The Submissive Temp Ch. 10

The Raffles Hotel bar is charming, with its sawdust floor and unlimited peanuts in the shell. It was filled with ex-pats, and there were men all around speaking loudly in English, usually British, Australian, or New Zealand English, I could not parse the difference. It was a throwback to the colonial era, or so it seemed to me.

We talked a long time, and I ended up liking Lola. Despite my anger at Mark's betrayal and my off the charts jealousy, and my hurt, my extraordinary pain, I couldn't help it. It's true I had fucked like a bunny and as such betrayed my marriage myself, but for me it was need driven sex, it was not love or commitment to another man. The closest I got to that was with Mr. Criens.

With Mark it was different. He could not exist without the fawning love and care a tender woman would give to him, from the bottom of the heart. He had had that with me, but he was far away in Singapore and there was Lola, the sweetest (and sexiest) girl that side of the International Date Line.

I liked Lola. She was an extraordinary woman. Well, if Mark had to betray my love for another, at least my replacement was someone I could like, and respect.

During our discussions, I learned Lola was carrying Mark's baby. She was approaching the three-month mark. This made things much more complicated. Mark had seen videos of my fucking varied and sundry men, all of them his friends to boot, and he was bitter. I offered no excuse, no defense. I did not tell Mark about either the virus, nor the Rivonine, nor the threat of death that had hung over me for so long. At this point, I felt he had lost the right to know. We agreed to divorce.

It's a long flight back from Singapore. Flying to New York takes eighteen hours. You watch three movies, have dinner, and then there's only eleven hours left to go! You can go crazy on an airline flight that long. As I showed you can also cry during most of the entire eighteen hours of the flight.

The man at the seat nearest to me (I was flying business class) finally could not stand it any longer. He came over to me with a crappy Singapore Sling the business class passengers could ask for, and he sat my feet and asked me what the problem was.

"I flew to Singapore to surprise my husband who is working there, and found him in bed with another woman," I said, sniffing back my tears in order to speak. "Literally, they were both naked, in bed together. Her pussy was dripping his stuff. It was the most horrible sight of my life. Then I learned she's pregnant with his baby, to boot!"

His name was Hans, and he tried to be comforting, and I thought he was sweet to try, but I could not be comforted. I could, however, be distracted. After around twenty minutes of him trying to comfort and to distract me, I was finally able to stop crying.

I poured my life out to him, my hopes and dreams, and how I had struggled against the fatal De Chevalley virus and was being cured with an experimental drug, and how my cheating husband still did not even know! When the tears began to return, Hans leaned over and kissed me.

Shocked, I did not know what to do, and submissive slut that I am, I just kissed him back. "I hope you're not on a low salt diet," I said, when we broke the kiss. I giggled nervously.

"Your tears make you taste deliciously salty," he said. "May I kiss you again?"

I looked around me. Most of the other passengers were wearing eye masks and the others were lost in work or watching movies. I nodded permission.

Hans really surprised me when he began to feel me up over my clothes while we kissed. We were in an airplane, for Pete's sake! Nevertheless a small, soft moan of pleasure escaped from my lips. I could not stop it, it just popped out. Rivonine does that to a girl.

Encouraged by my moan, Hans let his hand go up under my skirt. I was wearing hold up stockings, so he had easy access to my panties, and also easy access to what my panties covered. He kept kissing me as he began to fondle my pussy lips. I kept looking frantically around.

"Nobody bothers people in business class," Hans said. As he said that, his finger went inside me. I gasped.

"This is outrageous, Hans. Do you do this often to single girls traveling in business class?" I whispered while I tried to decide when to stop this German masher.

As if he knew my thoughts, he said, "I'm Austrian, not German."

"Oh, well then, I guess it's fine to molest me over international waters, right?" I replied. I was doing nothing to stop him. My hands were conspicuously inactive.

Hans smiled. "You're nice and wet, Sally. I think you like me," he said.

"No, it's just that you're Austrian," I said. "I'm always wet for Austrians, you know?"

"Had many Austrian men before, have you?" Hans said, as he inserted a second finger inside me.

I exhaled and emptied my lungs. I looked around myself frantically, but nobody paid us any attention.

"No, you're my first," I said, "that is, for kissing and light fingering only, of course," I whispered. "On an airplane," I added as a needless caveat.

Hans removed his fingers and his hands. He stood up. "Remove your panties, and come with me, you pretty girl," he said.

"Woman," I said. "I'm a twenty-three-year-old woman."

"And yet, I'm to be your first Austrian," Hans said, as he led me towards the airplane toilets."

"I've led a quiet, protected, life," I said.

Hans gently pushed me into the airplane toilet. He pushed me down on the seat, and he squeezed in after me. "Need to pee, Sally?"

"Yes," I said, and I pushed up my skirt and peed while he stood over me, watching.

We then performed a little gymnastics, and he ended up sitting on the toilet, his nice, hard cock sticking straight up. I knew what he wanted; he did not have to say a word. I pushed up my skirt again and I slowly lowered my body onto his gorgeous cock. Then I began to bounce. Hans helped me by thrusting up at the appropriate times. We had a perfect rhythm together. I was in heaven.

When he finally came and squirted his load up my vaginal canal, I had already cum. I felt so good. I was relaxed and happy for the first time since I had found Lola naked with Mark. "Let's come back to the toilets when you have recovered, okay, Hans?" I said.

"Welcome to the 10,000 meters club," Hans said.

"What?" I asked.

"You'd call it I guess the 35,000 feet club," he said, and suddenly I got it.

"Do you fuck a lot of girls at 35,000 feet, Hans?"

"We should leave the toilets. We've been in them a long time and someone might want to use them," Hans replied with a non-reply.

I left first, all giggly, cum dribbling delightfully down my thigh. I stumbled back to my seat. Hans followed me out shortly later. He stopped to speak to another business class passenger. They spoke for a while, and they laughed a bit together. I could not hear well what they were saying, but it didn't matter because I was fairly sure they were speaking German.

The two men exchanged a high five, and then the other guy continued into the toilets. I had a sinking feeling I knew what they had been discussing. Hans had given the other man his opinion of my sexual talents. I felt it could not possibly be fair. A girl can't fuck at her best in an airplane toilet, now can she?

Hans and I returned to the toilets twice more. Hey, it's a long flight! By the time the airplane landed I was in a much better mood. Sadly, Hans was only connecting in New York, and then he was continuing on to Kansas City, of all places.

Hans never sent me a card, he never called me, he never even texted me. After a while I began to wonder if I even had fucked him three times at 35,000 feet while crossing the Pacific?

I came back to my empty apartment and now it felt emptier than ever. I felt so alone! I had lots of sex partners but that's all it was for those men: it was sex, it was only sex. I called my best friend forever, Dakota, and she came right over. She had long since broken up with Drew, and she too had no real love in her life.

We cried together, and eventually we cheered each other up. We had never lost the ability to do that. I went back to work. My sex drive was more under control, and I continued my meaningless (but hyper enjoyable!) affairs with Mr. Criens and Dr. Taylor. Dakota and I met regularly.

One day I was sitting at my favorite table at the Starbucks at Astor Place. I was sitting on one of the high stools, facing the window that in turn faces the stairwell to the subway. A nice-looking guy emerged from the stairwell, and I smiled at him for no reason. He stopped, and smiled back at me, a bit puzzled I guess to receive such a brilliant smile from a stranger.

I parted my legs and gave him a nice look up my skirt all the way to my lavender panties. I kept smiling at him. He entered Starbucks and went straight to me. He said, "Hello, Miss. Are you an exhibitionist? I loved the way you flashed me, just now."

"I'm whatever you want me to be. I'm Sally," I said.

"I'm Rick," he replied. "May I buy you dinner?"

"It's three in the afternoon," I giggled.

"A drink, then?" he said.

Rick led me to a nice bar in Greenwich Village, and I ordered a Campari. It was served with a slice of orange, just the way I like it. Rick was just finishing medical school and we hit it off. He tried to freak me out with how kinky he was in his sexual tastes, but nothing could phase me. I had already experienced it all. Rick was impressed that I did not only tolerate his kink, I was into it!

By the time we married, Dakota was dating Rick's brother. She was my maid of honor, and Rick's brother was Rick's best man. Mr. Criens and Dr. Jack Taylor came to the wedding, as did Maria and Andrew, as well as Ravi the Magnificent and the gang. I invited my ex-husband Mark and his wife Lola, but they did not come, sending a telegram of congratulations from Singapore.

I'm now quite rich. Rivonine is available with a prescription, and it has two versions. One is for the disease I had, and it's a controlled substance, with more strict warnings on the label than I could shake a stick at. The other prescription version is not a controlled substance but rather it's a love potion for women.

Genomeds found that trying to temper the side effects of Rivonine with quinine also harmed its effectiveness against the De Chevalley virus. I was lucky that all my tonic water did not short circuit my cure! They had to leave Rivonine alone, but the FDA gave approval provided there were enough procedures and warnings added.

Rivonine as the female Viagra is called Sliggin's Venusia. Dr. Jack Taylor, the CEO of Genomeds, had asked me if he could name it that, and when I stopped laughing I agreed. It's now available in Singapore, and I heard from friends that Lola uses it regularly. Mark would thank me if he knew, but he doesn't.

I don't need Venusia, as it's most often called. The virus plus the Rivonine altered my brain. I take quinine pills to keep myself in check, but it's kind of like quitting cigarettes: The desire is always there. I've stayed loyal to Rick. He is the love of my life. I'd be lost without him. Happily, one permanent side effect seems to my superhuman ability to cum. I probably cum at least twice every time Rick and I have fun together.

Sometimes though, Dakota, Maria and I get together and we giggle through our memories of the good times gone by. Promiscuity is tons of fun, but it's especially valuable as only a memory. Andrew, Ravi, Doug, Miguel and Duane once tried to get me interested again, and I was, but I didn't let it happen. Good for me, right?

I never head from Hans again, but you knew that.

I'm pregnant, now. There's no need for a paternity test. Rick is the father. I hope we have a girl. Lola said she's coming over to help Dakota give me a baby shower. I told her not to bring Mark. Lola said, without missing a beat, "Of course."

*************

Coda: There's a Rivonine blog, and I found a confession on it. It was from someone who identified herself only as Mary. She had scored a single Rivonine capsule on the black market and she had swallowed it, washing it down with a glass of red wine. What happened after that amazed even me. Her lover Paul, who watched her swallow, was the first to receive the benefits, and after she wore him out, she left to go home.

On the way home she was again overtaken with lust, and she changed course, driving to the home of her ex-boyfriend. Luckily for her, he welcomed her in, and a bit puzzled by her enthusiasm, he proceeded to fuck her sweet little brains out. Once he too was exhausted, Mary remembered there was a guy at work, Dan, whom she knew lusted for her, but he was too shy ever to try anything.

Before that night, Mary was grateful he had never tried anything, since she had no attraction to him. Rivonine had changed all that. She went on the web, broke into the company directory, and found his home address. Upon going to his home in New Jersey, she quickly discovered that the milquetoast lived with his parents! Damn her luck!

Gradually she realized that Tom's mother was away, visiting her own mother, and only Tom and his father, also named Tom, were home. She did them both, Tom Jr. first, and Tom Sr. second. She did junior a second time, with senior taking photos. Then senior deflowered her anus. Mary did not care; she had become a mindless slut in heat.

She begged for advice. I answered using a pseudonym and told her to get quinine pills, and to stop laying the Tom-Toms.

I often felt that I needed to give advice to the Rivonine reckless abusers. On the other hand, Rivonine was busy saving the lives of women just like me, who had the De Chevalley virus.

There was however one case that really troubled me. I told Dr. Taylor about it, and he said he was not surprised. Human nature being what it is, there would have to be someone evil enough to try it.

Yes, you guessed it: Rivonine became the ultimate date-rape drug. A co-ed had gone to a fraternity party at a big state school in the Midwest. She had refused a frat brother's advances, and he had slipped her a Rivonine capsule. You can still see the video on the dark web someone at the fraternity made of the ensuing gangbang that took place a few hours later. The woman looks just as enthusiastic as any of the men. I know just how she must have felt!

The girl had to seek professional help. The fraternity was closed down, and the guy who slipped her the Rivonine at the party was arrested. As I write this he is awaiting trial. I wonder if I should volunteer to be called as a witness? My husband Rick says no. Dakota says she will volunteer too if I do. We're currently thinking about it. The case could go to trial, get appealed, and go up the chain of appeals courts.

Wouldn't it be amazing if it went all the way to the Supreme Court? How would Justices Thomas and Kavanaugh come down on the issue? It would be interesting to find out.

**THE END**