In Fidelity

For a couple of years in the 2010's, I was a blowjob artist at a club on the outskirts of town. It wasn't much of a club, just a room above a pub really, but for a six-month period it was popular with a certain city crowd — the sexually curious but too young and intimidated to really be swingers. I was a good blowjob artist, I think (when you see videos online of a girl going to the toilet and then a big dick pokes through a hole in the wall that she either screams and runs away from or jerks, sucks and potentially fucks; there's a chance you're seeing my dick). At any rate, people seemed happy. Girls lined up to use 'that' cubicle in the hope they'd be selected, and asked where they could see their videos online. The place was called The Groucho Club, because of Groucho Marx's thing about not wanting to join any club that would have him as a member.

And I loved, loved doing it. To look at cameras showing girls begging for a bit of my dick and stripping naked to show all they had to offer, and getting paid pretty well for lazing about and getting your dick sucked and fucked by girls of your choosing without even needing to attempt at pickup lines; I was as happy as I have ever been. It was the only time I have ever really had a sense of momentum, despite my life not changing much day-to-day; the air felt electric and the world was on fire! I see now, it was false momentum, because it didn't belong to me at all, but to pornography and it's billions and growing users; anyone watching porn and wanking over such gloryhole videos would have felt the same thing. Porn, after all, is supposed to have momentum — I just got confused.

Anyway, I met Lust right in the middle of that period. She reckons she has been turned down by me three or four times before she hunted me down, and that could well be right— she's small and skinny and pretty in a sort of dark haired young Evan Rachel Wood way, but there were prettier women who came through there with bigger tits, and when you're looking for girls in that 'trying to make porn' kind of way, it's the prettiest best bodies girls you look at.

So after this third or fourth time of being turned down in the bathroom, Lust figured out where the door to our hideout must have been, and waited to see who emerged as the night wore on. After seeing a girl emerge from the ladies room, reportedly swinging her underwear around one finger, she knew she would be in luck before long.

I staggered out of the 'locked cupboard' with a half-finished beer in-hand, and immediately I was pulled into a long, and admittedly very good, make-out session; and then invited back to this cute girl's place with the promise of all the liquor I can drink and that she'll cook for me!

I tell her, "Alright," and then we dance a bit before heading back to hers. I didn't realise at first her obsession and was slightly confused and concerned to a certain degree, at her insatiable desire to suck my dick while she sat on the toilet, or give me a blowjob with my dick poking through a gap in the sheets. We had sex too of course, and got to morning pillow talk where I mentioned my line of work and she confessed her desires. She hadn't known, it turns out, the filming or publication of the film of what went on in that bathroom, which made her both curious to see more, and thankful she hasn't been broadcast to the world at large doing and saying what she did to me last night.

She went to cook us breakfast and I worked on putting together a best-of compilation of my work for her to see. This took time and effort. To me, making a successful compilation is like writing a letter. You need to start strong and grab the attention; but don't overdo it as you don't want to go blowing your wad on the second clip. Hold the viewer don't misuse them with ugly clips or dwell too heavily on boring background stuff, then finally pull through and finish with a 'BANG', before ending with post-orgasmic happiness..,. There are lots of important rules.

Anyway, I finished this one and left it open on her phone screen for her to find when she came back from the kitchen. She found it while I went to the bathroom after we'd finished eating, and it was as if she had been torn between racing to the bathroom to perform sexual acts on me, and pleasuring herself while she watched the video. I found her on her back in the hallway with her legs bent holding her pussy and ass up off the carpet as she fingered herself with the middle two digits of her right hand, watching her phonescreen which was held in her left. She kept cooking well, abd sucking my dick and we kept fucking; and she was cool with me fucking other women so long as she got free access to watching the tapes. It was a good beginning.

Lust was, is, an accounting assistant, although, when I met her she was a different type of accounting assistant from the one she is now: then she worked for a big trading firm, and was the smallest cog of the tiniest but seemingly most important section; which left her in need of a wild life outside of work and the freedom to pursue her passions (like cooking). Now she works for the government, so it's far less high stress at work and her life outside of work has gotten drastically less interesting by comparison. She didn't really choose to move from the big firm though; she was made redundant and had to find a new job and accept a big pay cut due to 'political conditions'. She changed when she got the job. She was always focused and intense on her work at work, and on her life outside of work, but when she was with the big trading firm her drive outside was to live, live, live and squeeze every drop of juice out of life. When she moved to government work, she just sort of settled down, and her hobbies changed from pushing it to the limit every day, to watching tv series and talking for hours on the phone and just 'having coffee' with someone.

Sometimes — not so often recently — I could do or say something that allowed her to escape from herself; and that's when we worked best; she complains frequently about my 'relentless triviality,' but it has its uses.

I never had any wild crush on her, and that used to worry me about the long-term future: I used to think — and given the way we ended up, maybe I still do — think that all relationships need that kind of violent shove that a crush brings, just to get you started and to push you over the humps. And then, when the energy from the shove has gone you come to something approaching a halt, you have a look around and see what you've got. It could be something completely different, it could be something roughly the same, but gentler and calmer, or it could be nothing at all.

With Lust, I changed my mind about the whole process for awhile. There weren't any sleepless nights or losses of appetite or agonising waits for the phone to ring for either of us. But we just carried on regardless, anyway, and, because there was no steam to lose, we never had to look around to see what we'd got, because we'd got the same as we'd always had. She didn't make me miserable, or anxious, or ill at ease, and when we went to bed I didn't panic and let myself down, if you know what I mean, and I think you do.

We went out a lot, and she came to the club frequently while I worked there, but she knew to leave the cubicle alone now as we had porn to film that she didn't want to be included in, and when she lost her lease on her flat, she moved in, and everything was good, and stayed that way for quite awhile. If I was being obtuse, I'd say that money changed everything: when she switched jobs, she suddenly had less, and when I lost the blowjob work, and the recession seemed to make Championship invisible to passers-by, I was running on low myself, of course things like that complicate life, and there are all kinds of adjustments to think about, battles to fight and lines to draw. But really, it wasn't the money (or lack thereof). It was me. Like Liz said, I'm an asshole.

The night before Liz and I were supposed to have a drink in the run down pub, Liz and Lust met up somewhere for something to eat , and Liz had a go at Lust about Ian, and Lust wasn't planning on saying anything in her own defence, because that would have meant assaulting me, and she has a powerful and sometimes ill-advised sense of loyalty. (I, for example, would not have been able to restrain myself.) But Liz pushed it too far, and Lust snapped, and all these things about me poured out in a torrent, and then they both crried, and Liz alologised between fifty and one hundred times for speaking out of turn. So the following day, Liz snapped, tried to phone me, and then marched into the pub and called me names. I don't know any of this for sure, of course. I have had no contact at all with Lust, and only a only a brief and unhappy meeting with Liz. But even so, one does not need a sophisticated understanding of the characters in question to guess this much.

I do not know what, precisely, Lust said, but she would have revealed at least two, maybe all four, of the following pieces of information:

1. That I actively sought out a sex based relationship with somebody else whilst she (Lust) was pregnant.

2. That my affair contributed directed to her terminating the pregnancy.

3. That, after her abortion, I borrowed a large portion of money from her parents and have not yet repaid it.

4. That, shortly before she left, I told her I was unhappy in the relationship, and I was kind of sort of maybe looking around for someone else.

Did I do and say these things? Yes, I did. Are there any mitigating circumstances? Not really, unless any circumstances (in other words, context) can be regarded as mitigating. And before you judge, although you have probably already done so, go away and write down the worst four things that you have done to your partner, even if — especially if — your partner doesn't know about them. Don't dress these things up, or try to explain them; just write them down, in a list, in the plainest language possible. Finished? Who's the asshole now?