If you're enjoying my stories, please vote for them. The more you vote, the more chance that others will find them and enjoy them. It gives authors a boost to know their stories are being read and appreciated. Thanks.
Chapter 8
***
It's fair to say that my relationship with Laura had suffered a little with the pressure of my new business. Not that I didn't love her dearly, of course, it was just that, as you can imagine, I was pretty knackered at the end of day. Massage is strenuous work and on some days I'd also had several orgasms and plenty of randy play. So it wasn't that I wasn't willing to have sex with Laura - it was simply that I didn't need to. That sounds a little selfish but it's just how my body works. Consequently she was getting increasingly annoyed at my lack of, shall we say, 'enthusiasm' for her sexual needs.
I arrived home one Friday afternoon to find her perched on the sofa, looking sullen.
"Hello sweetheart," I chirped. "Haven't seen you for a bit."
"We need to talk," she said firmly. Words that send a spasm of dread through any man's soul.
My heart sank a little. Oh dear, I thought. I walked over and sat next to her, bracing myself for the worst, and waited for her to speak.
"Look, I know you're working hard," she started. "And yes, I know it was my idea. But I feel it's just getting a bit out of hand."
"I'm making really good money," I said, trying to think of other positives, but failing to come up with any. There was a momentary pause.
"Is that all you've got?" She said. I didn't want to admit it, but it really was. Lots of other, er, 'benefits' for me. But nothing she would appreciate.
"I'm sorry if I've been ignoring you," I mumbled, trying to sound as contrite as possible. "It's pretty hard work giving massages all day. How about we head out for a nice meal tonight?" I was desperately trying to deflect. She ignored the question and looked me straight in the eye.
"How many women have you fucked this week? Be honest with me."
There was a pregnant pause, although not because I planned to fib, but simply because I needed a few seconds to tot them up in my head. I'd got as far as Thursday morning when she continued.
"See what I mean! You don't even know!"
"It's only..." I stuttered, without really knowing how I was going to finish the sentence. Thinking better of it, I changed tack. "What can I do to make things better between us?" I continued meekly. I was trying my sad eyes, hoping it wasn't too obvious, and Laura softened a little. She sighed.
"You could start by doing me a little favour. I need you to come and stay at my place for a few days."
I'd been over to Laura's apartment on and off, although never for more than a night. But it seemed a reasonable request and I nodded enthusiastically. No problemo, I mused.
"You see..." she continued, pausing and looking increasingly guilty. "My mother's coming to stay. She thinks I have a boyfriend... a proper boyfriend... who I live with."
I stared at her for a second taking in her confession, then laughed. Now who was telling little white lies, I thought.
"Does she know what your 'boyfriend' does for a living?" I said, grinning.
"Graphic Designer."
I laughed again. I had resigned from the company over a month ago to focus on the increasingly lucrative massage practice.
"Sounds like someone's been telling a few porkies," I chortled. Laura hung her head, shamefaced. I decided to put her out of her misery and put my arms around her.
"No worries," I murmured reassuringly. "Happy to stay at yours. Happy to be your boyfriend, which is kind of true anyway. And I'm sure I can talk all about design work over the dinner table."
