Chapter 2 - The Gallant Reaction
Posted: October 31, 2003 - 04:30:52 pm
Updated: February 26, 2004 - 01:30:41 am

My life has been in a bit of a rut lately, if lately can be construed to mean three years. I travel, work, eat, sleep. Those are the four basic components of my life. I know that there should be more than that, but I made my bed, so to speak, and must sleep in it.

My name is Deirdre Martin and I'm a management consultant. I am brought into corporations to determine how to make those corporations more efficient, more profitable. Part of that means that I sometimes (well more than sometimes) have to tell my clients how to consolidate functions in order to improve service. That's a euphemistic way of saying I tell them who to fire. It's not a pleasant part of my job, and it doesn't make me very popular with the people I work with. They may be the very ones who are going to be downsized when I'm through, so how can I blame them?

In a consulting business, its people are its product, its inventory. I put that badly. Once a consulting firm has its people fully engaged with their clients, they have nothing else to sell. It can expand its business in two ways. A) Either hire more consultants (and we cost a bundle) or B) make the consultants they have work longer hours. Every consulting firm I know always chooses B) first.

I'm not complaining. I knew this going in. I knew that I could expect long hours on the job followed by boring interludes in antiseptic motels rooms. I knew that I could expect loneliness. I knew that I didn't have time for relationships. I had enough failed relationships in the past to be a little glad that this was one thing I wasn't going to have to deal with any longer.

I was raised in Georgia. I was raised close enough to Savannah that if people ask, that's where I tell them I'm from. But it was really a small town that wasn't thought of as a suburb until urban sprawl made it so. When I lived there, Savannah was the big city you went to once a month. So, I'm from Savannah.

Akron Wire and Cable was just another small company that needed rescuing. My company, BRMC, was engaged to bring this antiquated little company into the twenty-first century. It was going to be a big task. Heads were going to roll, no doubt about it. Several BRMC consultants were to spend a great deal of time and effort to tell this little company how to save itself. I wasn't sure it could save itself, given the current conditions, but we had to try.

My primary contact at AWC was to be a systems analyst who I was told was the youngest department head in the company. He was an up and comer who I was assured would be the ideal person to learn not only what was wrong, but what the more progressive thinkers at AWC had in mind for the future. We talked on the phone, this Andrew Adkins and me. We teleconferenced, we emailed, we faxed; all in preparation for my spending time at the AWC office in Cleveland.

I was sitting in the conference room in the process control division when he walked in. He was running a little late and he babbled something about the traffic, but I didn't pay any attention. I couldn't seem to hear what he was saying. He was just so beautiful.

He was young and tall, but not overly tall, perhaps 5'11" to six feet. He was slim and trim. I could see he was in excellent shape. I later learned he had been on his college tennis team and still played competitively. His face was soft and hard at the same time. You could tell by looking at that face that it smiled a lot. It was a sweet lovely face.

He had those deep brown eyes that were so piercing. I saw him and smiled and then those eyes! They seemed to be forcing their way into my soul. I reached to shake his hand in welcome. The touch was electric. I felt tingly all over my body. I had to sit down but he didn't seem to want to give me my hand back. I couldn't pull away. Finally my knees gave out and I melted into my chair, my hand slipping from his grip. I had to pull myself together!

Then I saw it. It was the gallant reaction. That's what we girls used to call it in high school if a boy's or teacher's pants suddenly tented. They were having the gallant reaction.

Andrew had the gallant reaction to me! I didn't understand it. After all, I'm quite a bit older than he is, ten years if you must know. I thought that perhaps this was some young Lothario who was attracted to every woman he was in contact with regardless of age or looks. I bet his dance card is full, looking like he does, acting like he does, reacting like he does. The women must be all over him.

The gallant reaction couldn't be for me. It's his reaction to every woman, I'm sure. I calmed down a little and went straight to business. After all, that's what we were here for. We weren't here for me to have these ridiculous fantasies about this beautiful young man.

We worked all day, and we accomplished a lot, but there was this tension. I felt it at every turn. Andrew was tense. He seemed to be nervous. I had talked to him on the phone many times. He was always warm, sometimes flirtatious, but never tense and nervous. I thought that perhaps he had a personal problem that was interfering with his concentration.

I am less qualified than many other women to comment on the state of a man's erection, since my experience with men is somewhat limited. Work has always been my number one priority. I've seen several men hard for short periods of time - way too short for my liking if you know what I mean (I'm a fan of "Whose Line is it Anyway.")

But Andrew was hard from nine in the morning till five in the afternoon. I know because I checked; often. I was starting to wonder if perhaps he was wearing something in his pants. I just didn't notice at the beginning of the day what he looked like down there. It was only after our hands touched that I sneaked a peek at his midsection. He was hard. He remained hard. I don't know how I got any work done. All I could think about was his erection.

Tuesday I arrived a bit early and went into the lady's lounge to freshen up. I came into the main office area and saw Andrew was sitting at a table with his back to me talking with several people. It was apparently the kind of pre-work talk session where company bonding took place.

As I approached the small group I saw a truly beautiful young girl stroll up to the group from the other side. She sat next to Andrew, her breasts leaning into his arm, smiling and touching him in the way of young girls who are trying to elicit a response from an eligible young man. Andrew appeared to be oblivious to the machinations of the young minx, but I knew what she was up to. I was shocked to find jealousy creeping in to my emotions.

When I reached the group and said hello, Andrew's eyes turned from the beautiful young thing throwing herself at him. His eyes focused on mine and never wavered. I had glanced at his crotch as I walked up to the group. Nothing was showing. I assumed that Monday must have been an aberration. But he saw me. He smiled at me. The front of his pants flew in my direction.

I was dizzy. My god, he wanted ME! He was hard for ME! I excused myself to go into the conference room. I had to calm down. But Andrew followed right after me. I didn't have a chance. I couldn't calm down. I had trouble looking him in the eye.

We spent the day together working. He was hard the entire time. He seemed ill at ease, but was always a complete gentleman. I felt like his eyes were burning a hole in my body, but he never made a comment or insinuation that I could assume was in any way sexual. I was a mess.

Many men have propositioned me over the years. They tried to get into my pants. Occasionally they succeeded. But this boy never propositioned me. He was always polite and respectful.

But every minute I was with him, his body told me "I want to fuck you". That's distracting. He wanted to fuck ME!! I'm the girl who hasn't been laid in three years. I haven't had a committed relationship in my entire life. I never even went steady in high school. This beautiful, intelligent, gentle, passionate, passionate boy wanted to fuck ME! It was too confusing, too overwhelming to contemplate. Before long I realized it. I wanted him to fuck me. I wanted him to fuck me like I've never wanted anything in my life.

I was a bundle of nerves. I could hardly concentrate on our work. I tried the 'personal relief' method of sexual fulfillment on Monday night. It hardly made a dent in my arousal. I tried it Tuesday night, too. I just had to do something. My body was on fire.

Wednesday morning was only worse. I walked in a little late. Andrew was in the conference room waiting for me. I reached out to shake his hand again, a business formality that is usually forgone after a day or two of meetings. But I wanted to touch him again. He stood and took my hand. Again his hand felt like fire. Again I saw the gallant reaction. It sprang up like it was shot from a gun.

This boy found me irresistible I think. How could that be? He could have his choice of any woman in this company, I'm sure. He's the youngest executive in the entire company. He's smart, sexy, beautiful. Every girl here must dream of being the one he chooses. Why would he choose me? I just didn't get it.

By Wednesday I was wondering if we would ever get anything done. I was wondering if Andrew was ever going to make a pass at me. I was wondering if I should be on this project at all. I had lunch with Bob Simon, another consultant from BRMC.

I broached the possibility of changing business partners. He wasn't very receptive. I told him that Andrew and I were experiencing some 'compatibility problems'. He suggested we work things out. If no solution was possible, he would reluctantly change partners. But he felt we should be able to resolve the problem ourselves.

I knew he was right, of course. But I knew of only one way to resolve our problems, Andrew and I. And that way wasn't exactly a professional solution, was it? It was to a point where sticking to my principles about non-involvement with clients might be hurting the project rather than helping it. I had to keep telling myself that, because otherwise, how else would I work up the courage to proposition Andrew? It looked like he had no intention of propositioning me.

After lunch I asked Andrew to meet with me privately. I even locked the conference room door to avoid interruptions. I needed him to tell me that he was attracted to me. If I had read this thing wrong, I would just die.

I said, "Andrew, we have to talk."

I was somewhat frank with him. I told him that he appeared uncomfortable with me around. I wondered if he would rather work with another BRMC consultant, that I had even arranged it if that was his wish. He adamantly denied wanting to change partners. Good. But he still refused to open up with me. So I insisted. I appealed to his friendship. I needed to know what the problem was that was making it so difficult for us to work together. (I knew what my problem was, but I had to hear from him what his problem was.)

He made me promise that I wouldn't hold what he said against him. He implied that he was worried that I would bring a sexual harassment charge against him. I had to smile. The thought had occurred to me that he might do the same thing to me.

And then he opened up to me. For the first time one of us was speaking their true feelings. He spoke oh so passionately. It was like poetry. He had a theory. He blamed it on chemistry or something. We were free and clear according to this theory, not guilty of impropriety, since it was all outside our control. We were victims of a biological reaction which was impossible to control and so were not responsible for our own actions. I liked this theory.

He was worried that I would be afraid of him. He thought I might consider him a potential stalker. He asked if it would be all right to just go back to the way things were, ignoring the obvious for the sake of the project. In my mind I thought, "I don't think so."

I brought up the age difference. He was ready for it. If it didn't matter to him, why should it matter to me? Of course it didn't matter to me, except for me feeling inferior to his other possible partners who were certainly younger and prettier.

Am I paranoid? Should I be wondering what's in it for him? I asked him straight out. Was he looking to get on my good side in order to use me in this company reorganization effort?

I could tell from his eyes that he was hurt that I would even suggest such a thing. He didn't understand how vulnerable I had become. I've been on my own for years. It was my choice to be on my own. I only regret that choice every evening when I'm along in my hotel room. But could I give myself to this boy? How would he use me? I'm so lonely I'm an easy mark.

It was then I realized that if I was such an easy mark, why hadn't I been laid in three years? I'm a consultant. Sometimes I'm too analytical. But I knew that if I let this boy into my life, I was at his mercy. That takes a lot of trust.

He reminded me that I forced him to open up. Of course I knew that. I can't help my insecurities. I told him of my inability to be in relationships because of my job. I put up every roadblock I could think of to our being together, and he saw through all of them.

Then he started on some rant about class and business ethics and how I was far too sophisticated to be interested in a little nothing like him. I couldn't believe my ears! He didn't think I could be interested in HIM! The most beautiful, sexiest, sweetest man I'd ever met thought I was too good for HIM!

I decided that I had to have him as soon as possible. I just had to. I'm a businesswoman. I'm not good with my feelings. I'm good with a logical progression of ideas. But I came prepared with a business solution. Actually it was an excuse to get laid, but it sounded kind of like a business solution.

I told him that we should do something to alleviate his gallant reaction. Two casual business associates do not generally sit around talking about one of the associate's constant state of arousal and how to address that arousal. I could tell that he was shocked by my proposal, but desperate. He agreed. I knew that I had to say more. I knew that it seemed like I was interested only in the project and was willing to do anything, even that, to make the project work.

I admitted to Andrew that I wanted him to have me. I'm not eloquent like Andrew is. He made my heart sing with his praise, with his poetic protestations of devotion. I've never had a man talk to me like that.

Finally he said yes! I was so excited. We had to wait till the evening. I could do that. I've waited for years and years. What were a few more hours? They were eternity. I thought the day would never end.

I was as nervous as ever; more so. But now it was for a different reason. Would I be good enough? How could he want to be with me when he could be with so many other more beautiful women? I've got to get that thought out of my mind. He told me. It's a chemical reaction caused by our body chemistries. Yeah, right. I was attracted to him because he was beautiful, smart, funny, thoughtful, and the owner of an industrial strength penis (at least it looked that way). But what did he see in me? I was a nervous wreck.

After work I rushed to my hotel. I took an inordinate amount of time preparing for the evening. I did everything I could to make this tired 35 year-old body attractive to that lovely 25 year-old boy. I've never needed someone to want me before. I'm an independent business person who can look out for herself. But God, I needed him to want me.

Andrew met me in the lobby of my hotel, looking dashing. I told myself to remain calm, to go out and enjoy the dinner, when I really wanted to grab him and drag him up to my room.

We walked to a lovely little Japanese restaurant where the food was wonderful and Andrew and I could talk and learn a little about each other. I enjoyed it so, but by the end of dinner my patience was wearing thin.

Andrew must have read my mind, because he paid the waiter as soon as he brought the check, grabbed my hand and hurried us outside the restaurant. We walked back to the hotel so quickly that I'm not sure who was dragging who.

We got to the hotel and went up to my room. I closed the door behind us and Andrew was all over me. He pushed me to the wall and kissed me for the first time. It was the most passionate kiss I had ever received. The boy was hot for me! I felt his hands all over me. They were tearing at my clothes, stripping me faster than I could have stripped myself. His hands were demanding, forcing me to his will.

He led me to the bed, I fell back in a haze of lust and something, maybe it was romance. My whole being centered on that bed, watching my lovely boy tear off his own clothes with no regard to their well-being. I hardly had a chance to gaze at his body before he attacked. He was on top of me in an instant. And then he was in me! There was no foreplay, no loving caress, no slow build up. Well actually we had been engaged in foreplay for three days. I was hot and wet long before we made it to the room.

I felt his manhood against my neglected pussy lips and tried to open to accommodate him. His penis hurtled into my pussy. He didn't make love to me. He took me. He took me hard. Suddenly he was inside me, pounding his cock in and out.

I tried to protest. It was too much, too soon. "No, wait", I said. "It hurts." I tried to stop him but he was relentless. No one has ever wanted me so badly. It was like he was claiming me, taking possession of me. My protests became weaker. "No. No. Oh my God. Oh MY GOD. Oh GOD! Oh MY GOD!"

He couldn't have made more than a half dozen strokes before I was crazed with lust. This man who I thought was a boy was fucking me and making sure that I stayed fucked. I came. I came harder than I had ever cum in my lifetime. And still he plundered me. The power of his strokes increased. I was climaxing again. It didn't matter to him. His strokes became stronger, more brutal.

I was screaming. Every time I came, I screamed again. I don't know how many times I screamed. It was a lot.

In the past on the instances when I had a man inside me I would savor the moment, compare his size to other penises I had experienced. Andrew didn't give me a chance to savor anything. I knew that any man who had had me in the past palled in comparison to Andrew's size. He must be huge. He was filling me to the brim, fucking me madly. I was rising to a crescendo of lust. It seemed that his penis was expanding inside me. After all this time, I knew he must be ready to climax. Then it happened.

I felt the amazing sensation of his hot seed splattering against my cervix. It was all I could take. I screamed at the top of my lungs. My body clenched, jerked, clenched again. My pussy grabbed onto Andrew's penis, spasming over and over again. I saw an unending bright light. I seemed to be looking down a tunnel of light. My body went limp. My mind went blank; totally devoid of thought. I felt nothing but eternity and my own beating heart. I know now what it's like to approach death. I was close to death. I could see it in the obituaries, my name. Cause of death: death by fucking.

How can the human heart endure such passion?

I heard someone speaking as if from the bottom of a deep well. I knew he was talking to me, but the words wouldn't register.

I finally realized it was Andrew. He was worried that I didn't like his method of lovemaking, I guess. He seemed to think that he had raped me. Well almost. All women love semi-rape. Maybe not all the time, but sometimes, once you've decided that you are gong to have sex with someone, it really feels right to have him just take you. Everything is out of your hands and you are just plain fucked. For a working person like myself who always needs to be in control, being out of control like that is not just exciting, it's liberating.

To say this was the greatest sexual experience of my life would be to denigrate it by comparing it with any other experiences I had, when no comparison is possible.

And yet Andrew seemed to be upset. I pulled myself back to the real world. I had the strength to let him know that I was not unhappy, just fucked into oblivion.

And then I laughed.
Chapter 3
Andrew Wiggin