I can’t believe this is happening! The Cockaholic is about to arrive and The Saffa is standing in front of me with pussycat eyes. I’m speechless because of this predicament while The Saffa takes my silence for something else. My heart is pounding in my mouth, I can’t talk.
“I’ve come to make you breakfast,” she says.
What?! I don’t why you’re here, but I’ve got to get rid of you. Breaking up with you now will take too long. Shit, what do I do?!
“How about you take me out for breakfast?” I quickly come up with.
“Okay. Where do you want to go?” she counters.
“How about down into the high street. I know a great place for breakfast,” I say, reaching for my phone, keys and wallet. Got to get out of here quickly.
“Ja, cool with me,” she says.
Shit, what about The Cockaholic when she gets here and I’m not here?!
“I haven’t been to the toilet yet, I’ve just got up. Wait in the lounge and I’ll be with you in a few minutes,” I improvise.
I go hide in the bathroom and start texting The Cockaholic that a friend had a crisis and that I was now having to spend the day with him. Will my message get to her in time? Will she believe this bullshit? Will she question my texting rather than phoning? That’s all out of my hands now. I’ve got to get The Saffa out of here pronto before The Cockaholic arrives!
I’m scared that these women would meet. If either or both of them physically attacked me then I’d deserve that. It wouldn’t be the end of the world though as just a few clicks on the internet would have me back in the game. I’ll try and avoid that unpleasantness nevertheless.
I collect The Saffa and walk fast to the side-walk cafe a couple of blocks away. Has The Cockaholic seen us?
“Geez, man, what’s the hurry?” The Saffa complains.
“I’m really hungry. C’mon, let’s get there,” I reply, stretching my stride as The Saffa skips along sporadically trying to keep up.
Mercifully the only free table at the cafe is inside, so I bundle The Saffa in there. Was I quick enough? I look over my shoulders, half-expecting a slap but none is forthcoming. Not yet, at least.
“Doll, I’m really sorry about last night. It was very rude of me to end the call like that,” The Saffa begins.
Right now I don’t give a shit about that; my eyes are darting around the place and I’m trying to see who’s outside at the tables. Again The Saffa misinterprets my silence for stony disapproval, all the while my heart is racing, my mouth is dry and I’m trying my damnedest to look unperturbed.
“Ja, I can see you’re upset with me. I would be too. Ag man, I’m really sorry. I know you’ve just been trying to help,” she continues.
Did I just see The Cockaholic’s sports car drive past? There aren’t too many of those around here.
“Listen, can we try and patch things up?” she asks.
Silence on my part. I might just get away with this. My heart is sliding down from my mouth to where it normally resides.
“Please?” The Saffa says, leaning towards me across the table, almost pleading.
I’m getting hungry.
“How about we order some food?” I suggest, aware that I’m ignoring her words.
My heart-rate slows down to a mere gallop as we order and then eat our breakfast. I can’t taste the food while The Saffa talks the hind-leg of a race-horse that is missing its heart. All the while I’m pondering what to do next. I can’t assume it’s safe to go back home because The Cockaholic might be waiting there. An idea finally arrives.
“Hey, how about we go for a drive in the countryside?” I suggest which The Saffa gleefully accepts.
She’s probably thinking that my actions mean that she’s in the clear. So far I have hardly said a word to her about anything, least of all about ‘patching things up’. The few times I felt inclined to say anything she simply spoke over me, as usual.
We scurry back to my apartment complex and I lead the Saffa straight to my car for fear of The Cockaholic waiting at my front door.
“Doll, can I go to the loo first?” The Saffa asks just as she gets comfortable in the passenger seat.
I ignore her and slam her car door shut before she says or does anything else. I don’t make eye contact as I get in the driver’s seat. I start the car in record time and we speed off into the countryside using all the back streets, heading in the opposite direction of The Cockaholic’s town.
Only once we are several miles in the middle of nowhere do I remember an isolated pub. We should be safe there. Just to make sure I park away from where any passing car on the road might spot us.
“About bladdy time. I’m about to burst!” The Saffa complains as she makes for the ladies’ at the pub.
We spend a couple of hours sitting in the beer garden at the back of the pub, drinking cider and nibbling on tapas. For good measure The Saffa spoke at me for the duration, as she is prone to do. Some women have nothing to say and they keep on saying it. At least she paid for the drinks and nibbles.
Deciding it’s safe to head back home I coax her back into my car. While she spoke at me and over me I’ve decided that once we get back to my place I’m going to break up with her. The drive back is more leisurely now that it’s after lunchtime.
“I want to suck your cock,” The Saffa blurts out.
“What?! I’m driving,” I answer in shock.
“Ag, c’mon man, it’s a fantasy of mine, to suck a guy off while he’s driving,” she continues.
I think about it for a second, it’s tempting but I decide it’s just too risky.
“Is somebody horny?” I ask.
“Ja. You know how much I love your cock,” she answers with a mischievous smile, then licking her lips.
An idea comes to me, it’s one of my naughty ideas. I press my foot a little harder onto the accelerator.
“Tell me another of your fantasies,” I say.
“Well, I’ve always wanted to have sex while wearing a mask,” she replies.
“Tell me another fantasy,” I say.
“You’re going to laugh, but I’ve always liked the idea of giving Darth Vader a blowjob,” she says, surprising me.
“I think we can arrange some of that back at my place. Until then you just imagine all the things you want to do with my cock,” I reply, remembering that I just happen to have an eye-mask like Zorro’s that has never been used.
My words have a profound effect on The Saffa: she shuts up. Finally, some peace and quiet. Knowing to tune a woman’s brain into the prospect of sex is an useful thing. How am I going to pull off the Darth Vader thing? I only have a naval aviator’s costume, the type Richard Gere wore in ‘An Officer and a Gentleman’. Ah, I know what to do.
We don’t talk much until we’re back at my place. I find a porn movie on the internet that involves Darth Vader and I cast it to my television. When we get to the inevitable scene of The Dark Lord getting a blowjob from a reluctant Princess Leia lookalike, The Saffa is enthralled watching this, her mouth hangs open.
I go fetch the mask from the shelf in my cupboard reserved for adult toys and return to the lounge. I don’t think The Saffa noticed my absence. Coy Princess Leia is still greedily sucking Darth’s dong.
“Here, put this on and stand there,” I instruct, handing her the black mask. Her perfect blue eyes should look good through the slits.
The Saffa stands up, puts the mask on and steps towards where I pointed.
I sit facing her in a chair next to a table, grab my nearby camera, switch it onto video, position it on the edge of the table and press ‘record’. The Saffa looks at it, bites her bottom lip and then looks at me, but says nothing.
Something I’ve figured out about her and many women I’ve encountered is that they want a man to take charge. The Saffa’s enjoyment of being strangled while being fucked speaks of her secretly wanting to be utterly dominated by a man. The sense of powerlessness, helplessness does something for her; the fear is a turn-on.
To be continued…