Loser

by Valerie J. Long

  “May I very boldly invite you for a coffee at my place?”

  “I thought you’d never ask.”

  Chapter Eighty-Six

  Slim kissed marvelously. I couldn’t really taste what he had eaten—he had considerately done without fish and garlic—but his way of tuning in with me and totally focusing on the kiss and the moment made such things irrelevant.

  I gave myself entirely. I allowed myself to feel safe in his arms. First it was an effort, and then I managed to push my previous experience aside. I already had had enough better and worse clients to draw the line between them. In my former life, I had been able to approach a bad client reservedly and a good friend openly, and I still could. Or again, finally?

  After all, Dandy hadn’t jeopardized my judgment. After Hermann, I had never again misjudged anybody. If I had a good feeling about Slim, I could trust myself.

  Slim’s kisses became more demanding. His right hand moved a few centimeters under my tee shirt. The left still rested indecisively on my hip, so I gave it a nudge toward my bum, and he understood the hint. After that, I wrapped one leg around him and rubbed my breasts along his chest a bit.

  True arousal wouldn’t come yet. I only felt a little tension in me. What I liked very much at this moment was the tenderness he gave me. I wanted more of that, and I signaled him my wish by very gently snuggling up to him, slowed his approach where he would grab firmly, purred when he only stroked.

  His stroking moved over my back—and changed into a questioningly circling movement. I gently pushed him away from me and briefly looked into his eyes. Then I grabbed the rim of my tee shirt and slowly pulled it over my head.

  At first, Slim saw my breasts, and then the pale shadow that went across. Further shadows were on my belly, matched by those on my upper arms, when I let them hang down and dropped my tee shirt. When I thought that he had seen enough, I turned around.

  “Fuck,” he uttered. I gave him one minute, and then I turned back. He reached out his arms, pulled me tight and gently pressed my head at his chest.

  “Jo, tell me who did this to you, and I will kill that guy. Right now.”

  For a while I only enjoyed. Then I felt for his buckle. “He no longer exists.” Belt, button, zipper—his pants fell. His briefs were less firmly filled than I had felt before.

  “Jo, I don’t think I can do that now,” he answered my care.

  Oh yes. “I need you now,” I whispered. “Very gently, please, but I need you.”

  Then I pushed his briefs down on his ankles, where his pants already were waiting, and helped him to climb out. Now I faced his half-erect member. Oh yes, Slim, you can, I will take care of that.

  When my tongue touched the tip of his glans, he moaned. Seconds later, I had raised his member. As soon as it stood, I rose, too, and winked at Slim. “You can, and you want.” With a quick move I opened my pants and pushed them down together with the G-string. “And I want, too,” I noticed to my own surprise.

  Even if I didn’t know how my spare part would feel, I sensed a growing wet anticipation. Happy about my body’s reaction, I threw my arms around Slim and held him tight, rubbed my body against his—most of all, against his member—and reached for his firm buttocks.

  Slim answered rather restrainedly. Finally, he pulled me to the bed. “I propose that I recline on my back and you command the pace.”

  That was a good idea. So I could cautiously come down on his firm cock and test how well I could stand his penetration. In any case, I was wet enough, I could clearly feel that.

  It hurt a bit, when my scarred tissue welcomed a hard male cock for the first time after the surgery. It’s just pain, I told myself, and nothing compared to what I already had experienced. Moreover, I enjoyed this fullness inside me.

  For a moment I simply remained sitting still. If I only could preserve this feeling! No—if I wanted to keep him in good mood, I had to offer him something. I wanted to see how good I still was!

  Hey, I wanted to see if I could manage to feel some more of it myself.

  Yes. At least I couldn’t ignore the pinching sensation in my new clitoris, which reported with every move, and I didn’t want to.

  I wanted to finally feel my body again, enjoy true passion, true lust—and if it had to feel this way, then I’d enjoy it with a little pain!

  Yes—I cried it out loud, lust and pain, spat out my inhibitions and blockades, tossed them from me like an old shirt, gone! I want to live, I want to love!

  More!

  Chapter Eighty-Seven

  Gently, I teased his limp member with the tip of my tongue. Slim moaned. “You’re my insatiable succubus,” he accused me. Then he pulled me to his shoulder and began to stroke my breast tenderly. “I’d never have deemed it possible to be so incredibly beautiful. You’re a wonderful woman, Jo.”

  I wouldn’t have thought either that it could work so well. Most of all, I hadn’t thought that a young, good-looking man could ignore my defaced, scarred body so easily.

  “You’ve been wonderful, too, Slim. Thank you for treating me so considerately.”

  “Jo, I couldn’t help it. You appeared so—vulnerable. If I imagine what you must have suffered without getting mad, you must be a very strong woman.”

  Was I, really?

  “Now I’m a very weak woman who needs a lot of tenderness and care, and a very large, sturdy support. Come on.”

  “And you’re sure that you don’t want to stay any longer?”

  “Entirely sure, Slim. Thank you for everything. You’ve helped me in finding myself and deciding what I want to make of my life. That’s been very important to me. If you ever come to Melbourne, you can give me a visit.”

  “I’ll do that. Good journey, Jo.”

  “Bye, Slim.”

  I got into my all-terrain vehicle and switched the starter. The self-made micro fusion reactor under the hood formed the envelope field, the hydrogen pump fed deuterium into the force field, and the ignition laser initiated the fusion. I moved the drive lever to Forward and pushed the accelerator. Quietly humming, my car rolled away, leaving Slim and my insecurities behind.

  I still could do it!

  That was the most important part—I could receive joy and could give joy. Right next came the realization that my dainty body with the fading traces of abuse could entice strong protective instincts in men. To then give myself to them, offer my vulnerability and submit under their protection could be a strong source of their arousal.

  If Rosie played along, this victim/savior role play could be an interesting enrichment for our portfolio. She could relay me to good clients— “We have a girl there whom you have to treat very carefully. In exchange she’s extremely snuggly.”

  However, first I’d have to cover the four-thousand kilometers back across the continent without collecting a high blood toll from the local fauna and without rolling my car on its roof.

  Chapter Eighty-Eight

  With mixed feelings, I was looking forward to my appointment with Reginald—the first after my rescue. Physically, I was as fit as could be after such events, but my soul was still heavily burdened with the kidnapping, the torture, and the genital mutilation.

  Most of the time, I managed to repress the memories. Slim hadn’t known about them and had followed my wish to not ask. Reginald, on the other hand, would want to know more.

  Nevertheless, I hadn’t denied his invitation. Reginald was a friend. I didn’t know many people I could call such. That he cared for me was understandable and kind, so I wanted to meet him, even if it would hurt me.

  “Hello, Jo,” he welcomed me.

  “Hello, Reginald.” I reached out a hand.

  “Aw, why so formal?” He moved past my hand, hugged me and gave me a kiss on the cheek. Then he held me at half arm’s length—and passionately kissed me again. I didn’t defend myself, just the opposite. A kiss is always worth doing with passion.

  “Wow!” Reginald said afterward. “You’ve still got it, Jo.”
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  “Did you doubt that?” I asked with a smile.

  “I admit, yes. Forgive me, Jo.” He led me to a small table of the little café in the shopping mall. “What can I offer you? Bitter Lemon and espresso?”

  “Exactly. Thanks, Reginald.”

  He left me to fetch the drinks from the counter. That was an opportunity for me to compare this young man with the first semester student I had sex with just once. Back then, the few years I had been older and more mature had made a difference, but now they didn’t matter.

  Our class was spread all around the world, only he still lived and worked in Melbourne, advising one of the large corporations with regard to the application of Dragon technology.

  He placed a small tray with our drinks on the table and then took a seat opposite of me. Patiently, he waited until I had drunk my espresso, meanwhile sipping at his cappuccino.

  “How are you? You’re looking good—in best form.”

  “I am.”

  “You were on vacation?”

  “Broome. Was Eva’s tip. Good place to train for marathon, or biking. Only swimming was a bit difficult, you have to watch out for poisonous jellyfish.”

  “So you’re looking for another Ironman?”

  “We’ll see. For now, I only want to be in shape for it. I’ve also started with Kung Fu again. I want to be able to defend myself.”

  “Mm. Yes. And what kind of job are you striving for?”

  “For now, my old job.”

  “What? Nothing concerning Dragon technology? Each of us could choose from thirty or forty offers from top companies. High-class offers—company car, company apartment, first class travel, and with that salary, you’ve made it.”

  Ah yes. Eva had shown me the letters during one of her visits, all three. They had been tempting, financially rewarding. Of course a company flat had been included in the offer, in the best location, with swimming pool, in a secluded garden area. The contract hadn’t mentioned it, but my sexual services toward my respective superior would have been included—all three candidates had been my clients. Surely they had been surprised to see my name on the list of graduates, but they immediately had seen the opportunity to transfer the cost of my service to their company with a perfect reasoning. It’s not necessary to explain what that told about their view on my competencies, or is it?

  “I didn’t join the exam, Reginald. No, don’t say it. You know that I’m good enough, and I know, too. I quite much feel able to do such a job. But my graduation will always be stained by the fact that I’ve got my exam for free.”

  “For an invention that has revolutionized Dragon technology, yes. If you’d allow your name to be mentioned, nobody would talk about that exam.”

  “I’ve written that off.”

  “You may. The world is still riddling about the unknown genie, and we all keep our mouths shut, as long as you want it.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Will you get along in your old job then? Isn’t that difficult?”

  So we arrived at the topic I had feared. I decided to tackle it offensively.

  “Yes, it is. My body isn’t as presentable as before.” I pointed at the slightly reddened welt at my upper arm. “This is almost gone. My back looks worse, and in some places you can clearly see the numerous little cuts. This is not exactly what the clients have in mind.”

  For minutes he examined my arm. “But they still choose you?”

  “Yes. I don’t know why. It’s not the story alone.” I illustrated my idea of appealing to their protective instinct. It worked with individual clients, perhaps once a week. I couldn’t live from that alone.

  “It’s your smile and your attitude. You’re still giving yourself entirely, aren’t you?”

  “Yes. I can only do it this way, no other.”

  “That’s what it is. From you, the clients receive a special experience that they can’t get from anybody else. I see you sitting here, I see the welt and the little pale cut scars on your skin, but I also see the pure, incarnate passion.”

  “Thank you. And I see the pure, incarnate self control.”

  He blushed. “You know how it is.”

  “You don’t want to be my client again, I know. Do you have a girlfriend?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “I don’t find one that satisfies my standards.”

  “Truly not?”

  “There’s no one like you.”

  “There’s me.”

  Chapter Eighty-Nine

  Reginald wasn’t dense. He brought me to his penthouse and straight into his bedroom.

  Passionate kisses developed into passionate strokes. Somehow our clothes got lost in the process. His hands commented on my scars with gentle touches, explained what wouldn’t come over his lips—dismay about the extent of injuries Dandy had caused me, but also the reassurance that he didn’t consider me abhorrent. His tongue caressed the welts at my breasts, at my buttocks, searched in vain for my inner labia, paused, and then found my new clitoris.

  He simply must have had practice, as damn great as it felt. Or was it due to the fact that I experienced the cunnilingus with a friend for the first time? He began very tenderly, slowly accelerated his pace, and bravely and selflessly stuck to his task until I came, without letting himself be distracted by his own, firmly erect desire. Thereafter, he held me tight and gave me warmth, until the shivers of my orgasm had faded.

  Only then I found the time to give him some of my art. Like he had just done, I also began with oral satisfaction. Like him, I also didn’t restrain myself. I treated his best piece with all my devotion and drank his juice with the greatest lust.

  Then I gave him his serving of cuddling, too, until I deemed the time had come to stress his virility again. However, initially I disregarded his member, only began to rub my breasts at his side to remind him of the warm female body in his arm. That was all the reminder he needed. We took our time to mutually stroke and smooch ourselves almost to the climax. Only at the end, we granted ourselves the union and the shared orgasm.

  Of course, we didn’t leave it at that. I wanted all of him, the blowjob, the tender act, but also the hard, dirty sex, the quick act, the violent lust. I only had to explain it to him first, had to overcome his shyness to hurt me.

  “Reggie, I trust you totally. You won’t go too far, you won’t do what another one did. Exactly for that reason, I want you to take me as hard as you can. With whom else could I enjoy this passion?”

  So he made a best effort to fake violent sex, and he was good!

  Finally, we both dropped on the sheets, exhausted. I happily smiled at him, admired his wrinkled face. He didn’t voice it, but the Why? was clearly written on his forehead. I gently played with his pubic hair.

  “Because I needed this feeling of being desired and loved for my own sake, not because I’m spreading my legs for every paying client. It’s the more valuable for me that you could accept me as friend and lover despite my profession. Thank you.”

  “Why do you continue, anyway?” he posed his next question. “After all the things they’ve done to you?”

  I had asked myself the same question, several times. The answer had by and by become clearer. “After all, it’s my profession. I have to prove to myself, too, that someone like Dandy can’t decide upon my life. Only I can and may do that.”

  Chapter Ninety

  I was glad, that Reginald never asked a certain question. He was welcome as friend and lover, and we spent the night together whenever his travel-intensive job allowed it.

  A marriage was out of the question, though. I was sure he’d do any man good and proper who even insinuated I couldn’t be a good party for someone in his position due to my job, and I myself wouldn’t have any inhibitions from laughing into the face of any salacious taunter—but I wasn’t ready for a steady relationship, and Reginald was sensible enough to know that.

  Instead, he had asked why I couldn’t have picked a different job right from
the start—as I’d been intelligent enough to have a choice?

  This question still occupied my mind, even now, while I was climbing the Dandenong Ranges with my bike.

  Was I intelligent? In school, it hadn’t looked that way to me, in my job it wasn’t necessary, and in my studies, I had had a hard time with the complex subjects.

  In school, nobody had been interested in my intelligence. Especially in school, I had been inattentive, unfocused, but above all, uninspired. The matter had been stupid. Boring. Why should a loser like me waste an effort on it?

  At home, nobody had been interested in my intelligence. I was an additional mouth to feed, one who didn’t contribute to the household income and failed in school.

  However, if Reginald asked about it now—crap, yes, I had managed to get along with the probably most difficult matter and the most demanding curriculum of our age. If I had joined the final exam, I’d probably have achieved results that would have been quite up to the standard of my fellows. At eye level with the twenty-nine most intelligent students of this age group—worldwide.

  Okay, so I wasn’t stupid. Why didn’t I make something of it? Obviously, I didn’t have to limit myself to a side job.

  Because I wasn’t inclined to be utilized by some corporate leaders who’d focus more on my tits than on my mind? Because I wasn’t inclined to accept an extremely high-paid job which would then keep me busy seven days times twenty-four hours, without leaving me time to do what I wanted?

  Because in the end it wasn’t better to prostitute your entire self this way instead of just the body?

  Because I simply had the impression that life would owe me? Because I could get it quicker another way? My father had had an honest job—and lost. Those people who had gambled with our economy had had an honest job, too, and with their irresponsible actions they had cost the jobs of hundreds of thousand others. What should I do with such a job?