I live on my own at the moment. I'm an avid reader and recently began reading one of P G Wodehouse's stories. He's such a good writer and very funny. But the more I read about Bertie Wooster and his butler Jeeves the more I thought how nice it would be to have a Jeeves of my own. Obviously such people no longer exist (if they ever did) but I thought if I could train a boyfriend to do it, he would be the next best thing.
I'm always attracted to the strong masculine males but they are just the sort who expect their partners to wait on them rather than the other way round. I've had some good fun with various men friends but as soon as they move in with me the arguments start. It's fine early on as they always want to pay in restaurants, which I quite enjoy. I call that "the courting stage" when we're both on our best behaviour but many of my relationships have not got much further than that. I'm thirty-five now and ready to settle down with a guy, maybe have kids with him. I've been doing a bit of research on the internet and am encouraged to learn that there are a lot of men out there who secretly desire to serve their partner even though their demeanour and behaviour give out the opposite impression.
At the moment I'm not working but it's not a problem. I used to work in the city of London. I was a high flyer but the job did not work out and I ended up with a very generous redundancy package. It might be nice to find an easier job for a while, one that doesn't involve such a long commute. In reality I don't need to work for a year or two but I like to have structure in my life and a job provides that.
I'm looking through the job vacancies in our local paper when I spot an ad with the photo of the managing director staring out at me. He's handsome, (a bit like Paul Newman in his younger days) and requires applications from persons who have trained in shorthand with good IT skills to work in his admin department.
I do know a bit of shorthand from my days in journalism so I arrange to go in for an interview.
"Aren't you going to test my shorthand?" I ask Mike Nelson, the Managing Director. This is a very strange interview I'm thinking. He's talking after only a few minutes as if he's already decided to take me on.
"That won't be necessary Miss Martin. The truth is you may not need it. It sometimes helps taking down long messages over the phone but I always think that putting it in the advert ensures a better class of applicant and someone of more mature years. I'm not allowed to specify gender when I'm seeking new staff but I wanted all the applicants to be female. I can see from your CV that your IT credentials are first class."
We talk through salary and working conditions and he gives out a strong hint that after a time I could work from home for up to two days a week, which I'd love to be able to do. He's very charming and attractive. I can see he has an eye for the ladies and he begins to flirt with me once I have agreed to take the job. I find myself responding in kind but only let it go so far, this is neither the time nor the place. I am strongly attracted to him, he's the kind of man I've dated before but I am determined to hold back this time. I'm still looking for my Jeeves type partner.
I've only worked there a few weeks when the other female staff put me wise to Mike.
"He's still single and some people describe him as a confirmed bachelor but he likes women, plural." Says one.
"He's not averse to going out with members of his staff but he's quite picky. They have to be lookers. So watch out, you won't be immune." Says another.
I'm flattered by that comment. Mike has already come on to me but I'm playing it cool. "Treat 'em mean, keep 'em keen" is my new motto. I also need a plan if I'm going to gain the upper hand. Then I learn how competitive he is. He plays squash in a league and competes in orienteering events. There are details of his successes on a notice board in the staff room and he even has a cabinet in his office with one or two trophies. He's in a quiz team that's top of the league and has recently joined a local chess club. That gives me an idea.
The next time he suggests taking me for a meal I accept. He's good company and we have a lot in common. Pretty soon we are out together every week. I'm driving him wild, permitting a bit of fumbling, hot kisses, cheek to cheek dancing but keeping him out of my panties. We've been swimming together so I've had a good look at his body. Nearly six feet tall, broad shouldered, not an ounce of fat on him. I don't like body builders, they seem unnatural, but he has the perfect body for me. I want him but am managing to keep to my plan. To take the edge off my cravings I've updated my vibrators, the rabbit one brings me off the quickest. But I don't need to search the internet for erotica, old pictures of Paul Newman and imagining sex with Mike is quite enough to get me going. Mike has those same striking blue eyes and when we make eye contact my legs turn to jelly.
One night after another lovely meal and some dancing he drops me off at my flat and we kiss in the car. This time the kiss is long and lingering with our tongues searching each others mouths as lovers tongues sometimes do. I allow myself to moan a little and suggest he comes inside for coffee, breaking off our clinch as he begins moving his hand up the inside of my leg. Once inside we waste no time, undressing each other quickly. I drag him into the bedroom and abandon myself to my desires. He does not disappoint. Mike stays the night.
"I noticed the chess set in the living room, Jill." Mike says as he munches cornflakes next morning. "Do you play?"
"Hardly ever these days. I like to keep the pieces set up like that more as a kind of ornament. Why do you ask?"
"Well er, I'm in a chess club. Maybe we could have a game some time."
"I'd like that. Okay, how about tonight. You could come for a meal here and we could play after. It's about time I cooked for a change."
Mike beams. He's not the type to move on to the next woman once he's had his wicked way with them.
What Mike doesn't know is that I used to play chess with my dad every day as a child. Dad was very good but eventually I began to beat him and we stopped playing after that; something to do with the male ego.
I let him win the first game. He lets me win the second.
Later that evening after we've had our meal; "What about making the games more interesting next time we play?" I says this casually with an impish grin. "We could make the other person do something they don't want to do if they lose. What do you think Mike?"
They are lying in bed together side by side watching TV. Mike reaches for the remote and turns off the TV. He gives me a brief kiss on the lips.
"What did you have in mind, darling?"
"How about if I win the next game you do all my ironing for a week wearing nothing but an apron? I'd like to see that."
"Okay," he says laughing. He clearly believes it will never happen. "And you could agree to wear a dress or a skirt for a week. You're always in trousers or jeans."
"That's too easy dear, tell you what, I'll wear a skirt for a week if you win- and shave my pubes- and go without panties. How does that sound?" My face reddens but I manage to hold his gaze, watching his eyebrows go up and his mouth fall open.
He grabs my hand and shakes it. "You're on! See what you've done to me." Mike pulls back the covers and reveals a stonking hard on. I reach across and begin stroking him.
