Life as a New Hire Ch. 13

"Why didn't you betray her?" Phyllis prodded. "Don't tell me she's dead."

"No, she's fine," I replied. "She was the one who told me to date other women."

"That's harsh," Zelda commiserated. She thought Kimberly had dumped me.

"Oh no," I corrected her. "We stayed together until I graduated last month. Four of the best years of my life. When she told me to date other women it was because I was killing her. I have a voracious sexual appetite and she was desperate for a full night's sleep."

"Do you ever go home alone?" Marsha joined in.

"Does leaving a woman's house at 1 a.m. count?" I requested.

"Did she throw you out?" Rivka interrogated.

"No. She and her sister were exhausted so I picked up my roommate and left," I exaggerated.

"Wait!" Nicole held up her hand. "Sisters...and you told us your roommate was gay?"

"Morals and scruples," I repeated. "See, I was dating one sister and the other sister wanted a date so I talked my gay roommate into being my wingman so I wouldn't end up sleeping with them both. It didn't work out so well. The second, older sister was horny, so my guy pretended to pass out."

"Have you ever considered you are a horrible person?" Marsha studied me.

"Yes. Not only have I thought about, I've been told that a few dozen times. It usually is accompanied by 'I'm going to kill you', or 'you had better make it up to me'."

"Have you ever been hurt?" Phyllis appeared concerned.

"My body is a roadmap of poor decision making," I responded.

"What was the worst thing to ever happen to you?" Rivka grinned. Her ability to be deceptively pretty had to have made her a frightening lawyer.

"When they were happening, I was a bit more concerned with what might happen to me as opposed to rating them," I informed her.

"Except for being shot with an arrow, being chased around naked with a hot poker and having my bed dowsed with lighter fluid while I was still in it were probably the worst," I nodded. "I've been stabbed a few times, tasered, occasionally thrown out of a window not on the first floor and had bookcase dropped on me once, so I consider myself a connoisseur of ex-girlfriend vengeance."

"Have you ever been involved with a police proceeding?" Rivka became a tad bit more intense.

"Nah," shook my head. "I had it coming. As you said, I'm kind of a horrible guy."

"Domestic violence is no joking matter," Nicole also became serious.

"That's unfair," I countered. "I'm not so slavishly devoted to the law that I'd ruin some girl's life because I was a total bastard."

"Domestic Violence laws are supposed to protect the innocent from the abusive," I added. "I haven't lied to you about my misadventures, but you should understand I chose to handle most of my problems myself. By the looks on your faces, you are about as disappointed in me as the policewoman I am currently seeing. This is who I am and I'm not going to apologize for it."

"Mind you, I'm not some gun-toting, roughneck Libertarian," I clarified. "I believe in law, order and the justice system. If someone pulls out an AK-47 on me at a corner bodega, I'm making 9-1-1 my bitch on speed-dial. I don't want to be a hero, or fulfill my organ donor card. I just don't equate that to a girl kneeing me in the nuts because I slept with her best friend in her lingerie."

There was a pause as the ladies looked around. They were making an assessment of how much trouble I'd cause versus how much fun I would be. They all smiled at me. They always do.

"Who was wearing the lingerie?" Zelda smirked.

"I've worn women's lingerie before, but it really wasn't my thing," I mused.

"I'll go through a lot for good sex," I winked. "It was my girlfriend's lingerie on her best friend."

"Wait," Rivka noted. "Didn't the best friend know you were dating the first girl?"

"Yeah. I'm not sure why that never stops them," I shrugged. "Around the fifth time I stopped worrying about it."

"Wow, do you have any idea how many women you've been with?" Rivka asked.

"Do you always use protection?" Phyllis piled on.

"Yes -- 223 as of Friday. I'm hoping to break 300 before work replaces me with those guys from 'Hamster Dance'," I told them. "And yes, I always use protection."

"I may not know where my partner has been, but I know where I've been and it scares me," I snickered. "That's why I always carry ten."

"Ten?" Nicole snorted. "Do you regularly check the expiration date, or are you that ambitious?"

"Ambitious? I'd carry more except it's hard to hide more than ten in a wallet -- I've tried," I sighed.

"Have you ever run out?" Marsha snickered. Our snickering, chuckling and laughter were drawing stares.

"Run out? Hell, I've gone door to door in a women's dormitory at 2 a.m. trying to find some," I related. "Ran into an old girlfriend doing that." I slipped into a dreamy smile.

"Why do I think that despite it being 2 a.m. in her dorm with you seeking a condom for use with a different woman, she wasn't pissed?" Rivka giggled.

"Oh God no," I waved off. "She was freaking furious. That was some of the most intense 'I'm lonely and it's all your fault' sex I have ever been through."

"You have names for different kinds of sex?" Nicole was almost crying from laughing so hard.

"Oh yeah. The first time I run across a different sexual experience, I slap a name on it so when it happens again, I know what to do," I explained.

"Isn't every woman unique?" Zelda sniffled.

"That sounds nice in a love song, but 'no'," I smiled. "Women, and men, have a finite number things -- needs and responses. Women can have different erogenous zones, but there all on the human body. Admittedly, it can be a bit like predicting the weather at times. It is not a perfect system by any means."

"What's my 'thing' then?" Nicole taunted. She didn't think I could do it.

"Sex has to be an accomplishment with you, Nicole," I informed her. "You need to be engaged mentally as much as anything else. You need a poet who runs marathons. Otherwise you end up staring at the ceiling after sex wondering what better use you could have made of your time."

Silence. That was the norm for that kind of revelation. Women hated to be laid bare. They hated being misunderstood even more.

"Nicole?" Rivka prodded her friend. Nicole remained silent. I knew that look.

"Nicole, I'm bad news. Wouldn't you prefer to keeps thing simple?" I hoped.

I was wrong to hope. I kept praying they would go 'hey, great, mindless sex -- let's not blow it', but they never did. I hated giving lame erotic encounters, despite the guarantee of anguish that always followed.

"We could go out on a date and see how that works?" Nicole offered. Doom.

"Cáel Nyilas; I'm in the book and I work for Havenstone Commercial Investments," I stupidly replied. "You probably have a killer workload were as I spot-check children's toys for WMDs. Give me a call when you have a night free." How was it going to turn out? Sex, sex, sex, sex, sex -- let's make a commitment -- you cheating fuck-nut! I hate you.

Girls weren't predictable -- I was.

"Cáel, we are going out to dinner, if you remember who you are supposed to be with," Libra seethed as she and the others passed Nicole's table.

"Yup, gotta go where I'm not wanted. Nice seeing you again, Nicole," I grinned. "Ladies, I hope it was a pleasure. It was for me. Good night."

Dinner -- was -- bad. Felix, hemorrhoid that he was, squashed Gene's feeble attempts to draw him back to her as he made crystal clear that he was taking Brooke home -- to fuck her into Paradise...instead of letting her go home with me. Problem being -- Brooke wasn't mine to take -- never had been.

For the first time in his life, I thought Brian was about to be screwed. Libra was past uber-bitchy by the fifth glass of wine. Brian held a pair of Jokers and thought he was the boss, like always. Libra had four Queens and would be screaming my name when she orgasmed -- Brian was sexually proficient. He was also a misogynist, I was now sure, and Libra was going to make him squeal.

Then she was going to grab up her clothes, storm out of Brian's place and never want to talk with him again. It wasn't that I was that unforgettable. I was that I knew what she wanted and had given it to her and not getting it Saturday afternoon while Brooke did was frosting her ass. What did that mean for me?

For the first time in a long, long time, I was pissed with another guy. Trent really wasn't worth my time, but Felix was about to cross my here-until-now unforeseen line of what guys did to girls. It was dawning on me that this was the result of me. Someone was doing something wrong to a girl because of me. It wasn't my fault. Felix was being a jerk.

That would be of cold comfort for Brooke. We split up after dinner. I didn't have the heart to pick up Gene, who was easy prey right then. It was too much like what Felix thought he was doing to me. I took a cab to Havenstone, changed clothing and biked home. I barely had dinner ready for Timothy when he came through the door.

"That's not a look I'm used to seeing," he remarked.

"I should have beaten someone up," I frowned, "but I didn't and now some girl -- Brooke -- is going to have her heart kicked because of it."

"Was it something you did?" Timothy asked.

"No. There is this guy at work who is using her to alpha-dog me," I muttered.

"Brooke?" Timothy was confused. "You hardly like her. What a sleaze (Felix). If it was Odette, first I'd slap you around for still being here. Then we'd go get him."

"I'm not even sure why I feel bad about this," I grunted. "As you said, I hardly like her."

"It is called a conscience, Dimwit," Timothy snorted. That didn't help much. Conscience? Man, I'd stop my bike to run across a highway to move a tortoise off the road. I used to feed some of the Bolingbrook wild hares during the winter. I did humiliating crap for charity. I was never mean to a girl -- only dishonest and unfaithful.

Introspection got me nowhere. I was a cad. I'd been happy to be a cad for four years. I was going to be damned if my post-college life was going to be any different -- all 68 remaining days of it. In my bedroom I discovered Odette had moved in during my absence. I doubted Timothy had been ignorant of all the stuff she deposited. What was going on with my life?

I woke up when I heard keys in the door. It was a bit past eleven. I got up to check and sure enough, it was Odette. Timothy had given her a key. Odette had lived through a harrowing night, her boss was a dick and some of the customers were pure hell. I cuddled with her on the sofa while she unwound then we went to bed together. We didn't have sex...

(Tuesday)

Around 1 a.m. I miraculously found myself awake and alert in bed. Odette was happily dreaming away. Something was gnawing at the back of my mind. I put a name to the emotion and a face to the fear. I called Brooke.

"Hey Brooke," I greeted her eight tries later. She was tired of sending me to voice mail.

"What do you want?" she answered in a voice devoid of soul.

"Fuck if I know," I replied. "I suddenly woke up from a sound sleep thinking of you."

"I'm not interested," she sighed.

"I'm going to go out on a limb here. You don't want to talk to anyone yet you want someone to help you understand what you are going through," I gambled.

That created a tiny tear in her shroud of depression. After five minutes, I got her to give me her address. She told me she wouldn't answer the door. I told her I at least had to try. That got me to her place, 90 seconds of knocking got me inside and four minutes later, we were lying in bed with her sobbing on my chest.

Half an hour later, she offered me sex. I told her to stop tempting me and if she only wanted me for sex, I wanted to be paid in chocolate. She giggled, took a few deep breaths and fell to sleep. Wow, I was in two different women's beds in one night and not having sex in either. My watch alarm went off at 4:50 a.m. That meant no 'Marilyn' call tonight.

"Mmmm..." Brooke moved toward wakefulness. "Work?"

"Afraid so," I yawned.

"We haven't had sex," he reminded me. I couldn't stop being me.

"That's not why I came over here, Brooke," I rolled onto my side so that our bodies were very close.

"Never think I don't want to have sex with you, but that's not why I showed up last night," I continued.

"Why did you show up then?" she worried.

"I have no clue. I'm like Felix -- a player. Listen Brooke, I don't consider you my woman," I stated.

"We had sex -- we are lovers, but we've been thrown together by dire misfortune, not out of any common thread," I reminded her. "I don't expect you to have any sense of loyalty to me." That phrase freed her up philosophically. That meant she could fuck me and not feel obliged to consider and discard any future for us because there was no realistic future that socially glued us into any acceptable form.

"So I needed a shoulder to cry on and you showed up," she mused.

"Brooke, you are independent and strong-willed. The next guy you chose will be your choice," I led her along. "Felix though -- Felix is a serious player and he felt the need to add you to his list of conquests. I saw it happening and did nothing. Now I feel like crap for sitting back and ignoring the consequences."

"You knew Felix would turn me into a hash mark?" Brooke seemed depressed, not angry.

"I knew he was trying to get at me," I confessed. "He didn't accept that you and I aren't an item. A blonde co-worker -- a high ranking supervisor actually -- treated him like a bug in the communal showers yesterday while keeping close contact with me. Felix had to win. He had to show me he is the top dog."

"And I was the prize?" Brooke moped.

"Not to me," I whispered. Brooke looked hurt. "You are a woman. While you would look delectable in a big red ribbon, that's not who you are. I don't keep hash marks. I have a thing called a heart cord and it is solely for my use. Each binding represents a liaison -- like a Quipus; an Incan memory knot."

Brooke really didn't care. It sounded neat, it was romantic and the act was not demeaning to her. I could savor the memory of our encounter as long as I didn't share it with my buddies. She wasn't one of 'those' girls.

"You are very intelligent," she murmured seductively.

She didn't care if I was the reincarnation of Benjamin Franklin, or some schmo in Afghanistan who made his living digging up (hopefully) spent ordinance of battlefields. Smoking hot, sexy, well-educated debutantes like Brooke could fuck finely-sculpted, 'smart' guys like me. She could delude herself that I was rapidly upwardly mobile. My turn.

"Brooke, I don't want to get mixed up about us," I evaded. 'Us'? There was no 'us' and we both knew it. "If I caved in right now, I'm not sure I could forgive myself." Yes I could.

"I just want to feel like someone gives a damn about me," Brooke whimpered. Good acting. We wrestled around -- me trying to leave, but clearly not wanting to, while she physically enticed me.

We ended up, me on top, pinning her wrists to either side of her head. Her legs were trapped between mine.

"Make it up to me...please," she pouted. She humped her pelvic bone playfully against my cock. "I know you want to help me out." Good word usage on her part.

"Brooke, this isn't going to happen," I gritted my teeth in frustration. Yes, it was going to happen. Her right leg began exerting steady pressure against my 'weak' left leg. It slowly 'surrendered' to her advance. Now she had on leg on the outside. My right leg held out a little longer yet Brooke was persistent.

Now she could ground her finely groomed landing strip against my pulsating rod. I really, really wanted to fuck her now. I took my hands off her wrists, turned them into fists and placed the beneath each of her underarms.

"Damn you," I cursed her. Brooke was gyrating her crotch all over mine.

With her hands released, Brooke could leverage her body up and trap my cockhead between her labia. They were thoroughly soaked with her honey so after my 'capture' she drew more and more of my length in until I was completely incased. Brooke had won! She knew she'd won. Fuck Felix and his hash marks. I didn't care so why should she?

I made on last energetic yet futile effort to get away. Oddly, Brooke somehow end on top at the end of my exertion. I must be an awful wrestler...

"No you don't," Brooke purred only millimeters from my lips. "You are not getting away." That was Brooke tossing good ole Felix under the emotional bus.

Felix the Player? She'd chalk it up to too much to drink and the hype being more than the man. How was this possible? Look at her. She'd thrown a known sexual dynamo down on her bed and was working his shaft over every G-spot in her vagina. Brooke still preferred a long, rough fucking to get her off. At the moment, she need reassurance more.

Felix most assuredly made Brooke ride him. He kept her perpendicular to his hips and came up to suckle her teats when he wanted to, or watch them bounce as he lay back. He was great at sex, no doubt. The girl had to scream and howl -- forgetting every other male she was ever with and making every other guy she'd be with later an automatic failure. To him, that was how he rated success.

This resulted in me keeping Brooke close so I could make quick kisses to her very close lips. She'd playfully pull away -- to put me in my place and remind me she was in charge -- then she'd initiate the kiss. Our love-making was more rhythmic; less frantic. She was getting close.

"Next...next time you fuck Felix," I gasped. "Tell him..."

"What makes -- makes you think I'd -- every sleep with him -- again?" Brooke got feisty.

"I bet he was good in bed and now that you have his measure," I assured her. "You can take what pleasure you want and leave." Brooke liked that. It was the whole independent woman thing.

"Won't you be jealous?" she panted.

"I cannot constantly keep up with your sexual desires, Brooke," I grunted. "I've been neglecting Libra." Oh yeah, Libra. The girl she, Brooke, initially set me up with. Her Vassar classmate.

"What about Felix," she huffed and huffed. She was real close.

"Off-handedly comment that he's developing male pattern baldness," I grinned. "Just to fuck with his head." Felix was gorgeous. Better yet, Felix knew he was gorgeous. Hit him where it hurts. Brooke tried to giggle, but the surge of triumph overcame her and off she went. The problem was I was getting close and I didn't have a condom on.

"Brooke," I inhaled deeply. She'd come to rest on my chest. "I'm about to..."

"Oh," she sighed happily. She reversed to the side as she slithered down my body. My cock went down her throat and I started petting her flank. Brooke wasn't the very best, but, man o man, she was going to town on my dick.

There was no doubt in my mind that her vaginal secretions didn't bother her. I had to rush the experience because if I was late to work, Constanza make me stand beside the targets while she shot at them. If she was really pissed, she'd have me hold up targets in front me instead. I shot off, Brooke caught it all in her mouth then spit it into two tissues before tossing them in the trash.

I caught her look. Trent and now Felix made her swallow. I didn't care; which was yet another choice Brooke was free to make when making love to me. I jumped her. We had a little, tickle-nibble fight that ended in some kisses. I had to leave and Brooke made sure she was poised extra-sexy the last time I turned around to say goodnight and cut off the lights.

"Ah damn," I moaned before I left. I didn't really like Brooke yet, by choosing to engage her in sex, I had accepted the task of making her happy. That was the reason Felix and I were going to fight. He'd use another human being to strike at me instead striking at me directly. To me, this was more than low character, it was an insult to my lifestyle.