Kaptain's Blog

The writings and musings of The Kaptain

Saturday, March 8, 2008

The Number One Under Heaven (18)

Kate had been mightily relieved to hear her husband’s loud snoring from the bedroom as she tiptoed quietly back into the apartment just before midnight. Excited and still wet, she had been careful not to make a sound as she glided through to the bathroom, closing the door behind her. Under a luke-warm shower she touched herself constantly, recalling the sensation of Tommy’s tongue, and then the deep penetration of his cock, pushing hard inside her. Re-living the experience with her fingers she brought herself quickly to another frenzied climax, though observing a careful silence this time, lest she disturb her sleeping husband.

What a physique he has, she continued to ponder, dreamily: her eyes closed while she relaxed under the pitter-patter of the shower-head’s steady flow. He had not disappointed her with his performance, either, and it elated her to know that she would be getting much more of him, over time. By morning, however, such thoughts had turned to guilt and she had allowed Adam to sleep through his alarm, nudging him gently awake almost two hours later. She had even had the presence of mind to place some Panadol and a glass of water at his side as she left, in the knowledge that he would, as usual, be waking to a raging hangover.

But now, skipping along once again in the direction of the tennis courts, there was a bounce in Kate’s step, and she had recovered from her earlier, fleeting remorse. For she was about to see him again. Her man. The one with the steel cock…

Blake had wandered around the streets of Hong Kong’s Wanchai district for a while before hailing a taxi, which he did in part simply to get out of the heat. “Central,” came his abrupt instruction to the driver. In the car’s cool interior he thought about calling John, to give him the news and perhaps have a last lunch at the company’s expense. His corporate charge card was still in his wallet, after all. But for whatever reason he eventually decided against this, perhaps not yet ready to recount the morning’s boardroom dialogue. Monologue, he corrected himself.

Suddenly remembering the business card that had fallen from his pocket in the office, he then reached into his jacket to take it out. Elle So – Skincare Solutions, it read. But who was Elle So? Taking out his cell-phone he decided to call her, to find out. After three rings, the purring voice of what was clearly a sophisticated woman came on the line. “Skincare Solutions, how can I help?” the voice said. “Er… Hello. Sorry to trouble you. Er… my name’s Adam Blake,” he began, a little nervously. “And, er… I found your name card in my jacket pocket. I was just, er… trying to figure out how or where we’d met,” he explained. “I see.” There was a pause while the woman thought. “Oh!” she then exclaimed, remembering. “Did you happen to be in Bar George yesterday afternoon?” “Possibly,” he replied, scratching his head. “No – I mean yes!” he added, excitedly. “I remember now. Yes, I was!” “Then I offered you a glass of champagne, but I must’ve made the wrong impression, ’cause you fell off your stool.  Are you OK? You took quite a fall.” Blake was now feeling gingerly around the bump that still protruded slightly from the back of his skull. “I’m, er… so sorry about that. I hope I didn’t cause any concern.” “Not at all,” replied Elle. “I’m glad to hear you’re still in one piece.” “Champagne, was it?” Blake said, now moving up a gear. He liked the sound of this lady. “You must’ve been celebrating something.” “I was. I’d just won a major new contract, so I was having some bubbles with a few friends.” “Tell you what,” said Blake. “How about I buy you a celebratory lunch somewhere?” “Er… sure… When?” “Now?”

There was a moment’s silence at the other end of the line and Blake found himself looking skyward, albeit only as far as the taxi’s interior ceiling. This woman sounded like someone he could talk to, with whom he might share his problems, get things off his chest. Please, please, please say yes… “OK then. Where and what time?” Elle finally said, after what had seemed an eternity. “I’m easy. Do you want to go upmarket, or keep it simple?” “Oh, simple is cool for me. No need to go overboard.” “In that case, why don’t I meet you at Bar George? I’ll sit on the same stool as yesterday and try not to fall off this time! Probably owe the guys there an apology, anyway.” “Sure. See you there in twenty,” Elle confirmed, ringing off, while Blake slowly closed his cell-phone, a broad smile writ large across his face. Today is certainly turning out to be unusual, he mused, with considerable understatement. I wonder what she looks like?

posted by Kirk at 12:33 am  

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