No More Lies

"Do we have to go through all this again?" Daisy complained. "Why can't you be satisfied? I told you everything before, and it was before we met."

"I know you told me before;" I replied, "twice actually. But I need to show you why your version of events does not ring true. I promise this will be the last time I mention it."

"Are you calling me a liar, Bruce?"

"Not really, I merely want to show you why the story you've been telling me sounds like a lie."

*** *** ***

Daisy and I had been together just over a year. There had come a time early on in our relationship when, as lovers do, we told each other about our respective pasts; especially our previous sex lives. We agreed that a general picture was sufficient; there would be no need for a blow-by-blow account of every encounter. But I insisted we should tell each other the truth and there must be no lies of omission. She wasn't quite sure what I meant, so I explained it to her.

"Normal sexual encounters are trivial;" I'd said, "we're both of an age where we've played the field a fair bit. But if I'd ever tried bi sex for example or if I'd starred in lots of porn videos; then it's important that I tell you. You can see why - unusual things need to be admitted. And my failing to mention them would be lies of omission.

And similarly, if there was a time when you were a prostitute walking the streets, you should tell me. Or if you bent over a pool table and twenty members of motorbike gang took turns up your arse. Not telling me would be the same thing. They're extreme examples of lies of omission.

"OK, I get it."

"Good, it doesn't even mean that those revelations would necessarily spell the end the relationship. But admitting to them is essential if we're going to be honest with each other. Imagine for example someone from your past turns up one day and says 'I remember you; my brother and I fucked you in Loxley woods!' Or 'Hi Bruce; did that dose of syphillis clear up OK?'

She understood and we reached an agreement: no lies.

Daisy and I worked for the same company, Wexfords, but we were located on different sites which were many miles apart. And that had been a factor in us getting together in the first place. We actually met at the party of a mutual friend; nothing to do with the workplace. In fact we had dated a few times before we even realised we were paid by the same employer.

She had always refused to get involved with anyone who worked at her site. This was partly because of her name. Daisy sounds a little childish for a manager and she had a problem being taken seriously. But mostly, she did not like the idea of a relationship with a colleague falling through. In the aftermath, there could be sneaking glances. The ex might spread rumours about her. The last thing she needed was a manager's meeting where one of the males was staring at her, thinking: 'I've heard she's a great fuck.' Or worse: 'I've been there and she's a lousy fuck.' That was why my comment about someone from the past suddenly turning up saying they remembered fucking her had struck home. There was not a lot of work traffic between our two buildings, so our current arrangement was working well. It was helped by the fact that we were both managers at the same level.

The only cloud on our horizon was my obsession with the truth; I'd been lied to in the past and those lies had damaged me. Some wounds never really heal completely. I did realise that with a name like Daisy she felt the need to 'big herself up'. So when she said things like: 'If strippers turned up at a girls' night out, I'd leave' -- I guessed that was probably an exaggeration. A little embellishment of the truth was allowed. But there was this one story that simply did not seem believable. I needed her to admit she'd had a one night stand in some guy's hotel room. Not because I cared about the sex; if it occurred before we met it was trivial anyway. But I did not want us to proceed on the basis of her lying.

*** *** ***

"You told me that there was an accountant working in your department for a week in the December before we got together. He was visiting from Head Office in Liverpool to do the annual audit."

"That's correct."

"And on his last night he invited you to dinner at his hotel. It was a thank you for looking after him so well. There was a band in residence and you had a few slow dances with him. And, in your own words, you also had a few too many glasses of wine."

"That's also correct."

"And I believe every word of it. But what I have a problem with is the part where you went to his room. You've said you took your knickers off, yet you insist you did not have sex with him. You were pissed off when you discovered he was married. Let me be absolutely clear about this Daisy. I want you to admit you had sex. It's irrelevant, and happened before we got together. So why not tell me the truth?"

"If it's so irrelevant, why should it bother you?"

"It doesn't. But taking our relationship forward, with a lie hanging over us, does."

"As lies of omission go, this would be unimportant."

"Those were examples. It's the lie itself that bothers me,"

"So you're calling me a liar again, and I'm not. Why are you so obsessed with this?"

"A relationship won't work unless there is trust. And there can only be trust if there's honesty. Let me give you an example. Last month you went on a week's training course to London and stayed in the North Road Hotel."

"I will never forget that hotel." she agreed, smiling. "You sent that huge bouquet of flowers ahead and they were in my room when I arrived. It's the most romantic thing that's ever happened to me. All the other attendees were women and they came to my room and admired those roses, and were really jealous. One of them complained to the manager that she didn't have flowers in her room. He had to explain they were not a standard hotel service but a personal Interflora delivery."

"Yet when you returned from that training course," I continued, "you told me nothing of what you learned; or about the girls who were on it. And you never mentioned the the hotel itself; accommodation, food, nothing."

"The course was not your field. You wouldn't have been interested."

"Fair enough; and you didn't think to mention the training and conference facilities?"

"It was just a hotel; weekly commuters and a couple of other courses."

"Yet you did tell me about the other guys; the ones who were on those courses. As I recall, they were young and handsome, and there was a good deal of flirting between the groups. And you made a special point of telling me the hotel laid on a DJ and dancing on the Thursday; your last night. And how you danced some slow numbers and got chatted up. You told me about the drinks that got bought for your group. And you even implied that at least one of the married women in your party spent a couple of nights in some guy's room."

"Yes, one of them did. But I never went to anyone's room! I was only teasing you -- grow up!"

"I know you were, and I believe you. And I don't doubt that you kissed, got your arse squeezed, and joined in with the general flirting -- which is fine. The point I'm trying to make is about trust. And there are rules when you trust someone. You're allowed to tease me and nudge me towards to questioning you about your week away. But the rules are I'm not allowed to ask if you had sex with anyone. You can hint and imply you might have got up to some mischief; and you can paint a picture of how easily you could have a cheated on me. But I cannot come right out with it and ask if you had a one night stand, because that's against the rules."

"Do you want to ask me?"

"Yes, OK."

"Well I did not cheat on you Bruce. I get the thing about trust, and I'm sorry you can't handle being teased. But you need to grow a pair; I thought you could take a joke. Now what can my London trip possibly have to do with sex I did not have in a hotel before we met?"

"OK, I'll explain. Imagine this from the outside looking in for a moment. I'll describe the way I it could have gone down. Don't interrupt if I get a few details wrong, but feel free to stop me if I say something outrageous.

She nodded.

I'm looking at this beautiful manager who has the somewhat unfortunate name of Daisy. I sense her constant battle against sniggering and rumour. She will never date anyone in her building."

"Go on."

"She has recently started a relationship with a new man called Bruce, and told him a lot about her past. And in that past let's say, for the sake of argument, she really did have a one night stand with a visiting accountant. There's nothing wrong with that; she has normal healthy appetites and doesn't have to meet that man again. So it seems to me she has two choices. Tell Bruce about it, which won't bother him one way or the other, or simply not say anything. It was before you met him anyway and hardly worth mentioning. Are you with me so far?"

"I suppose so."

"But what Daisy actually does is something rather strange. She chooses neither of those actions. Instead she tells Bruce part of the tale, but denies that actual sex took place. As this accountant's marital status would have been a deal breaker, he must have spent the whole week claiming he was single."

"I agree, that's exactly what he did. He told everybody."

"But even a single man treating a woman to dinner, does not just look up and say 'After dessert, why not come up to my room and we'll fuck.' There has to be a fair bit of foreplay first. So he was flattering Daisy and flirting with her throughout the previous week. She admits he was always in her office, using a spare desk to work through the numbers. And I can envisage their romantic dinner; he flirts even more. I expect he danced cheek to cheek and held her close against his erection. There would compliments whispered in her ear. He squeezes her arse and tries more advanced groping. You must agree a scenario like that is more than likely."

"Yes, it was very much like that."

"Now picture the moment of truth. He opens the door to his room, and they walk in. At that moment Daisy follows, fully intending to have sex with him."

She nodded.

"She's already indulged in passionate kissing with tangling tongues I woudn't be surprised if she's had her hand on his trousers getting a good idea of how big his dick is. She gets on the bed, takes her knickers off -- or possibly he does that for her. And then ...? He joins her, his dick swinging. He slips a finger inside her, sucks her nipples and he says 'Oh by the way, I hope you don't mind but I'm married!"

"You're being ridiculous."

"No, I think you are. You did not hand him your panties and say he could keep them -- and then leave because you changed your mind. What happened was you did have sex with him. You claim you would never fuck a married man as you know what adultery did to your parents. So either his being married didn't bother you after all, or you found out after the event and felt ashamed. But I'm quite sure you realised how it must have looked the next week at work. Any number of your colleagues or staff could have seen you at that hotel; many would have known he was staying there. They might be indiscreet whispering about a manager kissing the visiting accountant on the dance floor and getting her tits fondled."

Daisy went a little pink.

"So when you and I got together, it was difficult for you not to mention the encounter. You had to tell me something because I could easily hear the story from someone else. And this image you project of yourself would be damaged if the no-nonsense manager had a one night stand with a mere contractor. So you were forced to tell me the bare bones, then denied the actual sex. And that's why my version sounds like the truth and yours is so unlikely that it doesn't."

"May I speak now?"

"Of course you may."

"It's uncanny - everything you described is spot on -- the drinks, dancing, even getting my arse squeezed. But your description goes wrong when we get to what happened in his room. I don't know if he knew my stance concerning involvement with married men, but he had told everyone he was single so that's what I believed. And he did flirt with me all week at work, and there was kissing on the hotel dance floor. I copped a good feel of his erection and fully intended to have sex with him. Once we were in his room I stripped down to my panties, thinking he'd like to take them off. But when I turned to face him he was naked and asked me to remove everything. So I did and lay ready for him, legs apart. And yes I handed him my panties and he sniffed them. Then he got on top of me. We did the preliminary kissing and fondling and he fingered my vagina and sucked my nipples; happy so far?"

"Go on."

"Then he reached into the drawer in the bedside table. I saw he was bringing out a condom, but he dropped it on the floor. He leaned over to retrieve it and slipped, half on, half off the bed. I sat up to help pull him up and happened to look in the drawer. Next to his condoms was a gold ring. I knew it was a wedding ring and reached in to pick it up. At the back of the drawer was a small frame. I turned it over and there was a photo of him with his wife and children."

"Ah."

"You can guess the rest. He got the sharp end of my tongue, and I don't mean on his dick. I got dressed and left. And yes, I didn't bother to look for my panties so got out of there without them. That's the full story; I thought telling you all the gory details was, in your own words, trivial, so I didn't. The account I told you was true. I do not tell lies. My only lie of omission as you call it was that final part which was too embarrassing anyway. I never had sex in a hotel here, and neither did I cheat on you in London. Now apologise and we'll move on. Tell me about your trip to Glasgow."

"I'd prefer to tell you about Glasgow before I apologise."

"Do, but I expect to hear you say sorry very soon."

"OK, last Tuesday, as I left, you know my boss Len had already interviewed me for the post of our department's new area manager. He had two more candidates to see and I was not hopeful as there was a lot of talk about bringing in new blood."

"Yes, you told me."

"And do you remenber how we laughed when we heard the name of the general manager I was to report to in Glasgow?"

"Yes, Alex McPherson; he could hardly have a more Scottish name."

"Right, well there was a big surprise when I arrived. It turned out that Alexandra McPherson is a busty blonde. In fact she's the youngest female general manager in the company, and the prettiest by far. You can check her entry in the company's phone book."

"Oh I get it; so now you have the chance to tell me about your flirting away from home, like I did about my London trip. Go on then, do your worst. Tell me how you danced with her and squeezed her big tits. How you took her back to your hotel room. You can show me her dirty panties and explain how she gave them to you but did not actually have sex with you. She bailed out last minute when you told her you had a girlfriend, right? And I'll have to believe every word of it."

"That response just goes to show the depth of your ignorance. " I countered. "You still think this is about having sex. You can't see that I'm more concerned with the truth; or lack of it."

Daisy was unabashed and stuck her chin out.

"So I'll ignore that little outburst for the moment," I continued, "and will finish my Scottish report. I got stuck into their storage issues with two of their team leaders. It was going very well and as you know I came back on Thursday; a day early. But it's the Wednesday night in Glasgow I want to tell you about."

"I can hardly wait. Were there lots of pretty lassies in McPherson's department, asking to see your room? Were they all itching to demonstrate they had nothing on under their little kilts?"

"No. Around five pm, Alex called me to her office and told me she was pleased with my rapid progress. I confirmed I would wrap things up next morning and fly home around lunch time. Then, another surprise -- she called my boss, Len, and passed me the phone. He informed me the other two interviewees had been hopeless. One didn't have a clue what the job entailed and the other didn't turn up. He'd spoken to HR and they agree to scrap my second interview. As from the first of next month I'm an area manager!"

"Congratulations!"

"Thanks."

"But I sense there's more." she said.

"There is. Alex said I ought to celebrate. My task there was all but completed so having a few drinks that evening wouldn't hurt. After dinner she came over to the hotel bar and bought me a beer."

"That was decent of her."

"That's what I thought. Then we got stuck into a few single malt whiskies. No, there was no dancing, or even flirting. What happened was she got a bit maudlin."

"So you took her to your room and comforted her of course. But she probably had to leave early to look after a gaggle of bairns at home waiting for their bedtime story."

"Your persistent sarcasm shames you Daisy; you're the one who likes teasing, not me. She got very tearful telling me about her divorce. She used to be a manager at our Bristol branch. Her husband was two pay grades below her and travelled to other branches every couple of months. One day she went to the doctor with what she thought was period pains and it turned out to be syphilis."

At last Daisy calmed down.

"God, how awful; she got it from her husband?"

"Yes. He'd been visiting our Manchester branch and caught it off a secretary. But he was crying and pleading with Alex to forgive him."

"Did she?"

"No, she'd been humiliated; many of their colleagues knew he'd been cheating on her. That almost hurt more than his affairs -- people laughing behind her back. So she let him believe that they might be able to try again if he would just confess the details of all his conquests away from home. It was her act of revenge to humiliate him. Once he'd admitted to every time he'd cheated, she divorced him anyway. Not long after, when the chance of the promotion in Glasgow came up, she went for it of course. And now she's back in Scotland -- her homeland - and has reverted to her maiden name, McPherson."

"And this sad tale of infidelity prompted you to return to my one night stand; your endless quest for truth again. So, now we've cleared it all up, I did not have sex with another man just before we met and haven't done so since, and now I'd like my apology."

"Well you're not getting one. Six weeks before her husband got his STI he fucked you."

"What?"

"You heard me. Alex said he admitted to scoring with a catering manager in Southampton, and a barmaid in his hotel in Leeds. But his last conquest before he caught a dose in Manchester was a manager in this building, name of Daisy. It's pure luck that he did an audit here before moving on to Manchester; or you might have caught it too."

Daisy went white.

"I've given you every opportunity to own up to this lie. And I repeat -- it is not about sex. You told lies the first two times and I doubted you. This was your last chance to come clean. And what did you do? You embellished the original lie with a stupid story about wedding rings and photos. And the description of the drawer full of condoms is laughable as he caught syphilis on his next trip away. So Glasgow was probably my last trip before I get promoted. And it was there that I finally got confirmation of your one night stand. But don't kid yourself; I always knew."

"Oh no!"

"The thing is, if I'd been in a bar, Glasgow or anywhere else, I could have heard this story from some man. He might be bragging about how he'd visited this site and fucked you. And I'd have taken that with a pinch of salt. I think you're the most beautiful woman in this town, and there are probably a dozen men who have fantasised about fucking you. But this was not some bragging drunk. It was a weepy woman who had dragged the truth out of her then husband. And I believe her story not yours."