Susan was introduced in part 8 of my Novella, New Xanadu, which is the back story of the club that features in this story, and of the characters who formed it. There’s not a lot of Susan there, as she was put on ice for her own protection shortly after being introduced. So, while I hope that everyone will read my earlier stories, I’ll admit that you don’t really need to look there to understand Susan here.
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New Xanadu had been open for 3 months when Susan’s divorce came through. Giver her husband’s wealth and abusive character, not to mention strong support and pressure from his fundamentalist church members, I had expected it to be hotly contested. It started out that way, but thanks to a combination of the legal bulldogs that Mary selected for Susan to sic on him, and the hidden wealth unearthed by Ron’s and Mike’s network of data miners, things changed dramatically after four months.
It turned out that Brutus had been an even more successful hedge fund manager than he had let on. His face-saving reason for caving in was that he did not want the physical and psychological injuries that he had inflicted on Susan paraded before his church members and investors. But I am certain that the real clincher was his desire to keep off the record the fact that he had salted away roughly $20 million without mentioning it to the IRS. He had never shared this information with Susan, and Mary and her attorneys decided it would be best to keep Susan and her legal team in the dark about it to shield her from any tax evasion charges should the IRS find out. Even after Mary’s people let Brutus know that they could blow him up with the IRS, he put up enough token resistance that Susan elected to take less than half of the couple’s documented wealth, rather than fighting for years for what might have been much more. Still, when it was done, we all agreed that $6 million was nothing to sneeze at.
When she first came to our happy sex addicts group, Susan had told us that before marrying Brutus when she was 25, she had enjoyed an active sex life with multiple partners, usually one at a time; and that she and Brutus had had a good sex life for the first 9 years of their marriage. When Brutus got religion in a very bad way, that was followed by a year of marital rapes and beatings. Susan had been advised by her attorneys simply not to have any sex while her divorce was being litigated, not that, as a sexually battered woman, she was particularly interested in sex. Consequently, she had been celibate for nearly a year when her divorce was granted.
When the divorce decree became final and Susan’s money was safely in the bank, Martha, Mary and Joan decided it was time to begin helping her rediscover the joys of sex. From their own experiences, each recognized that this was a dicey proposition. Mary had helped Martha work her way through a teenage date rape, and had herself been drugged up and pimped out while a runaway. Joan had been seriously injured in a Looking for Mr. Goodbar encounter. They knew that however horny Susan might think she had become from her forced celibacy, the sexual abuse that she had gone through before might be enough to leave her with a fear of men and sex, if not with a full-blown PTSD.
Strong, highly intelligent and very sexually positive women that they were, Martha, Mary and Joan sat Susan down for a mid-life version of “the talk.”
After months of abstinence, was she horny? Yes, frequently, but not on days when she had bad dreams the night before about being raped and beaten.
Did she want to go to counseling for those? An unenthusiastic maybe.
Did she want to go to our new sex club just to look and see what was available; sort of anonymously shop around? Maybe, but not yet.
Would she be willing to go on a date with a guy, or a woman or a couple for that matter, who could be trusted not to push her into anything she didn’t want? Yes; a guy. Sex with a man was the horse she was going to have to get back on, and she guessed that it would be better to start trying sooner than later.
All were agreed that Susan’s sexual reawakening needed to be put in the hands of someone they could trust. Mary, in particular, was against professional therapy. She’d been there, repeatedly, and felt that she had gotten more help from a hooker with a heart of gold and her cop boyfriend than from any shrink she had ever met. Joan was ambivalent because as a medical professional she didn’t like the idea of unlicensed sex therapy, but she felt that my lovemaking had done her at least as much good as her sessions with her counselor. Martha wasn’t for or against counseling, but her vote about me was split because she was still pissed at me for having lost my head with Salome one night. Ultimately, she agreed that of all the males in our group I was the most empathetic and the most likely to be patient.
Which is how I came to be the designated sexual surrogate to try to restore Susan’s mojo.
The three women sat me down one night at the club and told me that I was going to have a date with Susan. This came as a pleasant surprise to me, since I’d wanted her from the first time I’d seen her at an SAA meeting. Then Mary and Martha told me that there was a lot riding on this, for me as well as for Susan. Given Mary’s family background, anything she said was serious had to be taken seriously indeed. As for Martha, she chose the carrot over the stick: maybe if I carried this off well, I could get out of her doghouse, which I chose to mean back into her bed. Joan just tried to give me positive reinforcement while being realistic. She reminded me of how I had helped her when she needed it, and said that she was sure that if this plan had any hope of success, I was the man for the job. At the same time she warned me that Susan might need more than I could accomplish, and that if I sensed things were not progressing, I should back off and let them know immediately.
They chose a Tuesday night, when restaurants were open but business was slow, and New Xanadu was closed. Our first date was to be at Campagnola, a very nice traditional restaurant in Evanston that just happened to be owned by one of Mary’s cousins. She assured me that while this would give Susan the mental comfort of a public place with other diners, the adjacent tables would be empty, allowing us to talk freely. I was to meet Susan there at 7, rather than picking her up at her apartment, again to take pressure off of her. What happened after 9 when the restaurant closed was to be left up to Susan.
I arrived a little before 7 and was shown to a table for two along the back wall. As promised, the other tables in this area were empty. It was a late March evening, so I had added a sweater and a sport coat for the extra layers. The restaurant is frequently described as “cozy,” and it was plenty warm at the back, allowing me to give the waiter my sports coat along with my outer coat.
As I sat waiting for Susan, I realized that I was nervous, which was unusual for me. Meeting women with the hope that by the end of the evening we would be in bed together had not been a big deal for me for a long time. But Mary and Martha and Joan had drilled it into me that this was not one of those “Let’s grab dinner and jump into bed” sort of evenings. In a way, I was on ground that, if not exactly new, was so far removed from the landscape of my recent life as to be unfamiliar.
I’d sought advice from the guys in our group, and the only one who came up with anything that sounded remotely useful was James: “Treat her like she’s a virgin.” The only virgin I had ever been in bed with was me, so not even distant memory served, especially since I was pretty sure that as a general rule guys and girls approached the loss of their virginity with vastly different sets of emotions. So I went back to Joan, the woman in our group with whom I had the best rapport at the time, and asked her what James’s advice meant in practical terms. Even though it was a serious discussion, we chose to have it in bed, which we’d long ago learned helped us open up to each other emotionally.
She said, “I’ve always enjoyed being with James because he seems to be a perceptive and caring lover. Just like you only with more experience. Oh, don’t look hurt; that was a compliment. You are miles ahead of him for your age, and unless you run into a lethally jealous husband or lover, I expect time will solve the experience issue.
“Anyway, I think James is sort of right but totally wrong. Yes, Susan is sort of like a virgin here, unsure of herself, curious and horny, but afraid. The big difference, though, is that your average virgin female is influenced, almost governed, by a hormone soup that helps a guy get into her pants. She has an overwhelming need to be loved, so it is easy to smooth talk her. And at the same time she has this biological urge to make babies, or at least to do the thing that would make babies if she didn’t have the good sense to get some birth control. Add a little inhibition-reducing alcohol to some sweet talk and those raging hormones, especially if the guy is someone she’d like her children to look like, and most virgins are easy. At least I was,” she said with a wistful smile.
“Now, with Susan in her mid-30s, you don’t have as much of that hormone soup. Granted, Mary tends to mention our orgies around her, and months of that has had to get Susan’s motor going a little. But that’s not as good as hormones, especially when her more recent memories kick in. And that’s the biggest problem in my opinion. A virgin fears the unknown future. Is it going to hurt? Will he still love me after he gets what he wants? What would her friends and family say if they found out? And maybe she fears getting pregnant, despite the fact that her built-in biological imperative is pushing her to do just that. Susan’s fears are not speculative; they are grounded in her experiences: her most recent sex hurt her badly, both physically and emotionally. Unlike the virgin, here you’re dealing with ‘Once burned, twice shy.’ If you can bring Susan around, and that is a serious ‘if’ in my mind, she is not going to be easy.”
“Great,” I said, “I appreciate the theory and the confidence, but what do I do.”
“John, sometimes you can be your own worst enemy, and I’m not talking just about what you did to get Martha pissed at you. You overthink things and try to plan ahead too much. Probably it’s your own insecurities coming out. You need to put those aside, and put your own needs aside too. You do what you did so well for me. You get her to talk; you listen and respond to what she is telling you. You focus on Susan’s needs and insecurities rather than on your own. You build up her confidence, in herself and in you.
“By all means sweet talk her — every woman wants to be told nice things about herself — but never say anything that isn’t absolutely grounded in truth, even if you embellish it a little. You don’t need to give her presents, but if you find out she likes something, you should respond to that.
“As to the physical side of it, you need to probe very gently. Remember that ‘Once burned.’ Think of Susan as one big first-degree burn and hope it’s not worse than that. Until or unless she tells you or shows you that she wants more, all of your touches are soft, tentative. Kisses are the same. Believe me if, and hopefully when, she wants more, she’ll let you know.
“Don’t expect everything to go in a straight line, either. Remember, she’s a mix of fears and desires, and the desires won’t always be on top. What worked for her yesterday might not work tomorrow. When you hit a setback, you can’t show frustration. If possible, you try not even to feel frustration. We women read emotions pretty well when we’re not being moonstruck in love. Comfort, understanding without pressure, and letting her know that you are there for her and only for her; that’s what you need to offer, all the time. Hell,” she laughed, “if you do this right she’ll probably end up falling in love with you; it’s a risk therapists run. But we’ll see if we can fix that later — if you want. A beautiful woman about your age with $6 million in the bank. I should be jealous already.”
“Ah, Joan, if it comes to that, we’ll always have Rosemont,” I quipped.
“And not just that, I hope,” Joan said as she lifted up and threw the covers off of me. Now lie there and be a good boy. I want to show you something I’ve been working on.”
With that, she scooted down in the bed and wrapped her lips around my cock. All the talk-talk had left it completely soft, but in no time at all she had me rock hard and standing tall. Then, carefully, she started pushing down my shaft until I felt myself hit the back of her throat. She gagged a little, backed off, and then resumed her descent. This time I could feel myself sliding into her throat. When she hit bottom she rested for a few seconds, then she slowly brought herself up off my cock and gave me a big, sloppy smile.
“Martha’s been teaching me how to deep throat,” she said proudly. “Yours is the first real cock I’ve tried it on. You’re bigger than the banana I’ve been practicing with, so I wasn’t sure I’d be able to do it.” With that she went back to my cock again, bobbing up and down, gagging a little most times when I passed into her throat. I made a point of lying as still as I could to avoid doing anything that might hurt her.
When I got close I gasped “I’m gonna come” and Joan pulled back far enough to get me out of her throat, allowing her to suck and lick the head of my prick as I shot my cum into her mouth. The sensation was almost unbearable, and it was all I could do not to pull her off me as I came. But I hung in there until she had sucked me dry, then I pulled her back up and gave her a big, deep kiss.
My reveries about Joan ended when, at almost exactly 7, Susan walked through the front door of Campagnola. She spotted me and came straight back. There as an awkward moment as I debated whether to stand up or not. Thinking about Joan’s deep throat debut had left me with quite a woody, and the sight of Susan with her long red hair, lovely oval face did nothing to lessen it. The gentleman that my mother had trained me to be forced me out of my seat. Clearly Susan noticed my predicament because when she got to the table she hit me with that old Mae West line. “Why detective, is that a gun in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?”
I think I turned redder than her hair and then we both broke out laughing. Noticing the waiter on his way to take her coat, Susan said in a deadpan voice, “Please, don’t stand on ceremony, have a seat,” which I was glad to do before I embarrassed myself further.
As the waiter helped her into her chair Susan looked up at him and said, “I could really use a martini, stirred, not shaken please. And,” looking at me, “for my friend here,” she said with an upward inflection.
At that point I dearly wanted a strong vodka tonic, but one of us needed to stay sober to avoid the risk of any morning after regrets following drunken decision making. So, “A glass of Chablis, please,” is what I told the waiter.
After the waiter left, Susan looked me straight in the eye and said, “John, it’s good to see you again. And thank you for helping to get me out of that mess of a marriage and quite possibly save my life. Mary and the others almost insisted that I come out with you tonight. Now, would you like to tell me why we are here?”
Wow, what a take charge performance, I thought; coming on kind of like Mary at our first encounter: she the $6 million woman and I something much less. If I hadn’t seen the tremor in her right hand as she nervously fiddled with the knife beside her plate. I might have bought it and been offended. Instead, I realized that sometimes hard is brittle, and that she was almost certainly acting hard to cover her insecurity.
Making a point not to reach out and touch her hand, or even to lean forward to close the space between us, I said “Speaking for myself, I am here to have dinner with a beautiful woman who is a friend of some special friends of mine. I’m extremely open minded, but whether anything more ever comes of that is entirely up to you. As to why you are here and why we are here, that’s a little hard for me to say. At the least, I hope we are both here to enjoy a pleasant meal.”
“Alright,” she said, still fiddling with the knife, “this is not some set-up where our mutual friends brought in their favorite stud to wine and dine me before you whisk little old me off to your bed to return me to the world of the sexually liberated?”
“For the record, you are not old, and you are not little. I’d say pleasantly average sized, and neither of us will be old for some time. Now, more seriously, I am not planning on whisking you off to my bed for any purpose. And if you think you are here because you are supposed to take me home, I should warn you that I’ve been known to refuse to be whisked on a first date.” Well, in keeping with Joan’s advice about honesty, this was technically true, even though that had been a long time ago.
That got a little bit of a smile from her, and at last she stopped messing with the knife. The waiter brought our drinks and menus, explained that there were no specials on weeknights, and said he would be back in a few minutes to take our orders.
The rest of the evening went off with light conversation and no attempt at physical contact. I tried to keep the focus on her, whether she had any job plans, where she thought she would live, was there maybe a cruise in the offing. Basically, what she returned was that she as completely unsure about where her life would lead, except that it would continue to rely on Martha, Mary and Joan for support and guidance.
After dessert and coffee I offered to drive Susan home but she said that she’d driven herself in Martha’s car. I asked her if I could call her and she gave me her cell phone number, which I called while we were still at the table, so that my number would be on hers. As we left the restaurant and began to go our separate ways, Susan surprised me when she gave me a hug. As we stood there, briefly cheek to cheek, she whispered in my ear, “Thank you John, tonight was wonderful,” and then, before I had time to make any wrong moves, she was gone.
I must have done alright because when I woke up I had texts from Joan (“Looking good”) and Martha (“SFSG. Try not 2 scru up”). Most importantly, by the time I had gotten ready for work there was a text from Susan (“TY! 4 last nite. Dinner 2nite? Pls call.”) So far so good indeed.
I called Susan from work and we set up dinner at Tapas Barcelona, another great restaurant in Evanston. Significantly, I thought, she asked if I would pick her up at her place, which raised the likelihood that I would be taking her back to her place. Interesting.
I called Mary and asked if she could arrange a parking space for me in the garage under her building so that I could more easily pick Susan up and bring her back. Mary asked me for how long and I told her I wasn’t planning to spend the night, so midnight would be okay. In spite of being born with a gold spoon in her mouth, Mary is a serious businesswoman, so her simple “Okay, not a problem,” did not tell whether that was the right answer or not.
Susan was noticeably less tense all through this evening. I’d made a table reservation just in case, but when we arrived the bar was mostly empty and I suggested that we sit there for the closer proximity it would allow. Throughout the evening as we talked of inconsequential things I managed to brush against Susan and touch her hand while we shared bites of each other’s food, and she didn’t flinch or draw away. As before, I limited my booze intake, but Susan upped hers, from one dink the night before to two.
When we got back to the parking garage in her building Susan took a deep breath and said, “Would you like to come up for coffee?”
To which I replied, “Only if you’d like me to.”
“Yes, I would. But just coffee or tea, no me, okay?”
I took her hand and kissed it. “Of course, Susan. I promise you I’ll be good.”
There was another deep breath when Susan got to the door of her apartment, another Rubicon moment, I thought, but then she set her jaw and let us in. She put our coats to the closet and led me to the kitchen where she got the coffee going. I could tell that while she was trying, she was still tense, so I was careful to keep my distance. When the coffee was done, she reached into a cabinet and brought out a bottle of Baileys Irish Cream. “I like some of this in mine; would you like some?”
I told her that I’d better not since I would be driving home but that she should go ahead and have what she normally had. She poured a short shot into her glass then gave me a look and poured another, then we headed back to the living room. She took a seat on the sofa. I could tell that she was still tense even though I’d told her I wasn’t expecting to spend the night, so rather than joining her I sat in a chair opposite.
We sipped and sat in silence until Susan had finished her coffee, then she got up and said “I’m going to have another. You?” I drained my cup, got up and handed it to her, allowing my fingers to touch hers. I was happy to see that, again, she didn’t flinch. When we got to the kitchen she made another pot of coffee. This time when she poured hers up she added about twice as much Baileys as before.
On our return to the living room we resumed our separate seats, which seemed to please Susan. Again we sat and sipped, Susan faster than me thanks to the Baileys having cooled hers down, and because she wanted that Irish courage.
Finally, Susan looked me straight in the eye and with a look of abject misery on her face said, “Oh,, Christ, John, what am I supposed to do?”
“Susan, what do you want to do?”
“I don’t know John. Part of me wants to ask you to take me into the bedroom and make love to me. The other part wants to run into that room and lock the door and not come out until I hear you leave. I’m afraid that Brutus really did a number on my head.”
“Yeah, I know. And I’m really sorry about that. I’d like to do what I can to help but I want to make one thing crystal clear. If you got up right now and took me by the hand and asked me to go into the bedroom and make love to you, I wouldn’t do it.”
“Why not? From what I hear you’re a sex addict. What is it, I’m not pretty enough? Or am I too crazy for you to want to be with me?”
“Susan, believe me, you’re plenty pretty. Actually, you’re beautiful, a regular red-headed china doll. On top of that you’re bright, and while you might not think so, you’re a strong woman. A weaker woman would be cowering behind her bedroom door waiting for me to leave instead of trying to deal with this head on. The truth is that you have everything I find attractive in a woman, and I’ve wanted to be with you from the first time I saw you at the SAA meetings. As for fucking, let’s change fuck to make love, because you deserve better than a wham-bam thank you ma’am. But I don’t want to do that now, and not because I think you’re crazy. Yes, I think your head is badly screwed up where sex is concerned, and you are horribly vulnerable. After what you’ve been through you’d be crazy if you weren’t.”
She gave me a rueful smile. “So like I said, what am I supposed to do.”
“Well, I have an idea, if you’re willing to trust me enough to try it. You might think it’s kind of screwy.”
“John, from where I am right now, ‘kind of screwy’ is probably an improvement. What do you have in mind.”
“Okay. Let’s see if we can reboot your feelings about sex by taking things real slow and easy. Like the instructor said in the Monty Python sex-ed scene, you don’t have to go for a home run the first time at bat, or something lime that. How about we start with a little cuddling and petting, knowing that it isn’t going to go anywhere, and that I’ll stop whenever you tell me to?”
“What if I say yes but when we actually are doing that I panic and can’t go on?”
“Then we stop and you tell me to wait a minute, or go back to my chair, or go home. And I do that, and when you feel like it we can try again some time. But you will be completely in control, and I am not going to get pissed at you if any memories of what your asshole ex-husband did to you get in the way.”
Susan finished the last of her Baileys and coffee and said, “John, would you please come over here and just hold me a little. I could really use a friendly cuddle right now.”
I was more than happy to oblige. Putting down my coffee cup I moved over to the sofa beside Susan and put my arms around her. Not surprisingly, she was tense, but after a couple of minutes of me doing no more than holding her I could feel her loosen up, and she rested her head on my shoulder. I decided to take a chance, and I took one of her hands in mine and just held it for awhile. There was a little catch in her breathing, but then she shifted her body to nestle closer to mine and her breathing returned to slow and steady.
“I’ve never been close enough to notice before,” I murmured, “but beside being beautiful you smell really good.” I wondered how lame I sounded; but it was true, she did smell good.
“That’s not me John, that’s Herbal Essences.”
“Well here’s to Herbal Essences, then.” I gently lifted the hand I was holding and kissed the inside of her wrist. When I kissed it again she tilted her head up toward mine, with her lips slightly parted and her eyes almost closed. If that wasn’t saying “Kiss me,” I hadn’t learned anything about mating.
I kissed her, gently, on the lips, and then on her eyes and cheeks, and back to her mouth. Susan didn’t pull away or push me away, but at first she was passive, until once when my tongue was tracing her lower lip, her tongue darted out and dipped slightly into my mouth.
Rather than charge right in, I broke the kiss and pulled back. Susan opened her eyes and I gave her what I hoped was a quizzical look. It must have been, because Susan just said “Please,” and closed her eyes again.
I took advantage of the break to lean back until my head was on the armrest. Susan followed down on top of me and, as I had hoped, she was the one who started the next kiss. This time I let her set the pace of our kissing, while I began caressing the nape of her neck. Soon our kisses became passionate, tongues dipping and twirling, teeth gently nibbling lips. I wasn’t sure what more to do until Susan took my free hand and guided it to her breast. Even through her blouse and bra, I could feel the nipple, full and stiff. Gentle rubbing brought a moan and an even more passionate kiss.
It also caused me to forget that Susan was supposed to be in control. My hand began to wander from breast to hem of skirt. But as soon as it touched her thigh it was stopped in a vise-like grip while Susan broke our kiss and pulled away from me.
“No, John,” she said with some heat.
Though she was visibly upset, Susan did her best to reassure me. “John, you were doing great. We were doing great. I was really enjoying myself, us, all of it. But the idea that nothing was going to happen really helped me get this far. When I thought about what comes after you getting your hands in my pants, it scared me. I’m sorry.”
While feelings of frustration at being stopped at second base washed over me. I quickly tamped them down as I realized the seriousness of my blunder.
“No, Susan, I’m sorry. It’s my fault for pushing you too far. My little head started taking over and I forgot about you and your needs. Joan would be disappointed and Martha would be pissed at me all over again. I really am sorry.”
“Actually, if you were dealing with Joan, you’d have your tongue on her clit by now,” she said, trying to lighten things up, “And Joan says you helped bring her back from some bad shit, too, so I have faith that we’ll make it eventually. In all senses of that word.
“But your go slow idea was a good one. Let’s save the anything more for tomorrow night, shall we.”
An offer that I couldn’t refuse even if I’d wanted to, which I didn’t. Tomorrow was Thursday, and normally I would be having visitation with Little John that was really babysitting while Gloria went to class. Missing that was going to hurt, but I didn’t feel that I could risk not keeping Susan’s momentum going. Gloria was going to be pissed at the last-minute change, and it would cost me for the babysitter, but the best laid plans and all that.
“I’d love to,” I said. “Where would you like to eat tomorrow night?”
“Let’s make it simple. I like to cook, so how about dinner here at, say, 7? I’ll ask Mary to clear a parking space for you so you don’t have to walk over in the cold.”
“Wonderful” I said, drawing her in for a kiss. “Now let me get out of here before I make any more bad moves.”
Thursday when I showed up I was happy to see that Susan had chosen clothes that were easy to get into, or out of for that matter. Dinner was simple and delicious: salad, two kinds of quiche and homemade bread. It was decidedly light, and that plus the wine that flowed made me wonder if Susan had been hoping to work up to some full-blown love making.
After dinner, I helped her clean up — something she said she liked, and that Brutus had never done for her even in their good times — and that gave me a chance to “accidentally” brush against her a few times. When we took our wine to the living room Susan led me to the couch. This time Susan initiated the kissing, and she wasted no time in bringing our tongues into play.
However, even though she started out willing and eager, our play stopped at second base again, though not before she had let me unhook her bra (which I was delighted find had a front snap, making it easy to open) so that I could play with her breasts rather than just feel them through her clothes. Susan gave me no indication that I should go below the waist, and I made sure not to repeat my clumsy mistake of the night before. After about a half hour Susan said, “John, this is feeling wonderful,. I wish I were, but I’m not ready for more at the moment. Please don’t be mad.”
“Mad, hell,” I said. “As long as you’re having fun, I’m good.” (More or less true, though I did call Joan when I got home, and asked her to spend the rest of the night with me.)
“Then should we try to pick up tomorrow night where we left off?”
I explained to her that I had to work at New Xanadu on Friday nights. I asked if she might want to come along to see the club, but she said she was not ready for that.
When she asked about the weekend I told her that Saturday morning through Sunday afternoon was my visitation time with Little John, so those times were out. And Sunday evening I really needed to work at the club again, since visitation meant that I was not pulling my weight on Saturday nights.
“You’re not just making this up because you’re upset with me for, you know, not letting you get to third base, are you?”
“Absolutely not, Susan. After spending time with my son, there’s nothing I’d like more than to be able to come over here and try to seduce you. But I really do have these other obligations outside of my 9 to 5 weekdays. Don’t take my word for it; ask Joan or Mary or Martha. They’re the ones who have been suffering because of my visitation schedule.”
“I believe you, John. Then let’s make a date for Monday evening. Same place, same time?”
“Would you like for me to bring some food, or would you rather cook.”
“Let me cook, please. It may not be the quickest way into a man’s heart, but it’s something I can be sure to do for you whether you get into my pants or not.”
Other than “Thank you” and a deep kiss, I decided to leave it at that.
Friday night was a heavy one at the club. To make up for my absences on Thursday, I pulled a double shift on the desk, and I made a point of devoting my off-desk time to casual surveillance rather than looking to play.
Saturday with Little John was great. At 4 years old his vocabulary finally seemed to be catching up with his desire to talk about what interested him, so he was a lot less frustrated and moody than he had been the year before. Also, Gloria and I had agreed to put him a Montessori pre-K program, and that gave him lots to talk about. We had a great time, even if that meant I had to eat at McDonald’s, whose food I loathe, for one of our meals.
Sunday I again did a double shift on the desk at New Xanadu, but as it was a slower night I allowed myself a little play time afterward. I showed a new couple around and after the tour they invited me to go with them to one of the private rooms so that hubby and I could DP the wife. Not that I needed any other reason — the wife was attractive and eager — but I figured a nice fuck would help make things a bit less urgent on my next date with Susan.
Monday evening I arrived at Susan’s refreshed and hopeful but calm. As before, dinner was light, and we both had a little wine with it; less for her this time than before, I noted.
I again helped with the clean up and was rewarded with a big hug and a kiss. When she broke the kiss, I said, “I have an idea. Will you go with it?”
“Is it better than what we were doing before?”
“It might be. In fact, I think it will be kind of fun it its own weird way. And if it’s not we can come back here and pick up where we left off.”
“You aren’t talking kinky weird are you? And it’ll be just us?”
“Well, kinky is where you find it, but I’m pretty sure it’s nothing you haven’t done already. And, yes, just us.”
Susan gave me a quick kiss and said, “Okay, let’s give it a try.”
I took her hand, gave her a longer kiss of my own, and led her to the door. She started to guide me to the closet for our coats but I told her we wouldn’t need them.
We then took the elevator to the parking garage, where I took Susan to my car and helped her into the passenger seat. I’d made arrangements with Mary to have a space at the very back of the garage set aside for my car, with one of her SUVs shielding it and Martha’s car occupying the space behind. Even if someone else was using the garage that night, we were unlikely to be noticed. I got in and turned the motor on.
“Where are we going?” Susan asked as she started to buckle her seatbelt..
“Spatially, nowhere. Temporally, back a ways. I just want to run the heater for long enough to take off the chill. Then we can turn it off and make our own heat without having to worry about poisoning ourselves. You might want to take off your seatbelt.”
Susan leaned over and kissed me. “John, this is really cute. And it does take me back to some good times. But I don’t think we’re going to do well with these bucket seats with that gearshift in the middle.” Opening her door she said, “When you’ve got the car warm enough, come join me in the back seat.”
With the car warmed up, I did as I was told, and soon we were in a full clinch. Since Susan had invited me to play with her breasts already, I figured it would be okay to go there again tonight. While unbuttoning her blouse and unhooking her bra, I kissed my way down her neck and collarbone arriving, inevitably at a nipple that I was happy to find was already fully erect. As I licked it and then took it into my mouth Susan folded her arms around my head, hugging me to her and urging me on.
As I moved from one breast to the other, I could feel Susan shift her hips so that she was sitting flatter on the seat. I hoped that meant what I though it did. I wasn’t about to stop and ask; I just moved a hand onto her thigh and began inching up under her skirt. Feeling her spread her legs was all the invitation I needed to keep going higher. When I got to the elastic of her panties, I paused, then moved a finger outside her panties. The cloth was already moist. I pressed. Susan moaned and opened her legs wider, so I slipped my fingers inside fer panties and into her pussy. My mouth still sucking on a nipple and my fingers caressing her clit, I soon brought Susan to an orgasm.
She pulled me away from her breast. When she caught her breath she said “Too sensitive,” but she was smiling, and she seemed happy to leave my hand inside her panties.
After a while I sat up and began to move Susan so that she was lying down on the seat.
She pushed back and said, “No, John, I’m not ready to go all the way yet. Besides, when I am I want a nice warm bed and not the back seat of a chilly car.
“But here,” she said, “I don’t want to leave you all hot and bothered,” and she began unzipping my pants. I was completely hard by then, so she was having trouble getting my cock free. I helped by undoing my belt, she had no trouble with the pants button, and I lifted my ass off the seat enough for her to pull down my pants and underpants.
I had hoped for a blowjob, but all Susan gave me was a handjob. It was a very good handjob; three times she brought me to the edge of an orgasm before she finally let me go over the top. I may not have gotten the blowjob I had been hoping for, but I did have the satisfaction of seeing strings of my cum land on her face.
“Eew, you guys sure are messy,” Susan complained in a mocking voice, with a disgusted look on her face. “I’m not going to clean all that up.” Then she laughed, scooped a glob of spunk off her cheek and put it into her mouth. Once again I knew that we were okay.
After I cleaned up the rest and we got our clothes back in order, I took Susan back to her apartment.
“Would you like to come in for coffee? Just Coffee, mind. It’s been a great evening on lover’s lane, but that’s as far as I want to go tonight.” Coffee sounded good, and I sure wasn’t going to spoil the progress that we had made tonight by pushing for more.
Over coffee I explained that Tuesday and Thursday evenings were for visitation with Little John while Gloria went to her night class. I’d made excuses and paid for a sitter the previous week so that we could have our “dates,” but I didn’t want to make a habit of missing my time with him. Both Little John and I were still having some problems adjusting to Daddy not being able tuck him into bed every night. So we set our next time together for Wednesday evening, again at her apartment.
When I arrived that evening, dinner was not ready but Susan was, at least to a degree. She all but pulled me into the apartment and onto the couch, were we immediately got down to some heavy petting. This time she let me get her panties off, and she seemed to thoroughly enjoy being eaten out. But when I started to undo my pants she stopped me. “No, John, I’m still not ready. I’m sorry. Let me jerk you off again. Please.”
Well, I could act out my frustration and risk wrecking our progress to date, or I could get a pretty expert handjob. Of course, being a guy, I elected to get in a snit — just kidding. I laid back on the couch and let Susan get my pants, and then me, off. With more room than in the back seat of the car she was able to use both hands, playing with my balls as well as my prick. As before, when I came she scooped up some of my cum and put it in her mouth, but this time she didn’t swallow, instead passing it over to me in a deep kiss. I’d had my cum that way many times before, so it did not bother me in the least. But I did find myself wondering why a woman who had no problem with cum in her mouth didn’t want to suck on the dick from which that cum came. Something else left over from Brutus’s brutality, I suspected.
Since we hadn’t had supper and we’d hit the limit of sex for the evening, I took Susan out for pizza. A handjob and a slice seemed like something we might have done well before Brutus had had a chance to mess her up. Over our pizza I reminded her that between visitation with Little John and my need to work at New Xanadu, I would be tied up until Monday. I again asked her if she would like to come to the club with me Friday night, just to take a look.
I explained about the masks and the clothes options that could put her in a big fluffy robe if she did not want to go for our slave girl look or something even more dating. And I emphasized that what she did was completely up to her: she could stay in the lounge area or office, take a look around, with no more than looking unless a wild urge to join in took her. Finally, I offered that one of the women could be her guide during my shift on the desk, or for the whole evening if she preferred.
Susan gave it a hard think, then said, “You know I was never a real sex addict like you guys. I was only at the SAA meetings because Brutus made me go. I’ve never been to a sex club, and I admit that I’m curious, especially if I don’t have to do anything. Let me sleep on it and talk to Mary in the morning. If I decide to do it, I’ll meet you there Friday evening. Now it’s time for us to go to bed — separately.”
Before lunch time on Thursday Susan called to tell me that she had decided to go to New Xanadu, “For a look,” and that she would ride up with Mary.
Mary called shortly after to tell me that rather than working my double shift on Friday, I would be the one to open up and the only partner on the desk for the 6 to 8 shift, but that she would lend me Joyce, her driver and security person, as my backup. The next two shifts would have a male and a female partner each, and Matthew would take the slow midnight to 2 shift on his own. She didn’t ask, just told me that she thought that things were “progressing” with Susan. She said that aside from whatever good it would do Susan to return to the world of the sexually active, my time away from the club was putting a strain on the other partners. Also, New Xanadu LLP could really use another partner of the female persuasion. Little did Susan realize that the less glamorous side of a sex club was beckoning.
Mary had arranged with my boss for regular out-of-office meetings at 3 on Fridays “to review her finances.” Mary had the financial clout to get what she wanted at the bank and, besides, my boss had some time ago decided I was having an affair with the daughter of one of the richest and most powerful men in Chicago, so she treated me with kid gloves. I had no trouble getting to New Xanadu before 5.
At this point our cleaning and security staff people were fully trained and reliable (even enthusiastic; all the free sex they wanted in their off hours being a non-taxable fringe benefit), so everyone and everything was in place by the time the doors opened at 6. Given the hour drive from Chicago, most people did not start arriving much before 7, but there were enough early birds to keep me, and Joyce when she arrived, active.
Mary and Susan came in right behind Joyce. Mary gave me the printout from Susan’s lab tests and pointedly assured me that we knew as much about Susan’s background as about my own, so she was to get a white mask. I took the hint and did not pull out the rules form, but instead wished them the most pleasant of evenings. To Susan I said with a leer and a wink, “Madam, please feel free to call on me if I can be of any service at all.” Susan blushed and Mary snorted, and as they were heading to the women’s changing room I am pretty sure I heard her say “John is such an ass sometimes.”
Thomas came on about 15 minutes before the end of my shift, allowing me to get changed into my slave costume and mask by 8. I started my search for Mary and Susan in the bar/buffet lounge lounge and got lucky. The were seated at a table, sipping drinks, Mary in a lacy bra and panties, Susan in one of the fluffy robes favored mainly by our members with body image issues. As I walked up to their table Mary said, “Shirley, I’d like for you to meet John. He’s actually a pretty decent lay when he’s not busy being head honcho here. John, this is my friend Shirley. She’s new.”
Susan played along. “Hi, John, I’m Shirley, and yes I am new. I’m pleased to meet you?”
Shirley, huh, I thought. Maybe not a bad thing. Maybe Susan in a mask and a new persona at a sex club for the first time could dump some of the baggage that she had been carrying.
“And I’m delighted to meet you, Shirley. Has Mary shown you around yet?”
Mary answered, “Actually, except for a quick peek into Union Station we’ve been waiting here. Shirley wanted you to be her guide.”
“I’m honored,” I said. “When you’ve finished your drinks I’ll give Shirley the grand tour.” I thought it important to leave the shot-calling to Susan tonight. Whatever decisions got made, especially later, needed to come from her.
“Great,” Mary said. “You two are on your own then. I think I’ll head on down to the Dungeon and see what sort of trouble I can whip up.”
“Dungeon?” Susan asked after Mary had left.
“You’ll see. Unless of course you don’t want to.”
“And ‘whip up’?”
“You heard her right. In Mary’s case, you can take that literally.”
Susan took the last sip of her dink and asked, “Uh, how do we tip the bartender? I don’t have any pockets in this thing so I don’t have any money.”
“Oh, we don’t tip here. The staff is very well paid. On occasion people have been known to offer other sorts of tips, but that is strictly voluntary, on both sides.”
Susan thought that over for a second, then said brightly, “Well, in that case, lead on.”
Even though she’d had that “quick peek” with Mary, I took Susan back to Union Station. As I had hoped, nearly three hours into the evening there were already couples, and in some case more, engaged in various types of sex for their own, and their onlookers’, enjoyment. People who wanted privacy could use the upstairs bedrooms and close the doors and curtains. And people who wanted to do only one thing could go to our theme rooms. Union Station was for people more open to whatever the moment brought, with the added thrill of being watched while they did it.
Susan said, “So how does this work?”
“Well, it depends on how well you know the other people here and how well you are known. You’re new, and there are always people, usually guys, on the lookout for newbies. Were I to walk away, I expect it would be a matter of seconds rather than minutes before someone approached you. Some will have nice manners and ask about you and how you came here and what it is that turns you on and eventually get around to inviting you to do that. Some will just come out with something like ‘Hey, baby, do you wanna fuck?’ or ‘Sweetheart, you look good enough to eat. May I?’ And if you want to, you do it, whatever ‘it’ is; and if you don’t, you say ‘No,’ or ‘Maybe later.'”
“So, if for example, you were to go over to some woman and ask her to have sex with you, she would do it right here?”
“Shirley, it’s a sex club. Maybe she’s here just to look, and that’s okay. In that case no, she would not do it at all. Or she might not want to do it right here, but she might invite me upstairs — with or without anyone else, by the way. It’s all fluid. We’re not into romance here; just sex, so there’s no beating around the bush. Asking, politely, is how things get started.”
“Okay, show me.”
That kind of threw me; I probably wasn’t at my smoothest when I said, “Um, Hi, I haven’t see you here before. I really love redheads and your face is quite beautiful, at least the part below the mask. Is there something I could do to please…”
“No, silly. Not me. Show me with someone else.”
I was still a little off center. “Um, you want me to go off right now and have sex with someone else?”
“I want to see you to try, and I want to watch if you get lucky, and I want to see how long it takes for someone else to hit on me. And then we’ll see if what you’ve been telling me is true.”
“Okay, if that’s what you want, I can do it. But will you be here when I get back?”
“Right here, John. Shirley didn’t come here tonight to get picked up.”
I looked around the room, seeing several women with whom I’d enjoyed various types of sex since we opened, but they were all busy in ways that did not invite interruption. I even spotted my Mom, but though she was currently in between blowjobs, her sex of choice these days I wasn’t about to go there. Finally, I spotted Carla, with whom Cindy and I had spent a couple of hours on opening night and who ever since then had shown herself up for anything. Happily for me, she was just talking with another couple, so I went over to them and excused myself for interrupting.
“I hate to get in the way of anything, but I have a kind of urgent request,” I explained. “The lady that I came with tonight is new, and she’s not sure of how things work here.” I pointed toward Susan and was not completely surprised to see that in the time it had taken me to cross half the room, some guy had already approached her. “Anyway, not to put too fine a point on it, Carla, would you mind terribly giving me blowjob?”
The couple that she was with looked moderately amused. I guess they figured that if this was a pick-up line, it was as wild as any they’d heard before. Carla simply glanced at Susan then looked back at me and said, “John, you know you never need to make up things to get me on my knees. You aren’t shitting me, are you?”
“Absolutely not, Carla. Look, I’m sorry to have barged in on you all like this. If you’d rather not, I…”
I never finished the sentence. Carla sank to the floor, lifted the hem of my tunic and wrapped her lips around my cock. After a second she let me go, looked up and said, “Do I need to make you come to impress the lady or just give you a nice woody?”
“For god’s sake make me come. Please. I’ll explain later.”
Before Carla could get my cock back into her mouth, the woman she had been talking to said, “Can I play too?”
Carla looked back up at me and I said, “By all means,” and the woman sank to her knees beside Carla.
They must have played together this way before, because they never seemed to get in each other’s way. One would be sucking on the head of my cock while the other was licking up and down the shaft or playing with my balls, and then they would switch. I was getting close when suddenly a finger poked into my ass, I didn’t know or care whose, and suddenly I was blowing my load into Carla’s mouth. Carla had never been selfish. After giving the other woman a deep kiss to share what was on her tongue, Carla guided my shrinking cock into her mouth to let her friend finish sucking me dry.
When I was able to think again, I glanced over at Susan. Now she was being chatted up by a couple, but her eyes were locked on me and the two women rising up off the floor. Carla gave me a big kiss and whispered in my ear, “I hope she’s suitably impressed. If she likes girls, remember that you owe me one.”
Her friend said, “I’m Jill and this is Dave. Let us know if you want a foursome. Dave really likes redheads.”
I assured her that I would keep them in mind, and got back to Susan with only a couple of pauses to acknowledge Thank-yous for the show we had just put on. As I was approaching, I heard Susan give the couple who had been talking her the same polite “I’ll keep that in mind,” that I had just used on Jill and Dave.
When they had left I decided to role play picking her up. “Hi,” I said, “my name’s John. I don’t think I’ve seen you here before. I know this is shallow of me, but beautiful red heads especially turn me on.”
“Thank you,” she said, playing back. “My name’s Shirley and yes, I’m new here. That was quite a little performance you put on. Is everyone here so friendly?”
“I hope so,” I said. “Would you like to be my friend too?”
“What do you have in mind?”
“Well, Shirley, there are not a lot of women here all covered up like you. Those robes are usually for the older fatter guys. But in a way it’s kind of sexier than running around almost naked. I just can’t stop wondering what you have under that robe.”
“Well, John, I don’t think I’m going to open it up right now to satisfy your curiosity. After all, why give those other people a look when they haven’t had the courage to ask? But if you’ll get down on your knees and ask me nicely, maybe I’ll ‘let your fingers do the walking,’ as they used to say.”
I didn’t say another word, but sank down on my knees and slipped my hands under the hem of Susan’s robe. I slowly worked them up her calves, then her thighs, and as I got close to her triangle Susan leaned back against the wall and moved her legs apart. I looked up as my fingers found her cunt, which was very wet, and watched as she closed her eyes and bit her lips while I gently stroked her clit.
“Shirley, I’d like to make you come. Would you like that?”
She just shook her head yes.
I wondered if she had ever come in front of other people, and how she would feel about that now, so I asked, “We can go somewhere else if you want.”
“Here… now… do it… now… please” she gasped.
I began rubbing her clit more aggressively and working two fingers into her cunt. I could tell she was enjoying it from the way she was pushing against my fingers, and from her heavy breathing. But after a few minutes she still hadn’t come, and I was beginning to worry what a failure here would do to the progress we had made so far. So, I gently parted her robe and replaced my fingers with my tongue.
Susan still smelled great, an it beat Herbal Essences by a mile. As I continued to tongue and suck on her clit, her breathing turned into moans, and then I could feel her hands pulling me into her as she came. I supported her as best I could with my hands on her hips until her breathing calmed and it seemed like she would be able to stand on her own.
As I got up I found that a small audience had gathered around us. Carla and her friends Jill and Dave, the couple that had been chatting up Susan before I arrived, another couple that I did not know and, to my immense relief, Joan and Matthew. There was a small round of applause and, I was guessing to divert Susan from any sense of embarrassment, Joan swooped in and gave her a big hug. “Damn, girl, you are hot,” she said, and that brought another round of light applause and murmurs of agreement. Extracting her from the crowd, before anyone else could hit on her, Joan added, “Now, how about we go get a drink to cool down.” Turning to me she said, “You can come along too if you feel like it,” and she gave me a wink.
Back in the lounge, even though Joan and Susan were by now the closest of friends I made “introductions” — Shirley, Joan; Joan, Shirley — to make sure that the role playing that had worked well so far continued. The ladies ordered gimlets while I had a tonic water with a twist. I was determined to stay sober tonight, and while I was hungry, I was in no hurry to wash the taste of Susan from my mouth with food from the buffet.
I followed Joan’s lead of leaving it to Susan to keep the ball going. Finally, after two sips and a slug of her drink she said, “You know, I think I should be terribly embarrassed about what I just did. But I’m not. Maybe as long as it was Shirley who just had an orgasm in front of a bunch of strangers, Susan doesn’t need to feel embarrassed.” She belted down the last of her drink. “But you know, Joan was right, That Shirley is one hot woman.” Putting her glass down she took each of our hands in hers and said, “Maybe when I grow up I can be just like her.”
Joan leaned in and gave her a hug. “I’m so glad that you and Shirley found each other. Now, I’ve got to make one circuit of the rooms to see that everything is going well, then get back into my street clothes to go work the front desk. I’ll try to find you after midnight, unless you all decide to leave first.”
“Oh, Joan, I expect we’ll still be here. I think Shirley is going to have a ball tonight,” Susan said with what might have been a sly look on her face. Hard to tell for sure with the half mask.
When Joan had left Susan said, “I think I’d like one more of these, then we can take the tour.” This would be at least the third drink for Susan in three hours, more likely her fourth or fifth, and I really did not know how much alcohol she was used to handling. I may be a sex addict, but normally I won’t bed a woman for the first time when she is drunk. Aside from the ethical issues, it offends my sense of pride, or vanity if you want to be uncharitable, to think that a woman would need to get drunk to go to bed with me.
Ego aside, I suspected that the ethical considerations applied more than usual to Susan, since any morning-after regrets following an alcohol-induced debauch might have serious consequences for her. However, I had appointed myself the designated driver for tonight, so if at the moment of truth I figured there was too much booze and too little Susan in the equation, I could always say no. Right?. I got her another gimlet and when she had finished that we headed out on the tour.
I was happy to see that whatever the effect the alcohol might be having on her inhibitions, Susan was walking just fine. Since it was closest, and Mary’s favorite spot, I started with the Dungeon. We didn’t find her there, but there was a decent crowd in the Domina’s Room watching two women whip a man tied to the wall, and almost as good a crowd in the Master’s Room where a man was whipping a woman in the pillory who was sucking off another man in front of her.
“Never has been my cup of tea,” was Susan’s reaction as we headed back upstairs. Then, “Yours?”
“Not really, Shirley” I said, to confirm that she was still in that role. “I’ve been known to play along to a point when asked to, but I’ve never been seriously into BDSM. Anything in particular you’d like to see next?”
“Oh, no. I’d like to see all the club has to offer, but no particular order.”
I decided to start at the Stonewall Inn wing off the main hall. Either our gay and bi-male membership had increased substantially over the past three months, or more men had been willing to come out in the privacy provided by our club. The Stonewall Inn room had been empty on the first night, but now it held four happy pairs of men sucking and fucking while others, men and women, looked on.
“You want to play,” Susan asked.
“Shirley, I’d rather be whipped,” was my evasive reply. I had a smidgen of bi-curiosity, like most men, but I hadn’t worked around to the point where I was ready to satisfy it.
Our next stop was the Zebra Room, where we found a couple of Black guys banging away at white women, one of whom was holding her white partner’s hand as he looked on. Susan volunteered, “I slept with a couple of Black guys back when I was in college. I get the attractions, from breaking taboos all the way to maybe getting even for the slave past. And I understand the visual appeal when the lights are on — it makes for more interesting porn. But it really is true that all cats are grey in the dark, and when I was sleeping with those Black guys it wasn’t to shock my friends or parents. They were funny and smart and witty, and I liked them. Back then that was enough to get me into bed with a guy, whatever color he was.”
That was the most I’d heard Susan talk about her sex life. I hoped it was a good thing, dwelling on those pleasant memories from before Brutus fucked up her head. I just hugged her from behind, cupping her breasts in my hands. She leaned back into me and we stood watching until each of the couples had climaxed.
We moved down the hall to the Windward Passage. Again we found two couples on the bed. Over time our LGBTQ members had gravitated toward the Stonewall Inn and Sappho’s Island, so that male-female couples were the norm here. Tonight the men in each of the couples were kneeling on the bed while the females pegged them. After watching for a minute Susan said, “I’ve never used a strap-on before. Would you let me do that to you?”
“Now?” I asked, hoping the answer would be no.
“No, not now. Not any time in particular. Just in general.”
“Shirley, I am not an anal virgin. Yes, you can peg me when you want. And while we’re on the subject of anal virginity, how about your own?”
Her mood collapsed and she looked down. Oh shit, I thought. I’ve just stepped on a mine planted by Brutus in his marital rapes. All I could do was pull her to me and hug her tightly. When her sniffles stopped, I dropped the role play, saying softly “Susan, I’m sorry. There is so much that I don’t know. I never would have brought that up if I’d known it would hurt you. Do you want to call it a night?”
“John, I’m sorry. You’ve been wonderful and kind and patient. And Shirley says you give really good head,” she added as she looked up at me with a feeble smile. “I’m sorry you’re stuck with such an emotional mess. I’m sure that if you weren’t here with me, you’d have gotten laid by now, maybe twice given that little display in the main room earlier.”
“Susan, there is no one with whom I’d rather be right now. And believe me, this is not an act of charity. Each time I see you, more and more I want to take you to bed and make love to you.”
“In that case, let me suggest that you might want to go back to calling me Shirley. I think that might improve your chances. I need to blow my nose and there are no handkerchiefs handy. Do you think you could get me a towel or something?”
“I’ll be right back. Don’t go away,” I said as I headed for the bathroom between Zebra and Windward. Returning with a handful of tissues I repeated my question, “Do you want to call it a night?”
“No,” she said after a surprisingly unladylike honk. “Shirley’s back now, and she wants to see what else there is to see.”
Since she had already been to Union Station twice, we bypassed that and headed to the wing that housed Sappho’s Island. There we finally caught up with Mary, who was locked in a passionate embrace with a tall Black lady. We watched as they thigh humped each other to orgasm, shortly after which Mary rolled onto her back and spread her legs invitingly. It took only seconds before one of the women who had been watching climbed onto the bed and buried her face in Mary’s glistening cunt.
“Wow, Mary really is insatiable. She told Susan a lot about the orgies you guys had at her place, but seeing is so much more, well, more. I don’t know, just more.” Then, “She wants Susan, you know.”
“She’s never mentioned it to me, but I’ve never met a woman who I wanted that Mary didn’t want too, and I’ve really wanted Susan, so I’ve just taken that as a given that Mary would feel the same way. Are you in to girls as well?” I figured that was a safe question since there was no way that sex with girls would evoke memories of Brutus. And if it evoked pleasant memories, so much the better.
“Not really. I did a little experimenting in college. I guess that was usual. But I always preferred guys.”
“In that case, unless you want to stay here and watch some more, let’s move on. The only things you haven’t seen are the private rooms upstairs.”
Susan said, “John, I’m sorry, but I don’t think even Shirley is ready to go upstairs yet. How about we stay down here until Joan is off duty again.”
“That’s fine, Shirley,” I said, and gave her a light kiss, with a squeeze on the ass for good measure. “How about we head back to the lounge first? I had to come her straight from work and I missed supper. The buffet has some pretty decent food.”
We were still in the lounge when Joan found us. She was back in our standard tunic, this time with one breast exposed. Susan had switched to white wine and was on her second glass. I was sticking to tonic water, after a light meal of fruits and veggies in case I got lucky later in the evening.
Joan asked me how Susan had liked the tour. Susan corrected her to “Shirley,” and gave a polite but neutral “Oh, it was interesting. I’ve never seen anything like this.”
Joan said, well if you want to see something else that is probably new to you, there’s a game of musical cocksucking in Union Station.”
“Is that like musical chairs?” Susan asked.
“Pretty much. We don’t permit any electronic devices, so somebody has to sing. The singer gets rewarded by being able to take any of the lady competitors to the room of her choice after the game is over. The game starts with an equal number of men and women, and the women suck a cock until the singer stops singing, when one guy is taken out of the lineup. Also if guy comes, he’s out. When the singing starts up again, each of the remaining women sees who can get a cock in her mouth. Any who don’t are eliminated; and so it goes until there is one couple left, and she gets to finish him off. I think they started with 10 couples tonight and they were down to 7 when I passed by. Would you like to go watch?”
Susan thought about that for a second and said, “Sure. But I have a request. After that I’d like for John to take you and me upstairs. And then, well, I’ve heard a lot from you about how good a lover John is. I’d like to watch John make love to you.”
Joan and I looked at each other, then Joan turned her gaze to Susan. “Why?”
Susan said, “Well, my friend Susan says you want her to make love with John here. I’ve already found out he gives great head. Before things go any farther I’d like to see what sort of lover he is.”
Joan turned back to me and I explained to her about the little close encounter of the cunnilingus kind that Shirley and I had shared earlier in Union Station. She asked me, “If I’m okay with this, are you?”
We’d done our share of group fucking at Mary’s and Martha’s, but so far all of out more tender love making had been in private. I couldn’t think of a good reason not to go semi-public with Shirley, especially if it would motivate her “friend Susan.” I said, “If you’re interested, I’m game.”
Joan said, “Lover, I think we can make an exception for Shirley this time. Meanwhile, let’s go catch the show.”
By the time we got to the ballroom only 4 men and 6 women were waiting for the singer to start up again. Apparently one man had come during the last round, and another had been eliminated by rule. When the music resumed, the women hurried in toward the men. There was a good deal of pushing and shoulder checking, but after the first of these events we had announced a strict no hitting, kicking, tripping or biting policy, on pain of expulsion for the night, and by now people had learned that we were serious. Each of the two women who did not manage to get a cock in her mouth stood up, gave a rueful smile, and joined the crowd of onlookers.
When the game ended, the winning woman faced the crowd and stuck out her cum-coated tongue before taking a little bow. The singer had already selected his woman and was heading for the door. They were both white, which ruled out the Zebra Room, and they were obviously not headed for the Stonewall Inn, which left the Windward Passage. After Susan’s earlier reaction to my question about anal I didn’t want to risk her seeing the woman taking the bottom position as we walked by on our way to the elevator connecting the main and second floors. I put my arms around Susan’s and Joan’s waists and we headed up the stairs just outside Union Station.
Our private bedrooms tended to see more use as the evening got later, so we had to wait in a short line until one opened up for us. Joan said she’d hold our place in line, allowing Susan and me to head down the hall to where there was an open window. We were treated to as nice MFF threesome.
Their show was still going on before Joan called to us. In the room Joan and I quickly re-made the bed while Susan made sure the door was firmly closed and the curtains drawn. As Joan was slipping off her tunic Susan pulled her aside and whispered in her ear. All I could hear was Joan’s “Of course, Shirley, you just let me know.” She then turned to me and said, “Lie down, lover, I feel like a cowgirl tonight.”
I love cowgirl,I love powerful women, and I love watching women’s faces as they become increasingly aroused. Just the idea started to get me hard, but Joan helped speed things along with her mouth. Then she climbed onto the bed, planted her knees on either side of me, gave me a long, tender kiss, and guided me into her very wet cunt. Joan moved slowly. Every now and then she would reward me by lowering a breast so that I could suck it, or giving me a deep kiss. We were never in a hurry when we were making love, so, it was not unusual that she was being careful not to bring me to a quick orgasm.
Finally, when I began to show signs that I was starting to get close to coming, Joan stopped moving entirely and looked over her shoulder. I couldn’t see what was going on, but in a second Joan turned back to me with a big smile on her face and said, “Shirley wants to play, John. Is that okay?” I pulled her down and gave her a big kiss, and whispered an enthusiastic “Yes!” in her ear.
When Joan got out of the way, I saw that Susan had taken off her robe though, unlike Joan and me, she had left her half-mask on, retaining that much of Shirley. It was the first time I had seen her naked. Clearly the months that she had spent in isolation during her recovery and divorce had included a lot of exercise and moderate eating. Her body was no longer that of a young woman, but it had filled out in all the right places and it was amazingly well toned. Lovely smallish breasts that still did not need a bra; full hips; a lovely dark red bush that I had earlier discovered was in its untrimmed natural glory.
At first she just stood there, uncertainly, looking down, biting her lip. Behind her Joan made a “move over” motion, so I made space on the bed and said, “Shirley, would you like to lie down here?”
“No,” she said, looking up. “I want to be on top, like Joan.”
I scooted back toward the center of the bed and held up my hands to her. “Let me help you then.”
Susan took a half step forward, then a full one. She took my hands and I helped her onto the bed. Thank god I had not gone soft. As she straddled me she put her hands on my shoulders and I held my cock up so that she would have no trouble finding it. She hesitated. She bit her lip again. Then she closed her eyes and slowly let herself slide down my cock.. When she had me all the way in, she completely threw me by bursting into tears, but she quickly lay down and kissed me, and when her breathing was back under control said, “Oh John, thank you. This is wonderful. Could we just be like this for a little while?”
“As long as you want,” I said, kissing her back.
Joan came over, gave us each a kiss on the cheek and said, “I’m going now. I’ll turn the light off on my way out.”
“Please, leave it on,” Susan said, sneaking a look at herself in the mirror on the bathroom door.
Even though she was just lying on top of me, Susan did her best to make sure that I did not go soft on her — and her best was very good. While she had been exercising the rest of her body, she must have been working on her Kegels as well. I don’t know where she had learned that, but I certainly was glad that she had.
Maybe I had begun to purr, or something, because eventually she asked, “Does that feel good.?”
“Oh, yes.” Then, as she continued, “Shirley, you know you can make a guy come that way, don’t you?”
“Do you want to come that way?”
“No, because I want to come with you if we can, and that way won’t do it for you.”
Without further discussion Susan lifted herself up with her hands and began to move her cunt up and down my prick. “Like this?” she asked.
“Exactly like that,” I said.
As Susan continued to ride me, I watched her face, thrilled to see the signs of her mounting passion, her lips stretching and thinning out, the color rising from her chest all the way into her cheeks, her breath coming hard and increasingly ragged. With that, it took nothing more than her crying out her orgasm to make me erupt inside of her.
As soon as the orgasm had passed Susan let herself down on my chest and we just lay there quietly holding each other, until my cock softened and fell out. A little while after that Susan said, “John, this is heaven, but I really need to pee.”
Ever the gentleman, I told her to let me go first to make sure that the shared bathroom was empty. When I found it was I locked the door to the other side, then beckoned her in as I went out. When she was done I went back in, peed and cleaned up, unlocked the connecting door, then returned to the bedroom to find Susan back in her fluffy robe.
It was now close enough to closing time that I did not feel guilty about hogging the room. “Shirley, I don’t need to be back in Chicago until 10. Would you like to sleep over with me, or would you prefer to go home?”
“Is it okay if we sleep here?”
“Shirley, all of the partners and the Premier Members are allowed to do that if they want. We won’t be breaking any rules.”
“Then let’s stay here. Do you have a favorite side of the bed?”
I really did, and I didn’t pretend to be a gentleman about that. After we pulled two fresh sheets from the dispenser, one from the bottom and one for a top, I turned off the room light and I grabbed my tunic for a pillow and got in on the right side of the bed. Susan put on her robe then went back to the bathroom for a couple of towels which she turned in to a pillow. There was just enough light coming from under the closed bathroom door for her to be able to navigate without having to worry about barking her shin on the bed.
“We don’t have an alarm clock, John. Are you going to be able to get up on time.”
“Shirley, thanks for thinking about that. I’ve been getting up before 7 every morning forever, unless I’ve tied one on or stayed out really late the night before. I’m stone cold sober and this is not really late for me, so don’t worry about it. Just come to bed.”
She got into bed and gave me a gentle kiss. I was wondering how she planned to sleep in that mask, but as she turned back toward the bathroom I could just make out that she was taking it off.
It had been a long, wonderful day. I had no trouble falling asleep almost instantly.
At some point, and without any watch or outside lights I had no idea when that was, I woke up with a raging piss hard-on. The second thing that I noticed was that I was the only one in the bed, and when I got the bathroom door open I confirmed that Susan was in neither bedroom nor bathroom. As I relieved the pressure in bladder and cock, I had visions of Susan waking up in waves of guilt and depression, hiding or running away. I had just about worked myself up to a state of full-blown panic by the time I got my tunic on and went out the door. I headed for the stairs since they were closer, and as I reached the top I saw Susan coming up, a mug of coffee in each hand. I was so relieved that it took me a second to notice that she had switched from robe to the house tunic, though she had her mask on.
“Good morning,” she said as she passed me on her way back to our bedroom, handing off a cup of coffee as she did. “The office clock says it’s a little after 6.”
When we were back in the room, sipping our coffee on the bed, chairs not being part of the equipment, I asked “Did you have a good time last night.”
She paused a second, then got up and took my coffee cup, placing it with hers on the floor near the door to the bathroom. Those safely disposed of, she turned back to me, took off her mask and said, “Well, my friend Shirley said she had an absolutely wonderful time.” As she began taking off her tunic, she continued, “Shirley also said that I’d be the biggest sort of fool if I didn’t let you make love to me this morning. So John, would you make love to me? But, please, be gentle.”
I did, and I was, but even so it was not what either of us had hoped for. We tried missionary, we tried cowgirl; at Susan’s emphatic request we did not try doggy. I finally suggested reverse cowgirl, and while Susan seemed most comfortable with that, still she could not come. By this time Susan was becoming visibly frustrated and depressed. I told her to stop, pulled out of her, and rearranged myself so that we could lie down side by side.
I lay beside Susan quietly stroking her hair as she cried softly in my arms. When her crying had stopped I gently turned her face to mine and kissed her forehead, eyes and cheeks. I paused, then I gently kissed her lips. No tongue; no pressure, just a gentle touching of the lips. Susan snuffled, and I reached behind me, pulled up a corner of the sheet and put it on her nose. She blew into it vigorously; once again a honk rather than a soft ladylike exhalation. When she was done, she gave me back the sheet and, looking completely miserable said, “Oh, John, I am so sorry. I thought I was ready. I so wanted to be ready, but apparently I’m not.”
I kissed her face some more, to give myself time to think. Then I said, “Susan, you were brave to try so soon. These things don’t always work out. I can tell you that from sad experience, more than one actually; and mine didn’t follow the mind fucking that Brutus put on you. Joan told me that not everything was going to work in a straight line; sometimes it can go sideways; sometimes it can even go backward. We’ve hit a sideways, but that doesn’t mean things can’t ever go forward. I have a couple of ideas that we could try them now or save for later.”
“Tell me,” she said in a soft, resigned voice.
“Well, you may recall that you were a pretty happy lady after our session in the back seat of my car. My fingers haven’t forgotten how to get a woman off. And then you might recall that your friend Shirley said that I give great head. Could we try either of those?”
“What about you?” She asked, a bit more lively than before.
“Susan, I’ve gotten off three times in the last 10 hours. I don’t think I’ll be suffering from blue balls if I don’t come again for the rest of the day. But if it really bothers you, I remember that you’ve given me a couple of great handjobs. And your friend Shirley and I made love last night. We could put those on the table, or the bed, as well.”
Susan was quiet for awhile. I let her have all the time she wanted to think; my time to pick up Little John was still hours away. When she was ready she said, “I don’t have much confidence in Susan right now. I think Shirley might be more able to come out and play. Let’s see how that goes.”
She got up, found her mask and fluffy robe and took them into the bathroom. I heard the toilet flush, water running in the sink, and then there was Shirley, standing in the door in her robe and mask, with the tiniest of smiles on her face. I really had to admire Susan for trying, and I was determined to do all that I could to help her overcome this morning’s setback. I scooted over and invited her into bed.
I worked slowly, as Joan had advised, kissing and caressing lightly just from the collarbone and above until I could feel Susan’s tension begin to subside. Then, still slowly and lightly, to breasts and stomach and thigh, from where I worked my way back up to her mound. All the while I kept planting light kisses on Susan’s lips, and as I progressed she began kissing me back. When I finally arrived between her legs I stopped, cupped her mound and waited until her hand reached down and urged me to go on. Susan was not what you would call wet, but soon my fingers had begun to solve that problem. As she became increasingly aroused she raised her knees off the bed and began thrusting against my hand until, not long after, she came.
When her breathing slowed Susan started to say something, but I covered her mouth with mine and gave her a long, deep kiss. Then I kissed my way down her body, following the path my fingers had taken. When I got as far as her hips, rather than make me have to change position Susan rolled over toward me. I raised her leg and brought my tongue to her pussy, just teasing, licking her outer lips. She put her hands behind my head and pressed me in, urging me to eat her. She was still aroused from the orgasm that my fingers had given her, and in less than a minute she cried out as her second orgasm hit her.
I lay back down on the bed beside Susan. My cock was completely stiff, but this had to be her show, so I just lay there, waiting. In a few seconds I felt her hand around my cock, and as she started to move it up and down I resigned myself to another handjob. Then, to my surprise and delight, Susan said, “John, Shirley wants you to fuck her. You be on top this time.”
Fuck her I did, and this was truly fucking, not the tender lovemaking from before. We were both so aroused by then that neither of us wanted slow and tender. It didn’t last long, but what it lacked in quantity it certainly made up in quality. When we came, each of us did so loudly.
I started to roll off Susan but she held me. “Please, lets stay this way a little longer.” I kissed her, gently, then lay on top of her until I softened and fell out. When I tried to roll off of her then, she let me. As I lay beside her, Susan took off her mask and said,”I really do envy Shirley.”
All I could do was say, “Yes, she’s one hot woman. But, you know, she had to get that from somewhere. You’ll get there. I know you will. Now, would you like to take a shower. There’s not a lot of extra room, but good friends should both be able to fit.”
Susan sat up on the bed, then grabbed my cock and gave it a tug. I got off the bed as fast as I could and let her lead me into the bathroom.
I managed to get Susan home in time to change at my place before picking up Little John almost exactly on schedule (that would be 15 minutes late if you asked Gloria; but I did call ahead to warn her). Parting with Susan had indeed been sweet sorrow, with a tinge of trepidation on my side over the possibility that the progress that we had made at New Xanadu might not hold.
I should not have worried, though it took another two months to get Susan to “grow up to be just like Shirley.” Most of our lovemaking occurred at New Xanadu, which took some of the time pressure off of me. Joan, Mary and Martha helped, making a point of gathering at Susan’s for nice support sessions with post-game reviews and encouragement.
As for me, you would think that for a sex addict, the more the merrier, ad infinitum. But in the real world, too much can be too much. My work and visitation sessions gave me needed relief. Even Little John mentioned that Daddy was in a really good mood whenever he picked him up.
On her third Sunday visit to New Xanadu, Susan headed to the changing room while I took my station behind the desk. Unlike before, she came out in the standard house tunic this time, and gave me a quick kiss before heading to the lounge to meet Mary, Martha and Joan. At about 7, they, along with Matthew, Thomas and James, all trooped into the office behind the desk; a very tight fit, since it had been designed for about five people, max.
When my shift ended James told me to change places with him, and that he’d call if he needed any help at the desk. As soon as I had wedged myself into the office, Mary said, “Susan has a proposition. You should know that James has said he’s for it, and so are all the rest of us. But this club was your idea, and we need to hear what you have to say before we make a decision. Susan, please tell John what you have in mind.”
Susan, looking vibrant I might add, said. “Like I’ve said before, you all saved my life, literally. And John here has made it more worth living than it has been in a very long time. So thank you all.
“Some time back Mary told me that you don’t have as many partners as John’s plan called for, and that’s put some strains on you. First, your start-up cash was less than you’d hoped for; second, you need more people to help run this place, and you don’t want to trust that to hired help.
“John, my proposal is, first, that you let me be a partner. Joan has taken a double share. I’ll put up $200,000 as well and you can use $50K of that to pay off half of her extra share. I understand that you’re still trying to recruit another partner. If you do, his share pays off Joan’s and my extra fifties.
“Now, this is not just for your benefit. I don’t have much use for my old friends from when I was married. They didn’t stand by me and you guys did. And I am really afraid of Brutus’s crazy church people. Money can buy only so much protection, so I need a place to live outside of Chicago. Beyond that, while I’m now very well off thanks to Mary and her legal rottweilers, I need a job to stay sane. I used to work and I need to work.
“That’s the second part of my proposal: the job I want is as chatelaine of New Xanadu. As chatelaine, basically I’ll live here and I’ll run your business. I’ll handle your staffing issues and bookkeeping and supplies, all subject to your directions and approval of course. As a partner I’ll be one of the people on the desk, and as the chatelaine I’ll take a second shift.
“Mainly because people don’t value what they get for free so much, I’ll want to be paid, and I’ll want health insurance and an apartment, which you will throw in for free; don’t worry about any retirement plan. You won’t have to pay me much; I was only making $30K a year as a part-time librarian, and I really don’t need the money, so that’s a good number. For the apartment, Thomas tells me that you all were planning apartments in the attic for the use of your high rollers when New Xanadu makes enough money. He says he should be able to put in a nice one bed, one bath with a small kitchen for me for about $50K. You’ll use part of my $150K for that and another part of my money will go to putting in the second elevator that you want, to make it easy for me to get to my place. So, what do you say?”
I said, “Susan, I’d be crazy to say anything but yes.” I didn’t say that if Mary was already on board with this, Susan had been vetted from here to hell and back and found eminently suitable. Or that the best leaders tended to find which way the parade is headed and then run to get in front of it.
“Tomorrow I’ll tell our attorney’s to draw up the papers for your attorneys to approve. If you want to bury your interest in the LLP, to keep your name out of the public records, they can contact Mary’s attorneys if they need advice. When all of that is done, you’ll be an official partner with an employment contract. Until then you’ll be the guest of any partner.”
Looking around the room I said, “Have I missed anything?” Seeing nobody’s hand shoot up, I said, “Okay, let’s get out of here before we all suffocate. Whoever is scheduled to work with James should hang out at the desk for the rest of the shift and the rest of us can mingle and play as the mood suits.”
I had to get out of my street clothes and into a tunic, so I met Susan in the lounge. We took one look at each other, joined hands and headed for the stairs to the second floor. At this time Susan was still Shirley in the club, which helped tamp down her insecurities and allow for a full range of lovemaking — Shirley even found that she liked to suck cock, though Susan still stopped short of that for a long time, even after she had learned to enjoy “going all the way.”
In time Susan did become comfortable making love and, later, fucking. It took a longer while, but eventually she began to experiment with other people, including the Sheriff — a close attachment that continues to this day. She and I are also still occasional lovers, much as Joan and I had been (and continue to be).
As for New Xanadu, its operation could not be in better hands.