Man Needs a Maid Ch. 04

MAID Chapter 4

Elise stayed in on Sunday. She had a question for me.

- "Could we change my days off? I mean, Saturday and Sunday are nice, but I might need a 'business' day, for banking, or the dentist..."

- "Good point. I'm sorry I didn't think of that. Well... you could just take a day off, or part of one, whenever you need to."

She shook her head. "No, don't tempt me like that."

- "Vade retro, Satana?"

- "Get back, Satan?" she said.

- "You know the phrase?" I said. I was mildly impressed.

- "Yeah. I guess it fits. No, I would be happy with Sundays and Mondays off."

- "So... should we change our sex days?"

She flushed a little at that. "If you want."

- "Okay. How about we move to Wednesdays and Saturdays?"

- "If you like."

- "No - if you like. And I have another question: would you be open to sex in the afternoon? So far we've only done it at night, but what if I was seriously in the mood in the afternoon?"

She flushed again. I was beginning to enjoy talking about sex with Elise, even if it wasn't anything explicit.

- "That's... that's fine."

- "Good to know."

I gave her that Monday off. I contemplated going for Dim Sum, but then decided that I was in the mood for smoked meat. Yes, a certain waitress was probably a factor in my choice. I sat in the same section, at the same table.

- "Mark! It's so nice to see you back!" Poppy seemed inordinately happy to see me. I certainly enjoyed the sight of her. Her hair was so blonde it was practically white. Bright blue eyes, a couple of freckles, and the way she filled out her uniform...

She was super-attentive. I'd gone for a late lunch, so I was in between the noon rush and the early dinner crowd. I practically had Poppy to myself. She lingered a few times, once to ask me where I'd been (an oblique way of asking me what I did for a living), and then again, to give me the opportunity to ask her something. I recognized the opening this time.

- "So... have you been waitressing long? Because you're very good at it."

- "Thanks. But no... this is just to keep a steady income. I've been hoping to get a few more modelling gigs."

- "Modelling? I can totally see that."

- "Thank you. It's not as glamorous as it sounds, though. Maybe at the very top - but I'm nowhere near there."

- "You'll get there." I said. "I have a feeling you can achieve whatever you set out to do."

- "That's very sweet." she said, with a shy smile. You can add perfect teeth to her attributes.

Poppy wasn't all that busy. I looked over a few times, and twice found her looking my way. It was well beyond excellent service. If I had any doubts about that, she dispelled them when she brought me the bill.

- "I really hope we'll see you again soon." she said.

- "I don't know if I could manage smoked meat and french fries every day." I said.

She laughed with me, and then gave me a lingering look before she wished me 'a great evening'.

I wasn't imagining it. On my receipt, she'd written her name, with a little heart, and then a phone number.

***

On Wednesday, Elise served me a spicy chicken dish with a tomato and garlic sauce, fried egg, and...

- "Are those crayfish?"

- "Yes. They had them at the market. That's what gave me the idea."

- "Is this... chicken provencal?"

- "Chicken Marengo." she said.

- "Holy heck, Elise. This is amazing."

- "It's not that hard." she said, even though I could tell she was pleased with the compliment. "I knew how. It's just... when you're only cooking for one, you don't feel like going to that much trouble."

- "I understand." I did. "I'm just glad that I can be of service to you like this. You know - providing an excuse."

She actually laughed a little at that.

When it was time for bed, I had her lie on a towel again. She felt the first few drops of warm oil.

- "You know you don't have to give me a massage every time." she said.

- "I won't. But it just so happens that I like giving you a massage."

- "Knock yourself out."

I did just that.

People talk about big booty, or bubble butts. Please - give me a tight little ass like Elise's. I loved her build, and enjoyed every minute of rubbing and squeezing it with my fingers and thumbs.

On this occasion, though, I got a bit impatient. I was sliding my dick on the well-oiled crack of her ass, and I lost my concentration. I put on a condom, and entered her while she was still prone. If she was expecting a repeat of our doggie-style performance, she didn't get it. I kept her pinned down with the weight of my body, and pressed her to the mattress, pushing my cock into her as far as it would go.

I know that she enjoyed the massage; I didn't ask how she felt about being taken this way.

Things were a bit quiet the next morning. Elise made breakfast, but didn't volunteer any information. There was certainly no review of last night's performance. I wanted to ask, but I didn't want to piss her off any more than I already had. Dinner that evening was a quiet affair as well.

On Friday morning, I noticed that she looked different.

- "Did you change your hair?" I asked. "It looks nice." I mean, it didn't seem all that different; just enough to notice. So I paid her a little compliment. Isn't that what you're supposed to do?

Apparently not. Elise left the kitchen, and returned to her room. She returned fifteen minutes later, with her hair tied back in a more severe style. That confused the hell out of me.

"I don't understand." I said. "Did I say something wrong?"

- "I don't want to talk about it." she said, curtly.

I was mildly annoyed. "All I did was compliment your hair!"

- "I'm not here to make myself pretty for you!" she snapped back.

- "No! You're here to cook, clean, and have sex with me!"

Okay. Maybe I shouldn't have said that. Elise gave me a scornful look, and went straight back to her room.

In my own defence - no, I don't have any defence. I'm not empathetic, and even though I could tell that she was still ticked off about Wednesday night, I had no idea what to do about it. Nor did I understand what I'd done wrong this morning.

If I don't notice her hair, isn't that bad? How is she going to know that I noticed if I don't say anything? But I did overreact. Years of suppressing or hiding my anger at my family took their toll; I no longer want to 'smooth over things', or be diplomatic. For the last few years, especially, I've been letting my inner asshole show more early and more often.

I tinkered around for a few hours, but I was still annoyed (partly at myself), so I left the apartment. Yes, I went to the diner.

Poppy wasn't there.

- "She took the day off." said the day manager. "A modelling job, or some kind of audition. I forget, exactly."

I sat in another section, and had a Reuben sandwich with fries. I didn't enjoy it all that much. My mood definitely spoiled my lunch, which only made me more annoyed at Elise. She wasn't my wife, or my girlfriend. This was precisely the kind of garbage I'd been trying to avoid. Emotional warfare, guilting me into feeling shitty - and I was paying for this?

I went for a walk, which helped clear my mind, and some of the funk evaporated. Elise was obviously annoyed at me. Her transgressions consisted of not telling me why she was annoyed, and then making a snarky comment. Hardly indictable offences. I was the one who escalated things. Sure, I'd only told the truth, but at the wrong time - plus it didn't really need to be said.

If Elise called me an asshole every day, it would be equally true. But did it need to repeated?

Somehow I ended up stopping at Bed, Bath and Beyond (a competitor of Sleep Country), and buying her the kind of bathrobe she'd turned down when we went shopping together. It was full-length, soft and fluffy, and totally luxurious.

Back at the apartment, I left it on the kitchen island, with a little note that said 'Peace offering - I'm sorry'.

I did worry a bit about the gift: every time she wore it, it was going to remind her of what an asshole I was. Who knows? Maybe that would be a good thing.

Elise came in a little while after I did, carrying a couple of bags of groceries. She put them away in the kitchen, which meant that she had to have seen the robe, but she didn't say anything about it.

She started cooking a little earlier than usual. I should've stayed away, but my curiosity got the better of me.

- "That smells great already." I said.

- "No peeking." she said. She sighed, and stopped working. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry too. I overreacted. You actually noticed my hair, and I blew up at you for no reason. So dinner tonight is sort of... my peace offering?"

- "Garlic is your peace offering?"

She almost smiled. "Not quite. And yours is way, way better. It's too much, by the way... but thank you."

- "Okay. Just don't expect something like that every time I act like an asshole. Even I couldn't afford that!"

Elise almost smiled again. "Dinner in an hour." she said.

She'd made lamb chops with garlic and rosemary, roasted potatoes and grilled vegetables. She'd even bought some mint sauce. It was a great treat - something I would never have thought of for myself, and that I was unlikely to order in a restaurant.

On top of that, I could only smile as I thought of her shopping for the ingredients of her apology meal, at the same time as I was buying her a fluffy bathrobe.

The next night was a Saturday. She made a nice stir fry, this time including brussels sprouts halves and shaved almonds. I complimented the chef again.

She came to my room wearing her new bathrobe - and nothing underneath. She had me lie on my bed, on my back, and treated me to a very thorough blowjob. Elise knelt beside me on the bed, so that I could easily reach and fondle her dangling breasts. It was very thoughtful of her.

She could tell when I was getting close. I wasn't thrusting into her mouth, but I had tightened my ass cheeks, and lifted them off the mattress, trying to get my cock as far as possible into her mouth as she would let me. Then she took me in her hand.

- "Do you want to finish this way, or would you prefer -?"

- "This way. Please."

Only later did I realize that I could have had the best of both worlds. I could have enjoyed a blowjob almost to completion, and then asked her to ride me until I came. That's what I missed out on, through a combination of impatience and a lack of self-control. Oh, well - live and learn.

***

On Monday, Elise's second day off, I decided to try the deli again. This time, I called the number Poppy had given me first.

- "Hello?"

- "Poppy?"

- "Yes?"

- "Hi. It's umm... Mark."

- "Mark? Oh my gosh! How are you!"

- "Good. How are you?"

- "I'm fine. Better now. I'm so sorry that I missed you the other day."

- "How did your audition go?"

- "My...? Oh. It was... a bit of a letdown. I think they were looking for someone a little more... ethnic."

- "That's too bad."

- "Par for the course." she said. "You know how baseball players get two or three hits for every ten times they come up to bat? Well, with models and actresses, you hope to get one out of ten. In fact, one out of twenty or even fifty is okay - if that one leads to more. We're all hoping for that one big break."

- "Wow."

- "But never mind that!" she said. "I'm so glad you called!"

- "Yeah. Umm... I was going to go to the deli this afternoon - but only if you're there."

- "As a matter of fact, I will be. I have a half shift today. When are you coming?"

- "Ah... I was thinking around three?"

- "I'll be there. See you then?"

- "Looking forward to it already." I don't know; is that something people say?

Poppy seemed very happy to see me. Her eyes were bright, her perfect smile was... perfect, and she seemed to be breathing heavily. She wasn't showing any cleavage, but it was hard to miss the heaving and stirring in the upper top half of her uniform.

I cut straight to the chase.

"Poppy, I... you gave me your phone number. I think I know what that means. I just... I don't really know why you did."

She smiled. "It's not that complicated, Mark. I like you. I was hoping... that you would ask me out."

- "I understood that part. But... you're a beautiful girl. A model. And I'm... me."

Poppy sat down opposite me - something I'd never seen a waitress do. The owner, maybe - but an employee?

- "I like you, Mark. Listen: when I go to modelling shoots, or to auditions, I get attention. There are men - and a few women - who smile at me, tell me I'm gorgeous, and then proposition me. Some want me to take my clothes off right away. Others want to get into my pants, but they're willing to wait a few minutes, or even a few hours."

I didn't want to interrupt her, so I just nodded.

"Your friend, that first time you were here, was a perfect case in point. He just piled on the flirts and the innuendo. That's when I noticed you were different. You didn't approve of what he was doing, and you told him so. Then you tried to make it up to me. That meant the world to me, Mark."

- "I didn't do that much."

- "Yes, you did. I know plenty of supposedly 'beautiful' people. I've been involved with a few, in the past. And I can honestly say that I like you better. I like how I feel when you're here. You're a sweet man, and I'd like to get to know you better."

- "Wow."

- "Oh - listen to me. Now I'm the one propositioning you."

- "It's not that common an experience for me."

She laughed. "Good. Mark, could I take you to dinner? Or a coffee? Something? Would you go out with me? My treat."

- "No. I mean, no to the 'my treat' part. But yes to the other part. I'd be... delighted."

- "My treat, buddy. I'm the one asking. And you can relax: I'm not a starving artist, or a poor waitress. I make decent money. I'm just working to be secure. I can't count on my looks to last forever."

- "You're more than your looks, Poppy."

She smiled again. "See? And you think you aren't special. You're so sweet. I could just about eat you up!"

We made plans. She wanted to go out Saturday evening. I agreed, despite my arrangement with Elise. Well, I had discussed the possibility of having sex in the afternoon with her. In fact, I was curious to see how that would work out.

On Wednesday, I pushed the envelope with Elise just a bit. I asked her to join me on the couch as I was re-watching old episodes of the original 'Justified' series. It might just be a quirk of mine, but if I like something, I can go back to it multiple times. I've seen the entire 'Firefly' series six times (and the movie 'Serenity' four times). I've lost count of how many times I've watched 'Lord of the Rings'. I've even watched the 'Behind the scenes' footage four times.

She sat beside me, and watched Raylan Givens (Timothy Olyphant) do his thing. For my money, Walton Goggins (playing the character Boyd Crowder) often threatens to steal the show. He definitely thieves a few scenes.

I tried to make it casual as I reached over and undid the button on her jeans. Elise turned her head to look at me.

- "Really?"

- "Just enjoy the show."

I pulled her top out from under the waistband of her pants. Then I slid my hand underneath it. I may have mentioned how narrow her waist is, or how flat and toned her stomach is. You may not think that feeling a girl's stomach under her shirt is that big a deal, but let me remind you of my adolescent dating history: I didn't have any.

As I bravely forged my way north, I discovered that Elise wasn't wearing a bra. I'd seen her naked breasts. But this was... intoxicating. Fondling her boobs under her shirt? Heavenly.

I don't think she minded all that much, with Timothy Olyphant as eye candy. I certainly didn't. Elise didn't protest when I had her stand up, so that I could slide her jeans down. I left her panties on. But once she sat back down, I got my hand inside those panties, and started stroking and fingering her pussy.

Her face wasn't giving much away, so I didn't know if she was enjoying it. As for me, I was having a blast. I could almost pretend that Elise was my girlfriend... and that thought made me sad.

The episode ended, so I felt reasonably justified to put Elise on her back on the couch. I slowly peeled her panties all the way off, and then kissed my way up her long legs, alternating from one to the other. When I finally reached her pussy, I noticed that the insides of her thighs were wet, as if she'd been leaking fluids.

The moment my tongue touched her pussy, Elise shuddered, and let out a low moan.

- "Did you just come?" I asked.

She wouldn't meet my eye. "Yes." she said.

- "Cool." I was very impressed with myself. "Can I keep going?"

- "I'd rather you didn't. I'm... a little too sensitive right now."

- "Oh."

- "Stand up." she said.

I did. Still seated on the couch, naked from the waist down, she unfastened my pants and pulled them down, along with my underwear. She stroked my rod, which rapidly reached maximum hardness. She took my cock in her mouth, and flickered her tongue all over the head. Then she slurped a bit, to make sure that my erection was there to stay.

"Condom?" she said.

- "Right." I had one in the pocket of my pants. I didn't scramble for it, but let's just say that I didn't waste much time getting it out and then on.

Elise pulled her shirt over her head, and tossed it aside. Then she leaned back on the couch, and surprised me by lifting her knees and spreading her legs. Surprised? No - more like amazed. Elise had shown a marked preference for having sex in the dark, and for avoiding eye contact as much as possible. Here she was stripping off her shirt, and offering an unobstructed view of her pussy. I wasn't going to spoil the moment by asking her what was up.

I wasn't quite tall enough to kneel on the floor and fuck her from there. Instead, I sort of knelt on the edge of the couch, and entered her that way.

I have to admit that I didn't last all that long. It didn't matter. It was one of the best fucks of my life. Top three, at least. I couldn't even remember if I'd ever been this wildly aroused with Alex. It felt fantastic. I let out a roar as I came.

Elise didn't immediately get up and leave, as she often did after we'd had sex. So I went to the bathroom, and returned with a warm, wet washcloth, and a towel, so that she could clean herself up.

- "Thank you." she said. Then she went to her room.

***

Maybe it was the towel that gave me ideas. I had a date with Poppy that Saturday evening, so I wanted to have sex with Elise before then. I'd mentioned the possibility of some 'afternoon delight', but she hadn't really endorsed it. Time for a test, then.

After breakfast, Simone was cleaning up. I went to stand beside her.

- "I'm going to be out this evening." I said.

- "Oh?" She wasn't just being polite; Elise was genuinely surprised. I almost never went out after dark.

- "Meeting a friend. Don't know exactly what time I'll get home. I don't want to make you wait up for me, so I was thinking that we should have sex before I go out. What do you think?"

I was being clever (sort of). I was giving her a choice (also sort of). I thought that she would appreciate the opportunity to 'get it over with', and have the rest of the day to herself.

- "Alright." she said.

- "Great. Fifteen minutes? In my room."

I went to the laundry room, and put my plush towel into the dryer.

Considering how much time North Americans spend sleeping, and how often they take showers, it's a bit of a mystery to me that people don't spend more money on beds, towels, and bathrobes. There's nothing like a warm, plush robe - especially when it's cold outside.

Elise turned up right on time.

- "You can take your clothes off." I told her. "I'll be right back." I hurried to the dryer, and took out my towel. It was almost too hot to handle. I put the second and third towels in the dryer, and turned it back on.

Back in my bedroom, Elise was down to her bra and panties - a functional set, but she still looked awesome in them. Anything that lifted or supported her sweater puppies was a boon to mankind.

I laid out the towel on my bed, and helped her get naked. Then I had her lie down on the warm towel, on her back.

- "Ooh..." she said.

- "Right?" I knew firsthand how good that felt.

Then I did my best to make her feel even better. Yes, I was paying her to have sex with me. But this was a long-term arrangement, not some one-and-done. The more I could get Elise to enjoy our sessions, the better for me - that was my thinking.

So I laid her on a warm towel, and went down on her. Elise kept her eyes closed, but I caught her sneaking a hand onto her own breast, tweaking her nipple. She must have been remarkably turned on, because she came fairly quickly.

I rushed back to the dryer, and took out the two hot towels. Not warm - hot. I carried them back to the bedroom.

- "Roll over." I told her.

- "What?"

- "Roll over. I need to change the towel."

She finally got it. I whipped off the now cool towel, and replaced it with a very warm one.

"Okay. Roll back - but on your stomach."

I'm not sure that Elise liked being ordered around. She wasn't naturally submissive - that was for sure. But she'd liked the warm towel on her back, so she trusted that it would feel good on her front, too.

- "Ohh..."

I guess it did feel good. When I placed the second warm towel on her back, Elise practically cooed. She was now the meat in a warm towel sandwich. The towel didn't cover the lower half of her ass, though, so I was able to finger her pussy, and ascertain that was plenty wet.

Condom on. Rear entry. I was fucking her prone again. Like I said, this was a test. Could I win her over with lots of oral and TLC? Did she get angry the first time I fucked her in the prone position because it was prone, or was it something else that set her off?

It must have been something else, because Elise didn't complain at all. Maybe it helped that I came before the towels got cold.

***

Dinner with Poppy was... strange.

She was dolled up, and looked even more beautiful. The word 'spectacular' came to mind. Her makeup was exceptional; just enough to be supremely effective, but not so much that it was over-evident. She wore a black top which was open enough to reveal that she was also wearing a red bra with black trim. She'd changed her hair, too. Poppy didn't look waitressy; I could completely understand why she was a model.

- "Wow..."

She grinned. "That's exactly the reaction I was hoping for."

The restaurant was Greek; the food was excellent. I have a thing for grilled calamari (not breaded and fried), so I was very happy. I complimented her on her choice.

Then our conversation got weird. I wanted to know about her modelling career, her past... anything about her. Poppy wanted to talk about me. It was like a duel: thrust, parry, riposte.

She said that she was from Thunder Bay, and then asked about what kind of work I did. Consulting, I said. She admitted to a sister and fairly traditional parents, and then turned it back to the subject of me.

Poppy seemed much more comfortable talking about the time we'd shared together, which meant replaying our first meeting, with Gary being a dick, in great detail. She seemed to see me as some kind of knight errant, protecting fair maidens and fighting dragons.

Let me put it this way: I enjoyed looking at her pretty face, and sneaking peeks at her cleavage when she looked away. I can't say that I was crazy about the conversation, though. Eye candy is sweet, but not all that filling.

Poppy wouldn't let me get away without the promise of a second date. She had Thursday off, and somehow I found myself agreeing to go to the aquarium with her. I hadn't been yet, which was apparently some kind of sin, as she informed me.

- "Next you'll tell me that you haven't been up the CN Tower."

- "Umm..."

- "Oh my God! We are so doing that too!"

I took her home in a taxi. She shared an apartment in a house with a roommate, near Christie Pits.

- "I'd invite you in." she said. "But my girlfriend is home, and we have this sort of agreement about not bringing guys in." She frowned. "I'm sorry."

- "Not a problem." I said.

- "You're so sweet." said Poppy. She leaned over and kissed me on the cheek. Then she hopped out of the cab.

The cab driver was looking at me in his rear view mirror. He didn't say anything, but the expression on his face told the whole story.

- "Dude..."

I got it. What was a freaking smokeshow like Poppy doing with an ugly geek with me?

***

Elise and I took a step backward that Wednesday. I thought that prolonged foreplay, and especially oral, was the way to go to get her warmed up. She was definitely not in the mood, though. She rebuffed my first advances, then took off my pants and started blowing me.

It was a perfunctory blowjob. She wasn't all that into it, so I wasn't enjoying it all that much either. That didn't mean that it wasn't working, from her perspective. She steered me into doggy position, and I lasted about 45 seconds.

I can't imagine that she enjoyed it. And I felt cheated. Nothing was said, but...

***

I have to admit it: the aquarium was exceptional. And Poppy was completely different. At the restaurant, she'd tried to get me to do most of the talking. But with all of the sights we we were seeing, she was perfectly comfortable delivering a running commentary.

When we went to the CN Tower, she happily narrated the highlights of her previous visits, and teased me with the experiences I was going to have. The elevator was ridiculous. She held onto me all the way up, and leaned against me a little more than strictly necessary. And once at the top (okay, near the top), I discovered that fear of heights can be a relative thing.

Sometimes, in an apartment building, I'm surprised to look out the window and see just how far down it is. The observation deck was 'only' 554 meters high. That's about 552 too many. I managed to keep my fear relatively under control, mostly because I didn't want to be embarrassed in front of Poppy. She was a good sport about it, though, and didn't force me to anything too gut-churning.

As a reward, I took her to Rodney's, an oyster bar that was at the opposite extreme of my favourite dim sum place - it was quite expensive. But they aren't giving oysters away, so it's the price you pay. Poppy loved it, and happily replayed all of the highlights of our day at the aquarium and the tower.

I cabbed her home. Poppy kissed me on the lips, a brief, yet lingering promise of things to come.

- "Thank you, Mark." she said.

Cabbies shouldn't be allowed to stare at their passengers for more than thirty seconds at a time. I get it, dude: she's way out of my league.

***

Elise was out of sorts on Saturday evening.

- "Did I do something wrong?" I asked.

- "No."

- "Did I say something wrong?"

- "No. Why would you think that?"

I think we've already established that I'm not fluent in female (Or human, some might say - fuck them too).

- "You seem... pissed off."

She glared at me. "If I am, it doesn't necessarily have to do with you. Not everything revolves around you."

I've always found that an odd thing to say. Of course it does. Cogito, ergo sum. I only experience the world through my senses. My eyes see something, my ears hear something, and my brain tries to make sense of them. So it obviously revolves around me, and my interpretations.

Of course, if she really means 'Don't be an asshole', that's fair. Most people think that they're the star of their own lives, and they act as if everyone else is the supporting cast, or the villains. Get over yourself: you're not that important. Maybe that was what Elise meant.

- "Does that mean you don't want to have sex tonight?" I said.

- "Of course I want to." she said, with enough sarcasm to choke a whale. "It's my job."

- "Okay. Let's get to work, then."

I made sure there was plenty of lube. I didn't want to hurt her, after all. But if she didn't give a shit, why should I? So I fucked her, doggy style. Job done. Yeah, it was about as fun as it sounds.

***

Poppy chose the locale for our next date, too - and I have to say, she chose well. It was trivia night at the Red Lion. It wasn't painful or embarrassing at all, as karaoke or bowling would have been. We plugged our answers into a little keyboard, and they showed up on TV screens around the bar.

There were some serious trivia nerds in the place. But Poppy rocked the pop culture, music and movies questions (of which there were plenty). She had Hollywood gossip, celebrity breakups, and reality TV covered. I had a decent store of general knowledge, so we didn't get shut out on the history and geography and science stuff.

She was quite pleased whenever we got one right. To my intense relief, she didn't insist on high fives; instead, she lightly squeezed my arm, or just leaned against me. The pressure of her big breast against my arm was not at all unwelcome.

Like at the aquarium, Poppy happily delivered a largely one-sided monologue about our opponents, the questions, and my performance, which she praised to the skies.

- "What? You're so smart! I would never have got that."

I tried to return the favor when she correctly identified Paris Hilton's sex tape partner.

"Oh, please." she said. "Everybody knows that." Then she realized what she'd said. "Except you, Mister Never Watches TV." She squeezed my arm and pressed her tit against me, so I could hardly be offended.

She was delighted when we finished fourth out of eleven teams. Honestly, the first two were near-perfect, and the third was way ahead of us. We were just the best of the rest, by a very slim margin. But Poppy declared it a great victory.

I took her for Dim Sum a few days later, and discovered two things. She wasn't all that keen about 'ethnic' food, and my first conclusion about her conversational skills was confirmed. She wanted to revisit our trivia night triumph. She darn near replayed the whole thing.

Poppy wasn't comfortable discussing ideas, or anything abstract. She seemed happiest doing something active, and talking about it (both at the time, and afterwards).

- "Mark, are you free this Friday night?" she asked.

- "I think so. Why?"

- "Well..." Poppy made a short story long. There was this series on her streaming channel that she really wanted to watch. She'd heard so much about it, and very much wanted to see it, but she needed someone to talk about it with. Would I be that someone? We could just watch the first couple of episodes, and I could decide if I liked it enough to keep watching. Totally casual, just watching, with some popcorn, and her roommate would be out that night, so we could do it at her place...

- "Sounds like a plan." I said.

For a supposedly very casual evening, Poppy had on a fair bit of makeup. Her face and hair looked ready for a modelling shoot. Her jeans were tight, and she wore a button-down shirt that seemed to be straining a bit to contain her chest.

Her apartment was quite nice, and probably very expensive, even with two girls sharing the rent. She gave me the nickel tour, showing me a pristine kitchen (uber-clean because 'neither of us cooks much'). She pointed out the two bedrooms, but didn't invite me inside hers. Did that mean something?

She microwaved some popcorn, turned down the lights, and loaded her program. She sat down very close to me, and placed the popcorn bowl on my lap - 'So we can share'.

The show was some kind of suspense intrigue thing. Husband is a government agent, investigating some criminal ring, which somehow involves his wife's best friend. The wife loves him, but apparently needs a lover on the side, because I don't know. I was having trouble concentrating on the screen, because Poppy was sitting very close, with her feet tucked under her, so that she was sort of leaning into me. I barely had to turn my head to look down into her cleavage. She was wearing a bra, but it was clearly of the 'lift 'em and show 'em off' variety.

Poppy was also reaching into the popcorn bowl quite frequently. Somehow, she couldn't couldn't just take a few pieces off the top. The kernel or kernels that she wanted most always seemed to be at or near the bottom, so she had to really reach in. The damn bowl was moving all over my crotch. It wasn't an accident.

I'd lost track of the plot after twenty minutes, but I'm not sure it mattered. The wife's friend had graphic sex with the crime lord, then the husband got shit from his boss for the slow progress of the investigation, while his wife had steamy sex with her lover.

The wife and the wife's friend had lunch and caught up, then went to a hotel room and had sex. That was the climax of episode one.

- "What did you think?" asked Poppy.

- "I'm not sure." I said. "I've heard that you have to watch two or three episodes before you know for sure if you're going to like it."

She smiled. "Does that mean you'll watch more with me?"

- "Of course I will."

- "You're so sweet." she said.

Poppy only had to lean forward another few inches, and our faces were attracted the rest of the way by sheer gravity. She kissed me.

It was a long, sweet, lingering kiss. When she finally pulled back a few inches, she looked into my eyes. Poppy had beautifully bright blue eyes. I don't know what she saw, but she suddenly closed the distance, and planted her lips on me again.

We necked on the couch. Tongues got involved. It may not sound like much to you, but consider my previous experience (or lack thereof). I'd never gotten the chance to neck with a beautiful, stacked blonde.

Poppy broke our kiss, but only long enough to move the popcorn bowl off my lap. Then she was back on me, lip to lip, leaning on me. I felt her hand on my thigh.

That had to be an invitation. I reached up and cupped her breast.

Maybe it was the effect of the bra. Elise had wonderful boobs, but Poppy's seemed even firmer, and heavier. Emboldened, I undid the top button on her shirt, revealing a lot more cleavage.

Poppy stuck her tongue in my mouth, even as her hand slid up and brushed over my package. It wasn't an accident. She proved that for sure a moment later as her fingers closed around the bulge in my pants.

- "Mmmm..." she moaned, into my mouth.

That was when we both heard the door to her apartment open. Poppy pulled away from me as if she'd been stung by a wasp.

- "Oh!" said the young woman just inside the door.

- "Shelly?" said Poppy.

- "Oh, Pop - I'm sorry. I forgot about your date night. It's just..." Shelly appeared to have been crying. In fact, she didn't look as though the tears were finished.

Poppy got up from the couch. "Oh, Sweetie... what's wrong?"

- "Robbie dumped me." And... then came the tears.

Poppy rushed over to her roommate, and wrapped her arms around her. Well, that was the end of our date.

- "You guys obviously need to talk." I said. "I'll be on my way."

Shelly apologized to Poppy again. Poppy introduced us. Shelly apologized to me. I made light of it.

- "I'll call you." said Poppy. "Thank you." She kissed me.

- "Aww..." said Shelly, smiling through her sniffles and tears.

***

Elise had been with me for over a month. We seemed to have gotten past the major hurdle - the sex. We weren't as awkward, now. I didn't constantly have the feeling that she was avoiding eye contact, and she was more relaxed. Well, a bit, anyway. She had to know by now that I wasn't going to hurt her. I was an asshole, but I didn't get off on humiliating or dominating her. I didn't have any particularly weird kinks.

Outside the bedroom, I treated her with respect. I didn't completely trust her yet, but I did like her, and that was an interesting discovery for me.

I encouraged her to go out on her days off. Fresh air, a chance to re-connect with old friends, or just to do some things she hadn't done for a while. I didn't offer to buy her tickets to a Leafs game (I'm not that rich), but I took her for dim sum again, just to get her into the habit.

Poppy called me the day after our interrupted date. She apologized for her roommate.

- "Talk about bad timing!" she said.

I got hard at that reminder that her hand had been on my erection.

"We never got to see that second episode."

- "Yeah." Exactly.

- "Umm... do you want to... try again? I can try to find a night that Shelly will be out."

- "Or we could watch it here." I suggested. I knew that I was being manipulated, but I didn't mind. I didn't want to be interrupted by Shelly again. "How about Friday night?"

- "Sounds good to me." she said. "What can I bring?"

- "An appetite?"

- "Oh? You're going to feed me, first?"

Was that innuendo? I had no experience with that sort of thing.

On Wednesday, I fucked Elise in a lazy spoon position. On Thursday, I asked her if she could make three portions for dinner on Friday night.

- "Three? So you'll have leftovers?"

- "I'm having a friend over. We're going to watch a TV series."

Elise was too classy to burst out with 'A friend? You?'. But her eyebrow seemed to rise of its own volition.

- "I was going to make lasagna. There should be plenty for three."

- "Awesome. Thank you."

Poppy arrived wearing the same button-down shirt she'd had on for our last date. That had to be a signal. Immediate erection. She oohed and aahed appreciatively when she saw my apartment. It was, admittedly, a couple of steps up the ladder above her place.

I introduced her to Elise. That went over just about as well as I'd expected. Oil, meet water.

- "You have a cook?" said Poppy.

- "Cook, maid, and roommate." I said. I looked at Elise, wondering if she was going to mention the fact that we had sex twice a week. She didn't.

Poppy extended an olive branch (I think), asking for a tour of the kitchen. Elise showed good manners, and let her see the pantry, the pots and pans, the spice rack... you know.

Meanwhile, I was watching them together, and comparing. They were both about the same height: Poppy was 5'9", and Elise was 5'10" (that's 175 and 178cm for you Euros). Both were busty. Elise was pale white, with straight black hair; Poppy was a little wider in the hips, with that golden skin and blonde hair that was almost white. She was also far prettier. Beautiful, even.

I was one lucky asshole.

We had Caesar salad and lasagna. Both were excellent. The salad, actually, was among the best I'd ever had. I complimented Elise, and Poppy added her own praise. Then Elise started cleaning up, while Poppy and I migrated to the living room.

- "Wow." she said. "Your TV is so huge. This is gonna be great." She excused herself for a moment, to use the washroom, but returned fairly quickly.

We started watching Episode 2 (I could barely remember Episode 1). Well, one thing hadn't changed: there were plenty of gratuitous sex scenes. Hubby and his wife, then two people we hadn't seen before - it turned out that he was a hit man of some kind, who tried to kill hubby, but was foiled by an alert bodyguard. Why did we need to see him having sex before he died? Ah - got it: the woman he had sex with now went on to have sex with the wife's best friend.

Elise had finished cleaning. She came into the living room.

- "I'll be in my room." she said. "There's sorbet in the freezer, if you want some dessert."

- "Thank you." I said.

- "Thank you so much." said Poppy. "That was a wonderful meal."

- "You're very welcome." said Elise. "Goodnight."

Poppy nudged me with her elbow. "She's kinda hot."

- "Not like you."

That was apparently a good answer. Poppy cooed, burrowed closer, and kissed me. That only led to more kissing. I was blown away by how good it felt. I was hoping for more, obviously, but necking or smooching doesn't get enough good press. Highly underrated, if you ask me.

Poppy's hand settled on my thigh. I cupped her breast, and immediately realized that she'd gone to the bathroom to remove her bra. I moaned a little.

- "Going to make you feel good tonight, baby." she said, softly.

With that, she placed her hand directly on the bulge in my pants. Episode two ended on a cliffhanger; I completely missed it.

Poppy stroked my cock through my pants, while I undid the top button on her shirt (quite an achievement, with one hand). She unfastened my pants, and unzipped me. Then she reached in, and took hold of my cock.

- "Mmm..." she murmured.

I was working on her second button, without much success. Poppy straightened up, released my dick, and popped the next three buttons on her shirt. One of her breasts spilled out. I was amazed. Her areolae was quite pale. Poppy's skin was gold, like honey. Her nipple was pink, but her areolae was in between.

She immediately returned her attention to my cock, stroking it, staring at it... and then she lowered her head, taking me into her mouth.

I groaned aloud. First off, she was better at this than Alex or Elise (and probably Cindy). Second, she was certainly the sexiest woman I'd ever had do that. On top of that, we'd been interrupted by her sobby roommate - I was keyed up. I wasn't going to last.

- "Oh. Poppy!" I tried to warn her, and then blasted a load in her mouth. She surprised me again, by swallowing all of it.

That kind of action demanded an answer. I slid off the couch, and slid her pants off. Her panties were of the lacy white variety. She'd come here expecting me to see them.

"Nice..." I said.

I've heard it said that there's no such thing as a bad blowjob. Does that apply when the roles are reversed? I might not have been the most talented pussy eater north of New York, but Poppy didn't complain. She was clean-shaven, and already aroused. I dove right in.

Maybe I wasn't as bad as I thought; within a few minutes, Poppy came (or faked it). It didn't matter; I was getting my money's worth. I was hard again. It took only a few moments to skin on a condom, and I piled into her on the couch.

Poppy spread her legs wide for me, and in the moment of penetration I felt like a champion. I think that I even growled. She was a glorious fuck. She shimmied, and lifted her hips off the couch, rising up to meet my thrusts. Her hands were active, too: she clutched at my arms, flicked her thumb over my nipple, and then grabbed my ass so that she pull me even deeper into her.

I'd come only a little while before, so I was able to give a really good account of myself. I got to watch her big breasts jiggle, and lowered my head so that I could latch onto her nipple as I fucked her.

Poppy was alternating between moaning and cooing. That latter sound energized me; I picked up the pace every time she did it. I'd never had a fuck like this, and I was enjoying the hell out of it, even while I remembered that all of the action was being recorded. I was going to have a fantastic video of this performance.

Poppy closed her eyes, grunted, and dug her fingernails into my ass. She appeared to be coming a second time. That only inspired me to raise the heat again; I picked up speed, until I was practically hammering her into the couch.

I managed another dozen thrusts before my brain exploded, and my balls gave up every last drop they had stored. I blanked out, for a moment; it was like I'd gone blind. Or maybe I just closed my eyes.

She pulled me down atop her, hanging on like I was some kind of life preserver.

- "Oh my God." she whispered. "Oh my God."

- "That's what... I was going to say." I panted.

- "I had no idea."

- "You're incredible. So incredible."

She smiled. "I'm glad you think so."

We cuddled and snogged (I think that's the word) for awhile. Then Poppy remembered that she had to get home.

- "I have an interview tomorrow morning." she said.

- "On a Saturday?"

- "They have University exams on Sundays now. It's crazy."

She gave me a kiss that just about curled my toes. Then I put her into a taxi, and sent her home.

I was curious, so I went to my den and pulled up the video cameras that covered the living room. There were two of them, so I had two angles to watch the replay of Poppy kissing and then blowing me, me going down on her, and then our all-star coupling.

The second angle was even better, because it not only showed us from behind, but it revealed our spectator. Elise had silently come out of her room, and peeked out from the kitchen, to watch us. Her hand had briefly brushed over her crotch, but she'd stopped just short of masturbating while watching us. She retreated to her room.

I smiled.

***

Elise was quiet the next morning. She served me breakfast, but assiduously avoided eye contact. I decided to tease her a bit.

- "Do you know any bisexuals, Elise?" I asked.

- "What?"

- "I don't know about men. I was thinking about women, though. Women who like to have sex with men, but also with women."

- "What are you talking about?"

- "I don't know. I was just wondering. I mean, the female form... it's... visually appealing, isn't it?"

- "I don't know."

- "If I said 'nude painting', would you imagine a male, or a female? Or photography. Who wants to look at nude males?"

Elise ducked the question. But I wasn't ready to let her off the hook completely. I gave a couple of hints that I was thinking of afternoon delight instead of waiting for the evening. But I backed off, and let her prepare dinner unmolested.

It was a sex night, though. She knew what (and who) was coming. I went to the living room, and immersed myself in some wildlife documentary. I let her finish cleaning up, and then invited her to join me.

- "In a nightie, though. Wear what you would put on to go to bed."

I was pleasantly surprised that she did as I asked. Elise came out of her room wearing a very thin top, and a pair of panties.

"Right here." I said, tapping both hands on my lap.

- "Seriously?" she said, with a slight scowl.

- "Yes, please."

Elise sat down. I was immediately turned on.

I started 'The Fellowship of the Ring'.

- "I've seen this." she said.

- "Not often enough." I said. "And not like this."

I rubbed her arms a little, and massaged her back. Elise relaxed a bit, and even leaned back against me. When Frodo and Sam saw the wood elves, I slipped my hand under her shirt and palmed her breast.

She didn't complain.

When the four hobbits reached the village of Bree, I slid my hand between her legs. I pulled her panties aside and ran my fingers over her lips. Just as Viggo appeared (Strider, for you nerds), I slipped a finger inside her.

Teens moon over Legolas. Gay guys like Merry and Pippin. But mature women just love them some Aragorn. I let her enjoy the eye candy while I fingered her pussy.

By the time they had reached Weathertop, I had Elise on her hands and knees on the couch, and I was fucking her doggystyle. I don't know if it was the movie, or her recollection of last night's activities. Either way, her body wasn't lying; this wasn't resistance via non-compliance. I think that both of us got off that night.

***

There was no real need for Elise to make herself scarce. She could always stick to her room. But I let her know that Poppy was coming over on Sunday evening.

- "You could always go out." I said. "Visit a friend, or something. Just so you know, the living room will be occupied."

Elise didn't say anything. She didn't have to. I'd had epic sex with Poppy on Friday night, epic sex with Elise the next night, and now Poppy was coming back?

We watched a whole ten minutes of her show before Poppy started stroking the bulge in my pants. On this occasion, I chose semi-discretion, and took her back to my room.

***

Over the next two weeks, I had sex nine times: four with Elise, and five with Poppy. Elise retreated into bare, basic cooperation, but I surprised both of us by bringing her to a knee-knocking climax by eating her pussy as she watched Legolas fight Saruman's wargs. Maybe she had been too young the first time she watched the films.

Poppy, though, did her best to wear me out. I was still amazed by how sexy she was. Okay: work with me, here. Blonde hair that was almost white, honey-gold skin. Beautiful face, bright blue eyes. Big, beautiful breasts. I asked, and she told me: 34DD. They weren't just big, and heavy - they actually sloped away from each other, so that her nipples pointed northeast and northwest. Pierced navel, clean-shaven pussy.

I mean, at times, I just wanted to look at her. But Poppy went above and beyond for my pleasure. On sex nights with Elise, it was pretty much over when I came; that was why I always tried to give her a climax first. With Poppy, she didn't seem to care if it was my third. She would happily blow me to completion on the couch, fuck me on the couch, and then go back to my room and fuck me again.

I was at my sexual peak, and I was determined to enjoy it.

It's not like I was trying to rub it in Elise's face. I mean, what did it matter to her if I was getting sex from someone else? But I did suggest that she go out more, on her days off, and even on nights when she was working, after she'd finished cleaning up the dishes.

But I was actually surprised when she did it. She was dressed up nice, and wearing make-up.

- "Whoa!" I said. I avoided saying 'You look nice'; remember what happened the last time I did that? "What's the occasion?"

- "I have a date."

That was not what I expected.

- "A date? With a guy?"

- "It's not really any of your business, is it?"

- "Wait - are you going to tell him about me? I mean, about us?"

- "Why would I tell them? Have you told Polly about us?"

- "Poppy." It wasn't a mistake; she'd done that deliberately. "And that's different."

- "Really? How so? And why do you keep assuming that my date is a man?"

She had me there. I had to admit it; I still didn't know her all that well.

Poppy came over just after Elise had left. I sat her on my lap while she watched 'our' show, and slowly fingered her pussy while I fondled her big boob under her shirt.

She turned her head and kissed me. "You're a baad man." she said, with admiring eyes.

When the episode was just about over, I moved her legs to either side of mine, slid my pants down, and sat her on my cock.

- "Oh! Mark - how am I supposed to concentrate on the show?"

- "You don't have to." I said. The wife was in bed with her female lover, while her husband was being rolled into the emergency room at the hospital, with two gunshot wounds to the chest. "Her phone is about to ring, and she won't answer it. Shit hits the fan next episode."

Poppy gasped. I don't know if if it was me fucking her, or the fact that my prediction was proved almost one hundred percent accurate. Except that her phone didn't ring; it buzzed. And I know what you're thinking: no, I didn't watch the episode beforehand. It's just that the writers were basically aiming at a grade three level. As in, any eight-year old could have predicted the plot twists (not that they'd be allowed to watch because of the sex scenes).

Poppy and I were in my room, for round two, when Elise came home.

The next morning, at breakfast, I apologized to Elise.

- "You're right." I said. "It's not my business who you date. I'm sorry."

- "Apology accepted."

Then I went to watch the video from last night's bedroom session with Poppy. While doggie wasn't my favourite position with her, I do have to admit that the video was pretty spectacular.

We continued to go out on dates, but mostly ended up at my apartment, watching an episode (or pretending to) and having sex. We did have some good dates, like the time we went to Massey Hall and heard a band do a note for note reproduction of the Fleetwood Mac 'Rumours' album.

But we also had our misses, too. We went to a comedy club. The comics weren't particularly funny, a loud and annoying heckler made their lives miserable, and when the entertainers took a break, said heckler came over to hit on Poppy - even though she was sitting right beside me, with her arm in mine.

The loser got quite crude before a bouncer finally came over and took charge of him. I tipped the bouncer twenty dollars on our way out.

- "It would have been a fifty if you'd showed up sooner." I told him.

Poppy was impressed that I'd kept my cool. Of course I had; I didn't want to escalate matters to the point where he took a swing at me. She made a very successful attempt to show her admiration in bed. Let's just say that we were still at it at 3:00. Poppy stayed over.

This had happened a couple of times before.

- "Would it be okay if... if I left a few things at your place?" she asked.

- "Things?"

- "Well... it's a little embarrassing to leave your apartment wearing the same clothes I arrived in the day before."

- "Ah." The walk of shame; I'd heard of it.

- "And maybe a few toiletries." she said. "You know, if I'm going to be showering here the next morning. And douching, or..."

- "Okay."

Within a week, she had six outfits hanging in my closet, and she'd commandeered two drawers in my dresser; one for panties and a few bras, the other for shirts and shorts and so on. My bathroom was quickly overrun with moisturizers, shampoos and conditioners, a curling iron, brushes and feminine hygiene products, plus enough makeup supplies to keep three Queens and an Empress happy.

Poppy stopped going home by taxi in the early hours of the morning; she started staying over, and having breakfast with me. I didn't mind, at first. Then I started to mind. And I wasn't the only one.

Elise didn't do snarky. She wasn't all that bitchy. But sullen silence? She had a grad degree in that. Was it an art? Or a science?

- "Do you want to tell me what's bothering you?" I asked.

- "Nothing."

- "Don't insult my intelligence, Elise. You're plainly ticked off. What did I do? Or is it something I didn't do? Something I said? Come on: you know I'm not smart enough to figure this out on my own."

I thought that she might crack a smile at that, or at least come close. No such luck. Elise was well and truly in the grip of a monumental sulk.

"Elise? Please?"

She didn't look my way. She didn't even raise her head. Elise simply mumbled a few words.

- "Is she going to move in? Polly?"

- "What?" I said. "First off, it's Poppy - not Polly. And second... hell, no! She's not moving in. What the hell gave you that idea?"

Elise just sighed. "I clean your room, Mark. Her clothes are hanging in your closet. What used to be your underwear drawer is now full of her underthings. And your sock drawer has been taken over, too. I clean your bathroom, you know? There's more of her stuff in there than there is of yours."

I had considered - briefly - taking Poppy on a vacation of some kind. The Caribbean? You know: sun, sea, and sand. Fucking all day, every day. I would've loved to fuck Poppy for twelve hours straight. But I knew I couldn't manage that. And I had to face reality. In the intervals, she was going to want to be active.

Tanning on the beach? Not for me and my pasty white skin. And how many idiots would come over to hit on her when they saw her in a bikini - and then who she was with? Swimming in the sea? And then having to shower, to wash off the salt before it started to itch.

She would want to go shopping. Excursions. Tourist traps. Snorkelling. Boat rides. Deep sea fishing (I don't know). Soak up the local culture (more tourist traps). I didn't give a shit about the money; I had plenty of that. It was time wasted doing things I didn't care about that spoiled the picture.

Basically, all I wanted to do with Poppy was fuck. If that makes me sound like an asshole, then... well, you've read the first three chapters (or you could read the next one). There was no way I wanted Poppy living with me. But how to explain that to Elise?

- "She's not moving in with me, Elise. With us, I mean. Not happening. Never."

- "Why not?"

- "Huh?" I literally did not understand the question.

- "What if she wants to cook for you? Clean for you? Why would you want me anymore, if she can do those things for you? For free."

I finally started to get it. I moved closer, and put my hand on her shoulder. I pulled her into a hug. She didn't have to look at me, but she had the reassurance of warm physical contact.

- "Elise. Please. Poppy couldn't cook to save her life. I don't know if she would clean, but she could never match you in either skill. Yes, I like having sex with her, but she could never be the maid I want. The maid I need. You are. Or... at least, you're really close."

She snorted. "Carrot and stick?"

- "No, Elise. We have a contract. I'm not going to threaten to kick you out, or replace you. Is that what you were afraid of?" She didn't answer, but I thought I was on the right track. "I know why you need the money, remember? I wouldn't cut you off like that. We made a deal."

She was studying me closely, looking into my eyes.

- "You mean that?"

I just tilted my head, and looked back at her.

"Okay. Sorry." she said.

- "I figured that we were in this for at least a year. You'll need at least that long to pay off your debt, and to have a bit left over, right?"

Elise's eyes narrowed, and her eyebrows rose at the same time. It was a daunting sight.

- "How do you know how much my debt is?" she said.

Oops.

*****