It seemed that Filomenia's was becoming my 'go-to' place to begin new adventures. It was located only a few blocks from the club and backed up to the C&O Canal that had been constructed in the late 1820s, but had the misfortune to be surpassed by the railroad before it could be completed all the way to the Ohio River.
My first encounter at Filomina's was when Susan asked me to meet her there, rather than in the club, as a way of checking me out in a more public setting than the Freyja Club. I had apparently made a good impression and, as it turned out, I learned that she was in a committed lesbian relationship with a woman named Alma, but had developed an itch that 'needed scratching.' That evening, she experienced the first feeling of a hard male cock in her pussy since her failed marriage some years before.
My second experience at Filomena's occurred a few weeks later when I met Michelle there before I drove her to her duplex in Rosslyn where I fucked her in front of her husband Tom. It was my first experience as a 'bull' in a cuckold situation and I had been more than apprehensive about the encounter, but it had proven to be more exciting than I anticipated. Now I was heading there to meet Hayley and I wondered what delights the Norse Goddess of Love and Desire had in store for me now.
As usual, the crowd at Filomena's was mostly "yuppies" and low-level Washington bureaucrats and associated hangers-on. The mental image of Remora clinging to the back of sharks pretty much captured my impression of most of Filomena's clientele. By contrast, the staff was outstanding; Mike, the head barkeep in particular, was as friendly and down-to-earth as you would find in this city and I Immediately gravitated in his direction when I arrived a few minutes early.
Mike mostly knew me as a friend of Michelle's, but we had exchanged some pleasantries in the past, and like all great bartenders he never forgot a name or what you habitually ordered, so it was no surprise when he did so and inquired if I was still drinking Heineken. He almost had a full draw even before my affirmative nod was completed.
"In town on business?" Mike asked, and I replied, "Yes, for a couple of days." I had told him about my recent escapade at the Canadian Embassy, so he knew a little about what I did for a living, but of course, nothing about my "business" at the Freyja Club. I was about to give him a made-up story to account for my presence, but before I could, I sensed someone behind me and the aroma of the perfume that assaulted my nose indicated that Hayley had arrived.
I turned to find Hayley's beautiful brown eyes and quickly noted that she had swapped out her normal ruby red lipstick for a more pinkish shade. I liked the change and immediately told her so. Over the years, I have found that when a woman makes such an obvious change; lipstick, blush, perfume, hair, or clothes, it might not get you any points for noticing, but there are a hell of a lot of negative points if you don't. Hayley smiled and I took that as a positive. I introduced her to Mike and he shook her hand as he asked what she was drinking. As I expected, a chablis on ice was her response.
It had been over six weeks since we had last been together and it was nice when Hayley's first words to me were, "I missed you."
Since I had seen Hayley last, I had several sexual encounters with my former mistress, Jennifer, had a cuckold session with Michelle, and had traveled to Florida where I had been introduced to a woman named Kelly and had fucked her three times. So it was with this knowledge that I looked back at Hayley's smiling face and replied, "I missed you too." I was pleased when her grin broadened at these words, but given the circumstance that we were both members of the Freyja Club, I couldn't help but wonder how many hard male dicks had penetrated those lips since last we met.
We adjourned to a vacant table near the back wall of the bar and Hayley removed a sheaf of papers from her purse and laid them on the table. I immediately recognized that they were the rough copy of the story I had written about her and her remarkable journey to the Freyja Club. I had given them to her the last time we had been together and I was immediately dismayed when I saw all the blue pencil edits as she laid them out.
Hayley looked up and reading my expression, she quickly moved to assuage my fears. "Oh, don't worry about my minor edits. You're a wonderful writer. If I was grading this in my class, it would. have been a solid A. I'm amazed at how much you got right with so little information."
I guess my disappointed expression must have turned into an embarrassed grimace, but I chose not to interrupt and let Hayley continue.
"I would have thought that the most difficult part of this story would have been describing the angst that I was feeling when I first began to openly acknowledge that part of me wanted... No, vehemently desired to... become a 'cum slut' and the willing vessel of the twisted sexual desires of men, but you captured my feelings so accurately, that I found myself reliving those moments exactly as I was being portrayed. You seemed to grasp how I could feel that I was 'in control' even when I was strapped down with a ball gag in my mouth and guys pounding my cunt and asshole.' I was surprised that you could ever understand the feeling since you obviously aren't a woman.
Hayley paused, waiting for some response, so I took a deep breath and said, "Over the years I've been very fortunate to have had relations with some extraordinary women who have guided my perception of how they navigate in what some call 'a man's world.' I've come to realize that women understand men much better than we understand them and use this knowledge to manipulate situations in ways that are completely outside our awareness. Your 'sexual submission,' was just one of these secret weapons.
Hayley's eyes widened in astonishment and she reached across the table to grasp my hand. "My God, how do you do that? You express my deepest feelings better than I can. Do you realize how rare your talent is?"
My reply was an honest, "No, I probably don't. I just try to put myself in your place and ask myself how I might feel."
Hayley smiled and adopting her college professor persona said, "In my profession, we call that "literary empathy," and she reached down and showed me the rest of the manuscript. As usual, I had a few commas where they shouldn't have been and a few that I needed but were missing. I had a couple of events out of sequence and one name completely wrong, but I could see that, as Hayley had said, the edits were mostly minor. I was happy with my solid A.
"I need to tell you something... " I started but didn't finish. At my pause, Hayley looked at me expectantly, almost as if she thought that I might be getting ready to give her the verbal equivalent of a "Dear Jane" letter.
She gave an audible gasp of relief as I continued.
"I didn't write about your journey to the Freyja Club as a one-off story. It's part of a broader narrative about my own journey and about the people I've met along the way. Right now, your story is chapter twenty or something. Again I saw Hayley's eyes widen almost in disbelief. Of course, she was aware of my fascination with the Freyja Club and was somewhat of a co-conspirator with me in attempting to unlock some of its ninety-year-old secrets, but I could tell that my disclosure that I was chronicling this was a surprise.
I picked up the manuscript that still lay on the table between us. "I feel a little bit like Samuel Johnson, "I explained, "I need a Thomas Boswell." At the mention of the famous English writer and his equally famous biographer, Hayley's eyes lit up and she leaned closer. "You want me to edit your book?" I looked back at her sheepishly and nodded. Even though we were in a very public place, Hayley bounced around the table and all of a sudden my arms were full of her. Her kisses were rough and demanding and struggled to meet their intensity.
"Wow," I said when at last she broke the kiss, "Was that a yes?" I asked. Hayley just kissed me again. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Mike glance in our direction and I felt a sudden need to inform him that, no, I hadn't asked the woman in my arms to marry me.
A few minutes later, we carried our drinks into the main restaurant and continued our conversation scrunched into one side of a booth by a window that looked out over the mostly deserted patio to the canal. As best that I could remember, I outlined for Hayley's benefit the general outline that I'd adopted so far in the book's chapters, which was to intersperse the stories of the people I met, like Hayley, immediately after I introduced the person in my own narrative. She saw the obvious logic of this, but she said that she had some experience with that writing style, and sometimes with recurring encounters with a person, I might have a better composition by delaying a full disclosure of the right dramatic event rather than just automatically place it after the first. I nodded my understanding of her point and reflected on the benefit of bringing her in on my writing.
Over dinner, it ended up that Hayley did most of the talking. The most memorable part was when she recounted her epiphany about her female body.
"I was living in Amsterdam when I discovered a copy of "The Pearl" under my Dad's bed and one of the stories really impacted me. It was called "The Lesson," and it described a young English girl's visit to her Aunt and Uncle in the countryside. It turned out that both wanted to have sex with her, but since she was a virgin, they determined that she needed to be taught about her body, hence the title of the story."
We had both ordered Veal Parmesan for dinner along with Red Rose to wash it down with, so as we ate, Hayley continued with her narrative.
"The girl was forced to strip in front of the couple and the Aunt explained that Women's bodies were special. God had designed them for both function and pleasure. They were the vessel in which the seed of life was planted and God desired that women, in compensation for the pain of childbirth experience pleasure as well. She went on to explain that humans were the only creatures where the female mated for pleasure as well as reproduction. That passage had a profound effect on me and I interpreted it as "God's permission" to seek sexual fulfillment wherever I chose."
