Chapter 5

We spent the rest of Sunday mostly resting in the way most people do, though there were a number of pleasant interludes. We lounged around the suite in robes and the memory of one of those interludes stands out:

Patricia had asked the driver, whose name, I finally learned, was Walt, to pick up some food from a local restaurant, which we ate in the room. I was cleaning up the mess, when Patricia ambushed me from behind.

My sexy lover bit me on the earlobe and said, with a pretense of threat in her voice, "Hands on the table and don't look around, or else!"

I played along, and soon felt the back of my robe being tucked into the belt, cool air wafting over my nether regions. I don't know if this is how women feel when a man bends them over and lifts their skirts, but I felt very exposed and vulnerable! Patricia was gentle on her entry, and only near the end did anything resembling roughness enter the picture, but I couldn't help feeling helpless and TAKEN as she used me for her pleasure, whispering nasty, degrading things in my ear as she pseudo-raped my ass! Don't get me wrong - those feelings combined to turn me on, big-time, but their newness made the result SO much more intense.

"You like being raped, don't you slut?" Patricia growled in my ear, "You love having my big clit jammed up your butt from behind, don't you? Answer me bitch!"

"Only by you!" I gasped, arching my back to change the angle of her penetration, "Anytime by you! You can jam that big clit as far up my ass as you want! I love it!"

I did mention that I'm honest to a fault, right? Well, this was no exception. To my utter shame, and unimaginable arousal, I gave myself over completely to this sham of a rape, which, I suppose, made it no rape at all. It was SO much more arousing, though, to think of it as such!

Patricia tweaked and twisted my nipples painfully, erotically, as she drove toward her climax, and to my immense surprise, without my cock ever having been touched, I fountained all over the carpet as she sluiced my innards with her discharge! I can't claim it was a huge amount of cum - I AM after all, over forty, and that was about the fourth cum that day, but the almost clear liquid sprayed itself about with abandon and the accompanying rush was just as intense as when I shot down Patricia's throat that morning!

Monday was more wineries. We checked out of the B&B in St. Helena and drove up toward Calistoga. We took the little tram up to the Sterling winery. I wasn't impressed by the wines or the self-guided tour, but the view back down the valley was spectacular. It was even better because the woman for whom my love and affection, not to mention my erection, were growing by leaps and bounds shared it with me.

We took a pass on Calistoga's mud baths, but we did wait around to see the geyser erupt. Not quite as impressive as Old Faithful, but not something you see every day, either.

"Gary," Patricia said thoughtfully, as we re-entered the limo, "I think it's time you moved into my place."

"I don't know," I replied playfully, "that's an awfully steep hill to climb on my bicycle. I might be too tired after riding home from work to keep you satisfied."

"That won't be a problem," she said, keeping the tone light, but her smile didn't reach her eyes, "because you'll have to quit your job, anyway."

"Why would I do that?" I said, taken somewhat aback, "I was only kidding about being too tired, you know!"

"I know, Gary." she said, gently, but dead seriously, "but it wouldn't do for the live-in lover of the owner of the company to stay on in that job."

"Owner of the... !" I began, then it hit me, "So THAT's why my boss was so eager to give me two extra days, and why you were so sure he would! DOH! Sorry! It takes me a while to catch up, sometimes."

I was silent for a long time, my mind in turmoil.

"Gary?" Patricia said fearfully, "Please say something!"

"What will I do, then?" I asked, then tried to lighten it up with, "I mean besides the non-stop sex..."

"I don't know yet, darling." she replied, "I know you'll need to have something meaningful to do, and we'll put our heads together and see what we can come up with. I know this is a lot to ask of you, but even if you don't move in, it wouldn't be a good idea for you to stay on in your job."

I had to admit that she had a point, and bottom line, I was beginning to think that spending every waking moment with my exotic lover, in or out of bed, would not be a terrible thing. I sure as hell didn't want to jeopardize what we had. The only question was: Which choice would keep that relationship going most strongly - more time with her, or occasional dates? Too deep for me! I went with my gut and hoped I wasn't just hungry.

"I'd be more than happy to move in with you, Patricia." I said, "You do have to realize, however, that I'm a good ten years older than you, and maintaining this weekend's pace is probably not in the cards..."

She smiled and pretended to wipe her brow, "Whew! That's a relief! My poor pussy and cock would never be able to stand the strain! I think, from here on out, we'll work on quality and leave the quantity to its own devices, okay?"

"Deal!" I said, then proceeded to go down on her there in the back of the limo. By the time we crossed the Golden Gate Bridge, she was cumming down my throat as her pussy clutched at my fingers, and her nails dug into my scalp.

Dolores and Felicia were sad to see me go, but Dolores, at least, was happy for us. Felicia got over any sadness she felt at my leaving when I helped her resurrect her Nintendo room.

Patricia's house was HUGE! We selected a room where I could set up my computer equipment, and she hired contractors to run a connection through the walls to her T1 line. She already had a respectable gym setup, though we added a few machines and more free-weights, as well as heavier weights for some of the existing stuff. There was plenty of closet space in her suite for my meager wardrobe, and the two acre bed was adequate for our needs. (Okay, I AM exaggerating about the size of the bed, but it WAS enormous!)

I also discovered that the goody bag she brought to the Napa Valley constituted only a small selection from the goody CLOSET in her playroom!

For the next month or so, I was a 'kept' man, living off the largesse of my lover, and for the most part, I enjoyed the lack of responsibility, having little to do but work out and engage in mind-blowing sex with my 'something extra' lover. After a while, though, I began to chafe.

Resumes sent to companies NOT owned by Ms. Collins (actually, she was majority stockholder in several, including my former employer, and chaired the Boards of each of those. She also had significant investments in several others and seats on the Boards of still others.) went largely ignored. I thought of starting my own business, consulting at what I had gotten a salary for before, but I knew my sales and marketing skills were not good enough to support such an effort, even though I thought my technical skills were.

Eventually, out of sheer boredom, I began accompanying Patricia to her business meetings. At first, I wasn't allowed into most of the meetings, so I used the time to get acquainted with people at the companies we visited, trying to get some insights into what the companies did, and how well they were doing.

The first people I approached, with some success, were the executive admins. They were too well versed in keeping confidentiality to spill any secrets about the company's business, but they loved to gossip about the people they worked with. After a while, I had an informal network of admins and low level executives who would call me up or send email whenever they had any juicy gossip to spread, and they saw me as someone who would keep their confidences. Indeed, I collected the information, but never revealed individual pieces or their sources.

Some came to see me as an outlet for their frustrations with their jobs, bosses, and co-workers and began to tell me things they probably shouldn't have, but which I assimilated along with everything else.

I've always had an intuitive grasp of patterns, and soon began to piece together pictures of the real performance of these companies from the scraps of gossip and innocent information these people shared with me. This was the approximate equivalent of putting together a small number of the pieces of a jig-saw puzzle and guessing what the picture was from the way those pieces fit together. Occasionally, I was wrong, but most of the time those pictures were accurate, if incomplete in detail.

A snide comment by an executive about his CEO, overheard by an admin. An affair between a couple of top level execs. Rumors of fudged numbers by a certain salesperson. Someone driving a car that he shouldn't be able to afford. A CEO who preferred taking his private jet on company business instead of commercial airlines. A head of development at odds with his marketing counterpart. A manager who hid his hiring of contractors in purchase requisitions instead of showing them as headcount. All of these little pieces, when fit within the context of the company's business and competitive environment added up to trouble in some places, opportunity in others.

Patricia had gotten in the habit of discussing problems she was having at various companies over dinner, or in bed after sex, mostly because I was a good listener, and she knew I wouldn't betray her confidence. Truth be told, she too needed a safe emotional outlet for the frustrations of running these companies. When I started interjecting my observations and the conclusions to which I came, she began depending on my advice more and more. Out of that was born an unofficial consultancy, and as I saw her acting on the input I provided, I began to realize that I had found my niche in her world. I felt that now, finally, I was earning my keep outside the bedroom.

Soon, Patricia began including me in her meetings and relying on my observations and extrapolations in her decision-making, and was, on the whole, very pleased with the result.

Except for a few rough spots while I searched for meaning in my life, our personal relationship continued to grow. Our sexual escapades came with much less frequency, of necessity, but each time seemed better than the last, and showed no sign of diminishing any time soon.

It wasn't a big surprise, then, when Patricia asked me to marry her. I guess that was supposed to be my role, but we had never been hung up on tradition, and I was just as happy to be the one to be asked.

I insisted that she have her lawyer draw up a pre-nuptial agreement. I wanted no question in anyone's mind as to what I wanted out of our marriage. When she and the lawyer brought it to me to sign, I reached for the pen without reading it.

Patricia stopped me. "Read it, Gary. I need you to know what's in it for the same reason you insisted on having it drawn up."

The agreement was VERY generous. I would not be able to take her to the cleaners, even if I were so inclined, but no matter how the relationship turned out, I would be wealthy beyond my wildest dreams - or needs.

"This is too much, Patricia!" I told her, "I told you - all I want from you is you!"

Patricia smiled and, to the lawyer's embarrassment, kissed me passionately.

"I inherited most of my money and property, Gary," she said softly, "and though I daresay I've been an adequate steward of my Father's wealth, even increasing it somewhat, that money has never given me even the tiniest fraction of the joy that you've brought into my life. Furthermore, your insight and advice has helped increase my wealth considerably. I want to know, in my heart, that should our paths diverge at some time in the future, you will at least not have to worry about money. Accept it, please. It comes from my bank account, but originates in my heart!"

Yet another soulful kiss had the lawyer fidgeting within his three piece suit, and when it didn't break off for quite some time, he surprised us both by saying, "Get a room, for chrissake! But sign the agreement first, and hurry up! I've got to go jack off!"

Laughing our heads off, we somehow calmed down enough to sign the paper.

"You've been my attorney too long, Howard!" Patricia gasped, stifling her laughter "We need to find someone to take care of that for you!"

She gestured at the bulge in his trousers.

Howard grinned, proud of his coup, but said, "That wouldn't be very professional, now, would it, Ms. Collins?"

"Depends on whose profession we're talking about!" Patricia replied, "Yours, or the oldest one... !"

Howard showed even more depth by replying, "Some say they're one and the same."

"In which case, you're covered!" she rebutted.

Howard capitulated with a grin, stuffing the papers into his briefcase.

Patricia patted him on the cheek, saying, "You are a treasure, Howard! I never knew you had a sense of humor, even after all the years we've worked together!"

Howard blushed and said, "I guess it only shows when I'm horny, and you two are enough make the Pope forget his vows! Sheesh!"

"If I didn't need your professional services, Howard," Patricia's voice went low and sultry, "I'd invite you to stay and play with us, but I shall have to forego that pleasure until I have found a suitable replacement for you as my attorney!"

"That won't be necessary, Ms. Collins." Howard smiled, "As tempting as your offer sounds, I value our professional relationship too much to jeopardize it, even for such a prize. Good evening, Patricia, Gary. Don't get up - Edgar will show me out!"

Our quiet little wedding turned into the society event of year in San Francisco, and by the time we boarded the Collins private jet on the tarmac at SFO, I felt as though I needed a shower to wash off the crap after smiling politely and saying glib things all day to people who would just as soon cut my throat as look at me. Some were simply money-grubbers, others jealous of my having won Patricia where they had failed. Some made little effort to hide the fact that they thought I had married Patricia's fortune, but after my lovely wife related the story of how I insisted on her drawing up the pre-nuptial agreement, in her inimitable style, gushing over how I had intended to sign it without even reading it, that noise quieted somewhat.