My Only Talent Ch. 37

I did too, until an old guy in a dark blue suit and a black tie stood up, held a microphone up to his goblet and tapped it with his spoon. The microphone's signal had apparently been feed to the speakers and amps on the stage, and the crystalline tone rang out loud and clear, getting everyone's attention.

I also noticed that the dark blue suit the guy was wearing also had yellow bands at the sleeves, and there were a host of medals pinned to his chest. But when my eyes finally focused on his face, I could not miss the incredible bulbous nose. He looked like a thirty years older version of my summer boss, Oliver Hastings Harrison. He tapped the glass again, and spoke in an authoritative voice. A fleet admiral voice?

"Let's all thank our own Summer Mawn for a marvelous dinner!" Applause range out, and Summer beamed. He sounded just like Oliver, too. I suppose he would consider me a 'snotty' also.

She leaned close and said, "That's our OKS Admiral, Huxley Hastings Harrison, or 'Triple H' the chairman emeritus of the association. He can put the arm on anybody in the country to raise money for the school, and tap alums for even more." I sure hoped his son wasn't here tonight.

Triple H continued. "We also want to thank The Musical Box for performing here tonight, ahead of their upcoming fall tour. Their music is appropriate to our 1970's theme tonight, even if some of the members of the original band they give tribute to went to Charterhouse." A disapproving murmur went through the crowd.

Summer leaned into me again. "You are going to have to dance with me Robbie! I hope you can dance." I could, but I was much more comfortable dancing with that big black hood hiding my face, and 50 naked women on stage deflecting the audience's attention. Somehow, I didn't think that unique tradition was going to catch on with this crowd.

Summer hooked my elbow in hers and said, "Let's lose these smocks in the truck. I have to change too." The music began, melodic and electric at the same time. I recognized the song from one of Ralph's favorite vintage vinyl LPs. We went back to the truck, and I was glad I had worn khakis and a white shirt with a collar rather than jeans and a tee shirt. Summer slipped off her smock and tee shirt, giving me a flash of excitement inside the van, and put on sheer white blouse over her black slacks. She looked great, and suddenly I wanted to dance with her. Most of the dancers looked like they had last danced in the 1970's, but there were a few people our age. Summer may consider herself a yeoman, but she danced like a princess as far as I was concerned.

When the band took a break, we joined the rest of the serving crew next to where the vans were parked, and Summer served us pieces of that last cake, and congratulated us on a job well done. The cake was damn good and had a creamy middle cheesecake layer, just the sugar hit to tune my Suzie receiver up for later. She then said she had to go work the crowd for a while, networking for more food gigs, and that I should meet her on the dance floor when the band started their second set. Meanwhile, I hung around with the rest of her crew, helping to load the truck.

Jackie, an obviously gay guy with two earrings in one ear and three in the other and some funky tattoos, spoke to me. "I reckon you are the one that gave her that glow. Good job, she needed her ashes hauled. She mourned her husband good and proper for a year, but it was time she got back on the horse. I prefer men me self, and you look like you can deliver the goods, eh?"

"I'm not sure if I should punch you or laugh." I said.

"It's a compliment mate. We both care for Summer, but I do it in a purely Platonic way. But your ideal solid is what she needs most right now. Just be careful that her fucking dog doesn't kill you. That's the devil dog from hell if you ask me. Damn bitch won't let me come in the house. Almost scares me straight!" he giggled.

The band returned and played a long set, including some slow songs that I could hold Summer during. The rest of the crew left soon after that, but Summer and I stayed to the end, dancing and hugging. It turned out to be a perfect evening. What I needed to make it even more perfect was some hot and funky Summer.

When we got back to her place, Mallory bounded out and circled the car, barking happily. Summer fed her immediately. Then she locked the door and said, "Let me get a quick shower!"

I know I had used this line before, with Suzanne, but I was trying to forget Suzanne, and it sure seemed appropriate with Summer, too. I began to strip her, roughly. "You are a gourmet cook, my pet, and you should know that sometimes, even the sweetest meat tastes better with a little salt on it!"

I unbuttoned her blouse, which I had been dying to do ever since she put it on, and began to kiss her neck, tasting the salty sweetness there. I removed her blouse completely, and her Suzie waxed large, and she turned her head, expecting me to kiss her mouth. She was surprised when I moved her arms up over her head and began lick her armpits. But her Suzie liked it, a lot. I kissed and licked every salty square millimeter of her, enjoying it all, and by the time I got to her frothing pussy, it was a heady admixture of her funky perspiration and her sweet juice. Just right!

I lost myself in it, and had to use all my willpower to hold still after she came she the first time. Her orgasm sent powerful Suzie waves through my senses, it seemed her orgasms were growing in intensity each time she had one. I needed a few more data points to test my theory, however. When I came up for air 30 minutes later, I was exhausted, but she was not.

I sat back on the floor next to the big four poster bed and panted like a dog. Mallory moved around from her normal guard post at the foot of the bed, I guess to see if Summer or I were injured. Her nose flared, and to macro-osmotic creature like her the panoply of odors emanating from me must seem like some sort of riot. She sniffed, made a funny noise, and then curled up again at the foot of the bed. Crazy humans.

Summer, to get my attention, made a deliberate and dramatic clearing her throat sound. I looked up so see her perched on the edge of the bed. She had hooked two of the scarves over the canopy above her, and grabbed them with her hands to hold herself up right over the edge. Her legs were spread out like a gymnast doing the splits, pushing against the bed to elevate her hips about a foot above the bed. This had the effect of holding her fragrant and shiny snatch about six inches above the sheets.

"Shouldn't we do some more training, Master?" I didn't like her sarcastic tone.

"Careful what you wish for my pet! I may advance your training schedule, and introduce you to spanking therapy." Her Suzie pinged and cried out encouragingly.

"My Master knows best." Her tone was still challenging. She brought it on herself, and I would bring it home for her.

She took to it like a duck to water. I gave her three hot hard spanks on each cheek, listening to her Suzie resonate, modulate, and mutate. It grew steadily louder in step with the growing rubifaction of her perfect buttocks. They sang to me like massed choirs.

"Your lovely ass is even better with a hint of color, my pet!" I gently caressed her, touching only the reddened and warmer territory, then kissed it gently. "It may cause you some pain, but it brings me such joy to see it. You are so beautiful."

I selected several areas flanking the red territory, still untouched, and gave her five more on each cheek. Her Suzie signal grew in anticipation just before each strike landed. She liked being the center of my world, which she surely was right now, and the pain added to her excitement, rather than subtracted from it. Could she do what Millie and Candy could, and come from the pain? Perhaps she could if trained properly. I will have to review my training plan, but right now I should keep my focus on training her lovely backside to accept my cock.

A few more spanks and her entire ass was a lovely red. I gave her a few more tender kisses, then back to my real assignment -- building up her reflex to enjoy anal penetration. She gulped when I put two fingers in her pussy, but pushed back against the motion, bringing them in deeper. She was hot and wet and wonderful. I located her g spot and teased all around it, listening to her Suzie for fine guidance. She rotated her ass up to better expose her anus as she sensed me bending over to begin kissing her. What a lovely woman!

I licked her gently, moving ever closer to her little rosebud, reading the signals. I was tuned in -- I was fascinated with making her come. I sucked her perfect ass flesh strongly, refreshing her pain memory and leaving new hickey marks. They were beautiful. She was beautiful. My fingers played her little wet internal keyboard, and she came so fast that I had to hurry my tongue into her to pair stimulus with response. I was more careful and calibrated with the next two orgasms, which were powerful, requiring longer waiting periods for her hypersensitivity to wane and my head to clear from the amazing Suzie wave fronts she sent. As soon as she signaled that she was ready for more, she leaned her head backwards and spoke to me, looking like one of those strange videos with the upside down speaking mouths.

"I'm ready, Master! Please take my ass."

What a wonderful invitation, and her Suzie told me she meant it with all her heart. But a Master has duties, and I wanted to give her the maximum thrill when the time came.

"You are likely ready, my dear, but you do not meet my personal and very exacting standards yet. I want to enjoy your lovely butt, but in the best way." A shiver went through her Suzie, and a delicious inspiration shivered through my head.

"I will need to maximize your readiness, my pet. Sometime in the very near future, you will count my strokes to redden your lovely ass, and when the count reaches 50 on each of your lovely buttocks, I will take you like you have never dreamed possible!"

She shook while hanging from those scarves, and then lifted her legs up and pointed both out in front of her, and away from me. What strength and control she had. She was testing mine. She then turned toward me and swapped her hands on the scarves, so she was facing me, and then spread her legs again, moving them like a big bird lazily flapping its wings. She stared at me in direct challenge, and a crafty Suzie found its way into my consciousness.

I had to get back on top. I wrapped both her wrists in the scarves so she could not release them, and grabbed both of them in my left hand and then gripped the canopy of the bed with it, holding her arms trapped above her head. I stood up on the bed and grabbed her head with my right hand and guided my cock into her mouth. By pulling her head with one hand and pulling myself up with the other, I could fuck her mouth very effectively. I was large and in charge. I liked it, and so did she. I came quickly and she took it all. There is nothing like an English Summer.

+++++++++++++++++++

Pillow talk with Summer was very different than with Suzanne. Summer talked half of the time, and demanded that I fill in the other half. She was like a trained interviewer, and given my promise not to lie to her, she developed a lot of information fast. She also gave up a lot, telling me about her family, school days, and her husband. I withheld everything about Suzanne, and Nora didn't come up in conversation. I begged off details about my relationship with Lara, repeating my promise not to gossip, but telling her there was a lovely young lady back in Texas whose needs led me to learn how to be a Master to her. This resulted in Summer learning about the July 4th wedding and my trip back to attend it, and the fact that I had introduced Millie and Jay, but without the gory details of my sexual relationship with Millie, and our threesomes and foursomes.

The Sunday before I began my intensive training, we had an extended session of 'conventional' sex which caused Summer to talk about her history.

"You have certainly introduced me to many things I had only read about in the past, Robbie."

"Like what?"

"Well, my husband was very passionate, but very conventional, I guess you would say. He was brought up in a fundamentalist Christian sect that some here called a cult. They were a very unusual combination of British group that used to be called Dispensationalists with new age Latin American Charismatic Pentecostals. They believed that the world would be destroyed in a giant, cataclysmic earthquake before the rapture, and no one would be saved unless everyone was converted to their beliefs. They also believed that only sex that led directly to pregnancy was godly, and that any other sexual practices came directly from the devil. So, my husband was limited to traditional missionary position intercourse, at night, in bed, and under the covers. He was very vigorous and frequent, but never inventive nor adventurous. So, everything except that is totally new to me, as I wasn't with anyone other than my husband before you."

My mind was temporarily blown. She was so passionate and open with me, but so far had not told me about any of her fantasies. I realized that what I had considered normal foreplay and variety was radical and daring for her. I wanted to know more about what else she wanted to try.

"What was your husband's name?"

"Darby. Nelson Darby."

+++++++++++++++++++

The reason Drummond McFadden and I were assigned to see the surgeon become clear Monday morning, as we both passed our physical exams (which included EKG's on a treadmill) and were soon enrolled in a week of fire safety training.

Apparently, 'fire safetiness' was right next to godliness in the minds of Chunnel managers, and we were going through the same skills training that first line responders went through. We were assigned to memorize the labeling nomenclature and functions of all the various passageways between the central tunnel and the two main tunnels, the two designated firefighting stations and their approaches, the decision process that engineers would use to pick which location to go to before stopping if a train was on fire, and the locations and indications of the heat sensors installed to help locate a fire. We reviewed videos of the major fire events in the past, one of which had shut down one main tunnel for months.

Summer was a major source of help, because apparently Kent FRS people went through the same training, and had lots of 'tribal knowledge' about how things were done. There were annual simulated emergency drills, which Summer knew all about, and she quizzed me about the stuff that was on the exams they had to pass. She gave my nipples kisses when I got answers right, which was an amazingly effective training tool, although unlikely to find widespread official adoption. As a result, when OHH (Oliver Hastings Harrison, as opposed to HHH, Huxley Hastings Harrison) drilled us on hypothetical emergencies, I did quite well. He was obviously surprised, as was Drummond. He thought he had the inside track on me because several Strathclyde engineers from classes before him were here and sharing information with him. I bet my lessons were much more enjoyable than his. Drummond explained that OHH had adopted the training methods the Navy used for nuclear submarine officers to respond to emergencies and make decisions about managing the reactor.

Between her changing shifts, overtime from summer grass fires, and my demanding and very unpredictable schedule as set by Oliver Hastings Harrison, we hardly were able to fall into a routine. But there was some predictability. Summer rarely had to work both Saturday and Sunday, and Harrison, perhaps as a devout Church of England member, rarely scheduled any training on Sundays. I didn't work any of her catered events after those first two, because her regulars needed the hours and pay, and perhaps my waiting in the wings made them a little less likely to call in sick.

As a result, we usually spent about four nights a week tougher: sometimes at my place when she had morning report at the station in Wingham, but usually at her DIY house. Sundays became our unofficial 'training day' that we both looked forward too.

By the time I finished my fire training week and began learning the operations models on how to schedule and manage the flow of people and cargo, Summer was ready for the next major milestone in her sexual training.

So was I.