Okay so it’s normal for many women to not want sex. In fact, I read somewhere not too long ago that women would rather spend the night in front of the TV or cook or read a book rather than have sex. The statistics of women who said they couldn’t live without sex was one in ten. How mental is that? But I get it. Sometimes we just can’t be bothered. However, even with all the researched bullshit statistics, it’s definitely just not me. I refuse to fall into that category. I mean when last did I ever feel this excited about something, anything?! Other than a curry.
My wimpy suspicion is quickly drowned out by a fierce wave of exhilaration and I feel as if I’ve been catapulted into the air – fired up, anxious and liberated.
“Fuck it! I’m doing this. I’m bringing back my sexual hunger once and for all god damn it. I am bloody well going to do something spontaneous and unlike me for a change.”
Okay, so being collected by a complete stranger to be transported to an unknown destination could potentially be the most dangerously stupid thing to do as a first attempt at being risky and impulsive, but are there really any killers who’d put this much time and stylishness into ensnaring their victims to their deaths? I hardly believe so. I’ve had enough of my prearranged lifestyle. I need to be exhilarated. So I quickly scribble a note to remind myself what to pack when I get back in later.
“Shit, the boys!” I call Tally.
“Hey lesbo, how you doing?” We both laugh.
“Hey listen do you mind checking in on the fur balls the next few days for me please? Er, a last minute work trip has come up. I’m so sorry to dump this on you so out of the blue but I can’t get out of it,”
I’m not a fan of lying, especially not to my best mate, but I have been sworn to secrecy and I’m generally good at keeping my word. Still, I feel genuinely guilty.
“Of course, you know how much I love those little critters. When you leaving?”
“Er, tomorrow,”
“Tomorrow, shit, those work bastards are complete last minute fuck-heads!”
“Yep, they’re fuck-heads alright,” I laugh.
“Are you sure it’s okay?”
“Yeah totally. When you coming back?”
“Sunday, around afternoon time I think.”
“They’re keeping you there over a weekend too? Jeez they take the piss.”
“And that’s why they’re treating us to a spa.” Well, I think it’s a spa type place I’m being lured to. I mean what else could it be?
“You lucky bitch. I could so do with a weekend of soaking in a mud bath and jacuzzi. Okay no problem, just leave the key in the usual place and I’ll pop round to feed and spend time with them until you get back.”
“You’re an angel! Thank you so much. I owe you another good pussy-licking.” I tease, laughing.
Tally cracks up. “Laters ho,”
“I’ll call you when I get there. Chat soon babe and thanks again.”
I hang up and dial Karl’s number.
“Hey gorgeous. You okay?”
“Hey beautiful, yeah not too bad, what’s up?” By the sounds of it, he’s just woken up.
“Utterly shit. Sorry for the early call but I was told today I need to attend a work conference.”
“Oh right, that’s not that bad is it?” he enquires.
“Well it’s a five day/four night thing and I’m leaving tomorrow, so it depends on how you look at it really.”
“Oh right, where’s it being held?”
“Honestly, I have no idea. I’ve been told to be packed and ready for collection tomorrow morning. It’s all very vague for some odd reason. They’ve arranged everything so I’m as in the dark as you are.” It wasn’t a lie after all.
“But I’ll text you to let you know when I arrive safely. Tally’s going to pop in to sort the cats. I didn’t want to burden you with it.”
“Oh okay then. Well I guess I’ll see you on Sunday?”
“Yeah sure. Enjoy your day at work.”
“Thanks, you too.” We hang up.
I’m now very late for work. I feed and water the boys and run out the door.
Not too bad. I get in only ten minutes late. Actually, a perfect opportunity as I make my way into my butthead boss’s office with his usual morning latte.
“Morning Gary, I’m sorry I’m late. I’ve had a bit of an emergency come up and I need to ask for the rest of this week off please. I don’t mean it to be so last minute and out of the blue but I really need it please?”
A few seconds pass and he finally acknowledges me. He looks up and scowls.
“Do you seriously need the entire rest of this week off? It’s a bit unreasonable don’t you think?” he spits, not even checking if I’m okay or asking what’s happened. Zilch.
Okay so there’s fuck all wrong with me and no emergency other than the fact that, yes, I SERIOUSLY need to get the fuck away from you for a while you condescending up-your-own-fat-ass knob! God, I wish I could just spit in his rich, egotistical beaked-nosed, bug-eyed, prodigious-foreheaded face. But I let him have his archetypal prick-like moment and go with it. I suppose it is my own fault for saying I’d be available so soon on that friggin form. Frankly, I didn’t actually expect any of it to transpire.
“Yes, it’s absolutely necessary and again, I’m really sorry Gary.”
I put on a concerned face and a look as if I’m about to cry. He shits himself. It works every time! He can’t handle any kind of emotion. And how could he when he has none of his own, other than for himself. No wonder he has nobody special or permanent in his life other than the juvenile parasites for gold-digging bitches he manages to attract, or even better still, the leeching prostitutes he pays to be with him.
At one point I actually felt sad for him. Now...now that he’s aided me into realising the irrefutable truth by unveiling what an unequivocally demeaning, pompous, tosser-tyrant he really is, I’ve managed to bring myself back around to the plain and simple fact that he is quite simply a supercilious dick.
“I don’t like this and I certainly don’t appreciate this sudden request. Just go but you’re going to need to make up for the time you miss.”
Oh god, it’s so difficult to hold my tongue when all I want to do is punch his fat nose through his oesophagus, pull it out of his ass and hang him up by his nostril over his over-priced coat stand. But instead, my heart races, and my head lightens from the lack of blood reaching it – all probably due to the pure anger I’m trying so hard to oppress. I feign a gratifying smile.
“Thank you Gary. I’ll get everything out of the way today and let the girls know to cover me.”
I exit the office. My heart’s still beating out of my chest and I’ve turned cold from anxiousness. Now I have to play out the duration of the day looking concerned and distressed. Easy-fucking-peasy!
Wednesday, I wake up in a panic to my usual 06.15 alarm. Bollocks, I forgot to switch it off. Smiling dopily to myself I realise I don’t need to budge. Not yet anyway. I rearrange the duvet which, as usual is commandeered by the cats and I drift back to sleep only to wake three inevitably deserved hours later. I linger in my cosy PJs and move across to the lounge dragging the heated bedding weighted by the boys still clinging longingly to the warmth.
Wednesday, Wednesday, Wednesday is finally here! Okay so yes, I could have gone into work; after all I’m only being collected later on. But could I be bothered when I’m so intoxicatingly happy and excited? No would be the answer to that!
The rest of my day is consumed with chilling and spending time with my furry little ball-lickers; watching films, cuddling, eating naughty food and falling in and out of my afternoon siestas, My last forty winks being disturbed with the sound of loud gun shots startling me back into a dazed consciousness. Well, so much for that uninspiring film being action packed.
“Shit, it’s half 3 already!”
I stumble out from beneath the cradling tenderness of my thousand thread count duvet and start getting myself ready. I sneak in a cheeky vodka
shot as the clock approaches my pick up time. I top up the boys’ food, water and biscuits and give them oodles of cuddles. I hate leaving them for even a day!
“Now you two fluff balls be good for Aunty Tally you hear? Diego, no being a bully and tearing out chunks of Indie’s fur, and Indie, no stealing Diego’s food,” I instruct them as they tilt their heads to the side like puppies. Sometimes it’s as if they know exactly what I’m talking about. Quite eerily entertaining really.
Exactly 16.59 and there’s a knock at my door. I answer. It’s a tall, broad-shouldered guy dressed in a pilot’s suit and hat. Is he flying me there? Oh fuck me tenderly, he’s hot.
“Good morning Ms Bentley, I’m Drake and I’m here to take you to your destination. May I take your bags?”
I realise my mouth is wide open so I shut it quickly—too quickly that I bite my tongue in the process. Ouch!
“Yeth, pleath,” my eyes are watering and my tongue is stinging.
“Oh god, I thound ridiculouth. Thorry, I juth bit my thongue.”
“Are you OK? Would you like to wait a few moments whilst it recovers?” I can see Drake is trying to suppress a laugh. Who can blame him?!
“No, thankth, I’ll be fine. We can go now.” I turn around to see my kitties and my heart melts at the way they’re staring perplexedly at me. Don’t leave us mommy!
“Bye babieth. I’ll mith you. Be good boyth,” I say as I lock the door.
“You’re an animal lover I see.”
“Yeah. Ath thad ath that thoundths, they’re my life.” Shit when is this going to ease up?!
“I don’t find that tha...sad at all,” he quickly corrects himself.
“I find it to be quite endearing and I totally get it. I’m exactly the same with my dog.”
He places my bags into the boot, opens the door and ushers me into the limo. It’s like a fucking saloon in here. And I don’t mean the kind as in a standard five door vehicle. I mean the kind of saloon that’s in the form of a comfortably furnished, alcohol-filled tavern. Except not only is it stacked out with an incessant array of drinks, but its mile long seats are pure leather-trimmed luxury. I can literally lie across the length of one of them and still not touch the ends with my feet. Oh, and the seats are heated! Of course!
I kick off my heels, fling my feet onto the sofa seat and pour myself a glass of chilled Veuve Clicquot. Although, not being much of a bubbly pourer, let alone drinker, I unskilfully manage to dispense it too quickly as thousands of golden bubbles escape over the edges of the tall pink flute.
“Shit, shit, shit.” I quickly slam my lips up against the glass, carelessly hitting my teeth and start to dominate the fleeing liquid gas spheres down my throat. For fuck sake, I may as well take fifty pounds – although it’s probably more – and throw it in the bin at this rate. I glug and hiccup as I lick the bottom of the glass and my sticky hands salvaging more getaway droplets. Thank fuck nobody can see me. I’m just the picture of pure elegance. NOT!
I rearrange my clumsy self and begin gracefully sipping at my flavoursome drink rather than snorting it up like some truffle-retrieving hog. Holy hell, that’s Heavenly. The marriage of fruity richness, delightful freshness and vivacious sparkle fizzes its way down the back of my neck into the darkest pits of my pining belly as I hear the partition between driver and passenger, languidly slide down.
“Is everything all right back there Ms Bentley?” Surely he couldn’t have heard all that chaotic idiocy from way in the front?!
“Yes...yes, thanks Drake it’s absolutely wonderful back here. As you may have noticed by now, I’ve not been in a limo before, let alone a bar on wheels.”
Drake laughs. “Well enjoy Ms Bentley, it’s a bit of a drive yet,” and up goes the tinted screen. He so probably saw everything from his side. Fuck it! I’ll drink away the shame.
A few hours’ drive; two magazines, a bottle and a half of free bubbly and sufficient time to recover from my tongue attack, the car starts to slow as it approaches two tall golden gates sandwiched between soaring cream walls surrounding whatever secluded mystery was behind it. Oh god, what does this stylish barricade conceal exactly?
Drake steers through the slow-moving automatic gates. I still can’t see much – just a multitude of trees and specs of light stabbing its way through the vast leafiness.
I’m rendered speechless when out from the perplexing obscurity, a glorious vision is debunked; simply the most breath-taking and ornately magnificent sight I have ever set my eyes on. A castle! A spectacularly, overwhelmingly, dazzling, fantasia-like dream, with a myriad of spotlights soaring through the sky and glowing throughout the grounds. It’s like an adult Disneyland!
As far as I can see to, the grounds are protruding with a diverse display of artistic designs. I’m completely bemused by the trees and hedges inventively shaped like naked figures—mostly large breasted females, although a few leafy large-cocked males are scattered about too.
I’m completely dazed and invigorated by the shimmering water features swishing from side to side in time to soft sensual tunes playing outside. I begin to feel completely detached from all reality as my worries fade into a distant insignificance.
The limo gradually continues to crunch along the gravel pathway before reaching to a halt. The door swings open and Drake reaches for my hand to guide me out. I’m in such a state of wonderment that unknowingly my jaw is once again hanging open as if I’m waiting to be fed while I gawk over at the brightly lit chateau.
“Ms Bentley, are you alright?” he asks.
“Oh shit yes, sorry Drake,” I reply as I suck up the dribble that’s somehow managed to escape the side of my mouth, and I gather myself.
Apart from my rather ungainly moments, I feel quite sovereign-like tonight – rather important and very lady-like too, what with the limo, the swanky driver and being escorted from my apartment, of which the entire block is about the size of one of the windows on this place. The mansion aggressively towers over, intimidating me. It’s insanely enormous and goes on forever disappearing into the darkness.
This is no ordinarily lavish celebrity-type mansion, oh no. It quickly dawns on me that I most definitely hadn’t seen anything until this very moment as I occupy the very spot I’m slobbering in. Everything feels almost alive, powerfully discharging vibes of opulence and elegance assorted with a sensual and mystical aspiration.
Two circular columns encompass the extensively extravagant edifice transcending mightily into the air. The fortress has many a tall spikey apex coated in glistening gold, peaking high into the night sky like soft serve ice-cream tips. The reflection from the surrounding lighting shines so brightly onto the palace that it blinds me and I’m forced to narrow my eyes. Jeez, Health & Safety people! I blink and remedy my now distorted vision.
Flamboyant sculptures, all of which are nude upper halves of the female body, protrude from the exterior walls jutting out from the stone blocks, from their vivacious breasts to their neck and head each overlooking me like security guards, probably fitted with cameras. Their necks encrusted with sparkling jewel-like chokers. It’s as if the castle-mansion, I can’t figure out what it is really, has been bedazzled.
I’m directed through a tall narrow glass entrance squeezed together by two elevated limestone pillars on either side. The doors are opened by two extremely delectable doormen. The inside looks like a modish upper class hotel lobby. I’m asked politely by a gorgeous looking security guy if he can take my bags. It’s like going through an airport check point, but with style and class and so much more gorgeousness.
After my brief yet rather satisfying safety check, I’m approached and greeted by a very striking and well-presented brunette woman wearing a white pencil skirt, matching suit jacket and ridiculously high red stilettos.
“Welcome to Sweet Convictions Mansion. Ah it’s a mansion. Looks more like a castle but hey what do I know.
My name is Diana and I am your welcome host. I’m so pleased you have joined us and I trust you wil
l thoroughly enjoy your stay here. No doubt you will depart most satisfied,” she whispers as she winks at me and runs her long red nail under my chin.
“If there is anything you need during your time here, please do not hesitate to call on Mike at any time. He primarily is your designated host for the duration of your stay should you have any questions, or in the unlikely event, any problems. However, each day you will be assigned a secondary host. Each morning they will arrive at your room to introduce themselves and be there to meet with any immediate needs including organising preferred meals, freshening your room and ensuring all the arrangements for your individual experiences are effectively put into place. Please do however note that hosts do not partake in any of the experiences.” She explains everything professionally and efficiently, almost robot-like.
“We want our guests and of course staff to feel relaxed, secure and as naturally at ease as possible, so everything here is indeed slightly regimented to ensure you are well taken care of. Do you have any questions?”
Oh great, more systematically planned order. Just when I thought I was escaping all that tiresome predictability shit. Fuckety fuck!
“Erm. No. Thank you. Oh actually yes, who’s,” and before I can finish my question, out of nowhere, Mike emerges.
“This is Mike,” Diana says with a wily grin. It’s like she read my mind. Get outa my head Ms Red Shoes!
As she steps back, a massively built Viking-like man wearing nothing but a bow tie, small black apron just about covering his cock and balls, three quarter length black lace up boots with a beautifully ripped torso, steps forward and welcomes me with a glass of champagne and a small gift bag.
“Oh hi, I’m great thanks!” It quickly dawns on me that he’s not even asked me anything yet. Argh! The nerves are getting the better of me. I’m dumbfounded by all the ridiculously good looking people of whom none are unkind to the eyes. Oh god, the utter beauty, the untainted glamour and luxury of it all.
Sweet Convictions Page 5