Satisfaction Pt. 03: Ch. 10 to 13

Phil sat propped up in a hospital bed. He had a permanent drip attached to him. Glen noticed his handsome face veiled by a grey pallor. Phil sat up a bit higher and greeted Glen.

"Welcome to my home. Phil Anderson. My apologies for not getting up."

Glen approached the bed. "Glen Garrison. Pleased to meet you."

Carol sported a wide smile. "I'll bring you a cold one and then I have some work to do on dinner." She exited, but soon returned with two cold cans of beer in thermal jackets. "Plenty more from where that came from. Have fun guys."

Phil opened, "You're a teacher as well, as I understand it."

"Yes. You too?" Most of the teachers Glen knew were married to other teachers.

"No. No way. I'm a concrete contractor. In business with my two brothers. They're running the show while I'm out of it."

"Oh, neat. How did you get mashed up?"

"Stupid Mercedes driver came out of a side road without looking or stopping and I smashed into him went over the handlebars and into a light pole. I was on my Ducati. Shit happens. The only good thing is that he had good insurance."

"When did that happen?"

"Last September. I smashed up my pelvis, some of my spine, and my femur, otherwise I came out of it just fine. Then I got an infection around one of the plates in my leg, had many rounds of nasty infection-fighting drugs before they opened me up and did a redo. Finally, the bones are beginning to heal. Another six months and I could be walking they tell me."

Glen try to hide the choke up he was feeling.

"That's a tough haul you're pulling."

"Not as tough as on Carol though. Now tell me about yourself. I gather you're the football coach at Mercy."

"Yep. But we are no longer Mercy. We were halfway up the league this year. Top three next year and winning it all two years from now. Mark my words."

"If you say so. Ever play in the NFL?"

"Rice, I received a career-killing concussion at Rice and didn't go on. My team is Dallas. Yours?"

"Green Bay."

Glen gasped. "Really? Not the Packers, surely not them?"

For the next hour they talked football. Carol checked in on them a couple of times and brought more beer each visit.

On her third visit, Carol asked Phil if she could borrow Glen to help with the grilling. Phil agreed.

Once out the back Carol thanked Glen. "He gets tired quickly. Poor man. He'll be asleep now for an hour."

Glen offered, "I'm so sorry to see Phil the way he is. I admire you for the way you are coping."

"You do what you have to do. Coming back to the reason for your visit, I found writing my story was a wonderful distraction at the time. Did you figure out which it is?"

"With two stories out of the way, it's getting easier. As I reread the story I found two significant clues. You are -- maybe I should say were -- travelers. I knew that. How many people have been to New Zealand? You're the first I've ever met. And then the story was set in a place called Hokitiki. I looked it up. It exists on the west coast of the South Island. If it had been set in Auckland, then that would be a much broader canvas. But Hokitiki? It just had to be you. After some more deliberation that did not change my mind I concluded you wrote Andrea."

Carol jumped in. "You're right. Good one."

"Is it semi-autobiographical?"

"Not really. I ran the four-hundred meters hurdles in track and field to State level. And I do have a much older male friend who I have known since university. He has always fancied me. I never did a bus tour. We drove the island. Phil bought me this gold ring in Hokitiki." Carol pushed her hand forward and showed Glen. "In case you're wondering, I missed out on the rest too." Carol winked as she made the last statement. "Now let's get the grilling going. We can wake up Phil when it's all ready and eat with him."

Over the grilling Carol confessed that the doctors were telling her that the chances of Phil walking again are no more than thirty percent. She added that he was fighter though.

She added one more thing. "Fortunately, money is not a problem. I go to work with Phil's encouragement to take my mind off his situation. A nurse comes in when I'm away."

They took the ready meal into Phil's room. Carol woke him gently. It seemed to Glen that Phil used a supreme act of will to get himself fully awake and engaged. They all ate and chatted about what was happening around town.

As they were finishing the meal Phil turned to Carol. "Did he guess right about the story?"

Glen instantly picked up on the fact Phil knew about the story and was aware of the situation.

Carol responded, "He was spot on. Good logic too."

Phil turned to Glen. "She's a good writer. That was a pretty sexy story."

Glen noticed Phil's voice was fading. "Wasn't it? Well-written too."

Phil lay back on his pillow. "I'm getting to my limit. I hope you can come around again for a chat. Can you wait around while I have a few minutes with Carol before I go to sleep again? No more than ten minutes I reckon. There's a TV downstairs in the media room in the basement. Think you can find it?"

"How lost can I get? It's been a pleasure Phil. I enjoyed our chat. You know your football, even if you are a Packers fan. I'll come by again for certain. Get well soon buddy."

Glen took off and left them. After a few wrong turns he found his way to the luxurious media room.

Carol joined Glen after about fifteen minutes and sat at the other end of the sofa from Glen. Her eyes were red. She'd been crying.

"This is so crazy and stupid."

"What? Phil having a bad turn?"

"You could say that. He's come up with a hair-brain idea he is pushing on me. He says he really, really wants it to happen."

"What? Can you share it with me? I'll be discreet."

Carol gave an empty laugh. "Discreet. That's good." She was silent of a moment. "You noticed the casts he has around his pelvis and right leg. They have had to stay on since his accident, except for the short time they had to re-operate for the infection and reset of his leg."

"One could hardly miss them. They must be a major nuisance. Peeing and so on."

"You have no idea. But you must also realize we cannot make love anymore in his present state and there is a question if ever."

"That's terrible." The irony of Carol's story flashed through Glen's mind.

Carol kicked off her shoes, turned to put her feet up with her back against the arm at the other end of the sofa they shared. She hugged her knees.

"Here's the thing. Phil asked me to ask you to make love to me. No, that's not quite right. He asked me to ask you to fuck me. He is worried about my lack of sex and satisfaction. He is worried I may go off and get wild in a bar somewhere and fuck a stranger. He really liked you and knows you will treat me right. There that's it."

She lowered her head, so her forehead rested on her knees. Glen looked at the top of her head.

He spoke quietly, "What do you want, Carol?"

She looked up again. "If I was going to go off the reservation, you'd be a guy I would choose. You're a hunk. You seem kind and thoughtful. So, there is no restraint from that point of view. The simple fact is that I do not want to be unfaithful to my husband. It goes totally against the grain for me. But I also want to please him, so much. See him content. My wellbeing, as he sees it, is clearly bothering him deeply and I hate that. He needs to stay calm all the time to heal quickly and well. God, I do not know what I think any more."

Glen's heart went out to Carol. "Maybe I should go and discuss this with him."

"He's asleep until the morning. I gave him his pills."

Carol shook her head. "One more thing I didn't mention. He wants me to video us together to add to his sense of security about me. This room is set up for video recording. Phil and I have hours of recording our sessions down here, especially when we watched some porn. There are five cameras scattered around. It's perverse. What do you think? Help me here, Glen. I'm lost."

"To be clear, I would have no hesitation in fucking you. You are one very attractive woman. But I would never do it without your full commitment." Glen paused. Carol sat silently looking into a distant space.

Glen felt the need to break the awkward silence. "One thought that has just occurred to me is that we can try tiny steps. We could just kiss and see how that feels for you and stop immediately if this is not what you are prepared to do." Glen felt a bit dirty even suggesting this course of action.

"Neck, like teenagers?"

"Something like that."

"Here. Now?"

"It would settle the matter once and for all. What better time than now. Do you trust me to stop if you say so? I will stop immediately if you say."

"Yes. I sense you are reliable and honest."

"Want to try it?"

Carol sat silently for several minutes. She stood up abruptly and took two strides to be in front of Glen. "Ok. No tongues, unless I say so. But first I must switch the cameras on."

She opened the door to a closet and threw some switches on the wall. She returned and sat close to Glen. "Just a simple kiss, Glen, do not forget."

They kissed softly and for a short period. More a sibling peck than a kiss. They tried again. The second kiss lasted a bit longer. Glen felt Carol pull her body in closer to his.

She broke off and pulled her head back, "This is OK. Let's continue. Say for a few more kisses." Glen knew he had to let her to dictate the pace, set the boundaries.

By the fifth kiss Carol's tongue was out and forcing its way into Glen's mouth. They continued along this path with their mouths opening wider and wider. Glen thought it was all over when Carol disengaged and stood. But she clearly was getting into the mood. She undid her summer blouse slowly, button by button.

Looking directly into Glen's eyes she whispered, "Shirt, Glen. Off." He complied.

Carol proclaimed, "Better than the back seat of the Buick." Carol sighed and then giggled, which Glen took as a good sign.

She was quickly back kissing and mashing her breasts into Glen's chest. He moved his hands up and massaged the outside of her tits.

"Trying to steal second base?" She continued her fanciful sense of their teenage make out. "OK to proceed."

Glen slipped his hand between their bodies and tweaked her nipple and mauled the pneumatic comfort offered. She gave a deep-throated groan and reengaged their lips as she twisted slightly to let Glen continue his gropes, pinches and caresses.

He noticed Carol's hand moving around the back of his neck pulling him closer and then switching to his back where she dug in her nails. Her agitation was increasing as her arousal mounted.

Once more she stood up and quickly removed her dress pants and panties in one motion. Glen took his cue from Carol's actions and lifted his butt to remove his lower garments, ignoring the incongruity of the remaining red socks.

Carol spoke, "Third base."

She knelt and took his semi-erect cock in her mouth. Worked it a couple of times before pulling back. Carol thought, "Phil will be pleased, Glen's cock is smaller." She resumed her onslaught.

With full engagement, she jumped up into Glen's lap, reached down and guided his cock into her waiting, and now sloppy pussy. She had been very needy as Phil had anticipated.

The pent-up energy of nearly nine months of abstinence drove Carol up and down at whirlwind pace on his cock. It did not take long for the first orgasm to wash over her. Staying in place inside him she rolled over to one side and pulled Glen on top of her down the length of the sofa.

"Over to you, big boy. Fuck me hard. Ravage me. Make it count."

Glen true to his form did as he was bidden. He worked the soft, now-compliant woman below him to a continuous orgasm, and after a pause for Carol to gain control of her senses he moved her bodily to the floor and mounted her from behind, pinching her nipples at one moment and frigging her clit. He knew she had returned to her orgasmic state as he fucked her, but it was now about his needs. He finally reached his own climax and spilled his jism deep inside her.

As she returned to the present, Carol looked up at Glen. "Thank you. Phil will be pleased. Can you let yourself out? I will sleep now." She closed her eyes.

Glen dressed and left as quietly as he could.

Glen thought over the evening as he leisurely drove home. He remembered when he had a summer job as a security guard in a factory he had read Lady Chatterley's Lover over a few nights. He found himself being the game keeper to Lord Phil. He smiled and thought to himself, not so bad really.

He then had another thought that he's fucked all three of the book club authors he met alone and still had three to go. He grinned at the old maxim that it never rains but it pours. Maybe he should set himself a goal of all six. But the toughest two, Beatrice, the mother with five children, and Wendy were still to come. Four out six would not be bad though.

Chapter 13

Carol's Story

Andrea

Andrea and Peter had been good friends from when they met at a Saturday portrait class at the local community college, shortly after Andrea started teaching.

Andrea was always a little self-conscious about her face. To compensate she wore tight woolen sweaters and slim jeans to show off her best assets -- her shapely breasts and her long slim legs. Even though she had no interest in getting a boyfriend she still appreciated the looks she received.

Andrea attracted Peter's attention. He initially hit on her over the coffee break. Their mid-break chats became the norm. Andrea felt safe with a married guy who was about twenty years older than her. He was safe in her eyes. She easily handled his continuous attempts at flirting.

They had a long-term friendship over the years. She called Peter if she was wrestling with a problem, needed advice or knew that he might help another of her many female friends. When there were no classes contact was intermittent with long periods when they were never in touch. Peter did not attempt to push Andrea into some form of relationship. In his heart he knew he would never succeed. Yet when they got together again, they were able to pick up immediately where they left off. They met for a dinner or a coffee in the fall most years. She showed him the photos she had taken on her summer vacation. This year, some fifteen years after they first met, and two days after she had arrived home, was no exception.

After showing all the pictures of her recent trip to New Zealand, Andrea cautiously edged her way into describing an experience she had on the South Island. The narrative was slow to unfold but as she got started the words came out as a torrent. Peter picked up on her use of the words "gang bang" and became more worried.

When she finished, she asked, "God, what am I going to do? I'm worried they will do something rash with the material." Andrea could feel the panic rising in her chest.

Peter was taken aback. She had never before shared with him such an intimate aspect of her life. In fact, she always steered away from more personal matters. She compartmentalized most aspects of her life. Peter never challenged her in this regard. Andrea was behaving out of character. Peter knew it was serious.

"You've got me there. Have you thought of writing it down for the record...just in case? At least you will have clear documentation of the incident." His thirty years in Human Resources taught him the value of a well-documented case.

The seriousness of Peter's voice sobered and calmed Andrea. Peter usually had an answer for everything. The twenty-year gap between their ages had in Andrea's mind imbued her friend with a wisdom she did not think she had.

"...in case of what?" Andrea knew the answer before it came.

"If they know where you live and work, you could be looking at blackmail or worse."

"But they're just kids." Andrea started, but Peter interrupted.

"They aren't kids. You said yourself you pegged the ages to around nineteen to twenty. They're adults and don't kid yourself, this kind of crap gets posted online all the time. Have you thought what that could mean?" Peter's voice showed concern.

"I've thought of nothing else since I got that thumb drive. They mailed it to me at work. It was wrapped in a note from Josh. I haven't looked at it. I'm scared to. What if someone else had opened it?" The rising panic Andrea felt came through.

"The sooner you write this down the better. You'll need to get your statement witnessed to verify the date." Peter's voice was calm and reassuring but Andrea felt far from reassured.

"Andrea, you're the only person who knows what happened apart from the four in New Zealand. Could you do it? Write it out?"

Andrea was beside herself. How could she have been so foolish, so trusting?

"Try to put in as much detail as possible. I know it'll be difficult, but you have to think of protecting yourself. Are you OK?" Andrea tried to shut out the idea of reliving her experience.

"No, I'm not OK?" Andrea's response was frosty. She was puzzled as to why Peter would ask such a question.

"I mean have you sought medical attention" Peter looked concerned.

"Medical attention? What do you mean? Uh, no. That's not necessary. Aside from some minor bruising, I'm just fine physically."

"Take pictures of any bruises? It's physical evidence although trying to prosecute across international boundaries is next to impossible."

"What do you mean?"

"If they are coming after you, you have to build a counter defence. See a doctor."

"You think I should see a doctor. For why. I told you I'm OK. There's nothing to see really."

"Andrea. Listen to me. Have yourself tested and looked over?"

"Tested?" A thought hovered in the back of Andrea's mind.

"Andrea. STDs." She knew but had suppressed the idea. She sat in silence for a full minute before caving into the suggestion.

"Yeah, OK" Andrea felt numb. She wanted Peter to tell her everything was going to be just fine but how could he? She felt like a let-down child who discovers Dad isn't an invincible superhero. Peter was lowered from the lofty pedestal Andrea had always placed him in her mind. Yet somehow, she felt closer to him because of his fallibility.

* * * * *

My name is Andrea Hoblochuk. I am a teacher in my late forties. This is a record of events on the evening of July 4^th, 2014 as best as I can remember them.

I am single and as a teacher I'm free to vacation in the long summer holidays. I usually go to Europe touring and to visit distant family members, but this year I decided to visit New Zealand. I have heard so many stories of the grandeur of its South Island I decided to see it for myself; notwithstanding a warning from my friends that it was the middle of winter. I booked on a guided tour that spent two weeks covering much of the South Island.

We were in Hokitiki in the middle of the first week on the Fourth of July. All us Americans on the tour decided to go out to a pub to celebrate the 4^th of July holiday. I went along. I dressed up for the occasion. The rest of the crowd was friendly enough, but I was finding their stories were becoming repetitious. I was a getting a bit bored. There was nothing particularly different or special about the evening. I am not really a drinker, but I did have a glass of New Zealand wine to celebrate the occasion.

I sat on the bench at the end of the table at the perimeter of the rest of the tour crowd. My mind wandered a bit. I became aware of the group of four younger people in their late teens at the next table, which was quite close. As my eye took in the somewhat seamy pub, one of the kids at the adjoining table asked me where we were from. At first, I did not realize they were speaking to me, but when the question was repeated over the hubbub, I caught eye contact with an extreme ginger headed man as he asked again.