more…
-————
Circumstances evolved like on autopilot from there.
“Nora, stop that!” I said in a stern voice.
Nora shot back in her chair, a look of pure horror on her crimson-red face.
I turned once just to make sure that none of our night traders across the room had noticed, then continued, “I can see that we are going to have to start working off those demerit points immediately… But not here. Let’s go.”
“Yes, Mr. Lin.” she replied quietly.
As Nora hastily adjusted her skirt and blouse, I quickly called my brother, made some lame excuse about being held up in the office and hung up…
By the time we reached my car, Nora had more-or-less recomposed herself, and the unspoken ‘role-play’ theme and agenda of what was about to happen was now crystal clear. She had been caught red-handed doing something very ‘wrong’ and was in serious trouble. It was time to redeem those demerit points. Lot’s of them!
She filled her role like an Oscar-winning actress. In a timid voice she said, “I’m very sorry, Mr. Lin. I know I messed up again.”
“Well, we’ll just have to deal with the consequences then.” I replied, hormones raging, and pressed harder on the accelerator to get home quicker.
thanks for the points!
next…
-——————
When we got to my apartment, I poured both of us a double shot of malt whiskey each and told her, “Here, this will make you more at ease…”
She accepted it gratefully. I dimmed the lighting in the living room, and for the next few minutes we silently watched each other sip our whiskies.
I, for one, was high on life - relishing the moment of being back once more in the zone of raging lust.
These are the snapshots in time we really live for.
Then we began. “Ok, 2 points for each piece of clothing you take off – slowly…”
Nora obliged, standing close in front of me as I sat on the sofa. Piece-by-piece of her clothing slid off, first her white blouse, then beige skirt. Then she unclasped her white cotton bra and let it fall onto my lap.
Her long black hair and perky, B-cup breasts hung forward as she bent for the pussy reveal. And what a sight it was! A clean shaven slit, no stubble, no loose flesh. Just a perfect, teenage pussy, already glistening slightly with her wetness.
“And 2 points for each piece of my clothing too.”
“Yes, Mr. Lin” she said as she straddled my lap, and pulled my face towards her chest.
Remember this one point. Nora had had just one partner – ever – and this made the rest of it almost too easy. So ripe and eager was she for sexual awakening that twice, just using my hands and tongue, I brought her to climax and she almost brought the building down with her moans of ecstasy.
Nora reciprocated my every move by giving back even more. She swallowed my first release whole, then hungrily licked up every remaining drop on my shaft.
Entering Nora was tight but very, very wet. Guiding her into my various favourite positions, she seemed first unsure, then ecstatic. (Apparently she had only ever done it in the missionary…!)
Finally, after about two hours, Nora collapsed exhausted on the bed and fell fast asleep. I remained awake, still gently a-buzz, admiring the young naked girl lying next to me…
Sometime about 3 a.m., we showered together and I drove her home to Bedok.
appreciate the points, +++kok!
we hitting the home stretch. hope to wrap this up by this evening.
-————-
Our coming together made Nora newly emboldened. Within a few days, she had split with her boyfriend and began spending most evenings and weekends at my apartment. And over the subsequent months, I’m proud to say that Nora blossomed both as a nubile sex partner and a bright young woman.
This was, after all, the ‘plan’.
By now, I took on the unspoken role that I would give Nora a small taste of what the wider world had to offer – and demonstrate to her that it was hers for the taking, provided she worked hard and wanted it badly enough. I would personally see to it that she got the all-important first break.
So those few months became almost a crash course in ‘the good life’ which she hadn’t yet known. We ate regularly in the nice restaurants and drank a sampling of top wines. I took her to a top local salon for a hair makeover and bought her a bunch of new clothes that accentuated her slim figure.
And we traveled, first to Bangkok, then Bali, then finally to Sydney, flying ‘expensive’ class, staying in top hotels, going to the best spas. Away from Singapore, I even introduced her once to a group of my old, trusted friends, and I was extremely pleased to see her hold her own socially.
For Nora, who had never before had the means to experience much of this, she soaked it all in. And with immense gratitude, she repaid me by being an excellent, straight-A student in the bedroom…
Ok, time for the final 2 installments: Conclusion & Epilogue…
-———–
Conclusion
With hindsight, maybe I was the naïve one in this encounter… Because I failed to see the glaring flaw in my grand plan: The poor girl fell in love with me.
It all came to a head days before her temp contract at the bank was due to end, as my permanent assistant, Jane, was due back from maternity leave. Nora was in high spirits, because six weeks before I had quietly pulled several strings with my bosses and the HR department to see that she be strongly considered for an in-house scholarship.
After clearing many rounds of interviews, the news arrived that our bank would sponsor her education and living expenses at a top US Ivy League university!
That evening, after a fabulous lovemaking session, Nora asked, “So how often do you think you can visit me when I’m in the U.S.?”
Her question caught me totally offguard. Finally, after an awkward silence, I said, “Ummm, Nora, I think that once you go abroad, it’s probably time that we both move on.”
I then went on to explain what I truly believed: that she needed to pursue her new life and opportunities alone, untethered to any one partner… that it was important to experience freedom, sex and love with multiple partners… and only then could she understand for herself her full potential in life, and decide how she wished to live it. I was just there to open the first door.
Nora didn’t take this well. In my best laid plans, I had somehow forgotten that she was a young, impressionable 19 year-old. So you know the drill: First she cried and begged, and when that failed, the sullen ‘I hate you forever!’ attitude set in.
She didn’t even show up at the office on her last day of work, instead choosing to call in sick. And so, sadly, the great six months coinciding with Jane’s maternity leave ended on a quiet note. We didn’t meet again.
For a short time after, before she was due to leave for the U.S. later that year, it seemed that even her new potential future was under threat. I heard from the grapevine that she had gotten back with her former boyfriend, and that he was pressurizing her not to go abroad, and instead stay home and get married. Fortunately for Nora, she chose well.
Over the next few years, I kept quiet tabs on her progress, and was always pleased to hear that she was doing well and moving up.
Epilogue
Fast forward to the present, 2005. (Just three months ago, in fact…)
I am standing in check-in line at the Conrad Hotel in Hong Kong after a flight from Singapore. Directly in front of me stands a slim, poised Asian woman in a well-cut, grey pinstriped business suit. Her tinted dark brown hair, highlighted with streaks of lighter blond, looks expensively cut and is pulled back tight and tied in a neat bun. Her matching Italian leather luggage and laptop case are both tagged ‘Virgin Atlantic Upper Class’. She is, to me, the epitome of the global female business executive I find ultra desirable, and my mind flashes momentarily to Monica.
Then the woman answers her mobile phone, and I hear the unmistakable voice not of Monica, but Nora, now mildly accented with east coast American and a hint of British…
I call her name. She turns, and after a moment’s stunned hesitation, the Nora embraces me warmly and the years melt away.
We meet for dinner later that evening at Reds at IFC, after our respective business meetings. Nora is vibrant, assured, 24 years-old and rising fast in London branch of the bank I once worked for. She is dating a 28 year-old millionaire French entrepreneur with a farmhouse in Provence. Her hair, subtle make-up, outfit and poise all shout ‘A-List’. Men across the restaurant are checking her out, and staring daggers of jealousy at me.
Looking me in the eye, she says to me, “There’s something I regret I never said to you before, Ian…”
“Oh? What’s that?” I reply.
“Thank you for everything.”
And I cannot help but smile and be very, very proud of her.
Our rooms are both on the 60th floor of the Conrad Hotel. Despite the elevator being empty, we stand close to each other, and I can smell her expensive perfume mixed with her once familiar natural scent. As the lift door dings open, Nora takes me by the hand and leads me towards her room.
“Mr. Lin,” Nora says softly, wrapping her arms around my waist and pulling me in, “I believe I still owe you about 40 demerit points. What is it you’re gonna make me do about that?”
*** THE END ***
-————
Thanks for reading, and the rep points too.
Thank you all for your positive comments and points. Glad that my work has been appreciated.
I hope to bring you Episode III in due course.
As you may deduce, my recollections are not really about sexual encounters. Instead, I simply hope to capture & record how physical and psychological passion combine to create the moments in time which I, for one, live for.
Welcome back for Episode III! Looking for a little change of pace and style here, but hope you enjoy this one too.
If you like it, you know what to do…
conundrum
-————————
Circa: mid-2001
Friday, 2106hrs:
Work recently has been pretty damn sh*tty. Seems like I have been working endless 14-hour days, dealing with ill-tempered clients and, worse, a management overhaul and dreadful office politics. Even now, I’m rushing to the airport straight from the office, having had a contentious internal meeting run late.
I am tired, grumpy, and to top it all, I haven’t had sex in 2 months since I dumped that gold-digger named Jasmine who was only really interested in my convertible and platinum card.
So I *really* need for the Comfort taxi I’m in to get me to Changi airport within the next 9 minutes. That would give me just enough time make my 10pm flight to London and, finally, begin my much needed two weeks away from everything. Any opportunities for gratuitous sex will also be pursued without hesitation!
In fact, I already have dinner lined-up tomorrow in London with Laura, a nubile, blonde British lawyer I hooked up with in Bangkok a while back, and re-kindling some of our bedroom antics will make the perfect start to my vacation.
All we need to do is to make this flight…
2112hrs:
I run to the check-in counter and thankfully there isn’t a long line.
“Mr. Lin,” the SQ check-in lady says, “I’m afraid that we’ve already given up your pre-assigned seat, sir. The flight is actually overbooked.”
My heart starts to sink…
“Can I give you seat 2F instead?”
Ha! I suppress a big grin, nod and accept a new red-coloured boarding pass saying ‘First Class’. Things are definitely looking up!
2125hrs:
Things are looking even better as a stroll down the aerobridge at gate F59. Those of you who travel often will know that – in general – the more attractive SQ stewardesses wear blue and serve in the economy class cabin. Your odds of finding eye-candy in first class drop dramatically as you typically find more experienced lau-chios that, due to the onset of time, leave a little to be desired in the looks department.
However… standing at the door to first class is a 160cm tall, green-uniformed specimen with a great figure and drop-dead gorgeous smile.
And not only that… there’s something strangely familiar about her…
“You don’t remember me do you, Mr. Lin?” she says showing me to my seat.
I can only stare blankly back, racking my brains of my various drunken stands, and somehow come up empty. The Chinese name on her nametag definitely doesn’t ring any bells.
“Aiya! It’s me Kathy. From the JC tennis team lah… Now can I get you a glass of champagne, sir?”
OMG! I used to have recurring wet dreams about Kathy Chan. And so did just about every guy on the JC tennis team. Back then, we took turns hitting on her, relentlessly inviting her out to coffee, movies, Wine Bar, anything, and yet none of us ever got to first base. Kathy was taken, and utterly devoted to her boyfriend, Alex, who if I recall correctly was a couple years older and already then serving his NS.
Most of us lost contact with Kathy after A-levels, and the only snippet of news I subsequently heard was that she had married Alex soon afterwards, and was well on her way to young tai-tai-dom.
And yet here we are nine years later. Kathy Chan, my teenage crush, is standing beside me holding a silver tray, pouring me a glass of Dom Perignon. She’s leaning forward now placing the champagne glass on my tray table, and I can see halfway down her cleavage and catch a hint of a pink(!) lace bra strap.
I think she’s just winked naughtily at me as she strolled off back to the galley… And you know what? - She’s definitely not wearing a wedding ring…
2347hrs:
The meal service is finally over and, along the way, I’ve happily imbibed a few different samplings from the SQ first class champagne and wine list. I haven’t seen Kathy since we took-off as she’s been busy serving other passengers in the full cabin. So we haven’t yet had a chance to talk further.
One of the male flight stewards comes by and offers to prepare the seat into the flat sleeping bed, which will take a few minutes. Sure, I tell him, and head in the direction of the toilets and crew galley.
Reaching the galley, I slide back the curtain, and Kathy and Raj, the in-flight supervisor (IFS), are packing away the food carts.
She looks up, smiles sweetly, and says, “Can I get you some cognac, Mr. Johnnie Mac?”
Heh heh, I haven’t heard that nickname since JC, when I used to argue line-calls like John McEnroe…
“Only if you’ll join me…” I reply, flirt mode on.
“Ha ha, maybe after my boss here leaves,” she replies, then turning to Raj, “Mr. Lin and I were in JC together. A lifetime ago…”
The three of us make small talk for a few minutes, then Raj excuses himself saying that he’s going to oversee business class. The other steward is still occupied making the beds for other passengers.
So Kathy and I finally begin our catch-up chat alone, reminiscing about JC and talking about various mutual friends. Finally I say, “So I heard that you and Alex got married huh? Any kids yet?”
“Yeah, just one. A daughter who’s seven now. She lives with my parents now cos Alex and I got divorced five years back. That’s why I had to take this job flying to support us.” she says.
“Sorry…”, I reply. What else does one say?
“Don’t be. Caught him cheating with every third p*ssy that came his way…”
A bell rings, signaling that a passenger has pressed the call button.
“Hey, I gotta work dear. Why don’t you go change into your nice airline pajamas and I’ll come tuck you into bed?” Wink.