Note: This work is copyrighted to the author LuckOfTheDraw in the year 2003.
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The Cure
Let's call him NSD, his real name would be too long and too unpronounceable for a story like this. NSD was frequently described as a good-looking guy. His black hair was wavy, he had green eyes, good facial bone structure, and a body that he kept in reasonable good shape by working out in the gym, when he could, and getting in a game of squash, when he could. When he could, because he also worked very hard at his job, which involved a lot of travel in the US and Europe and Southeast Asia. Exactly forty years old, NSD was conventionally successful, and was pointed out as one of the guys who would definitely make it pretty high up the ladder, albeit a little slowly.
NSD was married, with two young kids. His wife held down a full time job, was successful at it and had an independent personality of her own. They managed their family life without effort, due to the fortunate circumstance of grandparents who were willing to pitch in and help support the children. This involved living alternately with one set of in-laws or the other, but both NSD and his wife reached into themselves for the maturity and tolerance that this demanded.
NSD was proud of her and himself as well for this, because, if the truth be told, NSD was also a pretty idealistic kind of fellow, whose values were decidedly liberal. His face and eyes showed that kind of sensitivity and intelligence, and he had enough of a sense of humor to be able to laugh at himself when the occasion arose. That was why he would rise a little slower up the ladder than the other, more consciously macho jocks who inhabited the industry in which he had chosen to make his profession.
And yet, behind this apparently rosy façade, NSD was unhappy.
He was unhappy because his sex life was going nowhere.
It was going nowhere because NSD, who when younger had been an OK lover, had developed premature ejaculation and didn't know what the hell to do about it. Worse still, this affliction attacked him only when he was with a woman other than his wife. With his wife, it didn't happen so abruptly, but it was no Olympic marathon either with her, let alone a 400 meters sprint.
It hadn't been like that earlier. He'd had a couple of affairs before getting married, discovering in the process that his penis, at seven inches erect, could be accurately described as above average. The first five years of his marital life had left his wife pretty much satisfied. In point of fact, she'd been able to divine his moods from his lovemaking style. "You always make love in a particularly intense kind of way when you're having problems in the office" she once told him.
Down the line, things had got a little boring, as it does for all married people. Their frequency had dropped, as had either encore performances or the duration of coitus, as an Internet doc had once termed it. And, as a man who had discovered the joys of masturbation via Playboy and Penthouse in his youth, like millions of others around the world, NSD had allowed his mind to wander along the path of fantasy.
So it was, that while inside his wife, NSD would imagine that he was in fact in an incredible fantasy fuck with a blonde, blue eyed, tanned busty goddess with minimal pubic hair, a Sharon Stone look-alike. That would sustain him for a while and than, wham and bam, he'd be done. Once in a night, which more often than not, was less than once a week.
Five years earlier, he'd surprised himself by suggesting to his wife that they watch an erotic film together. To his even greater surprise, she had agreed. That night had been a first in many ways, including the fact that she had mounted him and experienced the joys of abandoned female superiority. It had also been the first time, unfortunately, that he'd lasted less than five minutes, coming as he craned his neck to watch the moaning blonde on the TV screen. A good start, or so he'd thought, but children and grandparents made certain that the experiment was never repeated.
What he needed was real life variety, not just the fantasy thing, he convinced himself. It hadn't been easy to decide to stray, because, after all, NSD was basically a nice guy who still loved his wife and children. He'd finally managed to hook up with a blonde in Amsterdam.
Alas and alack. So overcome was NSD at finally living out his fantasy, coupled with a sick feeling of guilt in his guts, that it was over even as she took him in her mouth as a prelude to the real thing. The look of utter surprise on her face, even as a huge load of semen dribbled down her chin, had been enough to send him scooting. She hadn't been happy about it, and had expressed herself rather eloquently.
From then on, it had been downhill all the way. His experiments had extended to well over a dozen blonde women, some whom he'd had to pay for, and the story had been uniformly the same on each unhappy occasion. The first stroke was followed by the first orgasm, always. With his wife, on the other hand, it lasted longer, but his frustration had eaten into their relationship. They fought much more often, and he had the suspicion that his wife was pretty close to having an affair, if she hadn't done so already. The ugly D word came unbidden more and more often to his mind. He couldn't imagine anything he dreaded more.
NSD had tried a lot of remedies. He had been to doctors, who told him he had to see a psychiatrist. He went to psychiatrists who referred him to sex specialists. They examined him up and down and pronounced him physically in perfect health. The recommendations they made did not sound helpful at all. NSD even went to an 'alternative therapy' practitioner. The 'therapist' had suggested desensitizing himself, and asked him:
"Are you in the habit of fondling your organ in the shower?"
"No, I am not" replied NSD formally and exited the consultation.
Now. NSD had just taken his seat on the airplane. He was flying Kuwait Airlines with a change of flights and a two-hour stopover at Kuwait. Not the best of flight plans, but it had been touch and go in the busy season to manage a ticket. He wondered idly who he would have as his companion in the business class window seat next to his own aisle, but his luck had been lousy always in that respect. Thanks be to the Lord he wasn't traveling coach on a full flight, he thought to himself, as he buried himself in a magazine. He was a little on edge as the flight was already over an hour late because of weather.
"Excuse me". An ever so slightly accented voice interrupted him.
The speaker was a woman. She was tall, her slim figure attired in a dark green printed wraparound skirt that came down to that indeterminate region between the calf and ankle, topped by a white blouse. She was black.
This would be a first for him. He'd never sat next to a black woman before. He rose courteously to his feet and made way for her to go through, noting in the process the quiver of a fine, rounded derriere. He'd never had much of a thing about black women, but he had to admit that she had a great butt.
The engines of the plane started up and then, unexpectedly, the sound died down again. NSD and his co-passenger looked at each other, dismay written identically on both their faces. Her face was oval, he noticed, with high cheekbones and large, luminous black eyes, highlighted by makeup. The eyebrows were nicely arched and shaped, the lips full and beautiful. The dark chocolate brown skin was clear and shiny. The finely crinkled hair was drawn back from her forehead and kept in place at the back with a clip. A stunning woman, he realized.
The inevitable announcement came soon afterwards. There was a 'technical problem' and would the passengers please continue to remain in their seats. "Shit" cursed NSD, and then added with a smile at his companion " Sorry".
She rewarded him with a dazzling smile. He noticed the microscopic crinkles at the corner of her eyes and realized that she was older than he had thought at first. In her mid-thirties, he guessed.
"I'm Monique" she responded after he'd introduced himself.
The 'technical problem' took nearly an hour to fix. They made small talk meanwhile. Monique lived in Amsterdam, he learnt, and was married with one teenage son. She was a banker and was traveling on work. She, too, was booked onwards from Kuwait, but to a different destination. She had an even shorter stopover than he did, a little over an hour. "I guess I'll miss my flight" she said with a rueful smile.
"So will I, most likely" he responded.
During the flight itself little more was said. It was only when they were about to start the descent to Kuwait that the incident occurred.
NSD had turned his head to look out of the window past Monique. As he did so, he noticed that the light from the window was reflecting off her cheekbone. The reflection outlined the clear skin and the shape of the cheek, and NSD was just about to make out the tiniest of hairs at the top edge of the reflection. Till then, NSD had thought she was beautiful, but only in an abstract kind of way. Suddenly he realized that the sight was incredibly erotic, the beautiful cheekbone and shining dark skin of a stunning black woman, and the microscopic movement of the hair giving it life.
He gazed at the edge of her face, completely lost and transfixed. NSD did not immediately realize that he had been staring until his sixth sense made him suddenly start. He looked at her and saw that she had a half-smile on her parted lips, and quiet understanding in her eyes. He gave a quick smile of apology and looked away.
For the rest of the flight, NSD's mind was in a whirl. How come he had never noticed how beautiful black women were, he thought to himself. He looked covertly at Monique and noticed that her breasts seem to be very well shaped, although not large. She had left one extra button of her blouse open, and he was able to see a hint of cleavage as her breasts rose and fell gently with her breathing. The sight served to inflame him further.
When they landed, he made it a point to let her go ahead of him. He wanted very badly to walk behind her. She did not disappoint him, and the roll and sway of her lush hips and the quiver of the buttocks beneath the skirt made his breath catch in his throat.
When they reached the facilitation desk, they found that all hell had broken loose. Some flights had been cancelled and the affected passengers were stranded till the next day. Both Monique and NSD were in this list. However, the airline announced that it had made arrangements for them to stay at the airport hotel till the next day. NSD was secretly elated, and almost broke into a jig at the prospect of spending more time with Monique. She, on her part, was piqued, but philosophically resigned.
