Babs Ch. 01
A Not Love Story
I am not sure where to start about Barbara. I guess the most important thing, in the overall context, was that she was married to one of my employees. A direct report, no less. Which should have put her completely off limits to me. But the situation was much more complex than that.
Her husband of 12 years or so, Robert, was one of the top salesmen and sales managers at the small high tech manufacturing firm I ran. The company was getting larger, and Robert had closed some big accounts to help it grow. I must give credit where it is due. He had the ultimate never quit, never give up, always be closing kind of sales personality that winners at that game usually have. He was relentless and never let hearing "no" stop him from trying again. To him, "no" just meant he was closer to the ultimate yes. He also had some other "salesy" personality traits that were not so wonderful. He could not keep to a budget. You could not give him any authority or discretion to set pricing, or he would give away the farm to get a sale. He drank too much. He gambled too much, even though he was a lousy card player. At least he didn't smoke.
I had gone to some gatherings at his house and watched him play cards. The law of large numbers evaded him, and 52 cards was too large a probability space for him to bother keeping track of. His favorite card game was hearts, and he tried to 'shoot the moon' every time, even when it was arithmetically impossible to do it, not just improbable or a bad wager. Most telling, he lost consistently and never once considered changing his style of play.
He never did the personnel reviews on his people on time. He never really talked to them, just filled out a form. But the real problem was that he chased a lot of skirts and did not pay enough attention to his wife Barbara, who was at home with two little girls. He was on the road a lot, more than he needed to be, which should have tipped me to the problem earlier. He even tried to score with females that reported directly to him, and with some married women who worked for our customers, although I didn't learn about it until much later.
I had adapted to most of his problems, because he was a good producer, hitting sales targets and bringing in some impressive bluebirds from time to time. He could schmooze anyone and networked very effectively. But when he began to miss his numbers, I called him in for a talk.
"What's going on Robert? Your prospecting is down, reorders are down, and sales are down, even though the industry as a whole is booming, you are getting all sorts of leads and referrals, and all the other guys are up. You usually lead the pack. What is it?"
He knew he couldn't bluff me. He would usually talk about two deflections before telling me the real issue, but this time he was more direct. That worried me, and so did his answer. "It's Barbara. Our relationship, that's the problem!"
I hated this sort of stuff. My unusual best friend and fuck buddy, Sally McCord, was VP of HR at a big local firm and I could not imagine doing her job. Once my company got above 100 employees or so there was always some kind of drama going on: Illness, car crashes, dying relatives, kids arrested, affairs and/or divorces. All things that screwed up your business and you could not just fix.
I had met Sally at adult Sunday school, of all places. Right out of business school, I joined a local church for networking and community credibility. Never thought I'd meet a woman there. But Sally was all woman. At that point I was 24 and she was 40. I was a very junior new hire MBA at a fortune 500 company, and she was VP of an established local firm. There was something hot about her. She was bright, she had those eyes that moved around and took in everything, and her smile was an understated promise of good things to come. I asked her to go to lunch after church, and she surprised us both by agreeing to go. We connected immediately, age gap notwithstanding. I had never been in a serious relationship with a woman before. She had been widowed, and then remarried and divorced. I told her I wanted her at that first lunch. She looked skeptical but kept seeing me, and she eventually decided I meant it. She didn't want to get married again, but she did want a booty call buddy, and she trained me to be exactly what she needed.
She taught me more about myself, and about women, than I ever thought possible. She was worldly and wise in ways I had never considered and knew about all sorts of stuff I didn't. She also taught me how to please her, what most women want, and what most men don't understand. When I had issues with people problems, she was the first person I went to for advice.
I thought my salesperson Robert should be more than happy with his wife Barbara. She was smart, smarter than he was. She taught middle school math before she had the kids. She was nice looking, with fair skin and dark brown hair, hazel eyes, in pretty good shape and yes, I was a sexist who objectified Barbara because she had a perfect pair of breasts. Ideal 36C at just the right perky attitude. To die for!
The most egotistical plastic surgeon (and I knew a couple) would just have to smile and admit they could do nothing to improve on them. They could just take the "after" picture and forget about surgery. They were that good. Make a mold and a bust, and other patients in the office would just point and say, "I want those." You couldn't help but look at them. When I first saw her in a bathing suit at a company picnic and realized her nipples were perfect, too, it almost hurt me to look at them.
My friend Sally the VP HR had a few rough and ready rules of thumb for hiring salespeople, and one was to never hire a sales guy whose wife is flat chested. Barbara could get Robert hired anywhere under than rule. At least Robert was consistent: all the women he chased had big knockers, too. But once he caught them, he tired of them. Robert and Barbara were both about ten years older than me, in their 30's, so I guessed that maybe now he was tired of Barbara.
"Do you want a divorce, Robert?"
He looked panicked. "No! But I don't want, I mean,..." He looked even more panicked, and frustrated.
"Come on Robert. I can't help if I don't know the problem. I won't discuss this with anyone else unless you want me to, but I'll try to help."
He looked pained. He got up and closed my office door. "I'm really embarrassed. But I cannot stop thinking about it! I am obsessed with Barbara!"
"Well, good thing you married her! What's the real problem?
"I have a recurring fantasy about her. One that I just can't get out of my head!"
"A sexual fantasy? Why not tell her, or just do it?"
"I have told her, but I can't do it!"
Now I was really confused. Maybe I should hire my own HR person, so I don't have to deal with this shit.
"Well, why can't you do it?"
He just looked pained. I had an idea. Every porno I had ever watched had at least one lesbian scene to get the guys excited. "Do you want to see her with another woman?"
His expression brightened a little. Maybe he was about to tell me what he really wanted.
......
My friend Sally McCord had a stockpile of life experiences I could never imagine, and she had dealt with people problems at a company much larger than mine every day for almost as long as I had been alive, so she spotted things immediately that it took me a long time to recognize. She must have realized I loved her even before I told her, but she didn't want to hear it. "I'm too old for that, Adam. I've got a young stud who does me just like I want it whenever I let him, never gossips, and never asks to borrow money. I've got it all!"
She wasn't too old to love, because I did. She wasn't a beautiful woman to look at, but when she had worn me out in bed for two hours, sweat dripping from her brow, and her salt and pepper hair was plastered to her head, she was the most beautiful woman I had even seen. She would shiver when I would lick her sweaty armpits and tell her how sexy she was. She cleaned up very well, and always dressed perfectly.
Every time she let down her guard and told me about something in her past life, I was amazed. She had been through a lot and came through stronger. I wanted her more than two or three nights a month, but that's what she kept to. I would take her whenever I could get her. When we were together, she would do anything for me in bed, and she was delightfully shameless when she wanted something.
About the sixth time we spent the night together, she asked me why I hadn't tried to take her ass. I said I had thought about it, but I never done it, and had read that only about 30% of women like it. So, I just didn't try.
She laughed, and took my head in her hands, looked me right in the eye, and said "I am in that 30%, Adam, and I'm going to teach how to do it just the way I like it!" She taught me how to kiss her ass, work up to it, and start slow and easy and not get too forceful. When she came that way, her whole body shook through her ass and around my cock and I was hooked on it. When I came in her she cried and hugged me.
Then she got talkative. "Ass fucking is not really about sex, you know, Adam? "
"It sure seemed sexy to me!"
"It's really about territory. Dominance and submission. I gave up my ass to you and you took it! It means I trust you; I am willing to be open and submissive to you. That's a big deal. Even women that don't get off from it erotically know the significance of it. Sometimes they respond emotionally to the surrender more than the sex. It's a bonding ritual. It means you are special to me; that now you own part of me."
"I'm honored, plus its hot the way you shake when I tongue it! And I want your all, Sally, not just that."
She laughed. "I know, and you've got me, at least everything I have to give at this juncture."
......
"So, is that it, Robert? You want to see her get down with another chick while you watch?"
"No! I want to see her with another guy!"
"You mean like a threesome, you and her and another guy?"
"No! I just want to watch her! It's all I think about. It's the only way I can get hard anymore is to envision her getting off with another guy banging away at her." He sobbed. "I'm embarrassed, but I can't pretend anymore!"
I almost panicked. I did not have any idea how to handle this! Stall and get more information. That's all I could think of.
"How long have you been thinking about this?"
