But then, while puttering around one day, I came up with this crazy idea of creating a Harem in my house with a Pleasure Room, stocked with goodies. I raided the inventory of adult toys, accessories and lingerie outfits at our local sex shop on the bad side of town, buying everything I saw. Everything else I needed I bought online. Maybe I did go off the deep end a bit, but I think it’s safe to say that Jeremy is a boring guy no longer.
I thought it couldn’t hurt for me to try something new, to indulge in this fantasy of being sexually involved with more than one woman at a time, rather than being so fixated on one person. Maybe I’m still recovering from the shock of my ex-wife’s infidelity. Even after a year, I still think of the moment I saw Debbie on the stage with that actor, hundreds of times each day. I don’t know how she felt about me, but I was in love with her. When she had sex with that actor, something inside me died back then. Is seeing your wife with another man something you can ever actually recover from? When you’ve been hurt like that, can you ever get over the feeling of betrayal and start a relationship with someone new? I don’t know. I’m not a psychiatrist. But I thought if I created a Harem, at least it would force me to interact with other women again and I might finally be able to let go of what happened.
Also I had these repressed fantasies I’d kept hidden all my life of tying a woman up to a bed and kissing her all over her body. It always aroused me thinking about it, late at night. I’d never done it before, not even with my ex-wife. Perhaps I could meet someone who was also secretly into bondage and domination and explore this side of my sexuality. It was worth a try, to break me out of this funk.
I met confidentially with a lawyer and told him what I planned to do. After he raised his eyebrows somewhat disapprovingly, he wrote up a simple contract to have the participants sign before joining the Harem, to protect me from being sued. Also the women could read the contract, to see if the Harem idea would suit them, before trying it out. The only real rule on the contract was that I wanted them to wear sexy lingerie around the house. We could just be friends, or if they were attracted to me, lovers. If they were into B and D, we could play some sexy games. They could come and go from the Harem whenever they liked.
God. Now that I’ve written this down on paper, I must sound like a real pervert. I suppose I am. Go ahead. Lock me up in a mental asylum and throw away the key. Anyway, for better or worse, this is exactly what happened.
I worked out heavily for a couple of weeks, running on the treadmill, doing push-ups, sit-ups and lifting weights. I had to get myself into the best shape of my life if my plan had any chance of working. After all, who wants to be involved with an overweight gigolo? I started dropping the pounds. When I was feeling better about myself physically, I set my plans in action.
On a Google search I found this website called Adult Friend Finder, which seemed to be just what I was looking for. I posted a message on it that I was looking for unmarried women between the ages of 24-34 who were searching for non-exclusive alternative relationships and uploaded a picture of myself. I was surprised when I got a few immediate responses. After chatting back and forth by email, I was able to set up a few discrete meetings at the Starbucks at Wintergreen Plaza on Rockville Pike. I thought it was a rather safe location to meet, in order to offset the general sleaziness of what I was proposing. But the first two women never showed up for their appointment. I emailed them, but they never responded again. I think they liked the idea of flirting over the internet, but felt afraid of actually meeting me. As they say, the third time was the charm and Cynthia came into my life. I hadn’t uttered a word to another living soul for over three months until I met her at Starbucks today. But if I wasn’t paying attention, she would’ve slipped out the door before we even had a chance to talk.
Chapter Three
Cynthia
So after exchanging a few emails with Jeremy, he asked to meet me at this Starbucks on Rockville Pike. I almost said no, but it had been six months since Flaccid Bastard crushed my heart and I thought what the hell, I might as well go try to meet someone new. Jeremy didn’t seem like a serial killer, at least from the emails. As I entered Starbucks I looked at all the people hunched over their laptops and smart phones. An extremely handsome and sharply dressed, older man made eye contact over his newspaper, looking at me inquisitively. This guy had the kind of thick brown hair you want to brush your fingers through, movie star looks and a body like Hugh Jackman in the Wolverine. It was painfully obvious to me that we weren’t in the same league. Embarrassed, I turned around to get the hell out of there.
“Cynthia? Is that you?”
I immediately liked his deep resonating voice and several coffee skanks much prettier than me must’ve liked it as well. I fully expected there to be a competition to see who would be the first to say, “I’m Cynthia!” The Starbuck sluts looked at Jeremy and sized each other up, pheromones raging, caffeinated claws out. I nearly shook my head no, but his eyes locked on me, freezing me in the doorway. The next thing I knew he was beside me, asking me what I wanted to drink, buying me a decaf. He stood so close I could smell his sexy cologne. I breathed in, but nearly forgot to breathe out.
“Would you like a pastry, Cynthia?”
The question deeply embarrassed me, though I’m sure it wasn’t his intention to do so. I guess I look like the kind of hippo who enjoys her pastries. Too many of them end up around my hips, especially since the departure of Flaccid Bastard. I shook my head no. I didn’t even really want the coffee, but it gave me something to do with my hands.
He led me to his table. He was drinking an Earl Grey Tea, with cream and honey. He became self-conscience when I noticed the remnants of four opened honey packets on the table which he cleared away immediately. I don’t know why but I couldn’t keep my mouth shut about the honey. Perhaps that attribute will come in handy for me later on with him, yes, ladies?
“Having some honey with your tea, Jeremy?”
He flashed me a fairly wicked smile.
“Yeah, now you know my deepest darkest secret. I like to taste sweet things, Cynthia.”
He looked at me with these intense, unsmiling eyes and such a hunger in his masculine voice that my stomach fluttered and my knees felt weak. Even though I was strongly attracted to him, I stood up and looked down at the table as I spoke.
“Thank you for the coffee, Jeremy, and it was a pleasure meeting you.”
I turned to leave.
“Where are you going, Cynthia? Why are you leaving?”
“It’s obvious we’re not in the same league.”
“What? That’s not true at all. I find you—”
“Jeremy, I’m several pounds over—”
“Please, Cynthia. Don’t leave. Sit back down with me. Give me a chance to talk to you at least. I really haven’t talked to anyone in months.”
I slowly sat down, spilling my coffee onto the table. Jeremy helped me wipe it up with a napkin.
“You know who you remind me of? Lena Dunham from “Girls”. Do you know who…”
“Of course, I know her! She’s kind of like a hero of mine. She’s brilliant!”
“She’s pretty, but you’re much, much prettier, Cynthia.”
I could feel my heart pounding in my chest as he complimented me. I don’t remember Flaccid Bastard ever saying something so sweet to me. OK, whatever you’re selling, I’m buying. Sign me up, Jeremy! Sign me up!
“Listen, Cynthia, I’m sure after what I have to propose to you, you’ll probably think I’m completely out of my mind. The last two women didn’t even show up for their appointments.”
“They stood you up?”
“Yes. You’re the first woman I’ve actually met who responded to my personal ad. Maybe what I’m trying to create is not really feasible. It’s just a crazy sexual fantasy of mine, but could you stick around just for a minute, finish your coffee and hear me out?”
“OK, go ahead. I’m listening.”
He spoke of how his ex-wife cheated on him and how he caught her in the act, the image of her infidelity burned into his mind. After I opened up a little and told him a few details about my ex, he mentioned how we had a lot in common. He explained how we were both trying to figure out a way to recover from the trauma of our messy break-ups, and that perhaps we could help each other in the recovery process. He made it clear he was not looking for a serious relationship, but wanted to try becoming sexually involved with several women at once. He wished to share his love openly and freely, in order to avoid the unhealthy fixation he had on his ex-wife that led to so much pain and despair. Our relationship would be non-exclusive and only sexual if I wanted it to be. He assured me I would be welcome to meet him at his large home every Friday night, starting at the end of this week at 9PM. He gave me his card with his address on it. I recognized the upscale address where he lived, mansions in a wooded area on the outskirts of Rockville heading out toward Shady Grove. If I changed my mind about the arrangement or met someone new who didn’t agree with the alternative lifestyle, I would be able to leave the Harem with no questions asked. I think my back recoiled when he said the word Harem, so he explained he wanted it to be more like a social club where sex was an option between consenting adults, but couldn’t think of another word to call it. There would be a simple contract to sign that his lawyer advised him to create, to protect his assets from being taken away in a lawsuit.
“Cynthia, come by Friday evening and I’ll give you a nice massage, at the very least. You don’t have to touch me, or return the massage. If you’re not in the mood for a massage, we can just hang out and talk, if you’d prefer. I like talking to you, Cynthia. In fact, you can drop by any time you want. Here’s my card. Just call me or text me if you want to come over. Do you think you can make it Friday night?”
“I don’t know. I’ll… have to think about it.”
“Of course.”
I offered to pay for the coffee, but he stopped my hand before it entered my purse.
“Don’t be silly. Absolutely not. The coffee is on me. Thanks for letting me unburden my twisted fantasies upon you, Cynthia. If I never see you again, forget about your ex-boyfriend. What did you call him again?”
“Flaccid Bastard?”
“Yeah, him. Forget about that guy. You know, fuck him. He doesn’t know what he gave up when he left you. And by the way, Cynthia, you are not overweight.”
“Really? Perhaps you need to get your eyes examined Jeremy.”
“What I mean is… I like the way you look. You have a very pretty body…”
I looked down at the table, stunned. No man had ever, I mean ever complimented my pear-shaped body before.
“Of course, you’re not telling me the truth, but it’s very kind of you to say that, Jeremy, even if you are lying,” I said, blinking back tears.
“But I’m not lying to you, Cynthia. I find you very attractive.”
“Uh-huh. Well, who wants to be told truth, anyway?”
“Come on over Friday, Cynthia. We’ll just hang out and talk.”
“Maybe, Jeremy.”
As I stood up to leave, he politely stood up as well.
“See you around,” I said.
I turned my back and tried to get out of there without tripping over anyone. I heard his voice on my way out of the door. By his tone, he sounded like he thought he’d never see me again.
“Have a nice life, Cynthia!”
Oh I will, Jeremy, I will. Starting this Friday night.
Chapter Four
Sapphire
Dear Diary: I just had kinky sex with this hot guy named J! I’ve never been drilled so hard by a lover before. God, I’m kind of sore, actually, like I just rode a stallion out of the burning woods. So now I’m sitting around in this funny kind of waiting room full of fluffy pink pillows, finishing my second glass of Master J’s imported Bordeaux. I’m wearing a black thong, black stockings and garter belt, a black corset with a see-through top exposing my tits, and high heels. There is another girl sitting on a couch nearby, also wearing transparent lingerie exposing her curvy tits and ass. She’s looking pretty relaxed. Looks like J thoroughly worked her over too.
I’m writing in this journal J gave me to kill the time. I’m getting a little bored here. Only wine? Shit! What kind of a lame party is this? I’m on my third glass and I don’t even have a slight buzz. I’ll probably take off soon. I got that paper due on Monday that I haven’t even started looming over my head like a dark rain cloud.
J’s in with skank number 3 right now, doing God knows what to the poor girl. What a piece of work this guy is! Earlier this evening, J chained me to the wall in his little fun room, blindfolded me and then really took charge, positioning me face down over a foam wedge of some kind. I guess he’s secretly into B and D. J made me come twice, once with his tongue on my clitoris, very romantic. He made me mew and purr like a kitten that had just lapped up her cream. The second time I came super hard as he entered me from behind, making me shake and shiver inside like I never did before. And I couldn’t even make the guy come! Usually it’s the other way around with men. This guy may be naughty, but he’s also very polite. Women first, gentlemen!
He did leak a few drops of semen out of his tip right before he was about to explode and I treated myself to a little taste. Hmmm. Salty-sweet. But one drop on the tip of my tongue left this Harem girl wanting more. Well, I’ve always liked a challenge. He said if I stick around, we can have another private session later. He already called me the crown jewel of his Harem. It’s funny. He takes this shit a little too seriously, don’t you think? Maybe he was some kind of Middle-Eastern Muslim sheik in his past life, who knows. He invited me to share his big bed and spend the night with him and the other concubines. No, I’m definitely taking off later. That’s where I draw the line. I think this scene is a little too weird, even for a freak like me! I mean, the guy’s a hot mess! He practically proposed to marry me the first second he saw my nipple rings. I don’t know who needs to see a psychiatrist more, him or me.
When I met up with J at Starbucks, I agreed to whatever he wanted to do immediately. Currently, I’m juggling several lovers that I met over the web, at school or partying with in bars. I’ve already gotten bored with most of them. I really should be trying to get rid of a few, rather than be on the hunt for a new one. But when I was surfing my favorite website a few days ago I stumbled upon J’s photo and personal ad, and I got curious. He had these rugged good looks and he wasn’t smiling in the picture, which I liked. I hate it when hunky guys smile on their profiles. I think their toothy grins make them look stupid, like they were just kicked in the head by a horse. I mean, they should drop the “I’m such a nice non-threatening guy, you can feel safe with me bullshit” when we all know what it is they want. If you’re in the market for a safe guy, I don’t think you’d be visiting that naughty website, right? J’s picture definitely did not look safe. The message he left sounded interesting enough to check him out, at least for the initial meeting. I liked the non-exclusivity part. I have enough clingy guys right now hanging onto me like wet clothes. I took one glance at him sitting there so straight and narrow in that sexy suit of his and I was sold. What did they say in that movie? “You had me at hello.”