That night as I packed, Dave was so cute. He warned me to watch out for John. He told me some players were extremely subtle in their approach in an effort to get past people’s defences. He warned me about the dangers of drinking too much while away and about men who slipped muscle and inhibition relaxants into girl’s drinks. He even talked about some of the tactics they used. When I asked how he knew all this, he reminded me he was a fan of erotic stories and had read extensively on the subject. I found it very hard to keep a straight face. I knew exactly what John’s intentions and tactics were. I had no intention of losing control. Of course, I couldn’t say anything like that to Dave.
We went out for dinner, then Dave made love to me like only he can. I’d swear he was trying to make me so sore and satisfied, I wouldn’t be able to do anything for the three days, even if I wanted to. However, as his rough hands caressed me at the start, I couldn’t help imagining they were John’s big, soft ones.
John and I left on the Wednesday morning, saw a few clients, then ended up at a hotel about a three-hour drive from home. He was being professional and careful and there was never a suggestion we share a room. As I showered, prior to meeting him for dinner, I wondered what tactics he would use. I wasn’t far off. My new job wasn’t exactly busy. I’d been able to spend hours per day reading erotic stories, concentrating mainly on the ones about predators. Dinner that night was all about how he and his wife had grown apart, how she didn’t understand him, and how sexually unadventurous she’d become since they married. He pointedly avoided the subject of Dave, but did lay it on thick about how attractive I was. Yes, I had taken some effort with my hair and make-up, but had no illusions on where I fit in the supermodel scale. Even though I expected his tactics, I would swear his compliments were genuine.
My mind wandered back to the only time I’d questioned Dave on why he chose me. That was an eye opener. Although they never admit it to girls, or even other guys, most men weren’t that attracted to supermodels, or those with Dolly Parton chests. They preferred loyal, homely, girl-next-door types. Two people can just click sexually, regardless of their physical merits. When I questioned him on the adequacy of my chest, he said that anything more than a one, on the BSH scale, was wasted. When I questioned the meaning of BSH, he replied, British Standard Handful. Then he demonstrated. Boy, did he demonstrate. He kept demonstrating until we were both exhausted. Maybe, that’s how John saw me. Maybe, we just clicked on a sexual level.
That night, John was a gentleman and escorted me to my room, gave me a chaste kiss on the cheek and went on his way. I half expected a knock on the door later, but it never came I had mixed feelings about his lack of pursuit, I’d been so certain he’d make his move. Still I was confident I hadn’t totally misread his interest and I vowed to be as indirect as possible when he finally propositioned me and I turned him down. I enjoyed the feeling of being special that John’s attention gave me. It was the long dormant thrill of being chased.