tagMind ControlMy Only Talent Ch. 38

My Only Talent Ch. 38


Summer's (Almost) End

Note: The descriptions and accounts in these stories are fictional and do not portray any actual people or events.

Pillow talk with Summer was turning out to be a lot of fun. Once she realized she could tell me about her fantasies without fear of them being repeated, she had a lot to say, and every time I gave her another idea, her amazing brain ran with it. Given her intellect and vocabulary, she was a lot of fun to listen to. She described it best herself: "I'm not sure my invagination can keep up with my imagination!" She wanted to try.

Her vocal stylings had a galvanizing effect on me. She was like a sexualized princess, and her choice of words and inflection altered my circulation quite dramatically. She had a way of saying the word "dirty" like "duh-rrr-tee" that spoke almost directly to my spinal column -- exciting me beyond belief. Maybe if I had grown up in England it would have sounded routine to me, but to my Americanized ear it was incredibly hot. She knew that whispering "duh-rrr-tee" in my ear would send me into orbit. Sometimes she would grab my cock and then try various adjectives modifying "dirty" to see what got me the hardest.

I knew how she classified things by correlating her words with her Suzie signal. She had several levels of "dirty". "Deliciously dirty" were things she had already tried and knew that she liked -- extended foreplay, cunnilingus, fellatio and most recently analingus. Then she had "daringly dirty" which were things she hadn't done yet but knew she wanted to -- with anal intercourse being next on her hit parade. She also wanted to go to a nude beach, although she wouldn't consider one anywhere near England. Her fantasy plan was to go to Australia where she knew the language and would fit in, but no one would know who she was. I volunteered to help with the sun tan lotion. Come to think of it, with my father's available and almost inexhaustible bank of frequent flyer miles, I could swing tickets for both of us. Because she had watched some specialized porn when she was in school, she also wanted to be an anonymous masseuse dressed in a robe and veil, giving a muscular man a happy ending tug job at the end of his massage. The man was not to be allowed to touch her, of course.

Then there was "darkly dirty" which involved a threesome with a man and a woman, and with two men. Talking about this made her hot and wet instantly, but she was not sure she could "go through with it." I made it clear it was my decision, not hers, and she shivered, but her Suzie said she liked it.

Finally, there was "desperately dirty" which seemed to involve her making it with half a dozen men or women, dancing nude in front of people she knew, or fellating multiple men while she was blindfolded. These were things she said she would never actually do, but thinking about them got her hot. It gave me some ideas, too.


Monday morning found Drummond McFadden and I finishing off our first run through of the operational model for the tunnel complex. Oliver Hastings Harrison narrated, editorialized, and quizzed us on it, spinning off hypothetical scenarios that we had to consult the model to analyze. After we had been through several simple and apparently frequent historic problems, he gave us three new potential disasters to analyze, with the assignment to devise a plan to respond once they had happened, and another plan for changes to make sure to prevent them from happening again. He said each one would take us at least a full workday for us to complete, and bade us report to him at 0730 GMT Thursday to present our recommendations.

I was struck by something about the third one, and spoke without editing my thoughts. "I don't think the model is going to help us with that last one, sir. If I understood the basis and assumptions of the model as you described it, it can't comprehend that scenario and couldn't be used as a predictive tool for it."

OHH looked at me funny. "You may be smarter than you look, Roberts. The model can only give you a list of things to consider for that one, but it can't generate a response for you. Perhaps you and Mr. McFadden working diligently together can asymptotically approach the performance of one decent engineer. Figure it out!"

With that he turned on his heel and disappeared into the hallway, yelling at his assistant to summon his car and driver.

Drummond laughed. "Never a dull moment, eh Roberts?"

"Not so far. This trip is much more interesting than I thought it would be." In several ways, I realized, thinking about Summer. "I might find school boring when I go back."

He shrugged. "I worked and schooled alternative semesters like you are doing. It gave me a much better perspective on things, and I think I learned more in my classes at school as a result. I damn sure made more money than most. I got a degree with no outstanding loans, which is more than I can say for most of my classmates."

I thought about the interruptions in my social life. "But it does put you out of synch with other students sometimes."

He groaned. "Aye. My ex-girlfriend dumped me because I was only there for her every other semester. I be gaggin' fur it!"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Solid up."


"I see you've lost touch with your Scottish roots, Roberts! I am bereft of sexual satisfaction. Desirous of more frequent intimate contact. My pipes are backed up, I'm horny, gaggin' for it!"

"Oh, I understand now."

"Plenty of professionals around here, but that's not my style. No telling what kind of unusual North African micro-organisms I would end up with! Are you gettin' any in Jolly Old England?"

I realized I was grinning my shit eating grin. I was having some of England's best. "She is a lovely young lady and I am proud to call her my friend."

"Oh, hoots, Roberts. She must be het!"

"You mean heterosexual?"

"Well, that too, but I mean het as opposed to cold."

I just smiled. But it gave me an idea. I realized my relationship with Summer, while meeting my family criteria for making sure she knew I cared about her, was mutually agreed to be very limited in duration. That opened some possibilities that had not occurred to me with Lara, Suzanne, or Nora.


While I rode the bus back to Wingham Monday evening, my curiosity about Mallory's canine training got the best of me, and I realized that Jeeves, Abelard Peters' retired military chief of staff, was my best source. I had to call Tessa to get his number, which also required me to accept an invitation to a party this Saturday thrown by some Tattler types. Since Summer had an event that night, and my services were not required, I could fit it in.

Armed with his contact info, I left a voicemail message for Jeeves that included Mallory's tattooed serial number and a few unexplained symbols, plus the name of Nelson Darby, Summer's dear departed husband. I was on my own tonight, so I stopped by the Indian place and sat down to some Chicken Chili Masala, which was the spiciest thing they had on the menu. It was not exactly habanero hot, but it was enough to give me a few dreams. I tried to talk the chef into making some full up hot red curry Chicken Vindaloo, which I had experienced elsewhere and expected was even spicier than the Masala. He looked embarrassed and said something in what sounded like a heavily accented version of Nora's semi-conversational Portuguese. The young and very comely waitress giggled and averted her eyes.

I touched her arm and made eye contact. "What did he just say?"

She giggled again, and then said, in a lilting but fully English accent, "He said those are dishes that are too spicy and it's best not to serve them to White Money." Suddenly a whopping curiosity Suzie emerged from her.

I smiled at her and her Suzie grew. Her skin was the color of ground cinnamon, and her eyes were as dark as her hair. "I like spicy things. It's exciting to try something new sometimes, isn't it?"

She looked scandalized, but her Suzie multiplied many fold. Suddenly, the chef hissed at her from behind the curtain. She looked worried and moved back toward the kitchen, muttering "Yes, father."

By the time I got back near my place, Jeeves returned my call. "How in the world did you get mixed up with a dog like that, Roberts?"

"The dog is retired from service and now lives with Darby's widow."

"Whom you have taken up with, eh?"

"She's a lovely young lady..."

"Yes, yes, I am sure. Well, that dog was tunnel dog. The SAS used them to clear out Taliban tunnels. I prefer the big thermobaric bombs myself, but the dogs are very effective, quieter and much more granular, if you will. They are trained to be ruthless killers, operate in the dark, and leave no trace of themselves behind, other than bloodied and dead tangos. The Taliban don't like dogs anyway, and they are scared shitless of the SAS dogs. They call them 'silent death in the dark' or something like that. Most of the dogs can't be retired, but must be put down. It is very unusual that one is released, even to a retired handler. How much time do you spend around this dog?"

"Well, I get along pretty well with her. She brings me her leash to take her out. The widow says she doesn't have to worry about burglars."

He laughed. "Actually, you might worry about the legal problems if a burglar were killed. Those dogs are trained to go for the femoral artery in the crotch and the jugular in the throat, and to disappear without leaving a trace. "

That made me a little nervous, but Jeeves continued unabated.

"If the dog accepts you into its perceived pack, it will die to protect you, and woe be unto anyone that attacks you. But if they have no threat and no work to do, they can be a problem."

I suppose Mallory is relatively laid back, all things considered.


Summer and I were scheduled to spend Wednesday night together, with the proviso that I had to leave early Thursday morning to meet with Drummond and OHH. She said she was planning a shopping trip to France that morning to get some specialized ingredients for her culinary creations, and she would drop me at Folkestone on her way to Le Shuttle. She brought some experimental recipes to my place to sample for our dinner, and two of them were very good, one was very not. She agreed with my evaluation.

After all the dishes were rinsed and back in her little picnic tote, something inspired me to suggest a little sexual scenario for the rest of the evening.

"Summer, I want you to try out your 'mystery massage' fantasy on me. You are an outcall masseuse who has come to my flat for a supposedly therapeutic massage. You can act out your fantasy, and I will give you valuable feedback on how to improve your performance."

Her Suzie warbled and gasped. Very high excitement. But she tried to sound offended.

"How wonderful of you Master. I am totally filled with gratitude."

Her tone was filled with sarcasm, but I could tell her motor was really running now.

"If you perform satisfactorily, I will perhaps allow you to massage one of my friends, completely anonymously, of course."

Her Suzie signal screamed like a banshee, but she tried not to show it. "Robbie, I am not sure I could..."

"It's not your choice, slut, plus I happen to know you like the idea. First, go put on your 'mystery masseuse' outfit and model it for me. You need to look hot but totally anonymous."

It didn't take her long to change. She must have already had the outfit planned. When she emerged from my little bathroom, my heart skipped a beat when I saw her. I don't know exactly what I was expecting, but this was hotter. It looked like one of those modest bathing suits that I saw the models wearing at the hotel in Abu Dhabi, when they were 'officially' there. When they were away from the city on the yacht, they were unofficially expected to be nude. It was two colors, a dark blue and a light blue, and it was like a long dress, plus pants. The torso was dark blue, the sleeves and pants were light blue. There was a light blue hood that covered her hair, and a dark blue scarf wrapped so that it covered everything but her eyes, which sparked like LED lamps. The outfit was form fitting, unlike as the ones I had seen in Dubai -- it managed to showcase her ample assets while still being officially proper and demure. The final touch was black "fuck me" pumps with very high heels. Damn!

I walked over to the bed. "The service said you give a very thorough massage. I have been very tense and need relaxation. "

She made a funny little sound and bowed her head. She motioned toward the bed, and pulled on some blue latex gloves that were almost the same color as her outfit. Wow.

I slowly disrobed, and she kept her head bowed, but was clearly watching me. I was already so hard it hurt. When I moved toward the bed, she made a little circle with her hand, indicating that I should roll over on my stomach. She walked over to the edge of the bed, and sighed loudly.

She began with my feet and ankles, and gave me a very deep massage. Her biology studies must have included a course in human anatomy, because she traced my muscles expertly from insertion to insertion, gently increasing pressure and relaxing them amazingly. She worked her way up my legs and it felt wonderful. She stopped at the mid-thigh, and switched to my neck and shoulders, working them just as deeply.

She finally worked her way down from my shoulders to my butt, relaxing everything along the way. She worked the insertions of my gluts like I had never had it before, and they felt totally relaxed and wonderful, but then her touch changed, from a deep massage to a gentle, gliding touch. I was instantly reminded of the way Becky Boston used to let me touch her ass at the middle school dances. If I kept my touch gentle, Becky would let me touch anything, but if I grabbed her pussy or even her ass too strongly, the evening's activities were suddenly over.

I wasn't about to stop my massage no matter what was touched. I was feeling teased and titillated and wondering what would happen next. Her breathing changed, and her Suzie accelerated even further. Very nice. She was trying to seduce my ass the way I used to do with Becky -- keep getting a little stronger and a little bolder -- pushing the envelope just below what would trigger an alarm.

Suddenly she stepped back and motioned for me to turn over onto my back. My excitement was obvious, and even though her face was almost covered, I could tell she was staring at my erection. She began at my feet again, but there was no deep massage -- just gliding caresses. I was a tube of toothpaste, and she was gradually pushing and squeezing everything toward my cock.

My breathing began to synchronize with hers. She touched me everywhere but my cock. Was she ever going to touch it?

She was. Slowly, teasingly, she stretched and pulled my skin and muscles and moved my cock with little tugs and pulls. Her magic hands moved slowly closer and closer to my aching crotch. Finally, she reached my balls, and began to perform another teasing and tantalizing dance on them. I spread my legs involuntarily and she began to use one hand to gently push and pull on the area between my balls and my anus, stimulating my prostate.

I couldn't help myself. I groaned and pushed my hips up. I could hear her Suzie swell as she knew she had me in her spell.

Now she slipped one hand on my cock, and kept one on my balls, and began a slow and teasing massage. At first just very gentle pressure and moving only up and down about half an inch. Then gradually a longer and stronger motion. I looked up at her.

Her eyes were fixed on my cock, and I could see her tongue moving back and forth under that scarf. What was the right word? It wasn't a full burka, but it wasn't really a niqab either. What would you call it? I didn't care. Her eyes were sparkling with fire, and I was feeling the heat.

She began to hum in time with her motions. Her Suzie sang in synchrony. Suddenly I was overwhelmed, and I let loose.

She began to groan, and her Suzie pulsed each time I spurted. She milked every drop from me. She dropped her eyes, and the big smile on her face was obvious even under the scarf.

When I was done, she picked up some paper tissues and wiped me off, putting the tissues in white plastic bag and then she took off her gloves and added them to the bag. She tied the top of the bag, gave a little bow, and backed out of the room. While I was still trying to recover, I heard the door click closed.

I realized I hadn't jerked off since high school, and Lara had only tugged me off a few times. But it was nothing like this, this was a whole new level of experience. I took a few minutes to catch my breath, then pulled up the covers and planned to drift off to sleep.

My phone rang. It was Summer.

"Hi Robbie. I just wanted to tell you about making one of my fantasies come true. This sexual honesty thing is really freeing. I could never tell my husband about something like this, but I know I can tell you. It was fantastic. So darkly dirty. I wasn't sure I could do it, but it turns out I could. When I felt that cock begin to grow in my hand it was a tremendous feeling. I didn't even know who the guy was. So nasty. And no risk. I had my gloves on, and he seemed nice and clean. He could only see my eyes, but I could see him naked. He was putty in my hands. He must have shot three feet. I think he is going to set me up to do one of his friends. I can't wait. So hot. So dirty!"


Oliver Hastings Harrison seemed almost disappointed that he could find no obvious flaws in our analysis of the operational scenarios he had posed. Especially the one that the models could not really predict -- their assumptions just didn't apply. In fact, the models said that this situation could not happen. But Drummond had asked around -- it had happened, and more than once.

"Newly trained engineers place too much faith in models!" he said loudly.

"They usually work well only on a narrow range of parameters, and often those parameters are simply assumed, not verified through testing. Most models will blow up and produce ridiculous and nonsensical results with only a slight change in the parameters. You two at least recognized that, and in fact looked for solutions without relying on the model. Well done."

With that he handed us a whole new set of scenarios to respond to, and at the end a directive from management to find a way to reduce costs during a certain window in the schedule. We presumed we were to respond to that too. He turned and hurried to his office.

"So, Drummond, are you still gaggin' for it?"

He looked very suspicious. "Yes, but not so much that I want to take the risk involved in seeking out a pro, Roberts!"

"How about a zero risk semi-pro?"

"What the hell do you mean by that?"

"Well, I have been introduced to a specialty masseuse that not only delivers therapeutic muscular relief, but a happy ending as well. She operates completely hygienically, too, with no chance of the exchange of bodily fluids, if you get my drift."

"What does she look like?"

"I don't know. She wears a long dress and even a head covering, so all you can see if her eyes. But she is very skilled and completely satisfactory, nudge, nudge, wink, wink."

He looked skeptical, but asked "How does one contact this woman?"

"Only through referrals. I can arrange for her to meet you at my place, if you like?"

"What does she charge?"

"This one is on me, Drummer Boy! Pay it forward and all that."

"Okay. How about next Thursday night, after we deliver our next set of planned actions to OHH?"

"I will endeavor to set it up."


Sommer's Saturday event was way up north near Newcastle on Tyne, a long drive, and she left early in the morning with Jackie and two of her other helpers in the van. My evening would begin with a wedding reception at the Connaught (we weren't going to the wedding, just the reception) so Abagail Clayton Bowles sent a car hire for me -- another Audi with the steering wheel on the wrong side. With traffic, it took more than two hours to reach the hotel.

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