A tornado swept across a landfill site and dumped all the detritus here, in Jim’s flat. At least, that’s what it looks like.
Quite a few of my customers have new-builds which I think of as apartments, but Jim’s is very much a flat.
Does that distinction make sense to you?
Allow me to clarify…
Apartments are modern, purpose built with a hallway and spacious rooms, and ensuites with new chrome taps with square edges, and shower screens the size of sash windows, and those stupid plugs that you either push to pop them up and down or they have a stupid little lever to make them raise or lower. In essence, they all look clean, fresh, and they ll look pretty much the same, even after the inhabitants have added their unique décor and flair.
Whereas a flat is usually in a converted house with an entry door off a shabby looking landing that leads directly into either a small kitchen or sitting room. The kitchen is a mish mash of ill-fitting appliances and cupboards that really are from the 70’s and not actually retro. There’s a separate bathroom, usually small, with no heating and old fashioned taps with limescale on them and a shower curtain and the plugs are on chains. Whilst generally smaller, flats can have a lot of character and unlike an apartment they all look pretty unique.
However, apartments feel clean before you clean them, whereas flats do not.
Jim lives in flat in a converted Victorian house, and when I walk into Jim’s flat it never feels clean. It doesn’t help that he has an erratic lifestyle and that he’s crap at tidying up after himself. But I don’t mind because that’s his choice, and people making those choices mean they pay for me to come in and make their places look better.
As far as I’m concerned Jim can be as tornado like as he likes.
I’m bloody rambling again aren’t I!
I’m looking forward to seeing Jim today and hoping he comes home, like he sometimes does just as I’m getting close to finishing and leaving.
You may recall from my previous post about Jim that he’s very, very well endowed in the trouser department. You might also recall that he broke tradition last time and gave my minky a fabulous time with his tongue.
I know what you’re thinking – minky instead of foo-foo!
Look, I’m just trying it out.
It’s better than foo-foo… right?
Jim had also said he wanted to fuck me, which was a real surprise I can tell you, especially considering he’s always said he’s not having sex until he’s married. However, as much as I’d love to experience what Jim’s huge happy stick would feel like inside me, I’d be quite happy if he just gave my minky another good time with his tongue.
My mind has been in overdrive during the whole time I’ve been working today. I’ve been imagining getting Jim aroused with my mouth again.
One of the things I love is the way he tastes.
It’s obvious he showers and keeps himself clean, but he also has a fresh, sweaty smell too. Clean, meaty and manly, which I guess comes from working as a fitness instructor.
Despite how much time he spends at the gym he’s not one of those overly muscular, body builder types. I reckon he’s about six foot tall and his physique is more like Usain Bolt – muscular and lithe. I imagine he would look really impressive giving it to me while I’m laid on my back. I’d love to run my fingers over his smooth, hard pecs and trace my finger nails around their defined curves.
I wonder if he’s one of those men who loves having his nipples played with?
I find men can be a bit Marmite about their nipples.
Some love having them played with, while others hate it with a passion.
I wonder which one of Jim’s is most sensitive?
Aren’t nipples just the funniest thing that way!
Suck and nibble on my right nip, and you’ll have me fired up like a hot jalapeño.
Suck and nibble on my left one, and in a heartbeat I can go from being totally unaware you’re playing with it, to wanting to give you a right hook.
Push my boobies together and take both of my nips in your mouth, and I’ll be yours as long as you want me.
Where the hell are you Jim?
Don’t leave me to my own thoughts for christ’s sake.
I’ve nearly finished vacuuming and I can’t afford to wait too much longer because I’ve also got to clean Gordon and Gwen’s this afternoon.
And still the clock keeps ticking…
I’ve reached the point where I can’t wait any longer.
I grab my coat, throwing it on over my shoulders and pat my pocket to check my car keys are still there. With my caddy in my hand and a feeling of disappointment in my minky, I lock Jim’s door and head downstairs and outside to my car. I click the button on the key a couple of times to open all doors including the boot and I pop the boot open and drop my caddy in. As I close the boot I notice someone stood at the drivers door.
‘Jim,’ I say, both delighted and disappointed to see him. I move round the car so I’m close to him and I tug gently on his shirt. ‘Jim, you’re late and I missed you.’
‘Actually, I’ve been waiting for you to come out,’ he says. The tone of his voice telling me he’s got something he needs to say.
‘What? Waiting for me to leave… how come?’
He’s staring at his feet like a naughty school boy, absently kicking his heels together. ‘I feel bad about what happened last time I saw you.’
‘Feel bad? Why? You didn’t do anything wrong,’ I say, confused.
‘I went further than I normally do, and I just feel bad.’
What the hell am I supposed to say to that!
I’ve dealt with enough people who feel bad about their actions to know that no amount of convincing will alter the way they’re thinking.
I used to do voluntary work for the Samaritans and at times like these I often find the training leaks out of me. Samaritans are trained to withhold judgement, to not give advice, and to reflect back what the other person is saying in the hope they can see themselves more clearly and make better sense of it. Despite the fact I left the Samaritans over 8 years ago, today is one of those days the training leaks out…
‘Are you saying you didn’t want to go as far as you did, and because you went too far you now feel bad?’
Oops, that was a bit of leading question instead of an open one.
‘No,’ says Jim glancing up, quickly reverting back to staring at his feet. ‘The problem is that I wanted to do exactly what we did, and so much more. Like I said at the time – I really wanted to fuck you. But I shouldn’t think like that.’
‘You shouldn’t think like that,’ I say. ‘Who says you shouldn’t Jim?’
I become aware that this is going to take some time and feel conscious that I’m going to be late getting to my next job.
‘It’s just not the way I was brought up,’ he says. ‘I was brought up to wait until I found the love of my life…to wait until I was married.’
The poor bastard.
He’s good looking, horny as hell, and all wrapped up in a restrictive belief system.
‘It’s supposed to be better,’ he continues. ‘That is if you wait, it’s supposed to be better.’
‘Better? Better than what?’
‘Better than if you start off with having sex with someone.’ He looks up at me again, then quickly looks away.
Wow. There’s no way I would ever marry someone unless I liked the way they were in bed.
‘It’s to do with starting a relationship right,’ he says. ‘I know this is right because everyone says it and even jokes about the honeymoon period, where you’re totally rampant and can’t keep your hands off each other. And the thing is… the honeymoon period doesn’t last, so you move onto the next phase which is more about the strength of your relationship, your friendship if you like. What if you find you don’t actually like them after all the sex? What then?’
‘Have you been reading Cosmo again?’ I ask, thinking I might try and lighten the mood.
Jim laughs and looks at me properly. ‘No,’ he says. ‘As I say, it’s just the way I was brought up.’
‘Jim, I think it’s really commendable and admirable that you’ve got principles, and I mean that. I’m not just yanking your chain. I guess I just think that it doesn’t matter whether you’re married or not. Every relationship goes through the honeymoon period at some point, whether that’s before you’ve made wedding vows to each other or after. The phases are still the same regardless of whether you sign a marriage certificate or not. Aren’t they?’
Sheesh, I actually sound quite sensible there!
Jim pauses and ponders a little, and I let him think without interrupting – it’s the Samaritan training kicking in again.
He nods. ‘I never thought of it like that,’ he says. ‘So what you’re saying is that if marriage didn’t exist, we’d still go through the same processes?’
‘Hell Jim, I’m certainly no psychologist, but that makes sense to me.’
‘Hmmm,’ he mutters staring into the distance, deep in thought.
‘Look Jim, I’m really sorry but I’m going to be late for my next customer,’ I say, opening the driver side door.
‘Oh shit, sorry, I didn’t mean to keep you. I just needed to explain… you know.’
I give him one of my sweetest smiles. ‘Jim, it’s fine.’ I jump in the car closing the door behind me and fire up the ignition. I open the window and lean out.
‘Jim,’ I say with a cheeky grin. ‘I like you and I think you’re a real sweetheart, but going back to what you were saying about relationships… we’re not in one.’
He grins and starts laughing. ‘You’re right, we’re not.’
‘So you really don’t have anything to worry about with me, do you? Oh… and I don’t envisage us ever being in a relationship. You’re a lovely guy. Actually you’re a sexy bastard with a fabulous dick, but I think we both know we’re not each other’s types… right?’
‘Yes… Yes you’re right.’
‘Okay well that’s sorted then. I’ll see you in a couple of weeks, and in the meantime make sure you read some more Cosmopolitans; see if you can pick up some more tips.’ I give him a cheeky wink, hoping he gets what I mean. I’m referring to his tongue technique that he told me he’d picked up from a copy of Cosmo.
He bursts out laughing. ‘Okay,’ he says. ‘I’ll see what I can do.’
I beep the horn and pull away. In the rear view mirror I see Jim give a quick wave before heading to the house front door.
As I drive to Gordon and Gwen’s my mind starts wandering. I’m relieved that I left Jim feeling better – I don’t like seeing people struggling with their inner demons. The problem is he’s made me think about the way I handle relationships.
I don’t usually let them get passed the honeymoon period, and for the few that have, I’ve found there hasn’t been anything solid to base any further relationship on.