My wife was out of town a few days about one week after the last “incident” had happened, and all I could think of was sex. On Friday afternoon after I made sure that everything was as it was supposed to be at work, having put in a few extra hours to make up for those that I had lost reading and answering personal e-mails, reading newsgroups and chatting with friends (including Helen). I took a slight detour on my way home to rent a few smut videos for later that weekend.
When I got home I took care of all the chores that had to be done, including feeding myself, before planting myself I front of the TV. I was just browsing among the available channels when the doorbell rang and I got up to open the door. Outside, in a short skirt and a summery blouse, was Helen. She knew my wife was out of town and wanted to spend some time with me. We had a nice cup of tea, chatted leisurely and watched TV for a while until she noticed the plastic bag containing the rented videos. I just wanted to disappear from the face of the Earth!
She asked, “What’s that?”
“Just a few videos that I’m planning to watch later this weekend,” I told her truthfully. “Probably not something that you would be interested in.”
“May I look at them?”
I was seriously contemplating the idea of saying no, but apparently she mistook my lack of immediate answer as a positive. She opened up the bag and looked astounded at the videos it contained, then with utter disbelief directly at me.
“Do you really like porn? This looks like hardcore porn.”
“Yes, I do and it is,” I told her.
“Would you look at a program about preparing food if you are hungry?”
I knew the analogy and answered promptly with a smile “No, I would look at a program about preparing food if I wanted to become hungry.”
She knew I got her there, and we bantered the subject for a while. She had apparently soaked up all the bad publicity that it had gotten without really giving it much thought. After we had spoken about it for quite some time I asked her “Have you ever watched porn?”
“No, I haven’t. I have read quite a lot of porn, but all such films appear to be too detailed. I want to use my imagination, not be spoon fed what every man wants,” she said.
“Do you really believe that all films are made in the same style?”
“No, but they are made by men and for men,” she answered.
“There are many different types of porn available,” I told her, “going from the abstract to the very direct with extreme close-ups. The abstract type, preferred by some women, containing long scenes with few close-ups and more kissing, touching and hinting, rather then showing, what is happening… The ‘hydraulic’ type, with a lot of pumping going on and nothing else besides that… The gynaecological type, with a lot of close-ups.”
I already knew the question she would ask me, so I wasn’t too surprised when she asked “And what style do you prefer?”
“I must admit to liking close-ups,” I said, blushing slightly. “I find the first type to my liking every once in a while, but they can be quite boring. The second type is boring after ten seconds.”
Her next question came as a surprise, “Are there different styles of the contents, like for different fetishes?” She sounded almost interested, rather than disgusted as she had done before.
“There are probably films catering to any imaginable fetish,” I said, “but some are probably easier to find than others.” Growing slightly bolder I quickly added, “Is there something special that you are interested in?”
She answered, blushing, “No, remember that I’m still a virgin. I haven’t tried anything. Do you have any fetishes?”
Darn, she had me cornered. I saw her looking at the down at the videos, then right back at me again. I knew there was no way out of the situation but to tell the truth.
“Yes, I prefer quite young women. In fact,” I added, “if they have blond or red hair I like it even more.”
“That explains these”, she said while holding up two of the videos with young women in their late teens on the cover. It took a few moments before the implications sank in for her, then she peered at me quizzically. Her question came hesitantly, “Does that mean that you like to look at me?”
“Yes, I like to look at you.” Phew, that wasn’t too hard to admit.
“Have you ever”, she stopped in mid sentence, trying to find the right words. “Have you ever fantasised about me?”
“Yes, I’ve had quite a few fantasies about you” I stated, matter-of-factly. My thoughts and feelings was at that time in turmoil, and I felt almost claustrophobic. Would she like me anyway?
“Do you touch yourself while thinking of me?”
My throat felt strangely dry. I nodded and noticed that she was breathing more heavily then she usually did.
After a brief moment of silence we simultaneously broke the spell that we were suspended in by turning towards the TV, where an even more than usually annoying advertisement had just started. I picked up the remote control and changed channel. We spent the next 15 minutes in silence, looking at a rather stupid game show.
