Life, Sex & All That Ch. 06

The Bill. The Bill is on Tuesday nights. We always watch the Bill. It's our favourite TV program. It's our routine. I finish the washing up stacking the dishes in order of size from the back to the front while Susan puts the children to bed. I take my shoes off, clean them, place them at the end of the bed and put on my fleecy lined Ugg boots. I sit back on my imitation leather auto-incline Super-Deluxe evening chair and by using the remote I make it move back with my feet resting on the extended foot rest and my bottom snuggling into the soft green seat.

Susan brings me my Bugs Bunny stable table with my pudding in my special Beatrice Potter bowl and a cup of tea. Then we watch the bill.

So why would she leave a message on my voice mail telling me to meet her at Mario's Trattoria on a Tuesday night?

For those of you who don't know The Bill is a classic BBC family entertainment police show. It is a sort of kinky soapie with characters who seem to have just about every sexual deviation one can imagine. A Noah's Arch of human sexuality except it is all based in a police station in London. There is a lesbian police woman, a gay cop, reformed drunk who constantly seems to find women attracted to him and a Sergent who has a passion for very young girls especially when it is another detective's daughter.

We also have a constable who has never had sex in his life and one who burned to death seven of his colleagues. So it really is a very clever and subtle drama. We just can't wait to see which one will be the next to die, go off to drug rehabilitation, kill someone else or just go completely loopy.

So you can see why I was so flummoxed when I received Susan's message.

I can tell you it's timing could not have been worse. Since she mentioned that my performance in bed was little better than average my usually ordered and sensible life has been in turmoil.

I have hardly slept, I have a dreadful hangover from the wine I drank at a topless bar last night and I am still weak at the knees from my dalliance with a lap top dancer.

Today at work has also been exhausting. I have been in meetings all day. Gabriella, our new upwardly mobile CEO tore me my report to shreds, literally, in front of the whole staff. I think my main mistake was not to mention her name in every paragraph.

For the rest of the meeting I sat back and tried to stay below her radar.

Out meeting dragged on all day. We spent thirty seven minutes and seven seconds deciding what our policy should be for returning calls to our customers. We have to be customer focused what ever that means. I worked out in my mind it actually cost the Company $1,753.34 for us to meet for that time.

Gabriella runs the meeting with an iron fist. Well a whip to be exact. She stands in front of us with her short cut hair, in a tight fitting leather jacket, boots up to her thighs and massages a long, thin whip in her hands as she eyes each one of us.

Anyone who utters a word she dislikes is made to pay. George, our supercilious second in charge, dared suggest that it didn't really matter about a policy we should just phone back when we can.

She turned, walked toward him, made him stand.

'What did you say'

'I just thought..'

'You dared to think…'

'Let down your trousers.. '

'What…'

'Trousers.. '

Belt undone, trousers to the ground.

'Jocks..'

Red faced, looking away from all of us he dropped his boxers. (Mickey Mouse ones, quite nice really)

'Lean over the table..now..or it will be worse..'

Over, arms outstretched holding onto the mahogany board room table.

She tickled his thigh with the whip, ran it along the inside of his bottom, raised her hand and whoosh. A red cut ran along his cheeks. George just flinched. Whoosh, Whoosh…

To my astonishment Georges penis jerked up. With each stroke it rose even more. I could tell without even looking that everyone in the room was staring at his giant cock. The gay teller from the front office was practically wetting himself.

Gabriella grabbed his penis. She began to rub, we watched, I quietly manoeuvred mine into a more comfortable position.

Then she stopped. Told him to get dressed but to leave his penis out in case he spoke out of turn again.

I should tell you she was just as ruthless with the woman staff members.

Well that was in my dream. In reality it was an excruciating boring day.

So by the time I had rewritten my report, checked my voice mail it was well after seven and I was long way from Mario's Trattoria.

When I first got there I couldn't see Susan anywhere. I thought maybe it was a joke or I misheard the place. Then one of those pompous, effeminate waiters aimed himself at me and recovering my composure a little he took me to Susan. I ordered a decent red wine and took the menu.

I looked at Susan. I was still flustered and out of breath from trying to get a safe park for my GX786.

Before I could say anything Susan wanted to know what I thought of her new appearance.

What ever I said I could not win. If I said I liked it I would be lying and if I said I preferred it long then my life assurance would soon be cashed in by my children.

I loved it long of course. I remember when she gave me my first blow job to put it crudely. I loved seeing her head bobbing up and down with her silky long hair flowing down around my penis. I loved it long because it made me feel young. I loved it long because I fell in love with a girl with long hair. I also hated it because it reminded me of Gabriella

Too late, I had haltered for a millisecond over the appointed time. The split between, 'I love you' and 'you bastard'.

'You have had your hair cut' …. Stating the obvious 'Why? ….. I always loved your hair long.'

'Well, I am no longer a teenager, I 'm a mature woman and I felt like I needed a change.' The retort displayed her disappointment. Bad move.

'Well, this is a nice surprise to have a meal out alone,' gulping my wine, 'Is there some occasion I have forgotten?'

'Oh Brian, don't be so defensive. We need to talk and I did not want to do that at home when the children are around, you know what big ears they have and they always pick up on when we want privacy and double their efforts to prevent it.'

Well the dinner deteriorated from that point. There was really no way to retrieve it. I knew she had gone to a lot of trouble. New cloths, new hair do and dinner. Every time we spoke she bought up the same old subject. My performance, or the lack of in bed. Does she have a fixation on sex or something? Typical woman. They marry you for what you are and then spend the rest of their life trying to change you into something else.

I was miserable. I really didn't know what to do. I loved her to bits but I could see I was loosing her, or something we once had. Sex seems to just get in the way sometimes. And to top it all off I had missed The Bill.