Hair Trigger Clit

"Where's my check?" I asked Chauncey.

"Nick Greer is making the arrangements as he's transferring my assets to another organization after giving me the boot - even I can't get $250,000 cash that quickly. Here's his card; give him a call and he says that he can meet with you to discuss it anytime," Chauncey replied.

Strangely, this scenario didn't bother me.

Then Chauncey callously asked - knowing that all the papers had been signed - "I don't suppose that I could get one more shot at your mega-clit?"

I tried to kick him in the balls but my four inch heels weren't too steady, and he moved away quickly, so I missed. I did yell "Screw both of you assholes," as they exited.

I called Nick. He asked to meet me at my attorney's office - where I still was - in ten minutes. He was in the area and would take me to his office. "Strange," I thought, but I agreed.

Nick picked me up right on time and was effervescent as we drove to his office. I didn't mind - I was in a great mood too. My divorce would be final in three months, and I got the house and in total 75% of our assets, plus a cool quarter million from Chauncey.

When we got to Nick's office I was impressed. It was classy but understated; everything was in good taste, including the original art work on the walls. I was less impressed by his greeting of the exceptionally cute and young brunette receptionist. "Hi sweet cheeks, any messages?"

"They're on your desk, sexy," was her quick giggling reply.

As we walked through the office he introduced me to several people. Even though they all called him "Nick," not "Mr. Greer;" it was clear to see that he was the boss. Two of the women he introduced me to were fashion model beautiful - except more so since they had real bodies and not sticks.

When we got to his functional yet elegant office he started explaining my options for getting my 250K when I interrupted him.

"Seems like you like to have eye candy around," I snidely said.

"That's why I brought you here," he snickered.

"I mean your staff."

"Well," he said, "I tried not to hire them because they were so good looking but failed. The blonde was number two in her class at Northwestern's Kellog Graduate School of Business. She's happily married to an NFL offensive lineman who I'm careful around not only because he could crush me with one hand but because he got a third of his teammates to become my clients. The redhead has a Master's in Computer Science from MIT and is a lesbian - she was very impressed with you, by the way."

"What about the brunette at the reception desk - 'sweet cheeks' I believe her name is?" I said sarcastically.

"That's my sister, working this summer until she goes back to Stanford Business School."

I was embarrassed that I had asked about them for many reasons. Before he could continue about my options, however, I asked "Did you really jettison Van Hoist as a client - I know that he's a multi-millionaire."

"Sure as hell did," he replied. "There are things more important than money - like integrity and relationships."

Then he explained my options for getting my $250,000, each of which had different total economic consequences. I didn't understand everything he said, even though he had the options printed out nicely on two sheets of paper; there was too much jargon. "Which do you recommend?" I asked, pretending to understand the papers.

"Option C," he quickly replied.

"Why that one?" I queried.

"Because that one will require you to interface with me and give me the best chance of establishing a romantic relationship with you."

"Why would you want that?" I sternly asked. "Because I'm 'Megaclit?'"

"WOW, you really do sell yourself short, don't you. I want a relationship, not just sex, because I'm attracted to you in many ways and I think that there's chemistry between us."

"You're too good looking for me. Everyone would always wonder how you got stuck with such a dog - it wouldn't work."

"First time I've ever been rejected for being too good-looking," he snickered. "I guess your confidence has really been shaken by that asshole husband of yours. Tell you what; let's do some real investigation. Let's go to some University psychology department or some marketing organization. We'll have them arrange for us to meet twenty random straight men and women then have them rate our looks for compatibility."

"That's crazy," I sneered.

"Afraid you'll get honest feedback and won't be able to use my comparative looks as a reason not to try a relationship?"

Somehow, against my better judgment, a week later we were at a marketing organization, me wearing a dress, heels and jewelry that Nick had picked out for me, and him wearing a suit, pants, shoes, and no tie, that I had picked out for him. We interacted with ten straight guys and women, all within eight years of our ages, for an hour.

After the meet-and-greet I sat down with the director of the organization to ask him exactly what was going to be done, and to insure his objectivity. He offered to let us view the proceedings through a one-way mirror. I accepted, and Nick sat next to me.

I guess I'm not as frumpy as I thought. Combining the men's and women's scores - both sexes rated both of us - twenty five percent thought that Nick was better looking that I was, ten percent thought that I was better looking, and the other sixty five percent said we were perfectly compatible in the looks department. I was shocked. I thought it would be 90-10 in Nick's favor.

After that I had no excuse not to date Nick. We dated - without penile sex - until my divorce was final. Then we dated with full blown sex for three months. I had fallen in love with him, but I wanted to make sure that he loved me, and not just sex with me because of my "unusual" condition. I made an appointment with Dr. Barnes for a consultation about possible clitoris reduction surgery.

When I explained everything relevant about my past and issues, Dr. Barnes agreed to do the surgery. Techniques had improved since I had seen him last and he thought that he could reduce my clit size and remove the "hair trigger" effect while still ensuring that I got satisfaction from the sexual experience.

I told Nick what I was planning. He never tried to talk me out of it. He drove me to the hospital, saw me in the recovery room, and took me home the next day. He had arranged for a nurse for three days, although I had never asked him to.

I was impressed. I wondered how it would work out with Nick.

Epilogue:

I hate "And they lived happily ever after" endings. They're cheesy and unrealistic. Therefore I'm not going to tell you about feeling that with Nick I now make love for the first time instead of just getting fucked. I will not mention that not only is Nick a great lover and my soul mate but that he is the best father possible for our two kids, and that his family and mine get along great. I'm certainly not going to let you know that I'm completely fulfilled and happier than I ever thought possible. Instead, I'm going to tell you about the pain and humiliation that I suffer.

Sometimes that bastard Nick leaves the toilet seat up!