I told him that I counted the welding as a date, even though it involved two eight-year-old girls, and that we should proceed.
He looked horrified and told me I was traumatized, and that I didn’t need to force myself to do anything with him. That he was happy to carry on cuddling on the sofa and watch de-cluttering programmes.
Well, I’d been looking forward to learning fellatio, and Mike had been quite high-handed enough.
I hadn’t actually objected because blocking my family and staying at the cabin were things I reallywantedto do. But him being arrogant and bossy aboutthiscaused me to have a rare flash of anger. I actually raised my voice, something I barely ever did, and I called him aliarand apurveyor of fake promises—something that made his lips twitch in a very ill-advised smile, which spiked my anger even higher.
Eventually, he threw his arms up in defeat, crying, “Okay, okay. You can give me a blow job. Christ. So much for being a goddamn nice guy.”
The anger drained out of me immediately, and I smiled at getting my way, then slid to my knees in front of him where he sat on the sofa.
“Right,” I said. “I’ve read a great deal of background information, but we might have to go over some of the logistics before we start. I would have watched pornography in preparation, but I’m afraid seeing other people naked makes me feel physically ill.”
“Logistics?” Mike’s voice was pitched higher than normal, and his eyes were wide. “W-what sort of logistics?”
“Well, I may have a problem with the ejaculate element.”
“What?” he said faintly, as I started to grapple with the buttons on his jeans.
“I’m not too good with mess, and if my dislike of sauces is anything to go by, I probably won’t like semen in my mouth.”
Mike rubbed his eyes then stalled my hands on his fly with his own. “You don’t have to swallow, Vicky,” he said in a hoarse voice.
I smiled. “Oh good. Because that is the only aspect I don’t think I could manage. I’m happy about the penis in my mouth element, even if yours is a bit on the large side. I’m sure I can work around it. I’m very task-orientated and a perfectionist, so I want to get this right.”
“Right, okay,” he said, his voice now hoarse, “Vicky, whatever you do will be perfect, I promise.”
I think I did a passable job.
I mean, I kept having to stop and ask questions… a lot of questions, but he didn’t seem too annoyed at having to teach me.
In fact, when I was done, he hauled me up onto his body and cuddled me to him, muttering on and on about how perfect I was, how beautiful. All sorts.
So it can’t have beenthatbad.
Anyway, I’d do better next time. Although, when I told him that he said in that high-pitched voice, “Holy shit, are you trying to kill me?”
The rest of the week had just gotten better and better.
In the daytime, I still did some remote meetings from the cabin after I had my stuff couriered up from London, including my laptop.
Lottie had stayed at Buckingham Manor with Hayley as it was half term, so she came over and sat with me, giving me the signals as if we were in the conference room together. Her ability to read people wasn’t quite so sharp when she worked remotelylike this, but she still managed to identify lies in a couple of the negotiations.
Mike let me watch him sand, varnish, weld and carve in his workshop.
I’d always been told that my staring was a terrible habit. It disconcerted a lot of people, but Mike didn’t seem to mind me staring at him. Every so often, he’d look up and smile at me, or ask me something, or he’d drop his tools and come over to kiss me.
A couple of times he did more than kiss me. Once he even demonstrated his superior upper body strength by lifting me up against the wall and holding me there whilst he took me, whispering all sorts of dirty praise into my ear about beinghis good girl.
I wasn’t sure what I was doing that was so good, seeing as I wasn’t the one putting any of the effort in, but I accepted the praise anyway. Another time he bent me over the smooth wood of his workbench. Afterwards, I informed him that I actually ranked that position at a firm number two, just after the holding me up against the wall thing, and that I liked how he held me down and when he fisted my hair.
He’d muttered, “I’m not going to survive you,” in a choked voice.
In fact, the more he held me down, the more secure I felt. Just like the tight hugs, it made me feel safe.
So, from my point of view, the sex was great. I wasn’t sure Mike thought the same. He certainly said he did, but I was extremely inexperienced, whereas I knew Mike had hadloadsof sex.
I’d heard girls talking about him at The Badger’s Sett in the past, and I’d seen his girlfriends before, both in London and Little Buckingham. They didn’t look like the types to have to pause mid-fellatio to ask whether a hand should be employedover the area that the mouth doesn’t cover, then wondering aloud if you have the required coordination for that to be possible, and then finding out that no, you really do not.
