Candid Confessions of a Shameless Sexaholic...Part One: Just What The Doctor Ordered (9 page)

            ‘Oh, er no…I was just
browsing,’ I said, slamming the magazine closed and trying not to turn as red
as a beetroot.

            Brad laughed and beckoned me
to follow him, pausing only to ask the receptionist to bring us coffee. I
followed his broad shoulders down a corridor that was also lined in the same
plush, red carpet. At the end, double doors opened into a stunning office. It
was big, but not ostentatiously huge, and the furniture was good quality, but
not over the top. What made it truly stunning, though, was the view. The whole
of one wall was pure glass, with a vista that looked out across the centre of
Sydney to the harbour. Not a bad view to have from your desk – the harbour
bridge, the opera house and all the beauty of Sydney harbour.

            Brad invited me to sit with
him in an informal seating area adjacent to his desk – just four comfortable
chairs  and a low table. The pretty brunette arrived with the coffee a moment
later, and I couldn’t help wondering if Brad had had sex with her. From the way
she looked at him, I bet she would have been up for it. But she would probably
have to join the queue with everyone else. Including me. I wondered about the
possibility of a threesome…me, her and Brad…right there in his expensive
office. After all, she had a cute ass that I wouldn’t mind checking out more
closely. I fancied the idea, but I didn’t’ fancy my chances of success if I put
that idea forward, so I kept it to myself. When she had gone, I thanked Brad
for the roses, and he accepted my thanks graciously, but then it was straight
down to business.

            ‘I read the first draft of
the articles that you sent this morning,’ he said. ‘We have some great material
to work with in there. I suggest that I add my comments as a professional
advisor, then we can put together a really useful and informative package of
material.

            ‘Sure,’ I said. ‘What did
you make of Thomasin and Ellen. Would you say they qualify as sex addicts?’

            ‘Good question…and one that
is hard to answer. There is a fine line between what is normal and what is not
normal in terms of sexual behaviour. In fact, you can question whether the word
‘normal’ applies at all. If the person in question is comfortable with their
behaviour, then who are we to call them addicts? I certainly wouldn’t call
either of these two extreme in their lifestyle choice.’

            Then I had an idea, and I
knew it was a bad one before I had even opened my mouth. But my mouth has a
mind of its own, and I heard the words coming out anyway.

            ‘As I told you before, I
have a friend – or rather a friend of a friend – who might well qualify in the
more extreme department. She just loves sex, and gets as much of it as she can.
She puts these two in the shade. She won’t want to be involved in this article,
but I am sure you would find here interesting. We could tell her story.’

            Brad looked at me
quizically. ‘I see. So how does she behave – what do you call extreme,
exactly?’

            ‘Well, for example, she told
me that one night, she picked up two English rugby players in a bar, took them
home and had sex with both of them. And it’s not the first time she has done
something like that. I guess you might call her a man eater.’

            ‘Interesting.’ Brad leaned
back in his chair and took a sip of coffee. ‘She is probably seeking
validation.’

            Validation? No, I was just
seeking dick. Where did validation come into it?

            ‘And she finds this kind of
casual sex satisfying?’

            ‘She certainly isn’t
complaining,’ I said, ‘She just wants to make the most of life while she is
still young. She says that life is too short to get stuck with just one guy,
and you should have fun with as many of the fish in the sea as you can.’

            ‘Does she practice safe
sex?’

            ‘Always,’ I said, telling
the truth for once. I may not have mentioned it before, but I always ensure
that my gifts are wrapped before I start enjoying them, if you get my drift. I
want to have fun, but I want to stay healthy, too.

            ‘That’s the important thing.
There is nothing wrong with enjoying a little variety in life, as long as you
take the right precautions. The question is, is she happy with her life?’

            Brad had pressed a hot
button. I tensed up inside, and tried not to blush. The last thing I wanted was
to give the game away and reveal who my ‘friend’ really was. But was I happy?
Or was I missing out on what life really had to offer? A real, loving
relationship with one man? The prospect of being tied to one person for ever
was scary…but it was kind of attractive, too. None of the guys I had humped in
a hurry had ever sent me a bunch of red roses. Maybe there were more roses
where they came from. I looked around me at the expensive office that screamed
success, money and power. Brad had built all this for himself. He was a
self-made man. Surely that meant more than being born with a cute face and
tight butt, like most of the guys I worked through. Then again, he had a cute
face and tight butt as well. Maybe you could have your cake and eat it, too.

            We discussed my imaginary
‘friend’ for over an hour. The more we talked, the more uncomfortable I felt
about my life. And the more I got to know Brad, the more I felt that I had
blown the opportunity to have a real relationship for once in my life.

            Eventually, we wrapped
things up, and it was time for me to leave. I expected Brad to stay in his
office, but he insisted on escorting me not just to the elevator, but down to
the ground floor and then through the revolving doors into the busy street
beyond. He hailed a taxi, which pulled over sharply and stopped in front of us.
Brad opened the door for me – heck, when did a guy last open a door for me?
Like never, I think. I turned to say goodbye  to Brad, but before a word
escaped my mouth, he grabbed me by the waist and pulled me towards him, his
mouth coming down to meet my mine in a firm and passionate kiss.

            I felt myself responding
equally passionately, enjoying his hot breath on my face, his firm hands on my
waist and my buttocks. I wanted to press myself harder against him, enjoying
every inch of his male flesh. Then he pulled away and looked me in the eye.

            ‘Dinner at eight,’ he said.
It was more of a command than a question. ‘I’ll pick you up.’

***

So I bet you think we went to some fancy
restaurant? Well, that was what I was expecting, but it turns out that Brad had
other plans. At 8.30, I found myself in Brad’s home, a penthouse apartment
overlooking the North shore that put even his office views to shame. The
apartment was large, but not extravagent, and tastefully furnished in a modern,
hi-tech kind of way. Everything was neat and tidy, but there was something
missing that I couldn’t quite put a finger on at first. Then I realized that it
needed a woman’s touch. The tone of the place was undeniably masculine,
efficient and organized, but lacking the splash of colour and style that a
woman would bring to the home. In other words, it was clearly a bachelor pad.
That suited me...I didn’t have to worry about some angry bitch suddenly turning
up at an inconvenient moment (and yes, that has happened to me before, too).

            Brad has switched his formal
suit for an open-necked shirt and grey pants that looked expensive in a casual
kind of way. Being a doctor, I guessed he worked out. Certainly, there was
plenty of muscle definition to admire beneath the shirt. Brain and brawn…a
great combination.

            But as macho as Brad clearly
was, it seemed he was able to tune into his feminine side a little. The kitchen
was full of the smell of good food cooking, and when I asked, I was surprised
to learn that Brad had cooked it himself. We shared a glass of wine, and then
sat down to eat at the dining table. He was the perfect gentleman throughout,
attending to my every need as if we were on our honeymoon. It was a very
pleasant evening, and by the time we had finished the meal, I was feeling very
relaxed and happy. Good food and good company – a great combination.

            After dinner, Brad suggested
a walk on the beach. That sounded good to me, and a few minutes later, we were
strolling along the sand under the starry sky. It was a warm evening, but we
had the beach pretty much to ourselves, apart from one elderly gent walking his
dog a little way ahead of us. There was a little moonlight, plus the lights
from the beachside cafes and bars. The sound of laughter reached us from one of
the bars, but mostly the sound was that of the surf, rolling relentlessly on
the sands of the shoreline. We were walking barefoot, our shoes left behind at
the top of the beach. As the waves rushed in, their curled around my toes, the
water cold but invigorating.

            For the moment, the serious
and professional Brad was gone, and instead I saw the fun-loving side of him
once more…the side that had got me into trouble at 14,000 feet just a few days
ago. I was glad that I had done that jump now. It was an achievement that I
would never forget. And more importantly, it had dragged me screaming –
literally – into Brad’s dynamic and dangerous world.

            Fortunately, everything
seemed safer here on the beach. No light aircraft threatening to whisk up high
into the air and then throw us into space. Not that I would have minded too
much, as long as Brad was attached to me all the way down. As we walked along
the beach, he reached for my hand, and we splashed together through the surf,
soaking his pants and my dress, but neither of us really caring. We were having
fun.

            We walked the length of the
beach and back again, sharing stories about our lives, our hopes and our
dreams. By the time we got back to Brad’s apartment block, I felt that we had
got to know each other a whole lot better. The concierge in the reception area
frowned at our wet clothes, and the sand that we dragged into his
beautifully-cleaned building, but Brad and I were both smiling. We got into the
elevator, and the doors closed behind us. Brad hit the button for his floor,
and as soon as the elevator started moving, he turned towards me and pulled me
towards him once more. We kissed passionately, our bodies pressed together
urgently. I felt his hands on my buttocks, grabbing me and holding me tight,
while his tongue probed inside my mouth. I didn’t want the ride to stop…I could
have stayed right there, going up and down in the elevator all night. But the
bell pinged and the doors opened.

            I looked up to see two
elderly ladies looking at us in a state of shock. I guess they weren’t
expecting to see a full-on display of passion as elevator entertainment. But as
Brad and I separated and stepped politely past them, one of them whispered in
my ear:

            ‘Go get him girl…you’re only
young once!’ She gave me a knowing wink.

            I know it’s stupid, but I
blushed. It’s not often you get sex advice from grandmas. But I could see her
point. I didn’t want this evening to end with nothing more than a bunch of
roses. I hoped Brad had a similar point of view on the subject.

            A moment later, we were
inside his apartment, and I found out immediately what Brad had planned. He is
a man who knows what he wants, and he knows how to get it. And what he wanted
at that particular moment, it seemed, was me. He lifted me gently off my feet,
and carried me down a corridor to the main bedroom. He took me over to the
King-size bed and laid me on it. As we entered the room, soft lights around the
bed came on automatically…very neat.

            ‘I was wondering what your
friend of a friend would do if she was here,’ he whispered. I jumped. Did that
mean he had seen though my lie, or just that he was teasing me. I aimed for the
latter and hoped for the best.

            ‘Well, I think she would be
delighted to find herself alone with a very hot and very sexy man,’ I said. ‘She
would definitely make the most of the opportunity. She certainly wouldn’t let
him get away.’

            With that, I pulled Brad
down on top of me (not that he was resisting much) and kissed him again, now
with his weight pressing down on me. The smell of his expensive cologne blended
with my not-so-expensive perfume, and my lips blended with his.

Delicious.

I found myself
wanting Brad in a way that was unfamiliar to me. It wasn’t just physical…I felt
there was something more between us. Something more real, more visceral. Sure,
I was enjoying the hard, toned feel of his muscles, the generous width of his
shoulders, and the tightness of his well-worked abs. Even the sound of his low,
rich voice turned me on. Heck, I would have to be a lesbian not too feel pure
physical desire for such a magnificent specimen of manhood. But somehow, there
was more beneath the surface. I wanted the man inside, the real Brad. And I wanted
him now.

We kissed
energetically, the taste of his lips sending me to new heights of arousal. After
a few minutes of this, I was ready to take things a whole lot further, and
sensing by the bulge in Brad’s pants that pressed against my thighs, so was he.
I rolled him onto his back and slid on top of him, running my hands down his
chest and feeling the strength of his torso. Brad slipped his hands under my
dress and pulled it expertly over my head. No prizes for guessing that he had
done that once or twice before. He looked lovingly at my semi-naked body. On
the way home from the office, I had blown the last of my savings in a Victoria’s
Secret kind of store, and if I say so myself, I looked pretty hot in my pink,
sexy lingerie. I could tell that Brad thought so, too. He ran his fingers along
my thighs, up my body to my breasts, cupping them gently in his hands. I moaned
softly as he gently massaged them through my bra, feeling my nipples harden
moment by moment. Then he reached behind my back and unclasped my bra, then
pulled it over my head. My breasts bounced free and I felt the bulge in his
pants bulge a little more as he took them in.