Mr. Confetti Man 06

I got to Karen's house...well...mansion...at about 6:00PM. I brought along a take-out order of Chiles Rellenos and Pollo Oaxaca con arroz--both are her favorites. Karen often mentioned to me that her cook was deficient in preparing Mexican food. I told her I'd bring some so she could give her cook a night off. Karen usually did anyway when it was my night at Karen's place.

Tonight, we ate first instead of hopping in the sack for sex. It's probably just as well because I recognized from the start that Karen wasn't feeling exactly sexy. It wasn't because she was on her period; that was the week before. In fact, she just seemed depressed. She wasn't wearing an make-up, not a tragedy for Karen as she was naturally beautiful without make-up, but it did say something about her paying attention to her appearance. Also, she was sitting around in blue jeans and a bulky sweatshirt; again not ordinarily significant but her attire just wasn't as sharp as I've come to expect. Yes, Karen can look sharp in blue jeans and a sweatshirt... just not the ones she had on.

"Hola, Karen, la comida Mexicana está aquí!" I said in the most cheerful voice I was capable of, "mangiare, mangiare!...No, wait...that's Italian. Hmmm. What's 'eat, eat!' in Spanish. Well no matter, I've got some good stuff that you love...Let's dig in!"

"I'm not very hungry, Drummond," she said in a small voice, "it does smell good, though. Why don't you have some and maybe I'll nibble off of your plate, O.K.?"

I scooped up big helpings of both dishes and put them on a platter sized plate guessing, accurately it turned out, at what was likely to happen. Sure enough, as Karen pecked away with her fork at the food, and sampled some, her appetite miraculously appeared. The next thing you know she was eating just as much of the delicious, spicy, food as I was. And it did seem to cheer her up somewhat.

I said, mid meal, "Karen I have an idea for tonight. I think you are lately suffering from 'cuddle deficiency syndrome',...yes I just invented that name for it. Unless you really want to, let's not have sex tonight. Let's just sit and cuddle and talk. How does that sound? "

I got a smile out of her on that one, and she said, "Oh, Drummond, you always know the right thing to say to me...and the right thing to do. Yes...let's do that. I mean...you know...unless something 'pops up' that you need me to take care of...you know?"

I blew her a air kiss and said, "Well, Karen, my love,..Capital! I've had a busy week too and I'm a little tired myself. I'm not going to say 'no' but I think my penis is probably as tired as I am...but one never knows...does one?"

We plunked the dirty dishes in the sink. There were no leftovers, nothing to throw away. Again, I was right. Between the two of us, we polished off the entire order. That being done, we headed upstairs.

Karen streamed some mellow music--she's a classical music fan--and changed into a practical, decidedly not sexy pair of cotton pajamas--she still looked beautiful, though. I stripped down to my underwear and threw on a sport jersey...comfortable and perfect given the fair weather.

We sat up in bead resting against the headboard with her head against my chest. Karen played with the hair on my arm, twirling her finger in random patterns in it. Her hair smelled wonderful which made me wonder if she used that fancy/schmantzy chamomile shampoo on it. I was feeling mellow and just about on the edge of dozing off; Karen was every bit of awake, though.

"Drum?" she said with some hesitancy, "do you love me? Do you?"

I answered instantly, "Yes, Karen my Dear, I do love you...deeply...you know that. What makes you ask?"

"Oh, reassurance, I think but..." her voice trailed off a little, "but truly, I love to hear you say it to me. Nobody else does...Nobody is around to say it to me. Kurt's off with his work and his boyfriends...I'm here with my house people but they aren't going to tell me that. Even when I had that fling with Zeta, she never told me that. She just wanted sex...and, of course, to keep her job. Cecilia used to tell me that she loved me...'Ti amo mia cara'. she would say to me...."

Karen's voice trailed off again and I could hear a sadness in her voice. I looked at her and her eyes were welling up with tears. I turned to her and kissed them away while I stroked her hair.

"Karen, my dearest love, " I said as gently as I could, "you are sad because you feel both alone and lonely. I totally understand that. I'm not trying to read your mind but you think about your lover Cecilia because that was a time in your life where you had a close friend and hope, too! And I'm sure sex with her was so very much different, exciting, and satisfying for you then. It was romance, pure and simple. Even as close as we are, my love, I am sure it is not the same as you felt for her. Am I right?'

There was a catch in Karen's voice, "Yes...yes...yes...YES! I did love her so much. I wish she were here but I know she can't be. I tried recreating that feeling with Zeta...a bad choice, I see now. I need someone like Cecilia now...and it's not just the sex...that would be wonderful buy I just need a good...true...woman close to me in my life. I just don't know where to look! After all...look at me...I'm not some interior decorator, or a perfume clerk at a boutique, or a lady....PLUMBER.... This society woman "schtick" sucks!"

My idea "light bulb" in my head started to glow. I said to Karen, "Sweets? You know what might help? Some of the new-age positive thinkers say that if you put into words what you are looking for, it will add reality to your search, and--according to them--you will attract that person or thing into your life. How about we try that...just for fun...if nothing else. Tell me about your 'ideal woman'...Let's start...how old is she?"

Karen perked up a little, the catch was out of her voice and the tears had stopped She started off, "Hmmm...well I don't know that age matters but probably about my age plus or minus a couple of years...not a lot older than me, though."

"O.K.," I followed up, "what does she look like? Large? Small? Skinny? Chubby? Ethnicity? Give it a go1"

She thought for a moment and said, "Well, I don't want a carbon copy of myself; but really, as long as she is loving, pleasant, and fun, I don't think it would matter much. Then again, I always think of Cecilia..and I know I can't recreate her...but her look, dark, ethnic, dark hair, beautiful face, wonderful eyes. Someone perky and sexy would be nice...I mean sex shouldn't be out of the question. And interesting...she would need to be interesting...have an interesting life."

I followed up, "Can you think of anything else? Any other little detail...small as it might seem... it might help fill in the picture for you?"

"Hmmm...well...Cecilia spoke Italian and that was fun. Maybe she should speak a foreign language....it doesn't have to be Italian...something romantic...French? Spanish? Nothing hard or harsh...like...Russian...or German. That's all I can think of right now...is that enough?"

"No, Karen, you've got the idea," I said, "now let's write that all down...I'll help you remember. and then you can put it away for a month, or so, and see what happens. It's worth a shot anyway."

She did just that and I helped her. She got out a yellow 'legal pad' and itemized all of her thoughts about her ideal woman. She added one or two things...."nice shape but not big", she put down 5'2" to 5'7" (1.6m to 1.7m), 100lbs to 125lbs (45kg to 57kg) and even giggled when she threw in bust measurements, 32B-Cup to 34C-Cup but she put an "-ish" after those. When she finished, she folded it up and put it in her drawer underneath her pantyhose.

This whole exercise cheered her up, gave her a sense of hope, excitement, and anticipation. I told her not to look at it for a month and then see how close she came.

Karen relaxed enough for us to have sex. It wasn't long for vigorous. As a matter of fact, it consisted of both of us masturbating and enjoying watching each other bring themselves to an orgasm. She was sexier than I was, though she disagreed. I guess I forgot how much Karen loves to lick cum off my tummy!

***************************

*******************************

I texted Conchita: Banana CU? Bulldog

She texted back: 2nite ok? mine?

I responded: Pfect!

I got to Conchita's apartment at about7:30PM. I called her in advance and she did her magic opening doors, and elevators, and all that. She met me at the door and didn't even let me through the door before she jumped on me, legs around my waist, arms around my neck, and in full lip-lock. I carried her inside, kicked the door closed, and headed for her bedroom with her still twined around me. Once in the bedroom, she had herself naked almost immediately, shedding her bra and panties; and she had me naked almost as quickly--shirt, pants, shoes, underwear, flying to all corners of the room.

Conchita was horny...really horny. I thanked myself for being able to sustain a functioning erection for a indefinite period of time and suppress an orgasm for and equally long time. We traded places more than a few times, my eating her pussy, she sucking my cock, doing 69, my fucking her on her back, she on top, she on her knees, flat on her stomach. I counted three separate SERIES of orgasms for her but only one for me...The Grand Finale! I surprised myself with the amount of semen in my ejaculation; and it surprised Conchita, too. She was licking cum off my stomach all the way up to my nipples. I still quiver thinking about it.

When the dust had settled...or more correctly, when all the residual cum--hers and mine--had gotten cleaned up--we lay next to each other on the bed, me on my back and Conchita on her stomach. Her hand was across my chest and she was flexing her fingers playing with my chest hair. She'd brush her arm across my nipple every now and again and that would get a reaction from me....but that's another story.

"Banana? My sweetest Banana?" I started slowly, "do you love me?"

"NO!" she said with comic emphasis, and then, "oh...YES I do, you know that! I DO, Bulldog, let's face it!"

"Well, my Latina firecracker," I pressed gently on, "how MUCH do you love me, my lover?"

Conchita sensed there was a hook on all of this and said, "O.K., I love you more than I can say and more than words can tell, and...and...So....What do you want?"

"I? What do I want...nothing for myself," that wasn't exactly a lie, "for you, I want happiness and love, a spectacular marathon time, and orgasms on demand, and a chance to be a good friend to somebody. That's what I want for YOU!"

Conchita sat up on her haunches, and looked down at me as I tried to keep a straight face, "Drummond, who is this friend you want me to blow...that's it, isn't it? You know I give good blow jobs and you have a friend who needs a mercy suck. Right?"

"No, Conchita, that's not IT...NO blowjobs to anyone...but maybe me...NO BLOWJOBS!" I let that settle and then said, "but...."

"Oh, Shit!" Conchita burst out, "there's a 'but'....I could feel it coming...a big 'BUT'...your friend needs a dildo up his ass and you figure I'm the one to do it...NO WAY...no FUCKING way!"

"Settle down, Mi Amor," I tried to soothe her, "It's not that either...well not exactly that. Uncross your arms, lean over here and give me a kiss, and let me tell you what this is all about."

Conchita followed instructions and finally sat on the bed cross-legged, because she knew I'd distracted my her adorable labia.

"Now, Conchita, I'm going to be serious here for a moment, " I shifted my mood to...well... serious, "a woman friend of mine is going through a rough patch. She is very dear to me and a lovely person on top of that. I don't know if you remember, but we had that conversation a while ago about women having sex with women...remember? Well..and I don't know exactly how to say this but this woman really needs to have sex with another woman and...well...since you have some experience in that regard...I thought...maybe...for her good...and, well, yes as a favor to me, you might be able to...well...have sex with her...just a one-off thing, you know...you know?"

It was hard to judge Conchita's look when she said, "Oh, Drummond, Mi amor, only you would be loving enough to suggest that for your friend. I know you, Drummond, I know how you love, I know how you feel about people, your lovers...ME! For YOU, I will do this. I hope it helps your friend but I'll do it for you. My sweet, sweet man! I love you even more than I did ten minutes ago!"

She uncrossed her legs, got up and sat down astride my legs, and leaned forward and gave me a passionately loving kiss. She kissed my face and my lips. This wasn't a kiss for sex, it was a kiss for love. She didn't even try to sit on my cock. It was all for love..and my cock understood that, too...it didn't even twitch an inch.

*********************

*********************

How to do it, though. That's the thorny part of this whole caper. How do I introduce Conchita to Karen and not screw it up? Conchita, now fully and enthusiastically on board with this, brainstormed ideas with me. I impressed on her the need for confidentiality, as Karen was something of a society personality in town. Of course, Conchita had some society chops of her own, being her country's trade minister. And we'd have to do it so that Karen had no idea what was happening...and may likely never know...ever.

Extracting from Conchita a vow of absolute secrecy, under pain of her never having sex with me again, I told her who Karen is. Her eyes almost bugged out of her head. Under the same vow of silence I described my relationship with Karen, how it came to be, and under a double vow of secrecy, disclosed why it was so important for Karen to find a woman whom Karen could befriend and have sex with.

I have that little "light bulb" in my head that paves the way to great accomplishments...well, it turns out, so does Conchita. Looking through her social calendar, she discovered that one week hence there would be a formal reception to be attended by various business luminaries of the city, to meet and welcome...who else...but members of foreign trade delegations recently assigned here.

Given Karen's connections not only with Kurt's companies but with the cultural community, it would be no-brainer for Karen to be invited, if in fact, she has not already been invited. Conchita did some quick research on her tablet and discovered that Karen was on the list of invitees. The next job was for me to ensure that Karen attended. I told Conchita to leave that to me.

Now, Karen, if left to her own, might not have much of an interest in a reception like this, let alone go to it but, I was sure...as a matter of fact...I was banking on her going if I asked her to go with me. The excuse I forged was that my stock speculations to some extent depended on the status of foreign trade. By going to the affair, I might rub elbows with some influential folk and pick up information that would help me. Well, as the Brits might, "Done and Dusted!" Karen went for the idea. We arranged to take separate cars and meet there. I was to be her "Plus One".

I filled Conchita in on the scheme and made sure she knew what Karen looked like and emphasized that Karen and I, though together at the function. wouldn't be traveling together. If Conchita "scored" with Karen that night, Karen was free to go home with whomever she wanted.

The first part of the plan went off without a hitch. Karen and I met in the hotel parking area and entered the ballroom where the reception was taking place. There must have been two hundred people there...easily one hundred fifty. Karen knew many, if not most of them. She circulated, "working the room". When she is on her game, Karen is a formidable schmoozer with the upper crust folks of which, of course she is one.

I kept looking around for Conchita but didn't see her at first. At length she drifted into our view. I saw Karen react the minute she laid eyes on Conchita. She was transfixed as she watched Conchita wend her way toward us. Conchita concentrated on Karen, acting as if she'd never seen me before and, if she had I was too unimportant to remember.

"Oh,my! Mrs. ____! May I call you Karen?" Charm oozed from Conchita's every pore, "I am so glad you are here tonight. I have been anxious to meet you. But I didn't think you'd be here. My name is Conchita (5 names) and I'm part of the (South American Country) Foreign trade ministry. How very nice to meet you!"

Karen appeared stunned at this but her natural aplomb saved her, "Yes, well, Ms...may I call you Conchita...I'm afraid I can't remember all of your names," she gave out a polite feminine giggle, "I am pleased to meet you. Have you met my friend, Drummond_____?"

Conchita gave me an indifferent, cursory glance, not dismissive but, not really much of an acknowledgement either, though she did say, "Mr. Drummond...yes...hello...How do you know Mrs. _____?"

I answered politely,"I am a financial analyst and friend of the family Ms.(I reeled off all five names)!"

I got a subtle raising of the eyebrows from both Conchita and Karen. Of course, by then I knew Conchita's names as well as my own. Karen, not knowing that, was impressed by my memory. Conchita was impressed with my ploy.

"Well...yes...Thank you,Mr. Drummond?" Conchita played off it, "Mrs____, Oh please, let me call you Karen. The 'Mrs.' business is way too formal. And I'm so glad that you wish to call me Conchita. It is so much more friendly, isn't it?"

"But, of course, Conchita, yes." Karen was intent on Conchita, "Is that an AlexAndre' you are wearing? That is so lovely! And it looks so wonderful on you! I think it gives you...well...energy! "

"Well, YES it is. You have a marvelous eye for style, Karen, I can tell," Conchita twittered, "but you flatter me!"

Conchita began to whisper to Karen, "But, just between you and me, I am too thin for most of his creations. He does prefer women with...shall we say..more 'substance'!"

Karen gave a knowing nod and a polite giggle, "Yes, I know that for a fact! You must have charmed him to death to have him do that for you, notwithstanding his...well...'penchant' for the Rubenesque?" (Karen poured it on pronouncing "penchant" as the French do, pahn-sha')

"But I see, Karen is that a Fidolini? That is absolutely divine! And you are divine in it! I am often torn as to which I should indulge. AlexAndre' or Fidolini. I think the latter might suit me better. He does so well with trim and toned women, such as yourself--if I might say so. But AlexAndre' is, well AlexAndre' isn't he--such a scamp!"

I could tell immediately that Conchita and Karen had made a connection. I decided to make my presence absent and let the girls "bond". As I departed their company, Karen gave me a pat on the arm and a smile; Conchita gave me a dismissive nod. Talk about a scamp!

Having completed my mission, I saw no reason to stay around. I faded away home and got a good night's sleep...well except that I dreamed of a ballroom full women in ostentatious Louis XIV era gowns, but topless, dancing with each other. Hmmm. I wonder where that came from.

****************************

****************************

The next morning, though, I was curious as to the ultimate outcome of Conchita's and Karen's "bonding". I hesitated to call either in fear of somehow inadvertently tipping Karen off as to the conspiracy. I bided my time...and I bided my time...and bided..and bided.

An entire day later, mid-day, I received a text from Conchita: "Bulldog my place soon? Banana"

I texted back: "there in 20"

As I was going out the door, I got a call from Karen. I let it go to voice mail.

Her v/m said, "Drummond. I have news for you but I'd like to see you in person. I know you may be busy but call me and so we can set up a time. I love you, Drum, Mi Amor!"