Eep This Secret

A lot happens here in Chapter 14. David moves into a new home, and he pursues a new relationship that is very different from his old ones. How would you react if you had a lover who treated you the way Victoria treats David?

.................................................

Things got crazy for a while.

There was too much to do. Not enough time to do it. It takes work to get any start-up going, and that is especially true of charitable foundations. Donors expect you to kiss their asses. Constantly. They expect to be invited to black-tie banquets. To schmooze with celebrities. To hear an unending string of compliments reminding them they are great people. It made me want to puke. In theory, I could use the sonic stimulator to dispense with all that crap, but it was too dangerous. People would become suspicious. I had to do a good job pretending the Gaia Foundation was a normal charity that operated in a normal way. God, give me strength.

The best news was that Victoria accepted my job offer, and she threw herself into the work. She acted like a woman on a mission, but that was understandable because SHE WAS a woman on a mission. She came in early, stayed late, and thought of all kinds of important things I never would have considered. I kept having to force her to hire more assistants. She acted as though we were operating under stringent financial restrictions, and it didn't seem to matter how often I told her that she could count on me to raise any amount of money required. I finally gave up. The only way to reassure Victoria was to raise money faster than she could ever spend it. That would teach her to trust me.

I hadn't yet met Victoria's parents, so I never had the pleasure of watching their reaction to seeing their daughter achieve success far beyond anything they had ever done. But I did get second-hand reports that were very satisfying. Schadenfreude, anyone?

I started courting Victoria. It felt like being in high school again. We went on all kinds of nice dates, which were usually recommended by Mary. She thought this whole situation was hilarious. Here I was, a guy having hot sex with several hot women, and I was trying to convince a virgin to let me touch her boobs. That took forever. We'd go out somewhere, end the evening making out on a couch in her apartment, then she'd send me home with another case of blue balls. Mary derived an unseemly amount of pleasure relieving my sexual frustation. It was incredible how much Victoria aroused me. Our relationship was moving so slow I felt like I'd go crazy before she finally let me take her to bed. I never considered using the sonic stimulator to hurry things along. That was NOT going to happen with Victoria.

Lots of other things were happening with the foundation. Use your imagination. It was a lot of tedious but necessary crap that drove me absolutely nuts. One task that became more significant than I expected involved the need to find a new place to live. My old apartment had always been inadequate. We needed something nicer, and we could afford it. There was no reason to keep delaying the purchase.

Since I had such limited time, I asked Mary to hire a realtor and look for properties. I wanted something located near space we could eventually lease for the offices of the Gaia Foundation. I had no time to waste commuting. Victoria was operating the business out of an office park that offered space for start-ups. We knew we'd find a permanent location later, but we didn't know when or where.

Most of the homes the realtor showed Mary were mini-mansions in far-flung suburban neighborhoods. We hated them. We are city people, and neither of us were interested in long commutes to work. Unfortunately, there were limited options in the city.

We finally found a home that was unlike any place I've ever lived.

It was a penthouse on top of a luxury condo development right in the heart of downtown. The building used to be a sprawling industrial complex, but the developers used tax credits to finance a state-of-the-art multi-use facility that offered every important amenity to urban homesteaders. The first floor consisted of high-end retail, restaurants, boutiques, and a cute little grocery store where residents could get a jug of milk, a loaf of bread, and a wide selection of overpriced imported wine. There was a big daycare center. Are you getting the picture? Urban Nirvana.

The next three levels were for commercial/office tenants. Then, the next 12 floors consisted of 432 luxury condos of all kinds. Lofts. Studios. Spacious townhouses. There was almost any kind of housing a person could want. The architects did a nice job filling a fairly complicated building with first-class housing.

There was a big athletic club. Banquet facilities. And on top of it all was a penthouse that looked like something a billionaire would buy. It had everything Mary and I would ever want. The complex was a cutting edge development when it opened, and the units were extremely popular places to live.

At least, that was true when the place opened 19 years ago. It no longer appealed to folks who like having the latest and greatest. When the realtor showed us the penthouse, she said the space needed to be "refreshed." I love that word. Refreshed. That's the way realtors describe housing where nothing is really wrong, but it has become unfashionable. The countertops are granite, not quartz. Some flooring is expensive tile instead of expensive hardwood. The appliances work fine, but aren't the kind seen in the latest edition of

Better Homes and Gardens.

The complex had a vacancy rate of almost 20 percent, so everything was priced to sell. That was especially true of the penthouse; the people who spend big money for such things were gravitating to newer developments.

One thing I particularly loved was the fact that the Gaia Foundation could move into office space somewhere on the lower floors. Commuting to work in an elevator sounded great. And it was increasingly clear that a lot of the people who would be assisted by the Gaia Foundation were women who needed housing, at least for a while. There were more than enough vacant units, and the women wouldn't give a damn that their units needed to be "refreshed." In almost all cases, some paint and new carpeting was more than enough to get the condos ready.

Mary hired a decorator to "refresh" the penthouse, which looked like a very nice place to live. It had a pool. A pool! On top of a downtown condominium complex! The patio was spacious and relaxing, with fabulous views of the city. There was a big exercise studio that Mary loved; she had the decorator install a dance pole. I think that raised some eyebrows with the contractors, but this is another situation where I can not adequately describe the enormity of the damn I did not give. Did I mention the music room? Party room? It went on and on.

Read the real estate listing. It's like architectural pornography.

I worked so many hours I was pretty tired sometimes. Mary quit her job as a hairdresser, and she cut back on the hours she worked dancing, but she refused to give that up completely. She loved dancing. End of story.

In the interest of saving time, I'm going to condense things a bit. The thing I wanted to do most was get beyond all the routine crap so I could get acquainted with the women who came to the foundation for help. I wanted to know what kind of people they were, and how I could help them. For example, a lot of the women were smokers, and most of them had failed to quit several times. I cured that problem. A few minutes with the sonic stimulator overcame all barriers to beating the habit. I've heard addicts say it's easier to quit heroin than smoking. Not for my clients.

There were women with other substance abuse problems that were easily resolved. Women who knew they needed to improve their diets and exercise regimens suddenly found themselves eating healthy food and working out in the athletic club. Women involved in abusive, toxic relationships were given the strength to say goodbye to partners they knew were bad for them. These kinds of things improved the lives of people in dramatic ways - fast.

I know you want to hear about how all this affected my sex life. It improved it, naturally, but less than you might think. The foundation worked to transform the lives of many, many women, and I spent time with every one of them, but I only had sex with a few. Women with relationship problems were set up with therapists who typically advised them to avoid starting new relationships until they'd had time to work on themselves. I never, ever sought a romantic relationship with a woman like that; it made no difference that some of those ladies were extremely attractive. I used the sonic stimulator on all of them, but only to find out quickly what they needed, and do what was possible to give that to them. I let them have the time needed to work on themselves before having to deal with a new man in their lives.

But that left many opportunities for me to acquire exciting new lovers.

For example, the foundation board voted to provide assistance to elite female athletes who needed help following their dreams. The women you see competing in events like the Olympics usually come from rich families that can afford to support their athletic careers. A woman from a middle class background is probably screwed. In most cases, these athletes didn't need much. They needed free housing, money for travel, professional coaching, access to elite facilities, and all the other things you must have in the pursuit of excellence.

A few of these ladies welcomed my attention. They were a lot like Mariana, wishing they had a boyfriend, but unable to invest the time and effort needed to have a serious romance. It didn't take much persuasion to get these ladies to consider the advantages of a casual fuck buddy who obviously liked them and wanted to help them meet their potential.

One such woman was a track and field star named Loretta Hanson, who wanted to be the fastest woman on earth. It seemed like something she could achieve if she had the support she deserved. We talked several times, and it was soon apparent that we liked and respected each other. I watched TV coverage of a track meet where Loretta broke her personal record, and I got so excited I sent a huge load of flowers to her hotel room. My card said "Thank you for letting me share a small part of your dream."

She got home a few days later, and I knocked on her door. I wasn't planning to stage some huge seduction. I wasn't even wearing the hearing aides that would allow me to use the sonic stimulator. Loretta let me into her apartment, gave me a big grin, then hugged me around the neck so hard it hurt a little. She pulled back and looked into my face, still wearing a huge smile.

Then her smile went away, and she looked thoughtful. She kissed me for the very first time. It was so exciting I could barely stand it. Loretta was a miracle woman, and I felt so aroused by her presence that it was impossible to speak.

Fortunately, I didn't need to speak. Loretta took my hand, led me to her sofa, and kissed me again. She made absolutely sure I knew exactly what she wanted. Her hands roamed over the back of my head and neck, then all over my chest. "Let's get out of these clothes," she said.

Soon, we were lying side by side in bed. You need to understand that I'd made sure she knew about my relationship status. I hadn't done anything to force her to decide that there were advantages to having a relationship that was sexual and respectful, but not so consuming as to interfere with the rest of her life. She'd come to that conclusion on her own.

Like all elite runners, Loretta had a very slim physique, with lots of lean muscle and no surplus body fat. Her breasts were very cute, but also very small. She never wore makeup, never used hairspray, never considered getting a tattoo for personal decoration. She waxed her entire body to ensure there was no fuzz anywhere that might cause wind resistance to slow her down. She was beautiful and desirable in a way I'd never experienced before.

As we made love, I discovered that she hadn't had nearly enough male attention for a very long time. She shuddered at my touch. She got so wet she made my mouth water; she cried out when I went down on her, licking her hot wet slit from top to bottom. Loretta tasted salty. She smelled clean, like soap and water. Kissing and nibbling her inner thighs drove her a little crazy, and it surprised me when she came the first time. There was no warning. I hadn't been paying any special attention to her clit at the moment she came, but I knew her climax was genuine because I got a close look at the throbbing muscles inside her pussy. I suspect you know by now that I love love LOVE seeing that happen.

I was thrilled by the expression on her face when I finally got ready to make love for real. She looked happy. She looked like there was nothing she wanted more than what we were doing at that exact moment. I felt so special. She was so special. She wanted me.

I certainly wanted her. I wanted to do everything I could to make sure she never felt the slightest regret for her decision to invite me into her bed. All my experience with every woman I'd known made me think that what she'd like best was to be teased. I wanted to make love, but only after tiny little moves that withheld her satisfaction for as long as I could. I suspect almost all women want to be teased, whether they know it or not. Am I wrong about that?

It seemed to work. I let my cock go inside her a fraction of an inch, then withdrew. I went a tiny bit deeper, then withdrew again. It made her take deep breaths each time I pulled away. That hard, muscular body of hers clenched and flexed as her excitement rose and fell. She was tense with arousal, waiting for the tension to be released.

She cried out when it finally happened. She cried out a second time. A third. Sometimes, women's faces contort in ecstasy that looks like agony when they come. Loretta wasn't that kind of woman. Her face looked joyful. Alive.

I stopped holding back, allowing my own climax to happen. She liked it. Maybe she liked feeling the throbbing of my cock, or the feeling of being filled. Maybe she liked knowing she'd pleased me. Maybe it was some of all three.

We laid next to each other for a long time. She looked so happy. I can't read minds - although I can come pretty close with the sonic stimulator - but I got the feeling I knew what Loretta was thinking. She was lying next to a man who cared about her deeply, who supported her competitive dreams, and who wanted to make her happy in bed.

Loretta and I got together regularly after that. I'd send her a text saying something like "I miss you," and she'd suggest a time to get together. Like so many ambitious women, Loretta didn't have the time or energy for a serious boyfriend. What she wanted was a caring, considerate fuckbuddy who'd be nice to her in bed, then go away so she could train.

I can't describe how proud I was when she realized her goal of becoming the fastest woman in the world. It would have been nice to be with her, but that track meet happened in Barcelona, which was too far from our headquarters in southern California.

The Gaia Foundation helped several other elite athletes, and I enjoyed getting to know them all. They were all beautiful in their own way, but I didn't have sex with many of them. I'd finally gotten to the point that I was having sex with enough wonderful ladies that I had to make an effort to give them all enough attention. Most of our athletes didn't particularly need that kind of attention; what they needed was for me to sit down, talk to them, listen, and figure out how best to support their dreams.

A few, however, were at a point in their lives where their need for a man was so strong, that unmet need was burdensome. Sometimes it even distracts from their ability to focus on their athletic goals.

One such woman was Alana, a competitive bodybuilder.

You've surely seen photographs of women with enormous, bulging muscles. You may have seen photos like that of Alana. She's a well-known competitor, but she's in the second tier of her sport, and she wants to make it to the top tier. It hadn't been possible because she had to spend so much time working a job that there wasn't enough time left over to devote to her diet and exercise routine. The Gaia Foundation gave her a rent-free place to live, a stipend for living expenses, and the money to hire a coach qualified to transform her into the bodybuilder she wanted to be.

I suppose some of you must think that helping a woman become a top bodybuilder was a trivial use of charitable donations, but I couldn't disagree more. My entire goal was to help women live their best possible lives. If Alana's dream was to be a top athlete, good enough to win prestigious competitions, that was good enough for me.

As always, I had a few conversations with Alana so I could understand exactly what kind of help she needed. A lot of women were so grateful about getting the assistance we offered, they were reluctant to ask for more. I'd always use the sonic stimulator to force them to confess to needs they refused to discuss, and I was always glad I did. On a couple of occasions, women were reluctant to admit they were so overwhelmed by the demands of being a single mom that they needed child care just to give them a break from their kids. There's a first-class child care center on the first floor of our building. Two or three child-free days sometimes did more for their mental health than a year's worth of therapy.

We offered therapy too, but that's a whole other story.

Predictably, my conversation with Alana revealed that she had a problem she'd been embarrassed to discuss. Also, she never imagined the foundation could help. You can probably guess that her problem involved men.

Alana liked men, she needed one, but that was complicated. Her devotion to her sport took up too much time for her to date much, and lots of men weren't interested in a woman like Alana. She was a big girl - six feet tall and bulging with muscles. A lot of guys are too insecure to date a woman strong enough to kick their ass. She had tried dating other bodybuilders, but every one she met was an obsessive narcissist who possessed so many sexist, misogynistic ideas she couldn't stand them for long. Her needs were reasonable. All she needed was a sane, normal guy who could appreciate her.

Her search for such a man had not gone well. Her previous boyfriend made a comment that broke her heart. He got mad at Alana, and said she looked like a gorilla. You read that right. He called her a gorilla. Can you believe that any man could say something so cruel and heartless? I was tempted to make Alana give me his name and address. I thought it would be "interesting" to go to some biker bar with my sonic stimulator, and use it to find a half dozen dudes willing to help educate that asshole about the way women deserve to be treated.

But I digress. There were tears in her eyes when Alana told that story. The sonic stimulator put her in a state that made her absolutely honest and open, and the depth of her loneliness was heartbreaking. In Alana's case, there was no reason I couldn't be the man who could provide the affection she needed so much. At least, I could do that long enough for her heart to heal.

We started having a form of the same conversation I had with most of the women served by the Gaia Foundation. I told her she was a wonderful woman. Bright. Dedicated. Disciplined. Funny. Charming. And, significantly, beautiful as well as sexy. This was not a lie, or even a half lie. I know that lots of guys say they aren't attracted to muscular women, but I am not one of those guys. I think strong women are sexy, and I don't feel the least bit threatened by the idea that they are stronger than me. I'm not threatened by women who are smarter than me, kinder than me, or more loving than me. Why would muscular strength be troubling? I imagined that Alana had no trouble believing me when I said she was lovely. She surely saw that I was telling the absolute truth.