"Annabeth! Don't talk with your mouth full!" How many times does a girl hear that one growing up? Mothers. Little do they know...
Good thing she didn't say anything about thinking with my mouth full. Anyway, my poor mom. She saw just enough to drive me and herself crazy.
I had to admit though, at this very moment and confined as I was to the cramped space of his front seat, her words more than applied. But her admonishment, regardless of its obvious value, just wasn't the overriding issue on my mind.
I was too preoccupied with my plan to extract the Sicilian from the clutches of the others.
The problem stemmed from the fact that I had fallen for this one with my full emotional weight. As with any addiction it had struck in a single heartbeat, leaving me struggling to breathe through the passion which had wrapped itself tightly around me.
That was the first part of the problem anyway; a whole half, so to speak. The second was obsession; mine, with three women. Women he was having sex with -- three women in addition to me that is -- three that I knew of.
He made no secret of them so I had understood from the beginning who they were and when he saw them. The only surprising thing was that I allowed him to reveal it all to me; all the lurid details of his sexual encounters, thereby transforming myself into a ready-made spillway for his fantasies; someone available not only for sex, but to whom he could tell all while fucking me.
I know, I know; a woman shouldn't stand for it. Well, in truth, I used to think that but not anymore. I now firmly believe we'll sit by and take anything. Of course, I had allowed it all to happen, so I should know.
Want to know the deal? I'll tell you: I could have sex with him and with his approval, with anyone I wished; which I didn't take advantage of for lack of interest. In exchange, I took on an assignment of sorts, playing 'Keyhole Kate.' In other words, he permitted me to peek into his erotic world, where I could clearly see the others and what he was doing with them.
The fact that I was even permitting it frightened me. After all, why was I giving so much away? But the entire relationship was frightening because it - that is I - was so out of control. My God, I'd do anything for him. What was I thinking?
Voyeuristic to the core, I so willingly took the bait and transformed myself into a sounding board off which he could bounce his erotic experiences involving other women. It was as if I stood outside a transparent bubble, watching him have sex within. I was visible to him but not to the women he was with...or at least, that's what he said. Let's start with Marilyn, the divorcee with two young children. The boys slept in another room while their mother and Edmond did it in hers. That little fact didn't seem to bother him one way or another. Why would it? He was getting laid and had no responsibility for her kids. They meant nothing to him which I liked, because I didn't want them to.
The fact that I didn't like her is something I admitted to myself but never to him. I mean, I really didn't like her. She was a know-it-all par excellence from her bottom up, as they say. The worrisome thing was that like him, she was smart. His intellectual equal, and mine, for that matter - she would be trouble.
She was also a notorious man-eater and had gobbled up numerous boyfriends and two husbands amidst a litany of countless affairs. Everybody knew about her. She was a slut.
To complicate matters even more, she was beautiful. Flawless white skin, long legs and a more-than-available body that dripped sensuality; you know, things that attracted men who responded like lemmings, jumping to their deaths just because everyone else was. There was simply no one she hadn't fucked.
Always on the look-out for lucrative prey, she had locked her tractor beam onto him. They fucked often and I knew it because he told me. They had done it their second time out - outside of work that is. That's Marilyn -- the bitch.
Now, Diana. She was a biologist and a highly skilled academic, just like him. Her spectacular hour glass shape and perky boobs served her well. She was pretty too, with freckles. Can you stand it? I'm not saying I hate freckles as I have them too but I hated them on her. Fortunately, he despised science.
A wholesome-looking country girl, she lived in a small rural town nearby. With her shoulder length strawberry blonde hair, big blue eyes and perfect figure, she was madly in love with him. Who wouldn't be? He was beautiful, articulate, intelligent to a fault and learned.
Interestingly, I knew the taste of Diana's mouth because twice - twice - I had sucked his succulent cock only hours after she had and I'm sure he assumed I found comfort in the fact that it was 'just the three of us.' I wondered whether she had ever found herself in a similar position, following in my wake and perhaps sampling my body's flavor. So intimate, don't you think?
But the poor thing couldn't connect the dots; despite her storied education he could run cerebral rings around her. To compensate, she played trickster, a human fucking machine who screwed him like the proverbial Energizer Bunny, doing it all at his convenience, whenever and wherever he happened to be in the mood. She just kept going and going and...well, you understand.
I breathed a sigh of relief when I learned that she made mistakes; insisting on condoms for one thing, something men in general and he in particular detested. She also denied him, shall we say, full blown fellatio? We all make errors in judgment with men, but really, you've got to be kidding.
Big mistake, I thought, because condoms diminish affection's definitive realization; a man bequeathing his seed to his woman.
And as for fellatio to completion...well, need I go there? I don't think so, because men only recognize two kinds of women; those who do and those who don't. Everybody knows that - well, almost everybody, because Diana was an imbecile and missed it completely.
I mused at what a fool she was. But still it bothered me because he liked her enough to maintain the relationship since her physical reaction to having sex with him contained a remarkable and crucial component. She came as soon as he touched her down there.
She played showgirl, grinding her pelvis against him, meeting his every thrust with her own, all in the midst of a one sided screaming match that had nearly frightened him to death upon first encountering it. At least, that's what he said. She could have been acting, but then there was no way for me to be sure.
Awkwardly, Diana and I had met once, rather unexpectedly - at the hospital of all places. Having left work, I was still wearing my uniform from the restaurant where I waited tables. He had had a minor procedure done -- on that precious penis, of all things, and I had stopped by on my way home, thinking I could get a few minutes of alone time with him. Let's face it, alone time is hard to come by with a guy who's fucking a herd of women. Anyway, when I walked in she was sitting there. Shit.
What can I say? It was awkward. He introduced us of course and with two vying females in the little room, it wasn't hard to sense his discomfort -- not to mention our own. Giving her an artfully practiced cold shoulder, I ensured she didn't stay long and after she left, I lightened up.
It was a risky maneuver I know, because he immediately recognized what I was up to and gave me a look that said "I'm annoyed." But he didn't make it an issue which I thought was telling. He was fucking me too, remember and anyway, it worked because she left. What a wimp.
I didn't overly concern myself about this one because of the oral thing. In the end, a guy will almost always go with the girl who does 'all the way' blowjobs; the only ones that really "count", and let's not kid ourselves - men count.
She had failed to grasp the fact that just sucking cock carried little cash value so I knew she wouldn't last. Diana just didn't have enough to hold on to him, but she did divert his attentions away from me when his urges drifted in her direction. She was the weakest link in his sexual chain and I decided she would be the first to go -- and quickly. The trouble was, he liked variety.
Then there was that Sharon girl in Ohio. She was some hotshot manager for a sizable accounting firm and their broiling affair had begun at Kent State University. I had caught a glimpse of her recently when she unexpectedly visited him in New York. All right, so I was spying but a girl has to know these things, doesn't she?
He said he was surprised when she showed up. "I happened to be in the vicinity and figured I'd just drop by," she'd said jokily, conveniently disregarding the fact that she lived five hundred miles away!
Yeah right; "...just happened to be in the vicinity." I mean, come on. Even a man wouldn't fall for that one. But he was flattered by her effort. After all, he was the reason she'd done it; he knew that. Next life? I'm coming back as a man. I've already decided.
Sharon was also divorced but didn't have children. She was cute, with her waist-length brown hair, large boobs considering her petite size and the skin of Snow White. She would be trouble up the road because she had "I'm in love with this guy" written all over her beaming face. I didn't like her right off.
All of this left me with a predicament: How to be a rarity? Being one meant not being like most women. And most women were afraid to know the lurid details of a man's intimate relations with others. So I gambled, imagining that he, like most men, thought that I, like most women, at least most of the time, would respond like most women and wouldn't want to know about the others.
But this wasn't most of the time, now was it? I wanted this guy, so I needed information and used my time with him to find out about his steamy intimacies.
The gamble was simple enough: in the end, theoretically anyway, I'd know the three contenders and they wouldn't know me. They'd be overly confident in themselves and wouldn't bother with one another...with the part about them not knowing me being a tad tricky, of course.
Yes, he had promised that if I listened he'd keep our sexual relationship secret, which I liked, but you just never knew with these things because if he had an urge, he might just tell them about me. Anyway, as you can see, it was a tangled web.
It didn't take long before he revealed the details of his relationship with Sharon. I learned they had lived together in Kent and he characterized her as the absolute superlative fellatio queen.
"Do you want to know what she's like? Sexually?" he had asked one evening, with a twinkle in his brilliant eyes.
