Note:
Back in 2006, having accumulated a collection of stories I had written for my own pleasure, I decided to start putting them on Literotica but had only submitted a handful when a computer disaster caused me to lose the lot. Fortunately some instinct told me to hang on to the storage medium and now improved technology has enabled the recovery of all but three of the tales I can remember writing. I intend to start submitting roughly one every week until all are online
My CV reads, John Caine, aged 35, Degree in marketing at Hull University with current employment being that of negotiator for a minor oil company. It would also say that I have been married for ten years with no children or other dependants. Checking my passport will tell you that I am six feet tall, of medium build with no birth-marks or other distinguishing features and a glance at the photograph reveals a serious but not unhandsome clean-shaven face sporting brown hair and blue eyes.
The CV would not show that the degree was a second and barely scraped (and that after promising beginnings) and nor would it indicate that I had been plucked from obscurity for the negotiator position, having spent an uninspired twelve years with the company. I have been lucky, lucky in inheriting a nice house and incredibly lucky in the wife I managed to acquire.
I met Sally when she was twenty, falling first for her baby-blue eyes and masses of wavy golden hair. Further investigation revealed breasts just on the modest side of voluptuous, narrow waist, pert buttocks and legs designed for min-skirts – is it any wonder that I quickly became enamoured of her. Strangely she was also quite keen on me. When we became an item she confessed to having had sex with two guys previously, maintaining that although not one night stands they were not real relationships. Since then she claimed to have kept her knees strictly together. My sexual experience was about average for a bloke of my age – hell I'm trying to be honest here – I reckon that my sexual experience was well below average. Still, I had learned some ways to please a woman and over the next eleven years, Sally and I built considerably upon that.
We married after a year of just living together but found that we were to be denied the pleasure of having children. This was a pity because my wife was very child oriented and has compensated since by always working in nursery education. The inheritance of a nice house from a favourite uncle soon after the wedding removed a lot of financial pressure and possibly explains my lack of dedication to career advancement. However, the remuneration from my position as sub-manager combined with my wife's salary meant that we were comfortable while still needing to count the pennies at times. We could afford the almost obligatory holiday abroad each year and a reasonable amount of socialising. Apart from that we liked to screw, it was our only real hobby and it cost nothing.
A year ago I was told to go to the managing director's office and I went filled with trepidation, thinking that this could only mean redundancy. In the office, he grasped my hand in a very firm handshake and said, "John, it's nice to see you again and how is your lovely wife?"
"Fine," I mumbled. I had only ever passed the MD in the corridor and as far as I knew he had never seen Sally, except perhaps at the firm's Xmas dances.
"Let me put you out of your misery John – this is a promotion. One of our executive negotiators has retired and you have been chosen to replace him."
"Me?" I asked, totally bemused.
"Yes you. We have been keeping an eye on you for a long time and although you are careful to keep a low profile, I can tell that you are a company man through and through."
Now over the years I had put the overtime when occasion demanded but had never volunteered unnecessarily for any. However, I suddenly realised that during my time with the firm, although brighter sparks had joined, passed me and left, I was the only one in the office who had been there when I started. "Yes – I'm a company man," I said.
It was incredible. I was installed in a plush office complete with secretary, given a flash company car, discounted share options, non-contributory pension, and was on more than twice the remuneration. With potential bonuses, I could easily triple my old salary. Sally was pleased but also suspicious. "There has got to be a catch," she said.
She was wrong – there was no catch. Three months passed. I saw a few customers, passed pieces of paper backwards and forwards across my desk and spent a lot of time gazing out of the window. One day the MD poked his head round the door and said, "It's too nice a day to be stuck inside, John. I am going for a quick nine holes on the course, drop whatever you are doing and join me."
"I'm afraid that I don't play golf," I told him.
"Come anyway," he said. "You better learn damn quick, if not you are going to go crazy stuck in that office all day with sod all to do."
At my next official meeting in his office, I could tell that it was something special from the maps and piles of documents on his usually empty desk. "Have you travelled much," he asked.
"Quite extensively," I said. "Mainly Caribbean, Greek islands – that sort of thing."
"Ever fancied going to the Arctic Circle?"
I had to admit, that particular destination had never figured on my wish list.
"What about Lapland – that's pretty close to the arctic."
"Why do you ask?"
"I've got a job for you John, a big job," he told me. "We are chasing the largest contract that the firm has ever had. I know that it is rather throwing you in at the deep end but all the other negotiators are up to their eyes at the moment. The thing is – do you think you can handle it."
"I will do my best," I said.
"Good man, I knew that I could count on you. There's this chap called Gunnar Erikson – that's actually the Norwegian translation of his name. He is a full blooded Inuit, (that's Eskimo), and he's a chief. We are hoping to exploit the oil and mineral reserves under part of his tribal lands. I want you go up there, meet him and have a look around. Take some photographs, ask questions – you know the kind of thing. The most important thing is that you keep him sweet – those chaps can be a bit touchy if you know what I mean."
"Is there anything else that I should know?"
"Not much. You don't go until the end of next week so you have time to read up on it – get a book out of the library. Do remember that you are not dealing with a savage, this Gunnar got a first class honours degree at Oslo university and he can speak five languages fairly fluently – that's Inuit, English, French, Norwegian and I think Russian."
Sally was exited for me and we both felt that my career in the new job was taking off at last. Her final words before I left were "Be good," to which I replied, "I doubt it there is any alternative where I'm going."
I flew by standard airline to Norway and from there, in a chartered four-seater, on to Lapland.
It was the back end of their short summer but I thought that it was cold. Gunnar Erikson met me and he was a typical Eskimo. Lank black hair, a flat slightly Asiatic face and a nose squashed as if by the heel of someone's hand, but he still had a kind of rugged grandeur. The only thing that detracted from the traditional image was that he wore a suit rather than the expected furs. His size was impressive because, although a couple of inches shorter, I reckon that he outweighed me by a good 40%. I was to note later it was all solid muscle. This bulk made him appear squat despite his height and he had a slight waddling motion as he walked.
My flight had been delayed so Gunnar suggested that he take me straight back to his home for a meal and that we should cram all of my sightseeing into the following day. I had half expected to be taken to an igloo but the house turned out to be a very substantial log cabin. The food was a national dish of which I could not identify the contents but found it both palatable and filling. His wife, Gunhilda, was larger than he. She was young because I could detect the undoubted bloom of youth on her skin – but was she big. Her pendulous breasts were at least a 50 D cup; I could see no identifiable waist and her tight pink ski pants hardly enhanced those elephantine thighs.
Gunnar explained that his wife had only Inuit and Norwegian so that if I wanted to speak to her, then he would need to act as interpreter. We spent a pleasant evening chatting and drinking, with the alcohol being some potent local brew. Unusually it seemed to enervate rather than induce my customary drowsiness. Gunnar was a very interesting man, talking at length about things I had only read about. He asked about me and gazed for a long time at the photographs of Sally that I proudly showed him. Our childlessness drew his sympathy and commiseration's because he said that he had several offspring, I gathered to different mothers. This was probably a prerogative of his being a chief.
Gunhilda retired early and kissed him before departing. They did not actually rub noses but kissed with faces head on without the usual tilt to the side. Gunnar ran his hand down her arm with obvious affection. I could not help comparing her to Sally and thinking smugly 'Each to his own'.
In the bedroom I found that I had forgotten to note a position for the light switch when unpacking my bags. As it was not in the obvious place by the side of the door, I decided to undress in the semi-darkness rather than grope about searching. Almost naked, I noticed a large mound already in the bed and with a feeling of horror realised that it had to be Gunnar's wife. Assuming that I must have blundered into the wrong room, I dashed outside to check the door and as that was correct, I crept back to find that my kit was where I had left it. Panicking I looked towards the bed. The covers had been thrown back to reveal that it was indeed Gunhilda, she was naked and she was beckoning to me. With no other real option I got into bed, but instead of sleeping naked, decided to retain my boxer shorts. It was a large, very old fashioned bed with a deep feather mattress. I lay facing outwards, as near to the edge of the bed as I could. After a few moments, the lady heaved herself into the centre of the bed creating such a depression in the mattress that, had I not gripped the edge of the bed frantically then I must surely have rolled down on top of her. She lay close behind me for a very long time making a sort of mewing noise but then returned to her own side of the bed. An hour or so later, she got up and left me alone, when I finally dare to go to sleep.
Next morning I arose and went happily along to the large dining kitchen. Gunnar's face was like thunder and I could not help thinking, how easily he could break me in half if ever I really annoyed him. Trying to ignore his bad mood I said brightly, "Good morning Gunnar, what nice places are you planning to show me?"
