The Price of Experience Chapter 2
The next week was a frenzy of calls, meetings, interviewing new engineering teams, and sorting office staff, but all through the day, whenever I had a moment to look at my computer screen, or surreptitiously log in to my private email on my phone, I was checking to see if a message had come back from the email address the Comte had given me. The morning after I had exposed Yuliana naked in front of the camera, I had sent him a link to the video we made showing the most intimate images of every curve and crevice of her body - the body that she had, at first, so reluctantly allowed to be captured on video and given to him. I had watched the video with my heart racing and my breathing shallow while she was still asleep in the hotel bedroom, amazingly it had come out incredibly well and when Yuliana spread her, by then, wet and divine pussy for his view it was as if a sexual Goddess was opening the route to ecstasy - or for me, maybe, to madness.
I had loaded it to a private Google Drive and shared the link to the Comte's email. I knew I would have to tell her at some point. I was fearful that Yuliana would flare up at what she saw as my internet naivety and tell me 'Nothing on Google is private!' She had always absolutely forbidden me to even keep any picture of her naked on my computer, but then, after the explosion of our sexual adventure that night, she had given me permission to send a film of her to the Comte, completely nude, pussy exposed and glistening and then riding waves of orgasm. It felt like everything in our lives could now be dated before, or after, that night.
Within 24 hours I had received an email from the Comte,
'
Your video presentation was beyond my expectations, it reveals incredible potential. The first transfer will be in your company's account by tomorrow'
.
Within 48 hours, Richard confirmed the money had appeared in the company account. We were living the professional dream we had been chasing for 3 years and Yuliana, Richard and I were loving it. I could finally stop chasing investors and actually start making the idea, no one else had thought of, into reality. It was a concept that I knew could fundamentally change how we could treat, and I believed cure, a whole range of conditions. Conditions that right now were destroying the lives of thousands, maybe millions, of people. I was determined to make it happen. It was a thrilling opportunity and lurking underneath the professional thrill was the secretive awareness that it was being bought through sharing Yuliana's sexual beauty, my proudest possession, with the hungry eyes of another man.
Richard as Chief Operating Officer knew nothing of this. He was heaving a sigh of relief that his faith in the project and the year of snide comments from his previous high flying colleagues was now vindicated and at last, he was using his precise and brilliant mind to do something of real importance.
Yuliana - Yuliana seemed radiant. She hadn't mentioned anything about the night of the video afterwards and when I started to try to tentatively refer to it to test the ground of where we were in its aftermath, she just gave a knowing, slightly ironic little smile and said,
'We did what we did - I think you better concentrate on our business now!'
She had taken over the whole of the office management and staffing and she was already working on marketing and branding. Everywhere she went she was her poised, beautiful and charming self, with that smile that could win over even the coldest female executives, whose natural instinct was to tense for battle when they glimpsed the scale of their female competition. She was in her element.
But there were subtle changes. Her loveable need for reassurance that what she was doing was helping and was correct, seemed to have gone, there was a new certainty and confidence in her. It extended to our love making, it was less playful and humorous and had a more serious intensity. As she rode impaled on me and her fabulous breasts swayed forwards and backwards and hung down towards my straining mouth, her eyes locked on mine and her mouth slackened and opened a little as she took her pleasure like some predatory incarnation of female sexuality. It was unnerving, but thrilling and I yearned to know if in her mind she was reliving the experience of the video. Imagining the camera lingering on the flesh of her pussy lips clinging to the shaft of my member as she slid herself up and down, her anus opening and closing a fraction with each thrust and rise of her perfect arse. Maybe imagining, as the flush of arousal started to spread over the exquisite pallor of her skin, it was all happening under the eyes of the Comte.
I wanted to know so much more about the Comte's reaction to what he had seen in the video. I wanted to hear him say how the breath-taking vision of my wife had affected him. I wanted to know that he found her as incomparably sexually exciting as I did. In a dirty little guilty corner of my mind I wanted to know if he had stroked himself and ejaculated watching her giving her pussy to his view. I even wondered, what he had thought when he saw Yuliana punish me (and thrill me) by forcing the thick shaft of the vibrator into my yielding anus in front of the camera. Had that gone too far? Had I lost any respect by being so imperiously dominated by my fabulous wife?
I kept checking my inbox, hoping each time I opened it that a new message would have come from him - again and again I was disappointed and then finally I got another message from the Comte.
'Sebastian, I hope you allow me the liberty of using your first name, it is after all confusing to address two Dr Sterlings!
I have managed to find a little information on the past enthusiasms of yourself and your exceptional wife and I discovered that both of you have an interest in the fine arts. You, unusually for a young man pursuing a career in medicine, took an Art A-level alongside your sciences and Yuliana at one time funded her studies by sketching portraits of tourists in her city park. I want to give you both the gift of time to reconnect with your artistic selves and have enrolled you both in a life drawing class. I will ask you for a piece of art work from you in a month. You may be surprised by the effect it will have to reconnect yourselves with the world of imagination and visual exploration.'
I felt deflated - I had expected him to at least say something about Yuliana and his reaction to the video, but there was no mention of it. And what was this lame suggestion for the next stage in our voyage of sexual exploration? A life-drawing class? I had already done life drawing classes when I was at school and I was sure Yuliana must have done them too, her occasional sketches of figures that she did for our ideas and designs were far too assured for her not to have. I had expected something far more exotic from the Comte; this was the man who told me he had entered in to sexual rites with women in tropical rain forest ceremonies!
There was an appointment time and address at the bottom of the message headed,
'Your first life-drawing class - please both attend.'
Even worse, I realised it clashed with one of the meetings it had been very difficult to set up in the coming week.
After all the anticipation, waiting for his message, I felt a sharp sense of disappointment, but I also guiltily realised it was weird of me to be so caught up in waiting for the reaction of an older man that I hardly knew - and for his comments on my wife. I got a grip and thought, good, I mustn't let myself slip in to this strange, cloying excitement that I had been feeling all week. It was a little game, an old man's fancy that, if I played along with it, would give us more funding for our business than we had ever dared to ask for. What on earth was I disappointed about?
That evening I took Yuliana out to dinner at a small Italian restaurant that we quite often went to midweek for a break from cooking and washing up, it was local and unpretentious and as always Yulia judged her look perfectly, casual, but glamorously sexy in a slightly open white shirt from Vivienne Westwood, tight but stretchy Versace jeans and her hall-mark heels that no other women around our neighbourhood seemed to wear unless they were going unsteadily to a wedding or a party. I knew my place in her expectations and put on my best jacket - one she had bought for me. The girl on reception showed us to a table for two by a large mirror in the corner of the room that to my pleasure, happened to let me see her from behind with her gorgeous, golden, bronze waves of hair swirling over the back of her shirt.
'Oh God, this is so nice just to have a break for an evening. Just the two of us.' She said. 'I seem to have hardly stopped this week. New people to meet all the time. Explaining what it's all about. It's been great, but... nice to sit down opposite my brilliant, handsome, soon to be very famous, husband!' She gave me her dazzling smile. As always, I felt the currents of joy and pride flowing through me like the first hit of a strong cocktail on an empty stomach.
'You've been fantastic this week Yulia. I keep hearing little comments from the people you've been dealing with. They're all in awe of you!'
'Thank you darling, that's so sweet. I've been loving it. I am so happy it is happening for you..for us.'
The waitress appeared looking rather young and nervous and, I noticed, rather pretty,
'Can I get you something to drink? Mr Fiori said it was to be on the house. He said, a celebration. Said I was to tell you he had heard. I hope that makes sense... I think I said it right?'
