

When her next promotion came she moved to the fourth floor and another woman took her slot. I did not know it then but I had been thoroughly prepared by her skillful ministrations for the years of domination that would follow at the hands of the Outfit's female staff. During that tenure my butt would be blistered in countless sessions with the paddle and the strap, and on rare occasion even the cane. Within a year of Jennifer's arrival my bare bottom had been soundly spanked a half dozen times at the office.

Then somewhat later a new phase of my torment was initiated. Jennifer introduced my virgin ass to the world of strap-on accommodation and from then on I lived in constant dread of that brutal tool. It was only used as the most severe form of punishment, yet the sinister joy that she and the others in her circle took when penetrating my dark passage on those occasions made me tremble with a fear still unmatched in my experience. Some two dozen times over the following years I knew the distinct pop of the latex head as it passed my stretched barrier, and then the long agony that followed. I remember with absolute clarity each and every such emasculating violation.

However I am getting ahead of the story. Please forgive an old man as his mind wanders back to his days in the saddle. Let me put another log on the fire and pour myself one more glass of this fine whiskey -- and then I will tell you about meeting Jennifer again, a dozen years after I fucked her brains out one New Years Eve in New Orleans....

******

Getting a decent meal at the Zagreb airport is no easy task. One small restaurant shares space with a coffee bar upstairs on the observatory level and the menu there is less than inspiring. However after nearly a month in Bosnia the airport cheeseburger had begun to take on mythic proportions in my fevered imagination. I had just dropped my client Walter off downstairs to join the crowd catching the Friday afternoon shuttle to Dubrovnik, and was indulging myself before my flight to London. I was wondering if the waiter had understood medium well to mean my burger, instead of how I felt, when I heard chatter behind me.

"Hi Craig! Whatcha doin'?" a cooing female voice asked. When I looked up to see Jeanette and Ellen standing by my side, I couldn't help but notice they were both grinning like a couple of school girls.

"Waiting for the flight to Gatwick. What are two American girls doing in a place like this? I heard you were going to Dubrovnik with everybody and that you had tickets to Sting, Ellen."

At 5'6" Ellen stood half a foot shorter than the towering Jeannette, wore glasses that gave her a serious intellectual look, and had a smile that could warm the coldest room. I had just met her a week earlier when we had run up to the Croatian capital from Banja Luka and was eager to get on her good side. Ellen had been responsible for a moderate ticket coming to power in the previous Croatian elections, after Tudjman had died, by running a grass roots democracy programme liberally funded by the Outfit. She was a rising star and the word was she would be involved in ousting Milosevic from Serbia when the time came.

"Sure do," she replied. "We thought you would be coming to Dubrovnik with Walter. We saw him at the gate downstairs and he said you were up here. In a hurry to get back to the States?"

"Oh Craig probably just wants to check in with those Brits he consults with," Jeanette interjected. "He's always so close mouthed about his friends in London and Oxford. But that's beside the point. We just wanted to share some news you may not have heard down in Bosnia." They were both grinning ear to ear now and I knew something was up.

Jeanette paused for a moment, a twinkle in her eye, and then a wink for Ellen. I had met her the previous year and knew very little of what she did with the American Embassy in Croatia. She was constantly back and forth to Paris and Brussels, and always dressed the part of the sophisticated European businesswoman in muted colours that hugged her trim athletic figure. I knew she had a sharp tongue and a reputation as being hell on wheels with anybody that got in her way. Fortunately we were both on the same team.

She leaned forward to give me a two cheek kiss as Ellen exclaimed, "You've got a new boss. Jennifer is taking over your department!" As Ellen's words came tumbling out, Jeanette allowed her embrace to linger just a beat and with her left hand reached under my jacket and gave my right butt cheek a long firm squeeze. "You had better tighten up Craig," she whispered in my ear, "or Jennifer will have your ass."

As suddenly as they appeared they were gone. Amazingly the cheeseburger arrived cooked to perfection, but I was no longer hungry.

To Be Continued...