Candid Confessions Bundle #3 (11 page)

I had dressed more conservatively than usual that
day, looking very much the elegant lady...or at least, as close as
I was likely to get. But I still felt like a pauper sitting across
the table from Brad. That guy just oozed the concept of money and
success without even meaning to. I doubt if he got any change from
four thousand bucks for his suit, and his shirt and tie probably
weren’t much cheaper.

But it was his looks that really caught your
attention. And when I say ‘your attention,’ what I mean is the
attention of every other female in the restaurant. He was the
archetypal tall, dark handsome stranger. I could feel envious looks
burning into my back from other women in the room who were stuck
with regular dudes. If he had stood up at that moment and said
‘anyone want to suck my dick?’ I reckon at least ten women would
have volunteered on the spot. But of course, that wasn’t his
style...far from it.

‘So tell me about yourself,’ he said as we tucked
into some starter that tasted delicious, whatever the fuck it was.
I gave him a brief run down, conveniently omitting nearly all of
the men in my history, and focusing on my other achievements. That
is, a gymnastics trophy I won when I was fourteen (I could probably
ace that now - my gymnastic abilities have improved a lot) and
scraping a pass in my degree.

In return, he told me about his background. I
discovered he was not only a medical doctor, but also a qualified
psychologist. He had enough letters after his name to play Scrabble
with, and his private clinics were so successful he could afford to
take time out for media work. Now he was well on his way to
becoming a celebrity doctor. Not being very familiar with Aussie
television, I didn’t recognize him from his TV appearances. But
halfway through the meal, a rather shy young lady came up and asked
him for his autograph. So he wasn’t bullshitting....it was all
true!

When she was gone, Brad leaned forward across the
table and smiled. ‘Well, that’s enough about us. Now let’s get down
to business. We need to start planning our articles for the next
few issues. What ideas would you like to put forward?’

Ideas? Nobody told me I was supposed to have ideas.
My mind started racing, but only in pointless circles. I tried to
concentrate. Ideas are not my strong point, except in the
bedroom.

‘Yes, I have been working on some concepts,’ I lied.
Lying comes easily to me. When I was a horny teenager with an
over-protective father, I learned all kinds of deception to keep my
guilty secrets hidden. That experience often comes in handy.

‘I thought we could work together on some articles
about....’ my mind was still blank. I needed something to do with
sex and relationships...I remembered my conversation with Ellen the
night before.

‘...about sex addiction!’ I said triumphantly.

Brad looked a little taken aback, but only for a
moment, then he regained his composure.

‘That’s an interesting idea,’ he said. ‘It’s
certainly something we haven’t covered before. But is it something
that is really of concern to young women today...to the readers of
your magazine?’

‘Oh, yes,’ I replied enthusiastically. I was on
familiar ground now. ‘In fact, I have a friend – a friend of a
friend, actually - who suffers from this very problem. She has an
uncontrollable need to have sex as often as she can.’

‘Really? That’s very interesting. I can see it must
be very difficult for her...and for you, too, as her friend.’

‘Oh yes, I - er - feel her pain. It must be very
frustrating.’

Brad was very interested now. ‘Very often, these
problems exist, but professionals such as myself know little about
them, because people don’t share these very private issues. We
could be bringing a major topic to the surface.’

Having opened my mouth, I was beginning to wonder if
this had been a good idea. There was no telling where this was
going to end up. But it was too late now, I was committed. Brad had
a look in his eye that told me he had already decided on a plan of
action.

‘OK, Angel,’ he said. ‘Let’s do it this way. You
will be the journalist, of course, researching the stories of real
people who suffer from this problem...starting with your friend.
And I will add the professional point of view, looking at the
medical, social and psychological angles. This could be a very
interesting series of articles. Run it by Vanessa this afternoon,
and let me know what she says.’

With that, he reached across the table and squeezed
my hand. I am sure there was no sexual motivation. It was just a
friendly gesture between colleagues. But it set off fireworks that
shot right up my arm and into my brain. I tried to focus. I didn’t
want to squeak again. Somehow I made it through dessert and coffee,
and eventually got back to the office, wondering what kind of
Pandora’s box I had just opened up.

***

Well, the good news is
that Vanessa thought the idea was fantastic. Basically, she liked
the idea of plastering headlines like ‘I Was a Sex Addict And Loved
Every Minute’ on the cover of the mag, and selling shitloads of
copies as a result. Well, if that’s what paid my wages, then so be
it. But what did surprise me was that she came up with the phone
numbers of two people she said had struggled with some kind of sex
addiction.

‘I don’t suppose they will want to reveal their real
names, but they may talk to you if we agree to be discreet,’ she
said. ‘One is a former male model, the other is a woman who used to
be a friend of mine, who went off the rails. So I suggest you try
to contact them and arrange interviews, and see what you can come
up with.’

Sending a sex addict to interview sex addicts? Was
that really a good idea? I didn’t know, but it sounded like it
could be fun. And if it gave me a good excuse to work with Brad and
his sexy voice, that was fine with me.

***

Yes, I’m a fraud, and
I am well aware of it. There I was, just a couple of days later,
interviewing the lady that Vanessa had suggested, her former
friend. We were at her apartment, drinking coffee, and I was
pretending to be the innocent journalist who was a little shocked
at the revelations of her past behavior.

Karen was in her early thirties, a slim and sexy
brunette with a riot of red hair and freckles to match. She was
dressed in tight jeans and a white T-shirt that emphasized her
boobs. I imagine she never had difficulty finding guys to party
with. She had known Vanessa since their university days, and had
stayed in touch ever since, even though their careers had diverged
many years ago. Karen was some kind of financial wizard,
apparently, and judging by the home she lived in, she had done very
well at it. We were sitting on a balcony with very expensive views
across Double Bay and Sydney harbour. I wouldn’t have chosen this
apartment myself. Like I said. I’m terrified of heights, and the
thought of living on the 34th floor scared me to death. Just
sitting on the balcony felt rather adventurous. I sat on the side
of the table furthest from the balcony rail, and kept my feet
rooted to the floor. But I had to admit that it was all rather
stunning. It was a beautiful morning, and the sea was blue and
tranquil. This really was a gorgeous place to be. What I had seen
of the home so far was very expensively furnished with good taste.
Lucky bitch. Well, OK...clever bitch.

Karen was very friendly, and surprisingly eager to
talk about her past, asking only that we didn’t use her real name
in the magazine. For me, this was a very interesting experience. I
had never met another woman with a sexual appetite similar to mine.
I was all ears, and my biggest problem was stopping myself from
saying ‘me, too!’ when she told me of some of her juicier
adventures.

‘Sex is the most natural thing in the world,’ she
pointed out, as she topped up my coffee. ‘We are designed to find
sexual experiences enjoyable so that we continue to procreate the
human race. Just think. The only reason you are here today is
because your mother got laid, and so did both of your grandmothers,
all four of your great-grandmothers...and so on for thousands of
generations. If any one of those thousands of women hadn’t enjoyed
a good fuck, you wouldn’t be here this morning.’

Well, that was an interesting way of looking at it.
So I am genetically programmed to be a slut. It’s all my
grandmothers’ fault. If I ever make it to the Pearly Gates, I will
try that one on St. Peter - maybe he will let me in, after all. But
I kept my thoughts to myself and let Karen continue.

‘The fact is, we are all here on Earth for just a
short time, so I figure you have to make the most of it. No point
in turning round when you are eighty years old and wishing you had
done more. So I have been cramming in as much as I can while I am
still relatively young. To tell you the truth, I have slept with
dozens of guys, and I don’t regret a single one.’

Dozens? This lady was just an amateur. She should
have been interviewing me! But never mind....I wanted to hear more.
She told me about how she lost her virginity when she was fourteen,
and how she just wanted to repeat the sensation over and over
again. Then she gave me a run down on various guys she had slept
with, and what they got up to.

‘You look a little flushed. I expect you are shocked
by all this,’ she said. Shocked wasn’t the word...more like
excited. And I was picking up a few useful tips, too. I was finding
it hard to concentrate on taking notes.

‘Have you ever had sex with another woman?’ she
asked suddenly. Now that did take me by surprise. I jumped
nervously and spilled my coffee all down my white dress. It was hot
and burned my leg, so I leaped to my feet, knocking the coffee
table over in the process and sending hot coffee and milk splashing
all over Karen, too. She jumped to her feet, and we stood frozen in
horror for a moment. We were both a mess, and it was all my fault.
I thought she was going to be angry, but then she started giggling,
and I couldn’t help joining in.

Karen motioned for me to follow her indoors. ‘No
harm done,’ but we both need a change of clothes.’

‘If I can just use your bathroom for a minute, I can
clean this up,’ I said.

Karen shook her head. ‘That dress will be ruined if
it isn’t cleaned properly right away. Look, you are about the same
size as me. You can borrow some of my clothes, and I will get your
dress cleaned and sent back to you. Let’s find something that fits
you.’

We walked through the house to her bedroom, which
was enormous. It was sparsely furnished, with a huge four-poster
bed dominating the room, surrounded by deep-pile cream carpet. One
wall was all glass, giving another awesome view looking back across
the city. I followed Karen into the en-suite bathroom, which was
about as big as my whole bedroom at home. There she stripped
quickly out of her T-shirt and jeans, and dropped them into a
laundry basket. She was a very attractive woman, not an ounce of
excess padding anywhere, just gentle curves in all the places you
are supposed to have gentle curves.

She motioned for me to undress, too, and a few
seconds later, we were both standing there in our bras and panties.
I felt a little self-conscious…heck we had only met half an hour
ago, and now we were standing almost naked and sizing each other up
surreptitiously.

I tried not to stare, honest, but she had fantastic
boobs. Don’t get me wrong, guys are my main thing, as you already
know, but I can certainly appreciate the beauty of the female form.
And Karen had a lot of feminine beauty racked up in her chest. And
the rest of her body wasn’t so bad, either. I guessed she worked
out regularly, because her tummy was flat, and her whole body was
almost glowing with health. But I wasn’t the only one who was
staring. I noticed that she was looking at me, too, with rather
more than interest than you might expect from a woman.

‘The coffee has gone through to your bra,’ she said.
‘Let me see if I can sponge it off. She soaked a bathroom sponge
under the hot tap, and then gently massaged my bra with it. I could
feel my nipples hardening at the touch, and I knew from the wicked
grin on Karen’s face that she had noticed.

‘It won’t sponge off,’ she said. ‘I think we’ll have
to remove this, too.’

She reached around behind my back and unclasped my
bra. I didn’t resist. Her face was now just inches from mine, and
our boobs were touching. I could feel that her nipples, too, were
hard and erect. Then Karen leaned forward and kissed me gently on
the lips. It was unexpected but if felt good. I wanted more. I
slipped my arms around her waist and kissed her back.

Now this wasn’t the first time I had kissed a woman.
You can read all about how that got started with Ramona in Episode
#4. So I knew that kissing a woman is very different from kissing a
man. Instead of that raw sexual energy, you get a feeling of
softness and sensuousness. It’s a much more delicate feeling, but
it’s still a real turn on. Karen took me by the hand and led me to
her bed. I vaguely wondered how many partners she had ‘entertained’
there, whether male or female. Whatever the answer was, the total
was about to increase by one.

I stepped up onto the bed, and leaned back against
the silky sheets, resting my head on the downy pillows. Karen
slipped off her bra and panties and climbed up beside me. She
kissed me again, delicately, and then traced her tongue down to my
breasts, taking a nipple into her mouth and sucking gently. I
moaned softly, enjoying her delicate touch. She caressed my other
breast in her hand, and then started moving down my chest to my
stomach, and on down to my hips. She took my knees and pushed my
legs apart, and a moment later, I felt her tongue licking my
panties, edging down between my legs until she reached my clit,
tonguing it gently through the silky material.