Venus Goddess of Love

My own reasons for rejecting Rod and Mike were not clear to me, but I dimly felt there was something or someone else waiting for me.

Ladyship was quiescent; handling her evoked no response and she sat openly on my bedside table never giving out the slightest glow. I distinctly felt that something was looming, but I knew not what.

Chapter 6: I Start to Get Flexible

I began my new job with some trepidation, wondering how I could possible manage being in the same room as Sparks, and not being sure that I would be able to handle the work.

I needn’t have worried. My time seemed to be spent preparing tables, charts and graphs on the computer based on statistics Sparks gave me. His suggestion that I might have to work “flexible hours” seemed to me irrelevant since there was barely enough work to fill up the normal hours.

As for Sparks, a subtle change seemed to come over him. From being the grim, scowling and sarcastic creature I had known since the day I first started with the company, he actually turned pleasant, even making the odd joke. In time this shift in the Spark’s aspect began to rub off in the general office, and the place became much more relaxed and far more productive.

Jokes began to pass round the office about what I was doing to Sparks to bring about this change in his demeanour, but since I was doing very little except to work in the same room with him, I could only think it was the fact that he was now no longer constantly isolated in the Rat Hole, and he was actually enjoying my presence.

After a couple of weeks this thought was reinforced when, addressing him as always as “Mr. Sparks,” he said, “Since we are working in such close proximity, perhaps you would care to address me as Paul?”

To all of us in the office he had always been “Sparks” behind his back and “Mr. Sparks” to his face. That he had any other name was something that had barely occurred to us.

I agreed to the new form of address, and this gave rise to a number of thoughts. We knew nothing about him outside the office whether he was married, had children; whether he was gay and had a lover. “I suppose like the rest of us he was once a little baby with a mother who thought he was beautiful,” I thought.

I think it was in about the middle of the third from when I began working in Paul’s office that I arrived at work to find on my desk a single red rose in an attractive crystal vase. My first thought was it was someone playing a joke. I asked Paul, “Do you know who put this here?”

He flushed and muttered, “I thought you’d like something to brighten up your desk.”

Startled to learn he was giver I stuttered out, “Thank you Paul; that was very sweet of you.”

From that day on there was a fresh red rose in the vase every morning.

My first “flexible” working hour occurred in the fourth week in the new job. Around mid morning Paul asked if I’d mind working through my normal lunch break to complete series of graphs he needed for the afternoon management meeting.

“Perhaps I could have lunch brought in for us?” he queried, hastily adding, “At my expense of course.”

I accepted his offer but was puzzled to discover that the work he required hardly warranted a working lunch and its accompanying expense. The task he gave me took only a few minutes to complete and I could easily have gone off for my normal lunch, but by that time the “brought in” lunch had arrived.

What a lunch it was! It made a grand entrance on a trolley wheeled by a uniformed waiter. It consisted of chicken and salad, with a number of sweets plus a bottle of white wine.

I am not normally a white wine drinker, but this bottle must have cost a mint and the wine was superb.

As we ate and drank for the first time Paul began to ask me questions about my life – nothing very personal you understand – just things like “Where do you live?” “How long have you lived there?” “Do you like living there?” Actually he could easily have seen my address since it was on the staff files.

A couple of glasses of wine brought on further questions like, “Do you get out much, socially I mean?” “What do you like to do in your leisure time?” Clearly this was a “Getting to know you” rather than a work session.

Relaxed by the wine I counter questioned along the same lines. I gained little information, but had the feeling Paul was a lonely man.

When we finished lunch Paul left the office for the management meeting carrying my pathetically few graphs. He was still absent from the office when I left for home.

Chapter 7: I Get an Invitation.

Nothing further transpired to enhance our first tentative “getting to know you” session, until Thursday in the following week.

Mid afternoon Paul came up behind me and harrumphed a few times. I turned and looked at him. He had a shy cautious look, so to encourage him I asked, “Did you want something, Paul.”

He flushed in the manner I had seen before and stuttering slightly said, “Dawn, I er…er… I’ve got a couple of…er…couple of tickets for the theatre tomorrow evening, you wouldn’t care to accompany me, would you? It’s er…er…a Ray Cooney play.”

This negative approach to asking me out to the theatre confirmed what I had already begun to suspect. Paul was a shy man with pretty low self-esteem. Why this should be so I couldn’t understand since he was not bad looking and was clever as far as his work was concerned.

Negative approach or not, I’m not one to look a gift horse in the mouth. I seen a couple of amateur performances of Cooney’s rather erotic comedies, and I accepted without any pretence at reluctance.

A great weight seemed lift from Paul. His face lit up with a smile and he said, “I say, would you really, that’s wonderful; could we go out somewhere to dinner first?”

Inexperienced I may have been in my relations with men, but I was not so naïve as to not realise what was going on. Paul was starting what in old fashioned terms would have been called, “Courting me.” The daily red rose, the expensive office lunch, all added up to this.

What I had to decide was whether or not I wanted Paul to court me. Since I had been working closely with him I had at first felt wary of him. This was followed by feeling a bit sad for him in what I perceived to be his loneliness. From there I had gone on to actually feel some affection for him.

Putting these things together I decided that yes, I would let the courtship proceed further and see what transpired.

Having accepted both the dinner and theatre invitation I pointed out that I would have to go home to change for the evening, and I would not have much time.

Paul responded by suggesting we leave the office early and he would run me home in his car. He would then return to pick me up for dinner. This was real gentlemanly behaviour, and I liked it, but I wondered how long it would last.

We duly left the office and I was dropped off outside my flat. I hastened in to shower and take a look at myself. In the process I weighed myself and discovered that my careful eating and exercise was paying off; I had actually lost weight.

As with Rod, Mike, and when I was working at the office, I decided on minimal makeup. “No point in covering the goods up,” I thought.

Next came the decision what to wear. I had managed to retrieve a number of articles I had placed the deposit on and decided on a plain dark green dress that descended to just below the knees.

Modesty below, but a little more daring above; the dress showed off what I was rapidly coming to see as my best feature, my breasts. The dress neckline had little to do with my neck as it plunged down into the valley between my breasts. No longer needing those marvels of underwear engineering, the all embracing bras I once wore, I put on my newly acquired bras that served – but only just – to cover my nipples and give a little under lift.

Polished and ready to go I took out another new item of clothing, a warm woollen coat in a paler green than the dress. I was of the view that green suited me.

There was about ten minutes before Paul was due to pick me up, so I went and presented myself to ladyship. “What do you think?” I asked her. Ladyship seemed to glow slightly.

“Is that all you’ve got to say?” I queried somewhat petulantly. There was a more positive glow and I felt the first rumblings of sexual arousal.

“All right, all right, I didn’t mean to be rude. Please don’t get me going or I’ll have a hell of an evening,” I pleaded.

Her glow faded and I calmed down.

Paul was ringing the doorbell of my flat, so I hastily put ladyship in her box and answered the door.

I think we were both equally amazed. I had not yet put my coat on, so Paul stood at the door trying to pretend he was not looking at my breasts. “D…D…Dawn, you…you look b…b…bloody mar…marvellous,” he stammered.

I had never heard him swear before, which suggested he really was overcome by my appearance.

On the other hand, he looked pretty good himself and I told him so. I had only ever seen him in the rather drab single breasted suits he wore to the office. Now clad in a white double breasted jacket and black trousers, he looked the epitome of elegance.

We went to a restaurant that I would never have dreamt of entering on my own. My coat was removed and we were bowed to a reserved table and served by a waiter a trifle too obsequious for my taste, but it was all done with the utmost elegance.

I looked at the menu I was offered and was surprised to see there were no prices listed. As I hesitated Paul said to the waiter, we will order shortly, would you send the wine waiter over, please?”

The waiter bowed and left us. This was my opportunity; “Paul, I whispered, there aren’t any prices.”

He looked up from his menu and smiled at me. “They don’t, in a place like this. Just select whatever you fancy.”

I knew what that meant. The prices would be astronomical. “My God, I thought, this guy really is serious about wooing me. I bet I know what he’ll want as repayment.”

The wine waiter arrived and Paul considered the wine list for a moment then asked, “Since this is our first time going out together, shall we celebrate with champagne?”

I had never had champagne and had always viewed it as a truly exotic drink, so I nodded my agreement.

Pointing to the wine list Paul said to the waiter, “A bottle of the ’83 please.”

The waiter bowed and retired.

I continued to study the menu and the other waiter returned.

With an anguished thought at what it would cost, I made my choice, followed by Paul.

The champagne arrived with a silver ice bucket and Paul now realising I was unused to such a plush environment said; “We can take our time over the wine, the food we take some time to arrive.”

I sipped the champagne tentatively and found it lively and a bit like apple juice. A few more sips and I began to relax.

We chatted about the play we were going to see and Paul told me about other plays he had attended. I told him about seeing the two amateur performances of Cooney’s plays and he laughed saying, “I think you’ll find tonight’s performance a little different. This is one of the finest companies in the country and they specialise in Cooney’s work.

He told me of concerts he had been to, the places he had visited, but still there was nothing of his more intimate personal life mentioned. I wondered what other women he had brought to this restaurant; I even considered if he might be married and I was to be his “bit on the side,” but somehow that did not seem to fit.

Still suspecting that the evening would have to be paid for in bed, I was rather glad that for all their efforts, Rod and Mike had failed to fulfil my instruction to “make me pregnant.” I had menstruated dead on time, as was my habit. I conjectured whether I might become pregnant to Paul, and what might follow from that.

He had been right about the meal. It arrived half an hour after our order had been made; it was worth waiting for.

My mind rambled on under the influence of the champagne, and I thought, “I think this guy might be in love with me.” Rod and Mike certainly had not been in love with me. They had simply lusted for me and even if I had got pregnant to one of them, I felt sure there would be no follow on by way of a permanent relationship, even if I had known who had fathered the child.

“Stop it, Dawn,” I admonished myself, “you’re thinking marriage on the basis of one night out with this guy, and you’re not even sure what you feel about him.”

As if by prearrangement, that afterwards I found had in fact been planned with the restaurant, the meal was finished and the bill presented with just the right amount of time to get to the theatre.

I tried to get a peep at the bill but failed. I saw Paul present a tip for the waiter that would have covered what I would normally expect to pay for a whole meal. I thought I would see what he paid when we went to the desk, but to my amazement all he did was to sign a duplicate copy of the bill carried by the waiter.

We were bowed out of the restaurant, and the theatre only being a couple of minutes walk away, that is what we did, walked.

In the theatre foyer they did have the ticket prices listed over the box office. My stomach lurched at the enormous prices they charged.

There were a lot of people milling around in the foyer and Paul seemed to be acquainted with quite a few of them. He stopped and chatted, introducing me, and as we passed on from one couple I saw out of the corner of my eye the man touch Paul’s sleeve and, as it were, out of the corner of my ear, heard him ask; “Where did you find that beauty, you lucky bugger.” Paul gave a slight laugh and we moved on.

Time to enter the auditorium and we were guided to the second row of the stalls. I had seen what they cost, and was beginning to wonder where Paul got the money from. “My God,” I thought, “is he cooking the books at work?” I suppressed that as an unworthy thought, but continued to wonder.

The play began and it was as Paul had predicted, something different from the amateur companies I had seen. The audience was in stitches of laughter and titillated by turns.

We came out of the theatre at the end still laughing and made our way to Paul’s car. “This will be it,” I thought; “Time for me to pay the bill.”

I was wrong. Paul drove straight to my flat and pulling up outside, got out of the car and came round to open my door. I got out even then anticipating whether he would suggest that he come in for “a cup of coffee.”

Nothing! He came to the main door of the building and no farther.

“Goodnight, Dawn,” he said, “I’ve enjoyed our evening immensely. Perhaps we could do it again some time?”

“Yes,” I said weakly.

“See you at the office on Monday, then,” he said by way of a goodnight.

“Yes, goodnight, Paul,” I murmured, “and thank you, it’s been lovely.”

He smiled and left me.

I watched the tail lights of his car diminish up the street and then he turned the corner and was gone.

Chapter 8: I Discover I Am Loved

I went into my flat wondering what the hell it had all been about. I tried to analyse my feelings and found I felt delighted, angry, disappointed and elated all at once. Delighted that I had enjoyed the evening so much; angry because I might have botched it; disappointed because Paul had not even physically touched me; and elated that I had been called ‘a beauty’ by a complete stranger.

I wondered just how much he meant it when he said, “Perhaps we could do it again some time.”

“Well, Dawn,” I told myself, “You’ll have to wait and find out.”

I took ladyship out of her box and sat her before me. I stared at her for a moment, then summoning up my courage, I addressed her.

“Well, ladyship, it was a lovely evening, but I suppose I shall have to be punished because it didn’t turn out the way you wanted.”

There was no response; not even the slightest glow. I took her in my hand again and there was no influence. I sighed and giving a mental shrug put her back in the box.

To bed, sleep and dreams of some of the more erotic scenes from the play. One scene was so realistic I awoke and had to masturbate before I could get off to sleep again.

Saturday was spent in catching up with some of the left over chores of the week and when evening arrived I got ready to settle before the television and its wretched offerings.

I was about halfway in to a cop show when the telephone rang. I was not expecting anyone to call, so I picked the thing up and muttered, “Dawn Barker.”

“Dawn, this is Paul Sparks.” A thrill speared through me. What did he want? Did he want to come round now and bed me, or what?

“I’ve been thinking, Dawn, you walk to work now, don’t you?”

“Er yes, I like the exercise.”

“I wondered…I mean I’ll understand if you don’t want to…but I wondered if we might take a drive into the country tomorrow afternoon; then take a bit of a walk?”

The thrill shot through me again. “I’d love to, Paul.”

“Wonderful; pick you up about one thirty, then? Don’t wear anything fancy because it could be a bit rough.”

“Fine, Paul,” I said, trying to not sound overly thrilled.

“Bye for now, then. Sleep well.”

“You too, Paul; goodnight.”

The phone went dead but I held it in my hand for a moment or two, wishing we were still connected, but not sure why I wished it.

I hugged myself; “He loves you girl, I’m sure he loves you, even if he didn’t try to fuck you.”

The television programmes droned on but I had no idea what they were about. I could only think about Paul loving me, and wondered if I loved him.

Right on one thirty Paul was there. I had put on an old tweedy skirt, flat heeled walking shoes and a jumper that fitted rather tightly round my bosom. I opted for giving Paul a thrill and wore no bra, so that my nipples could be clearly seen pressing against the cloth.

This had the desired effect because I saw his eyes rivet onto my breasts when I opened the door. Gentleman that he was, he strove with slight success to drag his eyes away from my now shapely mounds.

He said, “You look lovely, Dawn,” he muttered, and that could hardly have applied to my rather scrappy clothing ensemble.

We drove out into the hills and eventually turned into a side road and after a few minutes stopped.

“I love this particular walk,” Paul said, “It has some wonderful views.”

If ever there is such a thing as a perfect day, this was one of them. The sky was clear and the sun would have been hot except that a cool breeze was blowing.

I was wondering if Paul was one of those guys who like to have sex in the open air, and shortly he would suggest we sit for a while, and then would begin the breast fondling, etc. Not so; we walked, we looked at truly beautiful views, we chatted about them and all sorts of odd things, reminiscing on our evening at the theatre; things like that. He did not even try to hold my hand.

Chapter 9: I Find I Am in Love

Should I go on in this vein I shall weary you, my reader. You no doubt seek more erotic literature. So suffice to say that in the following few weeks, invitations from Paul came thick and fast. Theatres, concerts, films, walks and visits to all sorts of places of interest; of sex, nothing.

Of truly intimate talk there was little. I learned that he had been married; his wife, Mina, had died childless of cancer. He learned from me I had no boyfriend in tow, and that was about it. He didn’t even ask me what my star sign is.

That I was in love with this strange and remote man I had no doubt. I wanted to tell him so; I wanted to invite him to my bed, but if I had behaved like a slut with Rod and Mike, it was partly because I was responding to what I knew they wanted, and also because I so desperately wanted my first sexual experience. With Paul it was somehow different. Not once had he made anything resembling a direct sexual approach.