Chapter 2: The Conversation (Part 2)

Shocks, yes! I had promised to tell Fiona a secret about Roger and me so that she would share her secret with me. I wondered if that had been a good idea. I wondered if I hadn't been better off without the burden of knowing Fiona's secret. But I wasn't going to go back on my word.

"He's got this really unusual idea of foreplay," I started.

"Like, none?" Fiona interrupted my flow before it had started.

I didn't respond to her interjection, but my look told her that I didn't want to be interrupted.

"Roger prepares me for the big event by talking about it. I still remember the first time he did it. Our relationship had only just started. He had invited me for dinner at this fashionable, expensive restaurant. Scrubbed wooden floors, hi-tech lighting, eclectic combinations of ingredients from around the world... you know the kind I'm talking about. I believe it was our first dinner date, and I was really impressed by his choice of place.

"As soon as our starters arrived, Roger asked me, 'Do you know what we're going to do when we've finished this meal?'

'You're going to make passionate love to me?' I ventured. I was pretty sure that this was what he had in mind.

'Wrong answer. I'm going to fuck the living daylights out of you. I'm going to ram my cock into your cunt as deep as it goes.'

"That wiped the smile off my face, at least for the moment. But there was no sign of aggression in Roger's voice. He had spoken those crude words like another man might have suggested a walk, hand in hand, along the banks of a moonlit river.

"Nevertheless, I was shocked - at least initially. My apprehension soon gave way to anticipation when Roger described in great detail what he was going to do to me. He talked about our lips meeting in a passionate kiss. He described how he would take off my clothes, every item I was wearing, including my earrings, my necklace and my watch. He made me swoon with delight as he talked about how his hands, his lips, his tongue would caress my naked body and how he would finally worship me with his cock.

"He talked throughout the meal, just about this one subject, without ever repeating himself. He didn't interrupt his flow when the waitress came to take away our empty plates and bring the next course or when she refilled our glasses. I'm sure she understood every word Roger said and knew exactly what he was talking about. But at this point I no longer cared whether she knew. It wouldn't have bothered me if the entire restaurant knew.

"My pussy was soaking, dripping wet and there was only one thing I wanted. I wanted Roger to take me to his flat and fuck the living daylights out of me, as he had promised."

"Wonderful," Fiona exclaimed. "Your Roger seems to be quite a smooth talker."

I decided to ignore the touch of irony in Fiona's voice. Once I had started talking about how Roger made me feel, there was no stopping me.

"The desire he awakes in me is hardly bearable when I know that relief is imminent. It turns into torture when Roger decides to announce his intentions hours before I'm going to meet him. Recently, he's made it a habit to call me at lunchtime or in the early afternoon and give me detailed instructions for the evening. He tells me what to wear and where to go - along with a vivid description of what he intends to do when he gets there. It leaves me in an unbelievable state of excitement. I can't concentrate on anything, my mind keeps returning to the phone call and to what the evening will bring.

"Two weeks ago he instructed me to go to his flat, take off all my clothes, and drape myself over the kitchen table with my bottom up in the air so that he could see my dripping pussy as soon as he entered the kitchen. Roger's got this thing about making love to me in every room of his flat, and apparently we hadn't done it in the kitchen for some time.

"As always, I got there long before the specified time. I'm always close to a nervous breakdown when I think that my sexual satisfaction is entrusted to the vagaries of London Transport. The thought that I might be late for such an important appointment because the Northern Line is up the creek turns me into a nervous wreck. So I always make sure that I have plenty of time to spare. I never take the tube. I know that a bus can be even slower as it winds its way through the rush hour traffic, but if it gets stuck, I can get off, walk, run, or take a cab.

"As soon as I got to Roger's flat, I took off my clothes and positioned myself exactly as he had specified.

"The minutes ticked by so slowly, they seemed like hours. I replayed the telephone call in my mind, over and over again. Thinking about what Roger would do to me made my pussy drip. I was sure a puddle was forming on the kitchen floor. But my instructions were clear. Once I had got into position I was not allowed to move an inch or make a sound.

"When I heard the key turn in the lock, I also heard voices. More precisely, Roger's voice. He wasn't alone. He was talking to someone. I froze. The kitchen door was half ajar. Someone just walking past would probably not notice me. But what if they decided to come into the kitchen?

"I nearly panicked. I remembered that, not long ago, Roger had said, after looking at me for a long time, 'You're so beautiful. It's a pity that nobody else can see you like this. It's such a waste of your potential. Maybe I should invite some of the guys around so they can have a look at you. What do you think?'

"The question had left me shell-shocked. He wasn't serious about this, was he? But I also noticed that the thought he might actually do it left me even wetter than I usually am in Roger's presence. Now I asked myself whether he had decided to let one of his friends have a good look at me, maybe even watch as he fucked me. But then I calmed myself. Roger wouldn't miss the opportunity of announcing his intention ahead of time, because he knew that this would leave me even more excited."

Fiona couldn't remain quiet. "You mean you would actually let him show you to his friends, without a stitch on?"

I shrugged my shoulders. "I'd probably die of embarrassment. But if it's his wish..."

"Anyway," I resumed my narration, "I concluded that the presence of the other person hadn't been planned. Something had happened which made Roger bring him or her with him. My assumption was soon confirmed.

'So it's the material about optical sensors you want?' I heard Roger say. And a male voice answered, 'That's right. Everything you've got on the subject.'

'It's all in my desk in the living room. Come this way.'

"That was Roger's voice again. I could hear them walk past the kitchen door. I held my breath. Would the stranger see me, lying slumped on the kitchen table?

"Apparently he didn't see me, but he saw something else. 'What's this?' I heard him ask. 'Have you got a female flatmate? Or are you living with someone?'

'Damn! My clothes!' I thought. Roger had told me many times not to leave them lying around when I got undressed to wait for him. I no longer fling my clothes all over the place as I tear them off. I now put them in an orderly pile. But nevertheless, they were there, bang in the middle of the coffee table. And my bra and knickers were on top of the pile!

'Neither, ' I heard Roger say. 'Those clothes belong to Liz, my girlfriend. I've told her hundreds of times not to leave her kit scattered around, but you know what women are like. She probably arrived, changed into something more casual, and went out to do a bit of shopping.'

'Your girlfriend, eh?' the other man said. 'She must be quite a lady, judging from her underwear.'

'Well, yes. She is. I'll introduce you on another occasion. Today, I'm a bit pressed for time. I won't even offer you a drink - I hope you don't consider me rude because of that.'

'Oh good!' I thought. At least nobody will come into the kitchen to get ice from the freezer. I felt relieved when I heard Roger close the door behind his visitor. I knew that now it would only be a short while before Roger would relieve me of my tension. I imagined that the puddle on the kitchen floor had turned into a small lake.

"I won't go into details about what happened afterwards. All I'm going to say is that it was one of the best fucks of my life."

"Wow!" Fiona said after a while. "That story almost left me speechless. Your Roger seems to be my kind of guy. Any chance of me meeting him?"

That suggestion came quite unexpected. Less than an hour ago, I had concluded that ten out of ten guys would prefer Fiona over me. What if Roger decided that he liked Fiona better?

It was in my own interest to let Fiona pursue her incestuous lust for her 'uncle' rather than giving her an opportunity to turn Roger's head. I mumbled a noncommittal "I'll see what I can do," without any intention of doing anything of the sort.

Fortunately, Fiona didn't expect any firm commitment.

"You know, I think I can relate to that feeling when you're told what's going to happen, but there's still some time to go before it actually happens," she picked up the conversation. "It must be similar to how I feel in the run-up to a spanking."

"A what?" I gasped.

I was sure I had misunderstood. Well, after Fiona's earlier revelation I wasn't so sure anymore.

"A spanking," Fiona repeated, smiling. My surprise seemed to amuse her. "You know: 'bare hand meets bare bottom'. That kind of thing."

"You get spanked? No, you got spanked, a long time ago! You still do? Even today, at your age? By whom? By your father? On your bare bottom?"

Fiona just sat there, almost bursting out in laughter. She limited herself to nodding and shaking her head in response to the barrage of questions I produced. I noticed that I had referred to her uncle as 'your father' and she hadn't said anything to correct me. There were so many implications of exposing one's bare bottom to a man's hands I didn't dare to mention.

"I've been spanked ever since I was this little," Fiona said, fighting back her amusement.

The distance from the floor to her indicating hand was roughly ten inches, maybe a foot. That had to be an exaggeration.

My mind went into a spin. I didn't know exactly how old Fiona was, but, like everybody else on the course, she was probably somewhere between nineteen and twenty-two. Spanking young children was bad enough, but nobody spanks a young lady of, say, twenty years, no matter whether she's your niece or your daughter. This was outrageous, a case for the police!

I looked at Fiona. She was all smiles. My reaction seemed to be the funniest thing which had happened to her for a long time. Then it finally clicked. I understood that there had been some elaborate leg-pulling.

"Very good, Fiona, you've almost fooled me," I said, giving her a bitter-sweet smile. "You're taping all this, aren't you? Or is there a hidden camera somewhere? I have to admit, you were very convincing. I almost fell for your story. It took me some time to realize that you were having me on."

"What do you mean 'fooled you'? What makes you think I'm having you on? Why should there be a hidden camera?"