There is no sex in this purely fictional story. There are famous names dropped in this tale but they do not have sex. There are sexual situations however (No one under 18), and hopefully the story in itself will carry the day.
It is written in the first person.
Enjoy.
Did You Win...... Winning Knowledge In the Language of Love
You have probably heard the term functioning alcoholic--a person who is dependent on alcohol but can still function in society. There are functioning sex addicts as well. And there are many forms of sex addiction: infidelity; porn; masturbation; phone sex; massage parlors; strip bars; and yes, even erotic stories just to name a few.
My mother was one. She had an excellent 9-5 job, with a day care attached to her building. She got regular promotions and new titles to the point where she was a vice president making six figures. She was a modern woman and a feminist. She did not need a man in her life and hence by default I did not have a father in mine.
She was a truly loving, engaged parent six days a week. I saw her every morning and evening all through my life, except Saturday evenings and Sunday mornings. I always had great, well paid babysitters that mom had carefully scrutinized from 6 pm Saturday evening until sometime Sunday afternoon. When mom came dragging in she went directly to the bathroom for a shower. One hour later, 'normal' mom came wandering back down. She paid the babysitter ($25/hr, half of which was a sleep shift), and the superb mother reappeared.
You see, Mom was a functioning groupie. If there wasn't a concert nearby, she would go to the higher class establishments and usually have sex with the star attraction. I would find out later--male or female. This was probably the reason why I never knew who my father was. I don't think she even knew. Well she could eliminate the girl musicians but the men were another thing. There were so many. Even if she did the math and subtract nine months from my birth, which band member could it have been--or stage hand.
My name is Dora. Actually born Doris Day Tomasina Jones. Doris Day for the six good days or did she also do Doris Day. Que sera sera.
I prefer Dora as Dora The Explorer had made a hit with young people, especially for my son Jax (Jackson). I was trying to give my son a better childhood. Every parent I believe has this goal in mind. Mine was that Jax was also going to have a stable loving father.
Other than the lack of a father figure, my childhood was amazing. I had piano, guitar, and singing lessons that mom had encouraged and sponsored. I even had saxophone lessons. Apparently she had a thing for Clarence Clemons. When I entered my teens she encouraged me to date all the boys who had musical talent. Even sons and daughters of the gifted. I told her to eliminate the XX chromosome. I didn't swing that way.
Thirty years ago
So I was dating from Grade 9 upwards but never progressed past first base. They had to be a seriously talented performer to have any chance. Things all changed when I entered my senior year of high school. I became a cheerleader. I wanted to date this certain football player. Mom was furious, "A jock. What possessed you. I thought I taught you better."
I handed her my yearbook, turned to his page. She gasped, "Ross Valory! Why didn't you tell me. Is he related?"
I had researched concerts nine months before I was born and low and behold Journey made an appearance 30 miles from our hometown. My Ross was actually a distant relative. Don't tell me I didn't have 'daddy' issues.
I made the cheerleading squad and batted my baby blues--actually hazel green. I finagled a date with Ross who was thankfully twenty years younger than the original band member. He also roughly resembled him. The exception being he was a lighter blonde and taller at 6'6". Did mom do the original Ross or part of his entourage? I really liked this younger version of my Ross and I tried to put those twisted thoughts out of my head. We dated for two years after high school and I went on to community college to become a paralegal.
I have been told I can be bossy. I had enough of Ross's laid back, gentle manner and pressured him to propose. I made it look like he was popping the question but really I back doored him into buying me a ring. Not that difficult as when we went shopping, I made sure we always stopped at a jewelry store. He even picked out the ring I had heavily hinted. My plan worked splendidly. We were married six months later.
Fast forward 14 years.
Ross and I are now in our mid thirties and have been married for 15 years. His quiet, gentle giant manner made it easy for me to train. Like many wives, I was always trying to improve him. Easy things like keeping the toilet seat down; squeezing the toothpaste from the bottom; picking up after himself; he readily complied. Others were more difficult. What is so difficult about keeping certain pillows on the furniture? I had 8 pillows strategically and esthetically placed on the couch. The color pattern played with the secondary colors in the living room. Was this too difficult?
Then there was the time at our party. Some of the guys he worked with were there and they used sign language to communicate because of their work noise and were still using sign language at my, I mean, our party. I pulled Ross aside and told him how rude this was. Ross defended himself by saying that Jim was actually deaf. I emphasized to him that when other people were around, he should translate the signs so everyone could understand. "How would you like it if I spoke a sentence in French and added your name. That's how other people feel as if you are talking about them."
Ross apologized and tried to be more inclusive in the conversations going forward. Jim signed with rapid arm movements. Then all his fellow laborers broke out in gut splitting laughter. I crossed my arms and eventually Ross translated, "Jim says thank you for inviting him to the party, and he wants to thank his boss for hiring him, handicap and all. He says that the biggest handicap in their job was a fear of heights."
People politely laughed. Some not catching the joke. I was even more furious because this was a roofing joke. I was embarrassed. My husband was only a lowly roofer and I scolded him so often to get a better job.
This was one occasion where Ross wouldn't follow my demands. When I started to press Ross to get a better job with better wages and fewer hours, he just shut me down in his gentle, quiet manner. "I don't hit my head and I get lots of exercise. I don't need to join a gym."
"But it's dangerous."
"I'm careful. Don't worry."
And sexually. I tried to spice it up. I tried to have him become more forceful. But being more than twice my size, he was afraid to hurt or squish me.
You would be correct if you thought I had a fiery temper. It came with my equally fiery red hair. I am not going to further describe myself other than to say I am a pretty, busty (DD), pale complexioned tall woman, accompanied with an outgoing personality. I am probably an 8 or 9 and get much too much attention.
Getting too much attention is what got me in trouble. At the large firm where I worked, one of the partners, Johnathon Geils III, had his eyes set on making me his next paramour. He was the typical Alpha male that was so different from Ross. I wouldn't call my husband emotionally weak but he wasn't driven. I loved him but he worked as a roofer. A roofer!? Sure he worked as much overtime as possible and brought in a decent income but I was starting to earn more than him. John made me aware that I could do much better. I mean a roofer?
I loved Ross dearly. Our sex life was vanilla but I must admit his job helped him look 'hunky'.
But another part of me was looking for the more aggressive bad boy. There is a line in a song, "Pretty bad girls need pretty bad boys, pretty bad." Perhaps this was sung personally to my mother back stage.
I don't think I am alone with liking this type. Was it is the caveman, conqueror type that had me hard wired? I heard that 25% of the population have Genghis Khan's and/or Alexander the Great's DNA. My conqueror was John. John wasn't too old but he was pushing 50 and couldn't hold a candle to Ross's physique. But sexually John was different. He was high energy. He would fuck me hard and long. Long as time in the sack. His cock might have been a tad longer than my husbands, but it was his sexual prowess and domineering attitude, I found captivating.
Yes, that's right, I have been having sex with John after hours for the past 4 months. He now invited Ross and me to his cottage for the weekend. Cottage was the wrong word as it was more of a mansion. However, it was on a lake which is why John referred to it as his cottage. It had 7 or 8 bedrooms and about 12 other people from work and related overlaps would be there. Aside from John and his wife Grace, I heard a judge, police detective, banker and their spouses would be in attendance.
It was John's idea to have our secret affair come out of the closet. John and Grace have an open/swinger relationship. Grace would have sex with Ross while I was with John. It made sense to have Ross become aware of our affair while Grace fucked him. Ross would hardly be able to confront my behavior if he was also culpable. Win/win for me, even though I was not fully thrilled with Ross having sex with some one else. So it was more like a win/so-so win.
I wasn't totally thrilled with John's plan. However, it was probably the best way to have my affair with John become public. The guilt was overbearing and John convinced me that Grace would keep Ross more than happy. "Don't worry. Grace will take care of him. He will like being in an open relationship. My wife will smooth out his feathers and everything else."
That Friday afternoon
After dropping Jax (now 12) off at my in-laws, I demanded Ross quit work by 5 pm and he relented. Taking my car, we eventually arrived at the 'cottage' around 7 pm. Introductions were made. Drinking ensued, along with flirting, then touching, hugging, then kissing by most non related couples. Grace was heavily flirting with Ross, trying to get his defenses down. Of course John and I had also progressed to mild foreplay. Around 11 we retired to our assigned bedrooms. Ross tried to pull me away from John. He was feeling frisky and tried to kiss me passionately.
I pushed him back, "I am staying in John's room tonight."
He shook his head as if he hadn't heard me, "What?"
"I am going to have sex with John tonight."
"No you aren't."
