Chapter 12

I wanted number 100 to be special. And so it was.

My love life improved after the episode with the man who thought he was cumming when he was going. Taos is a small town and the story got around and quite a number of men were suddenly interested in a woman who had nearly fucked a man to death. I was a wee bit more careful in choosing who I went to bed with than I had been in my alcoholic days in Thailand. Taos is an artsy, craftsy place, but it's a small town and I didn't want to get a reputation as a total slut. I didn't mind at all having a reputation as a good lay. And, in an odd way, the incident with the man who nearly died bolstered my confidence. I discovered that I could enjoy sex without being drunk.

I've mentioned before that I keep a diary, and have done so since I was a teenager. By this time – I was 49 -- my diary was longer than War and Peace, filled a stack of spiral notebooks, and occupied a sizeable chunk of space on my hard drive (password protected of course). I kept the full notebooks in a safe deposit box.

The diary described the events of my life day to day – and prominent among those events were descriptions of my sexual encounters. I could go back through my diary and find for example that on March 12, 1992, I had fucked a guy named Bill Warner in my tent home in Lokichogio, Kenya. I noted that Bill was married and visiting Kenya with a church group. He missionary-ed me, cummed in about three strokes, and went to sleep afterwards even quicker. Not memorable! But, all the same, I had recorded it.

With my passions for numbers and statistics I counted my sex partners and, in the spring of 1999, the total was 99 men and four women. I should explain that my definition of sex is broad. If somebody cummed or tried to cum in or on me I considered it sex. So, if you used the classic definition of "fuck" my number of partners was fewer – perhaps 85. And in a few instances – 4 to be precise -– I was too drunk to remember whether or not I had fucked a guy or guys. So, I assumed I had and counted them. I didn't count, however, I few guys I had just jacked off or had done the same to me. One was memorable. A very nice man and I made each other cum while we were dancing in the dark only 10 feet from his unsuspecting wife. I have an exhibitionist strain.

Number 99 was a ski bum half my age. The sex was good, but flawed by the fact that I paid for dinner – and the shit-head charged me for a ski lesson. I mean really! So, I was looking for something a little special for number 100. I was still keeping books for Robert and Devin, living in the little adobe hut in the hotel/restaurant compound, and even managing to save money from my salary which Robert had munificently raised to $12 per hour. The business was growing and I was busy and charging him time-and-a-half for overtime which he paid with a frown – but he paid.

I was anticipating a lot of overtime when Robert went to New York for two weeks to seek new investors to expand the ranch. Oddly enough, Devin, the stereotypical homosexual, liked being a cowboy, and worked mostly on the ranch so I took over Robert's role as manager of the hotel and restaurant.

Robert had been gone three days when Devin came into the bar one afternoon and said to me, "Do you want to go out to dinner tonight? There's a new restaurant I want to try."

I was surprised. Devin and I were not close. I had thought that his indifference to me was because he considered me competition for Robert's affections. There were no grounds for his jealousy. Robert and I chatted and joked and enjoyed each other's company during slow times at the restaurant but our only physical contact had been an occasional kiss on the cheek. Not that I necessarily approved of his hands off attitude. Robert was gorgeous, polite, thoughtful – everything a man should be. But I was 12 years his senior, albeit well preserved, I flattered myself, due to my slender build and the world's smallest tits. They still stood up perkily. My pony-tail was gray, but my hair was long and thick and it swished around invitingly, often calling attention to the aforementioned perky boobs.

I accepted Devin's invitation. Partly because he was one of my bosses -– and partly out of curiosity to know him better. I can say truthfully that this was one time – there haven't been many – when I accepted a date with a man without anticipating that I would end up in bed with him. You get to know a man by going to bed with him and the first date is a good time to start.

Devin and I had a fine time at dinner. We laughed and talked about Robert and the people we worked with. He was hilarious and charming. I hadn't laughed so hard in years. He drove me back to the restaurant in his immaculate Lexus and walked me to the door of my adobe nestled in a back corner. I kissed him on the forehead and gave him a big hug and turned to unlock my door.

"It's still early," he said, "Do you want to soak in the hot tub?"

I turned to face him. I was intrigued by his unexpected interest in me. "Sure," I said. Robert, Devin, others, and I had lounged in the hot tub on occasion, so I had been naked around Devin before – although never as a twosome. "Let me change and I'll undress and met you at the pool." I went into the house, took off my dress, bra, and panties, pulled on a wooly robe, grabbed a towel, and headed for the hot tub, which was on the deck outside Robert and Devin's house, reached through a weathered wooden door in the abode wall just outside my hut.

It was dark around the hot tub. Devin wasn't there yet. Doubtless he was meticulously hanging up his expensive and stylish clothes. I took the robe off and got in. Devin joined me a minute later, his naked body framed by the low light from the house. He was a lovely man, I thought. Too bad he was homosexual. And taken.

We sat side by side and chatted and, suddenly, Devin was embracing me, his arms around me. Taken off guard, I didn't know quite what to do. "I've wanted to do that for a long time," he said.

"I thought..." I started. His mouth found mine. I wasn't quite as quick to pull away as I should have been. He smelled inviting...

"Devin, I ... uh ... can't do this. You're my boss. And I thought you and Robert ... uh..." I ignored his hands on my breasts.

"Yes," he responded, Robert and I are a couple – and I'm happy with that. But we're both attracted to you. Robert is meeting up with our mutual friend Abby in New York and he knows I might also have a little fling while he's gone. I like women too," he added. "Especially older women."

Devin's hands were running up and down my thigh as we sat facing each other, my nipples brushing against his arms. "It seems like a very bad idea for us to do this. I don't want to lose my job."

"You won't lose your job. Robert and I have talked about making you a partner in the company so that we're all one big happy family."

"That's flattering, but shouldn't we keep a physical distance if we're going to work together."

He laughed. "Robert and I don't."

I was a little bit suspicious. Was Devin using me for revenge against Robert? Or out of jealousy trying to destroy my friendship with Robert?

Devin scooted away from me in the hot tub. "I see your point, Becky. I'm sorry to put you in an uncomfortable position. Honestly, I didn't have this in mind when I invited you out. But I like you – and I'm lonely and Robert and I don't see other men.

"But you see women?" I was genuinely curious.

"Only with each other's permission. And only occasionally." So he had asked Robert if he could seduce me? He gave me a hand and helped me out of the hot tub, picked up a towel and dried me off. Going to bed with Robert was not an unpleasant thought!

"I'm almost old enough to be your mother," I said, rather pointlessly, as he finished drying me off and helped me on with my robe.

He laughed. "Maybe that's what I like about you."

Robert came back from New York and brought greetings from Abby. "She's going to visit us next month," he said. "Without hubby," he added meaningfully.

"Can I guess what that means?"

"There's no obligation on you, Becky. Never any obligation. Devin tells me the two of you went out while I was gone."

"Yes, we had a good time," I said, imparting as little information as I could. It was up to Robert and Devlin to pursue the subject of sex.

"He discussed a bigger role for you in our business?"

"He mentioned it."

"I have some new investors and we're going to sell shares. We need a controller, a Chief Financial Officer. Are you interested?"

"I'm all ears." We were lounging at the bar awaiting the first customers of the evening. Robert was drinking a glass of red wine. I was supping my usual cup of hot, black coffee. Robert was dressed in cowboy boots and a western shirt. I was dressed n my usual blue jeans and also a western shirt, sans bra. I don't usually wear a bra except on business and formal occasions. I wasn't planning to work that evening in the restaurant, so was just enjoying a semi-business chat with Robert.

"Thirty-five thousand a year," he said. "And you can still live in the adobe hut for free."

"How about the season pass for the ski slopes?" I asked with a laugh. I had taken up skiing in a big way.

"Of course. I know it's not a big salary, but we're still struggling. We're going public. You can also invest in stock if you wish."

"How much can I invest?"

"Half a million for 10 percent of the company. Except I anticipate Abby will take part of that."

Half a million was a fortune! But Robert was a good businessman and the hotel and restaurant were thriving. "I could only go $50,000." My worldly assets were $100,000 cash and a beat-up car.

"50 shares are yours. You are a stockholder. Now about Abby..."

"Yes."

"She'll be here in 10 days and will stay for a week. Could you show her some of the sights?"

"I'd like that."

"Abby hasn't changed..." Robert was uncustomarily nervous. "And Devin and I will ... uh ... entertain her. If you want to join..."

"I'd like that."

"We all get tested for HIV, just in case, so, we don't have to use ... condoms. If you could... ?"

"I'll get a test this week."

So, that was that. I had a raise, I was a minority stockholder in the company, and I had agreed to group sex with Robert, Devin, and Abby. I had never had group sex with homosexuals. There's always something new under the sun.

Abby, if you recall, was the beautiful and sensual woman-child that my housemate and landlord, Steve, and I had fucked in Thailand in combinations of up to eight people. Abby was now in her late 20s, married, and living on Park Avenue, New York City.

I picked her up at the airport in Albuquerque. She gave me more than a perfunctory kiss in the terminal and again when we got to my car. "Oh, God, I love you, Becky," she said, "and I love to escape."

I started the car and headed out of the parking garage. Abby had gained five or ten pounds in the four years since I had last seen her. She had, I thought maliciously, the beginning of a matronly look. But the face was the same: peachy skin, rosy cheeks, bright blue eyes, and thick, long brown hair, cut square and hanging over her shoulders.

I was jealous of Abby – her beauty, her money, her social position – but I loved her too. Had she wanted to marry me – in the lesbian sense of the word – I would have stood proudly at the altar with her. But Abby was addicted to sex. Given the opportunity, she would have fucked the whole town of Taos – men and women. I mentioned the night she and I took on six men. Actually, I was mostly a watcher as the six covered her with the gooey stuff. We all slept together on mattresses on the floor and I wakened to the sound of one of the men pounding her. And then another. And another. I recall the smell of sex in that room was overpowering. I wondered what her husband knew about her extra-curricular sex activity.