I'm not sure if the description is really accurate, but I've come to call it my catalogue of loss. This spiral bound gregg ruled steno notebook contained the brief story of my love life in the form of a list of things I've lost. Now for anyone else it seemed more an odd listing of names and objects with little or no connection, but for me each connection was painfully new.
Frankie -- microwave, two seemingly innocent words, one: a name, the other a kitchen appliance. For me, it was my first and admittedly the most painful. Frankie was a co-worker with me at an upscale ad agency. We were both up and comers taking turns in coming up with the freshest and most lucrative ad campaigns. Both of us were glamorous and when we moved into my apartment we had glamorous, inventive sex.
All our friends and co-workers figured we'd eventually marry, have glamorous kids, become partners in an ad firm and live rich and happily ever after. We were well on our way until I wanted to get just a bit more adventurous with our sex. No, no, nothing exotic involving multiple partners or swapping or anything, all that is simply too dangerous these days. I simply wanted to try something different.
It was something she had said she didn't want to try, but I just figured she was trying to be the prim and proper lover who just needed a push over the edge. Well, one night after a few drinks and a few tokes on some illegal, non-tobacco product I slipped on a bit of extra lube and gave it a try. As my cock slipped between the twin pillows of her ass, she turned sharply and elbowed me hard enough to knock me off the bed.
"What are you doing?" I asked sitting up from the floor.
"What the hell were you doing?"
"I thought just a bit of doggie style would be..."
"That wasn't just doggie style, that was anal!" she growled.
"No, no, maybe I pushed at the wrong hole. I am a bit..."
"Wrong hole hell, you knew what you were doing."
The next day I noticed she had moved her things out of my apartment. The following day her father fired me from the ad firm (oh, I forgot to mention she was the boss's daughter). It wasn't until I began packing my things to move out of the apartment I could no longer afford that I discovered my microwave was gone.
Over the next few days I discovered that Frankie's dad had made a few calls and suddenly I was no longer an up and coming ad representative. Instead, apparently, I was an underhanded pervert guilty of sexual harassment, so my next job, as a desk clerk at a run down hotel lacked the glamour and the salary I was accustomed to.
Jennifer -- cable, I met Jennifer at the pawn shop where I was getting rid of my big screen TV. She was impressed by the sixty stations I had available on the TV I had in my hotel room. Although she was the owner of the pawn shop, she lived in an apartment above the store in a building that wasn't wired for cable. She'd have preferred cable on the big screen, but I convinced her the hotel TV was big enough.
I had learned my lesson about adventurism in the bedroom so I let her lead the way, which pretty much mean she was on top. I must admit it was exciting the way the flashing neon shined off her tiny breasts and large, erect nipples. The way the lights and my hands rolled over her body as she bounced up and down on me made me wonder if perhaps this might be what LSD was like. My dad always talked of the sixties with such candor and amazement that I couldn't help but yearn to be a flower child.
As long as she was on top the sex was good, but anytime we tried to experiment a bit it turned out to be a wrestling match. I guess you might say she had issues about control, so I just learned to get on my back and take it. I must admit, she did know how to ride.
Jennifer lasted as long as the cable did, which turned out to be about three weeks. The hotel didn't pay its bill and soon all we had were a few snowy local channels. Within a day Jennifer found herself a guy with a smaller cock and seventy-five channels. I'm not sure what I missed before, the psychedelic sessions or the cable channels.
Antonia -- the honor bar, my sadness over Jennifer leaving lasted until my day off when Antonia, the housekeeper showed up at my room to clean up. I was immediately impressed when she bent to retrieve a pillow from the floor and she was obviously impressed that I was a desk clerk at the hotel. She was even more impressed when I broke out my key to the honor bar.
Yeah, the hotel was a run down wreck, but there were still a couple of honor bars left from its glory days. Not wanting to drink up my wages, I simply used the half empty refrigerator to cool a few sodas, leaving the expensive tiny wine bottles, liquor samples and candies alone. Well, as Antonia gyrated around making up my bed, I poured a plastic cup of wine for each of us and well, before she cleaned the bathroom, we unmade the bed.
Antonia had a penchant for oral sex, so I spent the next few weeks with my head between her thighs, a pleasant enough place. She was a gracious lover and once she came several times she happily reciprocated, gulping my cum like wine.
Yes, she did gulp her wine and I later learned that she had a bit of a drinking problem. I kept the key to the honor bar hidden but that didn't stop her. One day I headed to my room at the end of my shift and found the honor bar gone. She didn't have the key to clean out the remaining booze so she simply took the whole mini-refrigerator.
Well, during the ensuing investigation, hotel management figured out that I was sleeping with the staff, apparently a no, no at this fine institution. Of course, given the reputation my earlier employer created for me, my dalliance with a housekeeper led to my immediate dismissal. Suddenly I was back on the street with only a suitcase and my growing catalogue of loss.
