Who the Fuck Are You, Anyway? Ch. 4byNoJo©
At nine a.m. on Sunday morning Tim picked up his bedside phone after ten rings.
“Good morning, EBM Accounting, Tim speaking”, he said automatically.
It was Susanne Simpson.
“It’s not EBM Accounting, Tim. It’s Sunday, and you’re probably in bed. Look, sorry to ring so early, I wanted to go over next week’s shooting schedule. Get a pen and write this down: Wednesday at ten a car will pick you up and take you to the Chihuahua Club. The owner is called Colin. I’ll be there with the crew at ten thirty…” She continued breathlessly with the schedule, without giving Tim a chance to interrupt. Finally she paused. Tim took the opportunity to tell her that he was not interested in doing the show anymore. He wanted out.
There was a pause. Tim grew apprehensive. Susanne Simpson was not the sort of person you opposed. She could probably get nasty.
“Tim, why? I can’t believe it. You’re doing so well! I don’t fucking believe this.”
“I don’t feel like discussing it now. My contract says I can pull out if I’m not happy for any reason with the way things are going. Well, I’m not happy, that’s all there is to it.”
“THAT’S ALL THERE IS TO IT?? WHAT MAKES YOU THINK YOU CAN FUCK ABOUT WITH TWENTY PEOPLE’S LIVES FOR A MONTH AND THEN JUST PULL OUT WITHOUT ANY FUCKING EXPLANATION??” Tim held the phone six inches from his ear as the tirade continued.
“Stay there. I’m coming over. Got it? STAY THERE.”
“I’d rather you didn’t…”
“Too fucking bad. Stay there.”
Twenty minutes later she rang his bell. Tim had butterflies in his stomach as he let her in, anticipating physical violence of some sort. She was speaking on her mobile phone. She gave an order to the person on the line: “I’m turning off the mobile. Take messages. I’ll check back in fifteen minutes”. She switched the phone off. Tim was relieved that by the sound of it, at least she’d be out of his house in a quarter of an hour.
“Okay, Tim. Don’t worry, I’ve calmed down. Let’s talk. Let’s see what the issue is here.” She smiled and put her hand on his arm. Come into the kitchen. We need a Kitchen Talk. She led him into his kitchen.
Over coffee, Tim explained that he had nothing against anyone in the WT-FAY team, he thought they were all great. It was just that “things had happened” that had made him feel unhappy about carrying on.
“What ‘things’, Tim? You don’t mean your fling with Sarah? She seems fine about it. Did you know she’s leaving your firm to do the ‘Flying Eye’ traffic broadcast?”
“Yes, I heard. No. It’s not about her. It’s more about me. I feel like, like, I’m not really myself. Oh, I’m much more confident now, I’m really grateful for that, but I don’t know, I – I feel that it’s just not ME. I’ve stopped being so nice – neglecting my friends… and, and…” Tim suddenly started to cry.
Susanne handed him a paper kitchen towel and waited. After blowing his nose loudly, Tim went on, head downcast:
“It’s my friend, Alice. You know Alice…” he mimed a pregnant belly with his hands. “I’ve been so busy I’ve hardly even spoken to her. She’s so nice, Susanne, so nice…” he started sobbing again.
Susanne glanced at her watch. “Yes, she does seem nice, Tim. Is she all right? Is the baby okay?”
“Yes… It’s just… She – She’s just found out her husband has been seeing other women behind her back.”
Susanne immediately understood why he wanted to quit the program; she also felt that Tim himself still didn’t know: “And you’re worried you might end up becoming a smarmy two-faced bastard like him.”
Tim looked up.
“Well Tim, you won’t. You’re an honest guy. We’re not teaching you how to trick women into sleeping with you, or become some kind of slimy Casanova. Just how improve your confidence. You see you don’t really have the confidence yet, Tim, you’ve still got a way to go. Right now it all seems like a fake. But that’s because it’s so new, it’s not really integrated. Trust me, Tim. Come on. It’ll be great. And it’ll be fun. I promise.” She put her hand on his. He glanced down at her hand, then up at her face.
“Anyway,” she continued brightly. “We got you laid after a week, didn’t we? More than you’ve managed in thirty years. Tell me, how does Sarah compare with your other experiences? You know, with your fist?”
Tim looked at her angrily. God, she could be a bitch. “You’re a bit of a smug one, aren’t you? Well actually, I’m guessing you might be jealous -- because she got to me before you.”
“Yeah right. Sorry to disillusion you, but I’m a professional. I don’t mix business with pleasure.”
“Well that’s not the impression I got after you snogged me in my bedroom. Also Gordon told me one or two things....” Gordon was one of the cameramen.
“Oh, I get it: You have sex once, and you suddenly think you’re irresistible to women. Come to think of it, maybe you’re right, Tim. There is a chance that you’ll become like Alice’s two-timing hubby.” She stood up. “Maybe you better quit before you turn into an even bigger asshole.”
Tim stood and faced her, smiling grimly. “Don’t play games with me! Admit it. You fancy me. You want me but you can’t have me. And it wasn’t once. It was three times.”
Susanne, enraged for a moment, went to slap his face but suddenly stopped. She wasn’t going to let him claim a moral victory. Besides, she thought, she didn’t see why she shouldn’t pass up an opportunity kill three birds with one stone: She could teach him a little lesson, get him back into the show, and have a bit of fun herself. After all, she had been wondering what he’d be like to shag.
She advanced towards him. Tim flinched. But instead of slapping him, she stroked his cheek affectionately.
Tim’s resolve weakened. “Susanne, I’m sorry, but --”
“Tim, you silly tosser. Come here…”
Susanne pulled his face down by his ears till their lips were touching. She slid a hand up his tee shirt and gently tweaked his nipples while she kissed his face all over. Suddenly she grabbed his ass and slid her knee up behind his groin, between his balls and his asshole. This pumped up his hard-on till it grew as hard and as big as a salami. She slipped her hand into his fly groped his cock appreciatively.
She undressed him rapidly, her hands flickering over him, tickling and pinching him as more of his skin was exposed. He felt unable to resist. Not that he actually wanted to. There was a kind of inevitability in the way she seduced him that was highly arousing. She was quick and purposeful in her movements, driving him crazier every second.
Without recalling how he got there, he found himself naked and back in his bed, with Susanne, still fully dressed, sitting astride his chest with a victorious smile on her face. She looked down at him and said, “Right: Three times with Sarah Maxwell, eh? And how many orgasms did she have? One, or none?”
Tim managed to say, “One, I think…”
Susanne laughed. “One, you ‘think’? Well, here’s your challenge for today, Tim: I’ve got to have three orgasms, and you have to have none. Any jizz from you, then I win and you have to continue the program. Otherwise you can quit. Okay?”
She sat sideways on him, squashing his erection into his abdomen with her ass. She dangled her legs over the side of the bed and kicked off her shoes. She jumped up and unzipped her skirt. She didn’t remove her black cashmere V-necked sweater, or her tights. Tim could see she wore no knickers. She noticed his gaze and explained that knickers with her tight skirt showed. She hated V.P.L. “Although some men seem like to it,” she muttered half to herself.
She climbed back astride him and shuffled forwards till she was astride his face. The smell of her pussy was unlike any he’d experienced. It was a combination of the natural aroma she exuded, blended with some kind of subtle perfume, and it drove him instantly wild with passion. He panted and his muscles tensed.
She put her hands against the wall behind the bed and swayed, her crotch just above his face, wafting the aroma into his nostrils.
“So, you like my pussy perfume? I get it made up specially. The ingredients are a secret. It’s expensive, Tim. Ve-ry, ve-ry expensive… breathe it in deeply…”
Slowly she lowered herself onto him as she spoke.
“Now, Tim, remind me: What song are you doing at the club?”
“Let’s stmph tmph mph.”
She raised herself a little. “Pardon? Could you repeat that?”
“ ‘Let’s stay together’ by Al Green”.
“Sing it, Tim.”
Tim began to sing, but she immediately pushed her pussy back firmly down onto his face, and he stopped. “Don’t stop Tim. Keeping singing!”
Tim, his mouth completely muffled by her pussy, started singing again. He found it hard to breathe, let alone sing.
“LOUDER! That’s better. I can feel that. Much better.”
And so, using Tim’s sweet tenor vocal chords as a vibrator, Susanne reached her first orgasm. She squeezed his head with her thighs and gasped.
“Ooh, that was nice.” She whisked around and felt the end of his cock.
“What’s this? A little pre-cum… you haven’t got a hope…” She pulled off her top, arching her back gracefully and undid her bra. She had full, shapely tits.
“Nice, aren’t they? You’ve tried to stare down my cleavage enough times. What do you think of them now you can see them properly?”
She played with them slowly, springing the nipples up and down, squeezing and rolling them.
“Here, have a closer look…” she suddenly bent and pushed her tits onto his face, her sliver pendant landing with a clunk on his forehead. She maneuvered one erect nipple into his mouth and told him to “suck on it till you taste my milk”. He sucked. “Slowly! Slowly… that’s better… Mmm… My nipples are one of my erogenous zones, Tim. I’ve got six. Shall I tell you them, or would you like to find them yourself? Keep sucking. Good boy… What a good little baby… You like me treating you like a little boy, don’t you? You like Mummy’s milk, do you?”
Her back arched. There was a pause.
“Was that number two?” asked Tim.
“That was number two.” She stretched languidly, stood and unhurriedly took off her tights. She straddled him again. He stroked her naked thighs. They felt smooth. She grabbed his cock and stuffed it in her pussy. Then she did something that felt to Tim as though she had a clenched fist inside her, gripping his cock tight, but also rolling and sliding like a coiling snake. He felt the cum being inexorably being drawn out of his cock as though it were a tube of toothpaste. The pleasure he felt was so strong it was frightening. He felt as though he were on a “white-knuckle” ride; it was too fast, too strong. And yet, like a fairground ride, once he gave into it, it was even more pleasurable.
Her fingertips circled his nipples.
“I can keep you like this for ages, you know. It’s one of the tricks in my sex book. Do you like it?”
Tim liked it, but found it hard to reply.
“You won’t be able to come until I relax my grip. What do you think, Tim? Should I let you come?”
Tim made an inarticulate sound and turned his head to the side and stared blankly out of the window, lost in a dreamy ecstasy.
She grabbed his chin and turned his head roughly so that he was looking up at her.
“Now tell me: Are you going to quit the program?”
Tim didn’t answer.
She squeezed his cheeks with her thumb and forefinger to force his mouth open, and spat into it.
She continued gyrating slowly for what seemed like an eternity, occasionally asking him teasingly if he still wanted to quit, until eventually she brought herself to a delicious climax. He was fun to fuck. Definitely a lot of potential there, for a beginner. She eased her strange grip on his cock.
Immediately she did so, he cried out, as a huge orgasm engulfed him like a tsunami.
She climbed off him. She put three fingers to her pussy, scooped them out with a slurp, and then shoved them into his mouth.
“Taste familiar Tim? Or have you never tasted your own cum?”
She kissed him gently on the nose and said. “Thanks, Tim, I enjoyed that. See you Wednesday at the club. Ten thirty. I’ll show myself out.” She dressed herself while Tim lay on the bed, still semi-conscious.
As she descended the stairs he heard her talking on the phone with her assistant, checking for messages.
“Did all that take only fifteen minutes?” Tim thought vaguely to himself.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Tim spent the next few hours in bed, alternately pondering the Meaning of Life and masturbating furiously. He had now learned a basic fact about sex: The more you get, the more you want. Rather than feeling sated after his time with Susanne, he found himself rolling around the bed sniffing her maddening perfume on the pillow and bedsheets, groaning and wanking.
It was only the sudden appearance of a squirrel at the window that brought an end to his erotic squirming. With the lack of logic that panic sometimes induces, Tim was convinced that the squirrel would talk, and the news about Tim’s onanistic debauchery would somehow travel from woodland creature to woodland creature, eventually reaching his family, friends, and all his colleagues from EBM.
“Alice!” He suddenly said aloud, sitting up. “What am I doing? I haven’t rung to see how she is!”
Her line was engaged. He dressed hastily and rushed out of the house, frantic that she may have tried to do something to herself.
Although he was usually thrifty, Tim today had no hesitation in hailing a cab – after all, this could be Life or Death…
“Any chance of avoiding this traffic?” Tim called to the driver.
The driver, without replying, did a U-turn and turned down a side-road. After a few minutes the driver said, “What’s the hurry mate? Wife going into labor?”
Tim, startled at first by the driver’s question, quickly yielded to the confessional atmosphere of a London Cab and proceeded to tell the driver about Alice and Dave.
“Probably just got cold feet,” said the driver and popped a chewing gum in his mouth.
Tim arrived at their house and rang the bell. Supposing no one answered? Should he break the door open? Could he break it open? He’d seen it done, but only on TV. He took out his own keys to see if by chance one of them worked when the door was opened by Beth.
“The phone was engaged, and I – I – how’s Alice?”
“And hello to you too!” said Beth.
“Sorry, Beth. It’s just that I -”
“She’s okay, Tim. She’s kicked him out. He’s staying at a hotel.”
Alice appeared in the hallway. She’d obviously been crying a lot. Tim thought her tear-stained face made her look beautiful, like a Madonna. He was slightly disturbed to find that his cock had jumped to attention.
She ran to him and buried her face in his chest. He put his arms around her and swept her hair away from her face. He kissed her tenderly on the ear. He felt her round belly pressing against his groin. She felt so good in his arms. He pulled away hastily. “Alice. I’m so sorry. I’m almost as shocked as you must be.”
“Oh, I’m not shocked, Tim. I’m not even surprised. You see my Dave is a terrible coward. That’s what made him do it.”
Tim might have doubted this assessment of her husband, instead putting his philandering down to pure selfish lust; but he was recalling the taxi driver’s comment about cold feet. Maybe they were right: Maybe Dave was just scared of the responsibility of being a father of two.
“Alice, you are sure – I – I mean did he tell you, or, or...”
Beth looked reproachfully at him. “Tim…”
“It’s alright, Beth. Yes, he told me. I smelt perfume on him when he came back late from work, and I asked him point blank. You know how I am, Tim. I tend to speak from the hip. I asked him if he’d slept with another woman, and he admitted it. I told him to fuck off out of Max’s sight. I gave him ten minutes to pack. I don’t think he took any underpants. He’s probably bought himself some new pairs by now.”
The mention of smelling of perfume was a sudden reminder of Tim’s recent encounters with Sarah and Susanne. “Which hotel is he in? Do you know? Have you spoken to him?”
“Yes, actually he just called me a few minutes ago to ask if I was okay. I suppose that was good of him. He’s at the Novotel.” Beth comforted her, as she seemed about to cry again.
“Well, I’m going to talk to him. No, Alice; not to persuade him to come back, or to get his side of things, just because -- well, because he’s my friend too.”
“Alice, I’m sorry, but I’ve really got to go too. I’m picking up a dress for next Wednesday --” she stopped short and Alice and her exchanged glances. Wednesday was the day of Tim’s singing night at the club. Tim was too preoccupied to notice that Alice and Beth were apparently keeping another of their schemes from him.
“Tim, I can give you a lift if you like, I’m going into the West End.”
Beth tried to make conversation in the car. She asked him how he felt about singing, and mentioned she used to sing in a choir. But Tim ignored her, lost in thought. He was actually trying to work out what to say to Dave. He hated confrontation. An idea struck him: All the assertiveness training and conversation skills Richard Smart had given him were now going to be put to some real use.
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