0 comments/ 78911 views/ 1 favorites Clyde and Margi By: Fhazel This is story of Margi and Clyde – a good one, I think, different and not at all what I expected it to be. After my encounters with Andrea, angel of mine, and the second thing with Elaine, I knew that I had not finished with experimenting. Derek and I are drifting apart – or, at least, it seems that way to me. Nothing significant happened it just that there a sameness about everything but it may be because of me. Who knows? In the spirit of adventuring, I browsed the “swingers” ads on Adam and came across their ad. A multiracial couple, both married to other people, both living on the fringe of danger. I was attracted to the ad because I had an interest in swinging, threesomes, as well as a healthy curiosity about men of other races. I know that this is a taboo in many peoples eyes but, hey, stuff that, this is new me! Anyway, when I was 18 I met an Indian guy in the Rosebank mall. He was bold enough to introduce himself to me and we had a good chat, standing in the busy mall outside CNA. He was damned good-looking but a little too smooth so it went nowhere. Anyway, I was only recently sexually active so I was not all that confident around men, regardless of colour. Margi and Clyde are different though, and my response was received by Clyde. I was cautious in it, not giving too much away, but he was polite and friendly in his reply. Their ad said they wanted a third to join them for no strings sex, the other woman could be bi or not. This sounded interesting because they said I could watch if that is all I was interested in. This meant I could keep my options open. As our e-mails went back and forth I ensured that the venue would be a hotel – a good one, not a cheap place. We eventually agreed on the Sunnyside Hotel and they would foot the bill. I tried to find out their ages and I was a little taken aback when Clyde told me he was 39 and Margi was forty-something (his words). I thought about this for a while as they both seemed older than I wanted, particularly her. This made me pause a while and I asked Clyde for his number. Surprisingly he sent it instantly, along with Margi’s. Again, I waited a few days, unsure if I should proceed. Clyde then sent me e-mail, telling me that if I wanted to bail out, no problem and that there was no pressure. Again I wavered. Eventually my curiosity got the better of me and I called him. His secretary answered – a black guy! Our new South Africa is new indeed and he told me that Clyde was away on business in Cape Town and he offered me his cell number. I took it, not sure if the cell was too personal or not. I knew it would be safe to call him as he was away, so, that night, after Chad drifted off to sleep I called. Clyde has deep voice, sexy, and he sounded white on the phone. Educated too, sure of himself. I told him who I was and he was genuinely pleased. He spoke exactly like his e-mails – polite, friendly and considerate. He said that was coloured but that he had some Asian ancestry. I left it at that, marvelling at how complex our society actually is. I was nervous as we spoke and I felt foolish. He was in his hotel room, drinking a beer and watching some soccer match. He told me that he was a manager for an Internet company and travelled regularly between Jhb and CT, at least once a month. Margi was an old girlfriend, from years ago, and they had recently re-established contact to renew their sex life, which was apparently great. They were both adventurous, looking for the unusual, hence the Adam thing. I told him a little about me and was surprised to find that I was tempted to lie a little, about nonsense; my age, weight etc. I didn’t though but I did tell him that I wasn’t sure. He suggested we all meet for coffee (Nino’s jumped into my mind but that is my special place with Andrea) and I agreed to meet them in Sandton, in the Sandton Square. We agreed that we could all talk then and if I wanted I could walk away with no pressure. I agreed to meet them the following Monday, when Clyde was back in Jhb. After we chatted I still found that I had second thoughts but I decided to forge ahead anyway. After all, what could happen over lunch, in public? Little did I know! That Monday I took care to dress nicely, wearing one of my better outfits from Queens Park. I made sure my hair looked great and I applied my make-up carefully. I mean, even if it went nowhere I wanted to look my best. Being prudent, especially after the fiasco with Elaine, I got there early, a quarter to one. I told Clyde that I would wear a pair of white sunglasses in my hair, like an Alice band, so that he could recognise me. He said he would be wearing a blue lounge shirt with a red tie. So, being careful, I made sure that the sunglasses weren’t in my hair until I saw him, or them, so that I could suss them out and make some sort of assessment before exposing myself. Sure enough, they got there a few minutes before one. He was indeed wearing the clothes as agreed (this gave me some comfort – no smart-arse tricks from their side). I was surprised – Margi didn’t look forty-something but fifty-something! He looked about 39 or 40. I studied them for few moments, sizing them up. Clyde wasn’t bad looking. In fact he had an appealing smile, open and wide. He wore glasses and I could see what he meant by his Asian ancestry. He wasn’t too dark but not fair – in fact like Anant Naidoo, the newsreader – do you remember him? Clyde had straight black hair, fine and neatly cut in old-fashioned style, like a square cut almost. He wore a moustache. He wasn’t weighty but he seemed well built without being muscular. His clothes fitted him well and were expensive looking. He wore some jewellery; a gold bracelet, rings and a watch. His sleeves were rolled halfway up his forearms, his jacket slung over the back of the chair. He sat expansively in the chair, legs wide, arms making big gestures as he talked to Margi, smiling all the time. He looked about 5’10” or so, not tall. He seemed confident, sure of himself. Margi seemed old and my heart sagged. She smiled a lot too, smoking, leaning forward to listen to Clyde. She was well dressed, wearing a nice lemon summer dress with white sandals. Her hair was tied up neatly. She, too, wore jewellery, lots of it, bangles, chains and rings. Obviously had some money. She had a nice open face, blue eyes and she was blond. I would guess her weight to be about 65 kgs or so and her height to 5’ 7”. I watched them for about 5 minutes and they looked around, obviously looking for me. The moment had come to decide – I took a breath and was about to stand up when a waiter approached them. I waited. He ordered for both of them, without consulting her, clearly showing that they knew each other well. When the waiter left I rose and went to meet them, glasses now firmly in hair. As I neared the table Clyde saw me and smiled broadly, openly. He rose and stuck his hand out. Margi looked at me appraisingly. “Aimee – glad you decided to come!” I took his hand; it was dry, warm and firm. It felt strange meeting a man I knew who wanted to fuck me, shaking his hand so formally. “This is Margi, my good friend,” he said, gesturing towards her. She smiled sweetly and simply said “Hello” and nodded. I felt flustered, smoothing my skirt as I sat. Clyde then sat down. “We’ve just ordered drinks – what can I get for you?” I cleared my throat, feeling trapped. Had they ordered alcohol or not? What the hell, I needed something to still my hammering heart. “I’ll have a Bacardi Breezer, the pineapple one, if they have it. Thanks…” “No problem!” Clyde said, and started signalling for the waiter. “So!” he said, “Do you work far from here?” “Actually no – I’m in Randburg so its no big thing. And you?” I started to settle now, neutral territory and all that. “Auckland Park. A bit of a trek but, you know, its central for all of us.” “I’m in Midrand – so it’s not far for me either.” Margi had strong Afrikaans accent. The waiter came over, a beer for Clyde and a glass of white wine for Margi. Clyde ordered for me. “So how did you two meet?” I asked, deciding to let them do all the talking. I would use the time to gather my thoughts, evaluate this whole thing, this surreal and strange seduction thing. They both laughed. “Do you want to tell her or shall I?” This was Margi, blowing cigarette smoke upwards. Clyde took out a pack, offered me one and we lit up. “Let me tell the story,” he said, “It’s so funny!” I began to feel comfortable with these two, this strange couple. Closer examination made think that Clyde was perhaps closer to 42 and Margi about 55. Strange world we live in, strange indeed. Margi was a real Afrikaner, the real thing. Blond and blue-eyed and she was with Clyde. These weren’t new South Africans; these were from the old one, the apartheid one. “I was sort of dating a friend of Margi’s,” he began, “Linda is her name. This was a long time ago – about 15 years ago. Dating is the wrong word, I think; it was more of a sex thing. Anyway, to make a long story short, Linda called me one day and asked if I was interested in group sex.” He blew a plume a smoke into the air, shaking his head. “I couldn’t believe it. I mean, Linda was always open-minded and all that, but, an orgy? No way, I thought, fantasies don’t come true this easily! Anyway I agreed, what else? She said that a friend – turned out to be Margi here – that had a boyfriend that wanted to do her and her friend – Margi – agreed if Linda would bring someone along for her.” They both laughed again, obviously enjoying the memory. “Linda and I got to Margi’s place about 8 or so that night and I already had a few beers. Margi opened the door and I thought, hey man, this seems to be the real thing. I was introduced to Kim – he’s English – and we had a few drinks. Kim had a heavy hand and I don’t really drink hard tack so after a couple I was feeling quite sloshed. Kim had an issue with Pakistanis – he thought I looked like one - and he went on about them for a while. Anyway, he called Linda to balcony and that left Margi and I alone. Margi went to the ladies and came out stark naked!” She blushed at this, but laughed as well. “ Where do you want to fuck, she asked, here or in the bedroom?” “No,” she said, “I had my underwear on. Didn’t I?” “No, you were starkers!’ Clyde replied, “Anyway, I gathered my stuff – smokes, ashtray, drink – and said we should use the room.” He leaned back, a far-way look in his eyes. “It was a night to remember. Details some other time if you like but that was a night that should live in song and legend. Really.” “It was wonderful,’ Margi replied, “We had a better time than the other two and Kim was so jealous – I made a lot of noise, so much! - He proposed to me the next morning, Valentine’s Day! We’re still married today.” Stranger and stranger. But I was warming to them, this odd couple; I was beginning to like them because they seemed so natural with each other. Glancing around, I wondered if anybody was watching but nobody appeared to be taking the slightest interest. “So does Kim approve of you and Clyde now?” I asked, sure that he didn’t. I mean, what about the issues over the Pakistani thing? “Oh no,” Margi said, “He’ll die if he knew. He is so jealous over Clyde, he never really got over that night – his part was a disaster because he didn’t get it up! So we meet on the quiet, you know, and we do our thing.” Clyde sipped his beer, puffed his cigarette and stubbed it out. “Tell us a bit about yourself, Aimee, are you married?” I had seen him look at my wedding finger – no ring. So I knew he was trying control the conversation, steer it. But I knew that my time would come so I was prepared. “No, not anymore. I got divorced more than a year ago. I am seeing someone now – his name is Derek – but you could say I’m on my own.” I was trying to imply that I on my own as far the adventure was concerned. It did not escape Clyde. “Pretty brave of you, you know, to come here - this world is full of nutcases. You were wise to be cautious, very wise. How did you stumble across the Adam site?” Clyde was very skilful, very clever. He managed to direct to the conversation the nub of the matter, the point of this meeting. He did it so effortlessly. I made a mental note to watch him carefully. “By accident really; I overheard my colleagues laughing one day, gathered around an office PC. When I joined them I saw that they had the Adam site up and were laughing at some of the entries. I made a mental note of the address and, well, you know, came across your ad?” “Some of the people who advertise on the site are idiots so I don’t blame your colleagues,” Clyde said and Margi nodded in agreement, “So is this your first foray into the unknown?” Clever boy, not taking my bait that it was. “No, not really. I did meet someone else but that was a mess. But it took me months and then only after I had had an awakening of sorts, you know, something happened that made me more, well, brave and adventurous.” “Sounds like a good memory. I’m glad you weren’t put off by your bad experience. We advertised quite a few times. Met a few screwballs. Nothing ever worked out, for one reason or another and we were beginning to give up hope. So that leads us this question: what do you want out of this?” Not so fast, buddy, not so fast, I thought to myself. I’m not revealing too much without determining the boundaries. “Well, maybe you and Margi can tell me what you want, what you are hoping for and then I can see if it fits in with my expectations…” “You know, to tell the truth, we don’t really have a plan,” Margi started, “We’re just looking for fun. Safe, clean fun but something different.” As if they weren’t different enough already. I mean, you know? “Yes, that’s right,” Clyde added, “we don’t have a fixed agenda. Look, here’s the deal: we are seeing each other on the sly. We both have good marriages but need something a little extra. We have no expectations of each other, meet when we can, when its safe, and we have no-holds barred sex. That’s the truth.” He looked at her. She smiled. “When we decided to include someone else we tried the site and this is our first contact that has possibilities. There were other meetings but we escaped as soon as we can – too many weirdoes! I can speak for both us: we like you, we would like to take this forward but only at your pace and with your consent, of course, as to how you would like to participate.” He looked at me, leaving an opening to respond. “I may as well be honest with you two,” I said to both of them, “I was not sure about the age thing – sorry - but now that we had a chance to chat a while I think you guys are ok, nice, presentable solid people. Your marriages are your business, not mine. I don’t want to know anything about them. What are the rules you have in mind? Or do you want to hear mine first”. Clyde was smiling, a small smile, because somewhere in my answer he heard the word ‘yes’. I knew I had to be careful with him. “No, you go for it – tell us what you have in mind.” He was staring intently at me now; we had reached the heart of the matter. “Well, first things first: no pain. No bondage, no S&M stuff, no matter how light. I’m not into that.” They nodded. “Also, I don’t know if I want to participate straight off, you know, into a threesome. I’m not sure if I want to go that far. So I’d like to maybe start by watching you, seeing you go for it. Either I like it and stay or I hate it and I leave.” I waited. Margi was watching me intently, Clyde let out a breath. She looked at him. He looked back at her and nodded. “Okay,” he said, “sounds reasonable. In fact, I would do the same and that makes me comfortable that you want to take that approach. Are you bi or straight?” That’s my boy, Clyde, never missing a trick! “Well, this may sound strange but I’m not sure – I’m experimenting myself. Look, after watching you two, depending on how I feel, I may want to be with you only or with Margi only. Or maybe both of you at the same time. Even so, I want to be able to say how I want to play. Is that okay?” I felt surer now, my rules would protect me. I don’t know why, its irrational I know, but Clyde’s disposition and Margi being an Afrikaner made me feel I could trust them to respect my rules. “For me too, that’s good,” Margi joined in, “ because I may also not want to be involved with you – this way we all have options.” She looked at Clyde. He leaned forward to light her cigarette, then mine and finally his own. He leaned back, looking like a winner, exhaling smoke. “Sounds cool to me.” He fell silent, his eyes on me. He had small smile playing around the corners of his mouth. I thought his next question would be “when?” It wasn’t, catching me completely by surprise. “So would you like to start your watching now, this minute? How serious are you?” “Now?” I said, completely baffled. Margi looked surprised too, dragging on her cigarette. She didn’t say anything though and that told me she trusted him. “Yes,” he said, his deep voice even lower, “right now. My car is parked in the basement – we’ll get into the back seat, Margi will give me a blowjob and you can watch from the front seat. Like I said, how serious are you?” Checkmate. Game Over. Howzat Mr. Umpire? I felt trapped, caught by Clyde, out-manoeuvred. He was smarter than I thought. My mind raced as I searched for possibilities of danger. I could see none. South Africa being a haven for criminals, I considered the possibility that they were trying to kidnap me. These two? It seemed silly. I took a deep breath. OK, wise guy lets call your bluff. “Sure,” I said, my voice steady, even, “Lets go for it. One condition: I get to keep the car keys.” He smiled. “Done deal.” He called the waiter over and settled with his Gold Card. Margi looked a little flustered but managed to keep her composure. We chit chatted as we made our way to the lifts, looking for all the world like work mates. When we reached the basement I noted that it was well lit, it looked safer than I thought it would be. A bit daring though but I found the prospect exciting. Clyde strode ahead of us with confidence, reached his car – Audi A4, white, I memorised the registration – and disarmed the alarm with his remote. “Aimee, here are the keys – please don’t kidnap us!” They both laughed and I felt a bit foolish. They got into the back and I into the front, I the driver’s seat. “Do me favour – please turn the music on. Yes, push there.” He said. Settling in. Jazz filled the car, I don’t know the artist or group was but it was nice. I half-turned to face them. Margi was on his left, lighting up. “Fourplay.” He said. “That’s Fourplay playing Max-O-Man. Do you like music?” “Oh yes – soul, old stuff: The Delfonics, The Stylistics, The O’Jays – that stuff.” “Really?” He sounded surprised. Yeah man, really – this white chick is into that stuff. I nodded. “Really.” “I like pop – I listen to Radio Highveld, Jeremy Mansfield.” Margi drew on her cigarette, maybe bracing herself for what lay ahead. “Kim and I occasionally go to a sokkie to dance.” She was filling space but maybe that’s harsh. “Can you see clearly behind us Aimee?” Clyde was unzipping himself. I nodded. Margi quickly stubbed out her cigarette. What about tissues I thought? But hey, I was only watching. I must say that I was already feeling sexually aroused. I mean these were two strangers, I only met them 45 minutes ago and I was now going to watch her suck him off. I mean! As she reached into his pants I lit up, lowered the window a little and prepared to enjoy myself. She pulled his dick out. It was a real dick – big and thick. He wasn’t fully hard but it looked huge. It was brown and nicely veined. He was circumcised. He was watching me intently, his one hand caressing Margi’s butt through her dress. She had leaned over sideways, facing me almost and she kneaded his cock and sucked the head. It swelled and grew. Wow, it looked a full 9 or ten inches, long and thick. My throat went dry, my lips parted. A car started up somewhere, growled and I heard that high-pitched tire squealing sound cars make in basements. He looked me enquiringly. I shook my head, “All clear.’ I said. Clyde and Margi Margi started pulling on his shaft, her fingers not meeting as they circled his cock. She sucked his cock, quietly, wetly. The saxophone melody – Max-O-Man, he said – filled the car. I looked at him, our eyes met. We stared at each other for a while. His eyes glazed over, looked aroused. I looked at Margi, her head moving up and down on his cock, leaving it shiny, looking like glazed chocolate. He looked hard, very hard, stiff the way a cock should be and he was making small little thrusting movements. “Do you like what you see?” He asked, his voice thick, aroused, sexy. “Yes, I do.” My voice, too, was thick. “Are you wet? Getting Wet?” He thrust into Margi’s mouth, bigger thrusts now, deeper. “Yes.” I was wet, very wet and I had to consciously stop my hand from going to my lap. “Yes, Margi, yes – I’m going to come now.” He groaned a little, but he was looking at me. Where are the tissues I wondered? Then he came. He put his hand on the back of her head and pushed her down, grunting in rhythm to his coming. She continued to suck, eating his come. No wonder they didn’t need tissues. She ate him, really did, South Africans coming together like never before, and we locked eyes as he came, arousing me even further. I was thoroughly wet now, my clit aching. I had never looked a man in the eyes as he came before and here I was doing while someone else sucked him. It was exciting. Margi continued to lick him after he came, and he jerked a little with the sensitivity, I think. His dick didn’t shrink as I expected – it still looked imperious, masterful. It looked regal; his brown shiny cock was a thing to behold. I’d seen black and brown dicks before – in porno movies and pictures – but it looked so much more gorgeous in the flesh. Margi sat up, her eyes were glazed. She licked her lips, no sign of come, but her lipstick was messed, smudged around her lips. “Shoo,” she said, “Meneer, that thing grows bigger all the time.” I took this as a compliment, his dick harder in my presence, stiffer because of me. I smiled to myself. “What about me?” Margi asked, her hand on her breast. Indeed, I thought, what about me too? “Hey, no problem, let me help you,” Clyde sat up, and put his hand under her dress, his dick still standing proudly. “Take off you panties, I’ll finger you.” He looked at me. “Do you mind?” Hell no, of course I didn’t – this was also a new thing to me. But I said, “No, its fine. Do her.” I had to clear my throat. Margi lifted her dress and pulled her panties down, leaving it around her ankles. She spread her knees and Clyde put his hand up her, deliberately lifting her hem so that I could see. Margi leaned back on the headrest and closed her eyes. I couldn’t see much of her cunt but I could see that she was clean-shaven. I was surprised at her legs; they were smooth, no wrinkles, and no stretch marks, looked good enough to belong to a woman half her age. I don’t why I thought older people were wrinkled all over but she was smooth and sexy. I was getting even wetter, my clit aching wantingly, wantonly! He fingered her expertly, slipping a couple up her puss and rubbing her clit at the same time. Again he stared at me, his one hand in her cunt, his other on his big dick. I was amazed. It still stood. “Nice?” He asked, looking at me. I wasn’t sure if he meant his dick or her cunt. I liked both, in truth, so I said, “Yes, very nice.” But our eyes were locked again, searching each other. Margi had abandoned herself to her pleasure; Clyde’s educated finger moved in and out of her and her eyes were shut. “Do you like this?” he asked as he stroked her. I was sure he meant me. Margi said “Ja!” reverting to Afrikaans and thinking he was asking her but I knew different. I nodded, looking into his eyes. Margi came then, also quickly, breathing hard but not saying much, clutching his hand by the wrist, pushing him into her. Afterwards, she fixed her panties, pulling it up and arching her back to slip in on properly and I wondered if she left a wet stain on the seat or on the back of her dress. Clyde still had his dick out, still standing, not as erect but still there. “And you, Aimee, how about you?’ He asked, “Want me to do you too?” His voice was low, rough, husky, his eyes hopeful. I wanted it, I wanted him to finger me too but I thought I would wait until next time. This was all too new, too fresh for me to go for. “Actually I won’t but thanks for the offer.” “No sweat – do you want to help yourself in the front seat? We’ll stay back here?” “No, thanks, kind of you, but no.” I was aching but still playing cool. He put his dick away, still full and up and he took out his cigarettes, offered and we all lit up. “So,” He said, leading as always, “Where does this leave us?” I looked at Margi. “Better fix your lipstick.” She nodded. “I liked this. A lot. I’d like to meet again, but in a hotel room like we agreed. I’m still not sure how I will participate but I know I will.” Clyde looked relieved, happy. “Good. I was hoping you’d say that.” He asked me to put the key in the ignition so that he could roll the window down. “I’ll call you and we can make an arrangement to meet.” “How often do you meet?” I asked. “Once a month or so, every six weeks. We’re about due now so maybe next week.” He looked at Margi. She drew on her cigarette and nodded. “I’ll check my workload but it should be fine. We usually take an afternoon off, finish up in the hotel by 5 or so and go home. Does next week sometime, say Wednesday, suit you, Aimee?” She asked. “Yes, I pretty much control my own stuff at work so it will be fine. What’s playing now?” I asked. “Still Fourplay, track called ‘Wish You Were Here’. Good stuff, their first CD.” Clyde said. I had new music to add to my collection. I liked the interplay between piano and guitar, nice bass too. Margi reached into her bag and started sorting her make-up out. It was the signal I needed. “Okay, folks, this has been fun. Clyde, Margi – I’ll talk to you soon.” Clyde got out of the car to see me off. Feeling foolish, I shook his hand again, caught a whiff of the Margi’s pussy. It seemed so odd, shaking hands. I walked away, my heels clicking on the cement floor. He stood and watched me for a while and then turned back to his car. I was on the next level so I didn’t have far to go. But I hurried, needed some privacy. When I reached my car I hopped in and took a quick look around – no one else was around. I was parked in a section where a light was out so it wasn’t that well lit. I locked my door and reach up into my skirt, impatiently moving my panties out of the way. The crotch was wet and, as I spread my legs I could smell the musky aroma of my cunt juices. God, I was horny. I fingered myself, rubbing my swollen clit, listening to the squelching sounds coming from my sodden puss lips. I closed my eyes, jerking my clit, stroking my lips, and I visualised Clyde’s big, fat, brown dick. I imagined myself sucking him, as Margi had done, imagined that I could feel his hand on my head, pushing me down on him. I could almost feel my lips closing around his shaft, trying to take him in deep and I came, jerking and shuddering I came. As my orgasm subsided, my finger still circling my clit lightly, I heard voices. Looking up into my rear view mirror I saw a couple walking directly to my car, both of them trying to peer into it. I quickly pulled my skirt down and grabbed my handbag onto my lap. As it turned out they were parked next to me. I looked at the passenger, a young woman, as she got in. She winked at me, a big smile on her face. I looked away quickly, embarrassed because it was clear that they, or at least, she, had seen what I was up to. As their car started I looked up again. She was still smiling broadly. I took my finger and put it my mouth and sucked it, looking in to her eyes. She burst out laughing, the man looking up quickly. What was I doing? Was I mad? I started my car, revved it, the BM engine growling healthily and I pulled off quickly. It was half past two. Lunch, such as it was, was over. That afternoon, as I pretended to work, I reviewed my lunch over and over again. I was amazed at what had happened, stunned by my boldness. But I found myself thinking about Clyde a lot, Margi always a shadowy flesh prop in the background. I know the argument about size vs. technique but despite the merits of either side, one thing was for sure: a big dick was definitely better to look at. I found myself comparing Derek’s rather pallid, pasty and unremarkable dick, average at best, whatever average was, and Clyde’s massive, proud brown cock. No comparison – Clyde’s brown club simply outclassed anything else I had seen. I was amazed at how regal, how imperious a cock could look. Wow. I was definitely in, definitely going to join Clyde and Margi. I found that I was now waiting for the next step, the call from Clyde (or Margi) to tell me when were going to meet. I assumed that I would hear from them by Wednesday or so and I knew that I would be counting the hours. What encouraged me further was that I received e-mail from Clyde later that day, thanking me for joining them for “lunch” and expressing great optimism for future meetings. He said he would be in touch later in the week. But. Wednesday came and Wednesday went with no word from him. As I switched off my PC at the end of the day I was disappointed. I wondered what had happened? Had they changed their minds? Had I played it too cool? Was I too damn smart for my good? I drove home moodily, aggressively, living up to the reputation of all BM drivers. Derek came around that night but he didn’t stay long. I was ratty with him, short and abrupt. No nooky for him, no happy times for his small dick. I was horrible, I know, but my disappointment was great. It occurred to me that I was placing too much emphasis on my cyber sex mates, that I was ignoring reality in favour of fantasy. This pissed me off even further and I went to bed early to toss on a sleepless pillow.But the next day I felt better. Stuff them, I thought, stuff that old cow and that cocky bastard. Why was I letting them get to me this way? I had my own life; I had Derek so they could go to hell. Anyway, I had not been concentrating too much at work in the past week and my backlog was building up. I had targets to meet, a campaign to put together for Toyota so I drove to work with renewed vigour, new focus. My boss was visibly relieved to see me working with energy and drive again and before I knew it, it was afternoon. And then my cell rang. My knees went weak when I heard Clyde’s deep voice and my mind went blank. “Aimee, how are you,” He said, charming and smooth as ever. “Are you busy or can you talk?” Before I could stop myself I said, “Why didn’t you call yesterday? I was waiting!” He sounded taken aback. “Was I supposed to call yesterday? Actually, I thought we agreed on the end of the week, Friday, and I was bit worried that you may think me over-eager for calling today….but I’m glad you were waiting for my call, really glad. It’s a compliment.” I was nonplussed. Then I realised that I had assumed it would be Wednesday. Also I didn’t like the idea that I was coming across as being too eager. “Its no problem, crossed lines and all that, its just that I thought…” My voice trailed off. “Hey, sorry – maybe its my fault! You’re not angry are you? I hope this doesn’t mean you’ve changed your mind or anything?” “No, no – nothing like that. Are we still on?” “Is the Pope a Catholic? For sure we’re still on. I just spoke to Margi now and we agreed on next Wednesday – does that suit you?” It seemed far away. I hesitated. He misunderstood my silence. “Would you prefer another day, Aimee? I mean, that’s the soonest Margi can make it and well, you know, but maybe if I call her…” I took a deep breath, decided to take a chance. “Look – how close are you to Margi? I mean, does she have to be there and can it just be the two of us?” I held my breath, not believing I had said that, not sure how he would respond. “Hey,” he said, his voice becoming conspiring, “Are you reading my mind or what? I’ve been thinking the same thing. But to be fair to Margi, I will tell her – she has no jealousy about this. Do you not want to be with her at all?” “Its not that, no, I mean, I would be with both of you but I wouldn’t mind it if it was just us two first.” We both kept quiet. I sensed he was playing that silence trick on me – you know, the one where you keep quiet and the other person feels obliged to fill the space and then they say more than they intended to. Damn him, it worked. “We can always arrange for a threesome next week - I mean, it’s virtually a week away.” “Okay,” He said, suddenly being decisive again. “Here’s the plan: why don’t we meet tonight? Possible for you?” “Depends,” I said, “Where do you want to meet? At the Sunnyside?” “The Sunnyside’s good – do you have an option?” Clever boy – he read my meaning exactly. I preferred my own house – home ground advantage. From the way these two spoke it sounded as if the hotel would be their home ground. Clyde was proving to be a bit difficult to manage and I wanted every possible advantage on my side, the initiative to be with me. “You could always come to my house – why spend money on a hotel if you don’t have to?” He fell for this. After all, R500.00 was a lot of money. “Done deal. Sold. Where do you live?” I gave him my address and few directions. He knew the area and it wasn’t far from where he lived. “Want me to bring anything? Wine? What?” “Yeah, couple of things: discretion and time. No hit and run. Possible for you?” I used his phrase, a mind trick I learned. They feel flattered, makes them malleable and it’s a good state for all men to be! He laughed, a rich baritone chuckle. Did he spot my trick? “Entirely possible, can do! See you at 8:30.” I put the phone down slowly. Not quite as I had planned but, I suppose, its what I really wanted. Nine inches, glory, or was it ten, of hard man meat! What would Andrea think of me now? I called Derek, told him that I had work to do at home so that he wouldn’t come around. He wanted to come for supper but I insisted that I had a lot of work. He asked again and, before he got suspicious, I told him to come over but that I had to start work by 7:30. He seemed happy with that. That would give me enough time to drive Chad over to my parent’s house. It worked out exactly like that. In fact, Derek seemed ready to go by 7:00 already. I stalled him with a cup of coffee, made the way he likes it. He left at 7:20 and I was back home by 8:00, Chad safely off, the house to myself. Its funny, but as I stood in the lounge with a critical eye, it seemed to take on the atmosphere it had had that night with Andrea. Homely, safe, welcoming. I puzzled over it for a while and I decided that it was my state of mind. An elusive thought scuttled through my mind, something that seemed to suggest that this is the real me. I couldn’t explore this further, couldn’t hang on to the fugitive concept long enough. I had a surprise for Clyde: I had purchased the Fourplay CD on Tuesday – simply called Fourplay – and another one, a collaboration between Bob James and Earl Klugh, ‘Cool’. Really gorgeous stuff. It was suggested to me by the salesman at Musica, also a coloured guy, who wanted to get fresh when I told him I liked soul. Anyway, I filled the carousel with my two jazz CDs and also with some soul, my favourite stuff: Motown collections of classic, gold soul. I can’t get enough of this stuff. ‘Cool’ was playing and as Bob and Earl got down to it I was struck by a sudden thought – I had wanted this all along! I bought these CDs to impress him, to have a setting exactly like this when he walked in! I didn’t quite know what to make of this now that I realised it, but it was food for thought. I made a mental note not to get too hung up on this guy, big dick or not. I checked the rest of house, changed the bedding in my room and put my best stuff on. With both bedside lamps lit, my room looked pretty, comfy and inviting. I had bought nice candles since the time with Andrea but I didn’t put these out, not sure if he was the bath and candles kind of guy. I freshened up; had a quick cold shower, a brisk rub down with coarse towel to put a glow on my skin (its weird but ever since I saw his dick I’ve been so self conscious of how white I was) and put on a simple sundress. 8:25, the stage was set. Right now the script said enter hero, left from centre, carrying a heavy sword. I waited, suddenly panicking that he wasn’t going to pitch. I sat in my favourite chair to wait, listening to the title track. Good stuff, as the man said. As I sat there I thought about how my life had changed since my divorce and how lucky I was. Anton, the ex (and ex was short for excruciating), was wealthy when I met him. Good family, money in the bank, good education and all that. When things went wrong – or, rather, when I caught him bouncing that blond little fluffy thing - I found myself with full custody, very generous support payments and a paid home in a good suburb. He takes care of all expenses, lights and water, maid, groceries and so on. To be fair, he dotes on Chad and is a good father. I have no debt, money in the bank and I am able to indulge my favourite thing, music and movies. I have a really good sound system, wired throughout the house – 14 speakers in all- with Dstv, Mnet the whole lot all hooked up to it. I managed to get Anton to pay all of ninety thousand for this system and, believe me, it’s worth every cent. My DVD collection is growing and my CD collection expands weekly. I listen to the radio channels on Dstv and, when I hear a track I like, I switch the TV on, note the artist and CD, and go shopping on Saturdays. I have about 400 CDs, all stuff I like. And my sex life was growing, expanding equally rapidly. Just then I heard a car. 8:35. It had to be him. I peeped through the curtain. It was. Action stations. I waited until I heard the doorbell, allowed another stage wait and opened it. It was indeed him. Full of surprises, as always, holding the initiative, he had a bunch of roses with him, a full smile, a closed-mouth, charming and sure. “Hi – glad to see you,” I said, surprised at the unfeigned sincerity in my voice. “Before you come in, please park your car and the neighbours pavement? Would you?” “Sure – back in flash.” He thrust the roses at me and winked. The roses were so unexpected and it made this feel like a date. As for the parking, I didn’t know if Derek would come by later – he surprises me occasionally with impromptu visits but I wasn’t taking any chances. If he did come by I would not open the door. I stood in the doorway and watched him move the bulky A4 back on the Kate’s pavement. I watched him walk and was surprised at consistent he was in everything; his walk was a man’s walk, big strides, shoulders back, head up, lazy lope; confident. He stood in the lounge and cocked his head, like a bird. “Hey, I know that CD, its the Bob James one with the two cucumbers on the cover – nice one.” He looked at me quizzically. I nodded, he was right. “I hope you like the flowers – had a girlfriend once that didn’t like roses…she said they were such a cliché.” I laughed. “No, I like them – where did you get them at this late hour?” “Vendor at a robot.” He looked around. “Nice home you have here, very nice indeed. Excellent sound too – what is it?” “A bit of everything – supposed to be best-of-breed component assembly.” He nodded. “Its damn good, bloody good – mind if I looked around? We are alone, aren’t we?” “Sure,” I said, “and we are alone.” I went to the kitchen to get a vase and he walked around, poking into every room. I wondered what he was looking at. Clyde and Margi “Where’s your son?” He said, coming back to lounge. “At my parents place – how do you know it’s a boy and not a girl?” “Toys, colours and my keen, deductive powers confirmed it from the picture on your dresser in your room.” We both laughed. He settled down into the three-seater, crossing his legs. “Would you like something to drink?” I asked. I enjoyed seeing a man like this; confidently owning the space around him. He was so unlike Derek. “Sure – beer? You got any? Or wine if you don’t.” “Beer I got.” Actually it was Derek’s but what the hell. As I poured in the beer into glass in the kitchen, and some wine for myself, I realised that I was enjoying him, enjoying the sense of him being there. I really liked him, like his easy-going, comfortable manner. He did a lot to still my anxiety. We chatted as we drank, unwinding and becoming really easy with each other. I forgot about trying to be careful with him, trying to keep one step ahead. He refilled his beer, and my wine, not self-conscious at all about going in to the kitchen, opening the fridge. He acted as if he knew me, as if he had been to my place before. I was glad we were there, at my house, because we could both relax. A track by Earth, Wind & Fire - Reasons – started playing. He laughed and shook his head. “This is so weird! Reasons! Forgive me saying this but this is an unusual choice for a white woman. How did you come on to this stuff? Have you got coloured friends?” “No, I don’t, not social friends but I have some work colleagues. I first heard soul – The Delfonics - on the soundtrack from the Jackie Brown, that Tarantino movie. Been hooked ever since. I have a fairly decent collection. Anyway, what’s coloured got to do with it?” “This kind of music is only heard in coloured homes. That’s why. Why do you like it?” He leaned forward, his curiosity clear. “Simple: I like the singing, the harmonising and the sugary romance. Why do you like it?” I was feeling a bit defensive now, not sure where this was headed. “I grew up with this stuff.” He shrugged. “Its no big thing, really, like I said, it’s just so unusual. Don’t your friends raise their eyebrows when you play this stuff?” “Yes, they do. They don’t get it.” “Exactly. Anyway, I must compliment you on your collection,” He nodded towards my tower racks of CDs. “Comprehensive. Brilliant – I must say that it’s the best I’ve seen. Some of the stuff is collector’s items, not easily available. Where do you get your rare stuff from?” I was impressed that he recognised the collector’s items and I was really very, very proud of my sources. It had taken me a long time to establish them and I had a collection of note. He chuckled when I told as my sources included a tailor in Jeppe, a cycle shop in Westdene and my own direct importing. We spoke for another half an hour, sex being absent. Suddenly, when Billy Paul started singing Me & Mrs Jones he got up. “This we have to dance to!” He held out hand, formally, asking for to dance. I took his hand, feeling shy. As we danced to romantic slow song, he drew me closer to him until I could feel his warm breath on my neck. We moved together, no jerking, smoothly as if we had danced before. “I like this,” his voice was muffled, “A lot”. He moved his hand around my back in slow circles, in time to the music. I pulled him closer to me, smelling him. He smelled of man. Plain and simple, man. Perhaps I was fooling myself that I could detect a man smell but that’s how he smelled. Not sweaty, not stale but good and primeval, like a man. He nibbled on my neck, not too lightly. His one hand was rubbing the small of my back and the other caressed my shoulder. I pressed my breasts against his chest and I could feel him growing, could actually feel his cock swell. It felt sexy. I’d never really felt a guy get excited while dancing before but maybe that’s because we were really holding each tightly. I felt him jiggle the zip at the back my dress and heard it slide open. He put his hand into the back of my dress and his hand felt warm and dry. I pressed more firmly against him, liking the way my nipples felt, hard and sensitive. I pulled the shirt out of the back of his pants and felt his hard back muscles, felt them move as he moved. He felt good, hard and strong. He was still kissing my neck and I could feel that old familiar warmth stir in my loins, feel the heat within. He pushed his hand down passed the small of my back, reaching the top of my butt, his fingers stroking the beginning of my butt groove. He drew me even closer, pressing my mound against his now rock-hard cock. If felt even huger than I remembered. We were both breathing hard now, still dancing and getting hornier and hornier. With his one hand on the inside of my dress and the other on the outside, he squeezed both my butt cheeks. He squeezed me firmly and moved his hips around, rubbing his hard python of a dick against me. As I danced I could feel how wet I was, how my clit was aching. If he only knew how often I had fingered myself since Monday, thinking about him. I had even done it in traffic, slipping my hand up my dress and expressionlessly fucking myself. Since that lunch I had developed a thing for cars and playing with myself. I could feel his tongue on my neck and I lifted my head, letting him lick me under my chin. By now he had pulled up my dress and he had both his hands in the back of my panties, kneading my bum, pulling the cheeks apart. I could feel his fingers reach for my puss from the back, feel the slipperiness of drenched cunt. “Unzip me,” he mouthed, as he licked my neck. I’d been wanting to do this from the start, in fact, I’d been wanting to hold his dick since Monday but I had wavered while we danced, not sure if I was prepared for his thick dick. I fiddled with his zip, feeling his swollen dong in his pants. I put my hand in and I could feel his cock reaching out over the top of his underpants. I slid my hand in, drawing my breath as I felt how hard he was, how big. I tried to touch fingers as I circled it and couldn’t. Dear God, I thought, how will I fuck a cock as thick as this? The thought of it excited me and I stroked his dick, feeling its strength and hardness. My puss juices were literally flowing and the inside of my cunt felt like a furnace. I heard moaning and was about to congratulate myself on being able to turn him on like that when I realised it was me that was moaning! In the meanwhile he was pulling at my panties, sliding his fingers into my wet puss, massaging my swollen clit urgently. Eerily, we were still dancing in time to the music. I felt him push me down onto the couch and he raised my legs and pulled my sodden panties off. He struggled briefly with his zip and let his big fuck stick out. It stood out rigidly, the head brown and throbbing. I didn’t plan it like this, I thought we would take it slowly but I couldn’t wait for him to enter me, to split me open, to ride me rough. There was a wild look in his eyes and he was panting as if he had run a mile. With his pants around his knees and underpants barely lowered, he prised my legs apart. As he guided his cock towards my puss he looked into my eyes. “I want you, now, I can’t wait.” He was hoarse. “Take me, fuck me, use me now – don’t wait.” I was breathing hard too and I opened my legs wide. I felt his cock-head press against my dripping puss lips. He leaned forward and I gasped as his thick dick entered me, prising me open like an oyster. I felt his head first and then his shaft. He rocked back-and-forth slowly, each time penetrating me a little further. It didn’t hurt at all, like I thought it would, instead I could feel my cunt opening to take him. I started thrusting back, in time to his pushing, and I groaned with pleasure. At last, I thought, at last - I’m being fucked by a real man sized dick. “God, you are so tight!” His voice was rough, low and rasping. “Fuck me,” I urged him, “Please fuck me deep and hard!” Now that had him half in me I suddenly panicked that I wouldn’t be able to take all of him, that, somehow, I wouldn’t be woman enough – and there was no way that Margi could do something I couldn’t. “Put it all in my pussy, shove your whole fucking cock into me, all the way.” He grunted. “Sure thing,” he leaned on his dick again and I felt him go deeper, “I’m going to fuck you so deep you won’t walk tomorrow.” “Yes,” I said, “Fuck me like that – make me take you all the way.” He thrust even harder now, settling into rhythm, penetrating me deeper with each cock-thrust. “Tight,” he mumbled, “Tight like a wet, hot glove.” We rocked each other, me eager to accommodate his pole, he wanting shove his cock in up all the way to his balls. We had a beautiful rhythm now, fucking with our hips moving towards each other. “How far are you,” He was strained, breathing rapidly, “How are you doing?” “Almost there – fuck me faster and harder. Yes, like that, cock-fuck me, stick that brute of a dick all the way! Make me your bitch, fuck me!” His hips were slapping my thighs and he raised himself to watch as his cock slid smoothly in and out of me. I lifted my head too, so that I could watch with him shaft me. His cock was shiny, wet with my puss juice and he pounded me, my cunt wrapped tightly around his shaft. As he pulled it out, my cunt folded around it. Suddenly he was moving very fast, stroking me rapidly and my orgasm started deep, down. Great big spasms wracked me and I came with him. “Oh bitch! You are soooo good!” He had it in all the way, I could feel his cock contract almost in time to my own orgasm, I could feel his hot come spurting into me, burning me with divine fire. He jerked rapidly, pressing his throbbing and shooting cock up against the top of my inner cunt. He was grunting unintelligibly. He collapsed on top of me; sweat beading his forehead. “Oh, Aimee, oh Aimee, tight deep Aimee.” We lay like that, our chests heaving, his pulsing dick filling my cunt. He slid away after a while and his cock made a little sucking noise as it left my pussy. I lifted my head to look at it. My pussy was sodden, come dribbling out of the bottom; fuck juice bedewing my lips. I was swollen and aching, deliciously aching with the feel of him. Our clothes were wrinkled, uncomfortable now that we had finished. I was bemused, thunderstruck, now thoroughly convinced that size matters. I had had my share of cock before, not all of it small, but, oh brother, none so magnificent! He was sitting on the floor, taking his pants off and getting it tangeld with his shoes. His cock was still hard. I marvelled at that – how did he do it? I slid onto the floor next to him. “This is some cock, so wonderful. How do you keep it up?” I reached for it, sliding my hand up and down his slick shaft. “A hard man is good to find, right?” We both chuckled at the old joke. “Come here, let me kiss you”. He pulled me towards him and I realised that for the first time I had had sex without exchanging one kiss. He kissed me hard, sucking my tongue and probing my mouth with his rather muscular-feeling tongue. He squeezed my tits, rolling my nips between his fingers. “Suck me,” he commanded, his voice thick, “go down and suck that cock.” He pushed me down, and I obeyed eagerly. Since watching Margi suck him off I had fantasised what it would be like to do him with my mouth. If he felt big in my cunt, it felt twice the size in mouth. I could hardly get my lips around him. “Wait,” he said, heaving himself up on the couch. “this will help – I’ll sit on the couch and you kneel and suck me. You’ll manage better.” And I did. His dick was slightly oval rather than perfectly round and facing him it was indeed easier to take his cock into my mouth. I was able to put both my hands around his shaft (my hands are small) and I licked his head. He was hard, cock-rock-hard. There was still a little come dribbling out of his cock eye and I licked it, emboldened by Margi’s bravura effort in the car. I didn’t know what to expect, never having tasted come before. All the times I had given head I had always bailed out at the last minute, not being keen on eating sperm. He tasted odd; slightly bitter and slightly salty. I liked it; it was sexy. As I sucked him, taking him a little at a time, stretching my mouth wide and licking the underside of his head, he sighed and leaned back into the couch. This made him thrust his hips forward and his cock deeper into my mouth. I found that if I co-ordinated my breathing with his thrusts I could take him quite deep. I loved his cock, jerking his shaft with both my hands and sucking on his head. Being on my haunches, I could feel his come dripping out of my puss and onto my ankles, puddling on the carpet. He had his hands on the top of my head, ruffling my hair. “Oh Aimee, suck my cock, lick my dick. Yes, that’s it, take me I deep. Oh, your mouth so hot and wet!” I doubled my efforts at his encouragement and I was surprised that I was making little mewing sounds. Peaches & Herb started singing Close Your Eyes. Maybe baby, but I was getting into this with my eyes wide open! Yes, Oh, yes! I took my one hand and stroked my pussy while I ate him. I had a genuine fantasy come true here, right now, I had fingered myself to this image of me sucking King Cock all along. We rocked together, he was thrusting steadily into my mouth and I slurped and sucked as he entered me, reaching the back of my mouth. I felt so pleased; Deep Throat Aimee, Queen of Cock Suckers. My own orgasm built in time to his thrusts. I gently squeezed his balls and sucked hard on his head, carefully keeping my teeth off him. The more urgent he became, the more rapidly I stroked my own cunt, spreading his come all over me. All of a sudden, with no warning, he started shooting. I greedily ate him, swallowing his come and reached orgasm myself. I struggled to keep sucking as I came but I loved the rhythm of his shooting, my puss clamping on itself in time to his squirting. He was jerking spasmodically, mussing my hair, mumbling my name. Eventually, we stopped, my head on the couch between his legs, his cock finally coming down and resting on my cheek. My puss was still pulsing, pushing out come onto the growing puddle on the carpet. He sighed. “You are something else, you know that?” I lifted my head, pleased. “Oh, I don’t know – you’re the one with the magic wand.” “Oh no, you won’t believe me but I never get this hard, this out-of-control, except when you’re around. Honestly – there’s something about you, something that talks to the deeps within me.” I laughed. “I know what you mean. I feel the same. I haven’t stopped thinking about you since Monday.” I fell silent, a little warning bell sounding in my head. I was on dangerous ground here, risky ground. I decided to change the subject. I stood up, fixing my clothes. “Want a beer? A nice cold beer?” “Yeah, that would be great. Would you like us to get something to eat later?” “No, I’m not hungry – I ate earlier.” Strange, I thought, this had happened with Andrea. Sex builds appetites it seemed. ‘Would you like a bite? I’ve got something I can give you.” “No thanks, not really. I didn’t know if you had eaten or not.” As I got his beer I was pleased with his consideration. I poured some wine for myself. “Listen,” He said, after taking a big slug of his beer, “I have to discuss something with you.” My blood froze. This sounded ominous. We didn’t know each other – what was there to discuss? I raised my eyebrows. “Yes?” “I didn’t expect that – you know, the sex – to happen so suddenly. I lost my head – I wanted to wear a condom.” My heart raced – I’d forgotten about that! I mean, you know, Aids and all that! “God, you’re right! You’re clear aren’t you? Please say you are clear!” He nodded. “Hell, yes, of course I am – and you? What about you?” “Sure, of course, I mean I don’t really sleep around – I know that sounds weak given the circs but I don’t. I must be clear.” He paused before answering. “I had a blood test last week – for sugar and thyroid problems. I haven’t been feeling so great recently, sleepy, tired and listless so my doc had these tests done. I asked him to do an Aids one as well. It came back clean – everything. I’m fit as the proverbial fiddle. It seems as if I simply have stress, work bullshit. When last did you test?” “During my divorce. I caught him screwing a skinny little blond and I had a test, twice in fact, six months apart, and it was clear both times. I’ve only slept with Derek, the guy I’m seeing, since then. We used condoms at first but, well, you know how it is and now we don’t.” I thought about this for a while. I mean Derek was a guy and he certainly had other women before me. Funny but I didn’t think about this with him. In fact, as I thought about it, I didn’t even know if he was faithful right now. I bit my lip. “You know, I’m worried; I’ll have a test tomorrow. I’m sure everything’s okay but I’ll make sure.” Clyde nodded. “I think that’s wise – actually I’ll appreciate it. For the record, I use condoms with Margi all the time. I’ve slept with one other woman recently – Belinda is her name – we met at the airport. We had a couple in the business lounge together, a few more on the flight to Cape Town, some more in the pub there and ended up at my hotel. Drinking sex, really, but this was before the test. I didn’t use a condom either – that’s why I had the doc do the aids test.” He looked a bit sheepish. “I’m only telling you this so that you know where I’ve been.” “Thanks, I appreciate it.” Inside I was seething with jealousy at this Belinda bitch. “I’ll go for a test tomorrow and let you know. This travelling thing – you do it often?” I was curious because I have a holiday home in Mosselbaai. I had a good job that paid well and I invested some of my spare cash in a property there. I have an agent let its for me but I regularly go down for week-ends. Derek loves it. “Yeah,’ He said, “Often. Once a month at least. It’s a bore really – the glamour wears off rapidly and I’ve begun to loathe hotels. But its part of my job so I do it. Why?” “Well, I have a holiday home in Mosselbaai and I go down often. I fly to George and drive from there.” An idea had begun to form in my head but I decided to let it go for now. “A holiday home? Well, well, aren’t you the lucky one. Are you rich?” He asked with genuine interest. I laughed. “No, not really but I had a great divorce and I earn a decent salary and I invest well. Its paid dividends.” “Good for you – keep it going. Mind if I looked at your CD collection in more detail?” “Uh-uh – go ahead.” Actually I was enjoying this. For the first time I was able to show my collection off to someone that understood my taste. Most people were simply impressed with its size and when they look at the CDs I get the impression they think its rubbish. “Play anything that tickles your fancy.” “Done deal – I’ll play you first.” He smiled at me. I was really pleased with that and I giggled like a little girl. I sipped my wine as I watch him. He was going “Hmm, Oh wow, hot stuff.” He selected a couple and put them aside. “How do know you know where to find something you need? This is massive!” “I’ve got it computerised. I simply type in the artist or track and my PC tells me which number its on. Look carefully at the empty spaces – you’ll see its numbered at the back.” He nodded. “Pretty damn good, very clever. So, if a track is one more than one CD it will tell you?” “Yep - every time. Happens a lot because I have a lot of compilation stuff.” “Yeah, I see that. Could I stick these in?” I was about to offer him some help but I thought he would work out how the system operated. He did. I was curious about his choices.