The look on Cristina's face told me that another ride was probably out of the question, so with a heavy sigh to let her know the sacrifice that I was making on her behalf, I tootled off to shower, and on my return I threw my clothes on. Fully attired I then tossed the collection of female underwear, skirts, jeans and tops that took up an easy chair onto the floor and sat down to await madam's pleasure. Although I say it myself I am nothing if not a decent soul.
"I want to talk to you about our relationship," she began, to my amazement. I do so hate it when females start talking like that, because it presupposes that a relationship even exists. Women may think that just because they have been riveted to a bed that we riveters have some feelings towards them, but I am sorry to have to disappoint you, girls, but most of the time our interest in you ends once our balls have been emptied. That is not to say that we do not feel warmly towards you again as our balls start to refill, but do not confuse our desire to have a friendly pussy at our beck and call with anything else, such as the emotion stuff, for instance.
"Of course," I replied as smoothly as I could. No fool me, I was not going to pick a fight with such a delightful bed mate, especially if there was a possibility of a return bout between the sheets. "Tell me what's on your mind," I concluded.
"I have been thinking," madam began. It is always a bad sign when they start sentences with those words because it means that some idiotic idea is buzzing through their superficial little minds, and I have to admit that I was curious to know what the nonsense would be. I did not have long to wait as the question which followed summed up her fantasies perfectly: "Wouldn't you like to have me all to yourself?"
"How would that work out, in practise?"
"Well, I would live in a small flat and keep it nice for you whenever you came to see me," she replied, brightly.
"That's a great idea," I said. "How do you suggest that I pay for it?"
"You, you are an academic, a professor," she began. "You are well paid," she concluded, with what I thought was a touch of triumph in her voice.
"I am very well paid for thirty-two weeks of the year, but for the rest of the time I get nothing. I work by contract, two contracts a year, each for the sixteen weeks of the semester. The rest of the time I can starve as far as the university is concerned," I told her.
"But how can that be, my love?"
I was not entirely convinced that I was her love and I suspected that she had added that for effect, but I let it pass, decent soul that I am. "Because that is the way that Mexico works, my sweet. If you are not connected to someone then you do not get the cushy little numbers, and as a foreigner I am not connected to anyone important," I replied honestly.
"But how can that be? What do they pay you? You must get the bonuses and other benefits," she claimed.
"I get fuck all," I said. "I get paid for the hours that I work and if I am sick then I either put those hours back or lose the payment. I get no end of year bonus, no holiday pay, no pension and no sickness pay," I told her simply.
"I don't understand," wailed Cristina, a slightly hysterical edge to her voice.
"What is there to understand? Nobody cares about the fact that I sell porn or that I bed students. In return I don't really care about them. It is just a job," I explained.
"You duped me," she screamed. "Tricked me! Made me think that you were somebody worth caring for!"
"Don't be stupid. You're a whore who dances for money and then you spread your thighs for more of it. I teach the offspring of the rich and occasionally get some of their daughters on their backs. That's when I'm not punting pornos vids. That's what we are, so let's be honest about it," I told her.
"I'm not a whore!"
"No, you're the Virgin fucking Mary who just gives the impression that she takes cock as a sideline when she isn't too busy with sunny boy Jesus," I said, with a laugh
"That's blasphemy," madam screamed, as she picked up a heavy glass vase from a table and threw it at me, water, flowers and all. I barely had time to register what was happening before the damned thing hit me on the jaw and then bounced off to smash on the floor.
"Now that was fucking stupid, of you, I replied, as I got up and walked towards her.
To be continued.
"Of course," I replied as smoothly as I could. No fool me, I was not going to pick a fight with such a delightful bed mate, especially if there was a possibility of a return bout between the sheets. "Tell me what's on your mind," I concluded.
"I have been thinking," madam began. It is always a bad sign when they start sentences with those words because it means that some idiotic idea is buzzing through their superficial little minds, and I have to admit that I was curious to know what the nonsense would be. I did not have long to wait as the question which followed summed up her fantasies perfectly: "Wouldn't you like to have me all to yourself?"
"How would that work out, in practise?"
"Well, I would live in a small flat and keep it nice for you whenever you came to see me," she replied, brightly.
"That's a great idea," I said. "How do you suggest that I pay for it?"
"You, you are an academic, a professor," she began. "You are well paid," she concluded, with what I thought was a touch of triumph in her voice.
"I am very well paid for thirty-two weeks of the year, but for the rest of the time I get nothing. I work by contract, two contracts a year, each for the sixteen weeks of the semester. The rest of the time I can starve as far as the university is concerned," I told her.
"But how can that be, my love?"
I was not entirely convinced that I was her love and I suspected that she had added that for effect, but I let it pass, decent soul that I am. "Because that is the way that Mexico works, my sweet. If you are not connected to someone then you do not get the cushy little numbers, and as a foreigner I am not connected to anyone important," I replied honestly.
"But how can that be? What do they pay you? You must get the bonuses and other benefits," she claimed.
"I get fuck all," I said. "I get paid for the hours that I work and if I am sick then I either put those hours back or lose the payment. I get no end of year bonus, no holiday pay, no pension and no sickness pay," I told her simply.
"I don't understand," wailed Cristina, a slightly hysterical edge to her voice.
"What is there to understand? Nobody cares about the fact that I sell porn or that I bed students. In return I don't really care about them. It is just a job," I explained.
"You duped me," she screamed. "Tricked me! Made me think that you were somebody worth caring for!"
"Don't be stupid. You're a whore who dances for money and then you spread your thighs for more of it. I teach the offspring of the rich and occasionally get some of their daughters on their backs. That's when I'm not punting pornos vids. That's what we are, so let's be honest about it," I told her.
"I'm not a whore!"
"No, you're the Virgin fucking Mary who just gives the impression that she takes cock as a sideline when she isn't too busy with sunny boy Jesus," I said, with a laugh
"That's blasphemy," madam screamed, as she picked up a heavy glass vase from a table and threw it at me, water, flowers and all. I barely had time to register what was happening before the damned thing hit me on the jaw and then bounced off to smash on the floor.
"Now that was fucking stupid, of you, I replied, as I got up and walked towards her.
To be continued.
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