Life is Sweet and Salty Pt. 01

Chapter One - The Past

Everything in my life was sweet. Not perfect, but sweet nonetheless.

I had a solid job that had purpose and allowed me to I feel as if I was doing something worthwhile, making the poor pay bearable. I had a decent, if small, flat in the city and was mostly living the kind of life a young 26-year-old male should be living in the city. I worked hard all week, had a reasonable circle of friends, and together we enjoyed our share of the culture, bars and social life that were on offer on the weekends.

I had the odd relationship with members of the opposite sex from time to time, too. Nothing serious, nothing long lasting, but generally fun and amicable when they ended.

What more could a man want?

Well, there was something. I couldn't put my finger on it exactly but I knew that the several relationships I had had over the last few years had largely left me with a niggling itch or a nagging hunger if you understand my meaning. I wanted something more, sexually. Don't get me wrong. I enjoyed the sex, especially with Michelle who gave the best head ever. But, as I say, something nagged away inside me, leaving me feeling slightly short-changed.

I did my part, I think. I tried to be adventurous, playful, loving, sensitive, or strong as the circumstances seemed to indicate. By and large, I think most of my girlfriends were happy enough with the sex and so was I. Except, as I say, for the nagging thing.

You know when you have a nagging doubt in your mind, or a half memory, or a craving for a particular food you can't quite place. That kind of a niggle.

I had recently broken up with Jay. Well, she broke up with me but I knew it was coming and didn't try to dissuade. It had run its course. She was fun, she was smart, she was caring of me, others and the world around her. She also had a bum to die for. I apologise now for the objectification, but it was perfect. It would be rude not to mention it. Small but not too small, round and firm but with enough of a wobble to invite the odd squeeze now and then. And when wearing those briefs, it filled them out just enough. I could watch that bum all day. The best sight was watching her in the morning on those nights she slept over. She would get out bed, pull on her white knickers and walk over to the sink in my bedroom and 'fix herself up for the day'. I'm sure she knew I watched her doing this. Or rather I watched her bum, enjoying every slight movement as she bent nearer the mirror or twisted slightly to apply her perfume. If she did know, she clearly didn't mind. Did she know how hard I was under the duvet? I longed for that bum. Did I want to fuck it? To cum inside it? Well of course I did, but that wasn't the niggle. Anyway, I never did have the courage to ask any of my girlfriends if they were up for a bit of backdoor sex. Surely, they'd think me a creep and leave!

It had been a few weeks now since Jay. I knew she was dating again. Don't you just hate social media? I was getting bored with my regular wanks in the shower, but they kept the wolf from the door, so to speak. It was time to get myself out there again. But where to start? Most of my female acquaintances were either friends, exes, or in a relationship with someone else. Our network of friends was fairly limited and generally consistent. People rarely left, and if they did it was as couples. New people joined our group from time to time, but largely as boyfriends or girlfriends.

I felt I had no choice but to do the dating app thing. Not tinder. It seemed too cheesy and too obviously focused on hooking up for sex. Not that I didn't want sex, but I was too embarrassed to think people would know I wanted sex in that way. Tell me, fucked up or what?!

I tried some matching websites but got really bored with the endless inane questions about likes, lifestyle, psychometric bullshit. And they seemed so earnest! I wasn't looking for marriage, just a relationship with benefits, I guess.

That's where 'Knowing Me Knowing You' (KMKY) came in. It was a new dating website with a unique algorithm which it claimed found you relationships that you never really knew you wanted but would celebrate once found. It was also named after an Abba song. So, with nothing to lose, I gave it a go.

KMKY sign up process was mercifully short. A few questions about me (age, gender, orientation, location, etc.) my job, and life goals. It asked me a few cookie questions that struck me as a waste of time but seeing as they were quick to answer I didn't mind too much.

"Breast or leg?" Leg.

"Top or bottom?" Bottom.

"Sweet or spicy?" Spicy.

"Lead or follow?" Follow.

"Spoon or fork?" Fork.

"Dickens or Austen?" Austen.

There were about 40 of these, all nonsensical but easy to answer as long as you didn't over-analyse. Some kind of word game to tease out your gut reactions/responses, I supposed.

The last requirement was to give permission for the website to access all my social media, browsing history, cookies, photos, Netflix account, etc. Everything basically. It explained that this was a one-off process, totally secure and once the information had been analysed it would delete any and all information it had gleaned. It had been certified by the Information Commissioner so I felt a bit easier about this—my initial reaction being 'WTF?! No way!' But it seemed if this algorithm was to work this is how it did it. In for a penny, in for a pound, or so I reasoned. Oh, plus the small matter of £150 registration fee and £25 per date they arranged! They saw me coming!

Anyway, I clicked submit, paid my dues and poured myself a whisky. Shit, what had I done? Oh well, I had to wait 24 hours for a response so might as well forget it for now. I settled on the sofa to watch my team lose again, and left my laptop to hum away on the desk as the website trawled my digital life for its data.

Chapter Two - The Wait

Ping! It was late the next day. I had waited all evening for that SMS ping telling me about my first date from KMKY. I checked my phone about every 5 minutes for a notification. Checked I had left the sound on. Checked it wasn't low on charge, was getting both a 4G and a WiFi signal. You'll know the routine, I'm sure. But, of course, it waited until I had given up, gone to bed and was just starting to doze off before it decided to ping me.

"We now know you. How well do you know you? You might want to reflect on this while we try to find the perfect match for you. So far, we haven't found the right person on our database but we will. We won't arrange a date for you with anyone who isn't at least a 90% match. Hang in there. We will be back in touch soon."

"One hundred and fifty quid. The bunch of fucking charlatans!" I shouted to no one but myself, and slammed the phone down, feeling sorry for myself as well as blaming myself for being such a desperate fool and joining in the first place.

How well do I know me? The cheeky fuckers. Of course I know me. How dare they? I'm not going to lie here and analyse myself like some sad shmuck. No, I'll just go to sleep and brush it off as a bad experience, stronger and wiser for the lesson.

Of course, I couldn't. What a sad git I was, wasting that kind of money on a website probably just full of saddo men like me desperate for a girlfriend. No women would join a site like this, would they. Jeez!

As I tossed and turned, turning over in my mind my stupidity and desperation, I found myself despairing of ever being able to sleep. I turned to my trusted friends to help me out, who could always help me block out the negative thoughts in my head and allow me sleep: my lustful imagination and my right hand.

I imagined myself in bed with Jay (with the great bum) and Michelle (with the great head). They would tell me to lie down as they soothed away my demons. They touched and caressed me. Michelle worked her magic with her mouth. Jay kissed me, fed me her pert tits to gently suck on, and her arse (her wonderful arse!) for me to squeeze. As Michelle edged me several times, building me towards a climax, Jay swung her leg over me and sat upright on my chest. Staring into my eyes with lust and confidence she slid herself slowly forward, towards my mouth. As she came closer, she told me to lick her, to taste her, to smell her. Which I readily did. All of it. She raised herself above my mouth and gently rubbed her pussy backwards and forwards over my tongue and lips as I tried my best to offer them to her. As I was brought closer and closer to the end-game by Michelle, still diligently using her hand, mouth and tongue to wonderous effect on my cock and balls, Jay became more insistent and forceful with her gyrations over my face. She was now rubbing her pussy across my entire face for her own pleasure, at times putting all her weight on me, making it hard for me to breathe. Needless to say, I came, right into Michelle's waiting mouth just as Jay brought herself to a finish on my face.

Imagination is the best, isn't it? But that was new. What was all that face-sitting about? I'd seen a bit of that on some of the porn sites I pretended I never looked at. But they hadn't really excited me in this way. Not like the thought of Jay rubbing herself on top of me for her own desires. That had been hot! But odd. Oh well, imagination can be a bitch too. And with that thought I slipped off into sleep with a sticky stomach and fingers.

Ping!

"You have a date. Tonight. 7:30 p.m. A reservation has been made at the Wallerton Hall hotel restaurant for 2 people. Stuart and Julie. Two single rooms have also been booked, charged to your bank card details. If you wish to cancel one or more of these rooms, you can do so up until 9 p.m. Julie has been selected as a 93% match for you. Further instructions will follow. KMKY is the best you can do. ;)"

Julie?! Ok. I can work with that. A bit more information would have been nice. Age, looks, likes, dislikes etc. But heh, ho, that's the way this website likes to do things. How exciting, I thought, as I remembered my self-pleasuring from the night before and decided, seeing as I had been woken a bit earlier than I needed to get up for work, I might have myself a little reprise.

Chapter Three - The Date

Work wasn't a simple process today. So many idle thoughts and speculations going through my mind. A 93% match. That sounded very high to me. We should have a lot in common, I presumed. Would she be a Sheffield Wednesday fan too? Would she like country walks and love cooking? Would she be a bit kinky in bed? Enticing thoughts, which possibly distracted me more than I would like to admit for much of the day. But hey, I was in credit with work given, all the extra hours and results I'd been achieving recently. Swings and roundabouts, I reassured myself.

I was showered, groomed, dressed and walking into the hotel by 7 p.m., determined to be there first and in good time. First impressions and all that.

The hotel impressed, too. Wallerton Hall was a stone-built Georgian mansion house, converted to a hotel at some point. But it had kept its grandeur and history. Although it was right in the heart of Hackney, it was set back from the road, and screened by a mature garden and trees, even from the prying eyes of passengers on the top deck of the number 30 bus.

I crunched my way up the gravel drive way to the main entrance. A simple wooden sign with gold lettering announcing I had arrived. The big heavy outer door stood open, and sheltering just inside was the doorman.

"Hi, good evening. I have a reservation in the names of Stuart and Julie for 7:30 p.m.," I said to the portly man who greeted me at the entrance to the restaurant.

He held the door for me and introduced me to the maitre d' who in turn checked the book, found my name and nodded.

"Yes, sir. Your table isn't quite ready yet however. Would you like to wait in the bar for your companion to arrive?"

Clearly it was a rhetorical question. Where else was I going to wait?

I looked around, slightly in awe of the grand hallway, with wood panelling, stone door surrounds, thick carpet and heavy framed portraits of Victorian gentlemen with big beards and frock coats.

I eyed the bar through the open door. Big leather armchairs and settees. Oak tables and proper coasters. This was so old-money it was untrue.

"That would be great, thank you. May I have a glass of sparkling water please?" I didn't want to appear as if I arrived early so I could fill up on Dutch courage. Not the look I was going for.

I found myself a seat where I wouldn't be immediately obvious to Julie when she walked in and I wasn't facing directly at the door so I could maintain a sense of being calm and collected even as I kept an eye on the doorway in my peripheral vision.

How well do I know myself? I was certainly conscious of and worried about how others would perceive me. That's clear. I wanted to make a good impression. Was this an indication of neediness or simply a well-balanced sense of good manners and concerns for others feelings?

I wasn't going to untie that knot in 30 minutes though, was I?

But I sat with my water, picking at that knot nonetheless, for about the next 20 minutes.

Like buses, the waiter and my date arrived in quick succession causing me a fair amount of nervous kerfuffle.

"Sir, your table is now ready. Would you like to wait at the table for your companion or wait for her here?"

"Here, I think. Yes, I will wait here. What time is it, please?"

"Shortly before 7:30 p.m. Can I fetch you another water whilst you wait?"

"No, thank you. Or, maybe I might..."

I was just wondering whether a quick G and T might help calm my nerves when I saw a middle-aged woman enter the bar, looking around as if searching for someone.

I looked over and made eye contact. I timidly started to raise a hand as if to wave but brought it back down quickly as this didn't seem quite right.

"Err, Julie, is it? I'm Stuart," I stammered.

"Oh, hi. Great. Yes, I'm Julie. Pleased to meet you," she said, whilst beaming a beautiful, genuine smile and walking towards me, arm outstretched to offer her hand for a greeting.

I offered mine in return, cursing myself for not wiping it first, as I could it feel it was slightly damp from the condensation from my water glass.

She didn't show any signs in her face of displeasure from shaking my moist hand as she held it firmly and confidently. Hers was a little cold but she had just walked in from outside. Soft skin though, I thought.

"Um, the waiter has just told me our table is ready. Would you like to go through or have a drink here first?" I was already deferring, of course. It was a fault of mine.

"Let's eat, shall we? I'm hungry and we can get to know each other while we wait."

"Perfect!" I replied, a little too enthusiastically.

Jeez, I was analysing everything.

"After you," I offered. Needlessly showing her the way with my hand as the waiter was already leading towards the table.

As I followed, I surveyed. Tacky I know, but of course I did! I'm only human. She was pretty. Not remarkably so, but pretty enough. She had mousy-coloured hair. Fairly short, to about her chin level, in a tidy bob cut, I guessed, but some of it was pinned back away from her face so I couldn't tell for sure.

She was fairly tall, about my height, maybe a little less. She wore a fairly heavy winter's coat and sensible, but not staid, shoes. Her looks told me she was confident, stylish, but in no way flamboyant or a slave to fashion. Comfort and quality mattered. She wasn't into frippery.

I had barely looked at her face, certainly not sufficiently to recall it, as I followed behind to the table.

The waiter held her seat for her as she sat. This pleased me no end as it meant I didn't have to decide whether to offer to do so myself. Oh, the angst of the reconstructed male who nonetheless wishes to impress with manners!

Once we had awkwardly made initial pleasantries as we perused the menu, I stole glances of her face. Small, modest features. But cute and she had aged well. Around mid-30's I guessed. She wore a grey cotton dress. Again, it was well-made but not flashy or revealing. I did notice her bosom, though, how her breasts modestly filled out the dress but not overly so. There was nothing straining or heaving here.

All in, looks-wise, she wasn't anything to write home about. But she was lovely, I thought. Sweet, pretty, well-presented. I couldn't find fault.

"So, you're vegetarian are you" she asked after noticing I had ordered the mushroom risotto.

"Not really. I used to be, but I lapsed. But I'm not that fussed about meat. Apart from the odd bacon butty or sausage roll."

She half smiled. She had ordered the salmon. That seemed to fit. I'm not sure why.

"How about you? Are you a pescatarian or do you just like fish?"

"Like you I don't eat much meat and didn't think a steak was quite right for a first date. I'm open to most foods though. Just don't put anything with tentacles in front of me!"

She seems self-assured and cheerful. Promising. I laughed in response, noticing the sparkle in her eyes. She had passion and energy I thought.

After the usual getting-to-know-you questions (she's a teacher, 36 years old, single, never married but has been engaged, lives alone in a north London flat, and doesn't have any pets but would love a dog when she moves to the country) she decided it was time to change the subject and tone of the conversation.

She sat more upright, swallowed her mouthful of food and sipped her wine.

"So, I have some questions. The website suggested some, and I selected a few. Do you mind if I ask them?"

Pleased to move away from small talk (I was crap at it) I was quick to agree. "Please do. I'm intrigued."

"Ok, here goes. My first question.

"It's a bright, clear, spring day. Which of these is would you prefer to do with your partner?

Rank them in order:

Walk in the country.

Jobs round the house and garden

Laze around in bed, reading, eating etc

Go for a day trip to seaside/zoo, etc.

Do whatever your partner wants to do most."

"Interesting choices. They all sound appealing in their own way. My first choice would a walk in the country but I wouldn't enjoy it if there were a lot of jobs to do or if knew my partner wanted to do something else."

"So your answer is..." she teased.

"Ok, strict observance of the question rules, I see." I joked, sort of. "If pushed I would probably have to say I would want to do what my partner wanted, assuming I loved them and was devoted to them. But that would be followed by a walk, jobs and then day trip. I'm a simple kind of fella." I quipped, again, sort of.

"Ok, next question. So, which of the following would be most exciting?

Being taken for a mystery night out—you don't know where or to do what. You just have to trust your partner.

Going to a live performance of your choice. Your favourite play, band, etc.

Doing something adventurous and risky for the first time-maybe bungee jumping or wind surfing, that kind of thing.

Going to a party where you will meet lots of new people."

"Well not the last one! Makes me shiver. The bungee jumping isn't really me either. Why be scared, hurt, cold or wet out of choice? I love live performances, especially dance, but the first one intrigues me. Hmm, ok. Knowing what a stickler you are for rules, I will have to plump for one. I'll say the mystery night out will be the most exciting, if not the most enjoyable."

"Ok, last question. The hardest one to be honest about, I think. I should have told you. I have to answer these, too, and send all answers to the website. They will then email us both with advice."

"This 'Knowing Me Knowing You' website is weird, isn't it? Very needy for cookie details. Do you not find it a bit creepy?"