Power Relationship

The next call I made was to Brian. At first he was quite solicitous when I told him I was feeling lonely and sad. He offered to come straight over. But I knew what that tone of voice portended and put him off.

"I just want to talk, Brian," I said. "No sex."

I noticed the enthusiasm go out of his voice. "Fine," he said. "What do you want to talk about?"

"Do you know why I've been so frigid?"

I could sense the tension and embarrassment even over the line. Funny how somebody who is quite comfortable baring his body and inserting various parts of it into yours suddenly tenses up when it comes to talking about it.

"I must go, Maxine," he said, seemingly forgetting his offer of not so long ago to come straight over and bonk me. "See you around, eh."

Not likely, creep. I cut him off, then burst into tears again. Then I thought of Andrew. He at least would listen to me, even if he did prefer America to my company.

Andrew seemed just as embarrassed as Brian when I skyped him in Wellington and I told him about my father being a perv and my mother a liar and coward, and I could see him visibly squirming. Serve you right, I thought. You can't just bonk me and leave me like that. He started to arrange his features into lecture mode, the expression I had always liked in class, because it meant he was going to tell us something interesting.

But you're not in sodding class now, Andrew. Just go ahead and tell me I need professional help. You know you want to. Then I can tell you to fuck off and I need never speak to you again.

Andrew didn't give me advice, though I could see the struggle not to on his face. He tried to reflect back my feelings. He was laughably awkward but at least he was trying. I felt sorry for him, and for something to say I mentioned I was thinking of going back to tech. Well his relief was palpable, and as I thought, he was most encouraging. He even offered me some financial help. Sweet of him, but I could manage, and I told him so.

When I hung up, I thought, why not? I don't have a mother, don't have a place to stay, and though I haven't checked, I probably don't have a job. I may as well do something with my life, and the mid year intake for the tech course starts in July, just three weeks away.

So I called my workplace and asked to speak to my boss. "Maxine," he said "Why haven't you been at work?"

"I've been too sick," I said.

"You're supposed to call in if you're sick. Why haven't you been answering our calls?"

"Do you want to know what was wrong with me? Are you going to ask how I am?" I asked with some emphasis.

There was an uncomfortable pause on the other end of the line.

"So how are you, Maxine?" I could hear him sighing as these words were forced from him. Patronising git.

"Oh much better after your solicitous concern, thank you. I just called in to say I'm not returning to work."

"You can't do that. You have to give three weeks notice. We need you here. I'm very disappointed in you, Maxine. You've let everyone down. You've not only let me down and the company down..."

"Oh spare me your pompous speeches, Bob," I interrupted. "Just 'cos you've got the job of supervising me that doesn't make you so superior. I rang you out of courtesy. But if I want a sermon I'll go to church."

"So what are you going to do now?" he said, after an awkward pause. As if he's really interested.

"Oh, I thought I would sniff glue, listen to heavy metal and become a hooker."

"That's nice," he started to say, and then he paused. "You're taking the piss, aren't you?"

I rolled my eyes, and hung up. I could have argued with him over the pay owing. He would probably tell me I was not entitled to my last week's pay because I had left without notice. I will email my union delegate and let her sort it out. It's the sort of thing she loves to do.

The next few days I spent avoiding Clarissa and preparing my move to tech. I made arrangements to move into a flat with three others, though I was getting sick of the flatting scene - fun when you are eighteen, less fun at twenty-four, but I had to be careful with funds.

Tech was as hard as I remembered, but no harder, and I found I now had sufficient confidence not only to understand more of the course material, but to ask for help if I was stuck, and to ignore the eye rolling from my fellow students and sometimes the teachers. Andrew had helped me more than I thought.

There were several occasions when I ached for intimate human companionship, but I knew my feelings would betray me, so I suppressed my desires by working harder, with the result that by the Christmas holidays I had the best marks I had ever achieved and had come near the middle of the class, instead of desperately clinging on to the bottom like a barnacle.

I sent a message to Andrew about my results, and was gratified to get an encouraging if rather matter of fact reply, as though he was still my teacher and our wonderful time together as lovers had never happened.

My mother rang just before Christmas, and by that time I was prepared to forgive and come home for Christmas dinner. Back in Opotane for the New Year holidays I got on better with my mother than we had done for ages, and she asked me about my love life.

"None at the moment, mum," I said, then with more openness than I was accustomed to I added, "I find I crave companionship but have no interest in sex."

"Except with Andrew," she said.

"Andrew is my friend, no more"

"Come on Maxine, I saw the way you were looking at him at that first interview. Like a dog who has not only been offered a bone but finds the entire meat cupboard open for him. And I tell you he was totally on another planet during that second interview, and it wasn't from my sex appeal, amazing though that may be."

"It was that obvious?"

"Certainly. He may as well have been wearing a badge saying 'I've just been laid'".

Mum's words made me come to a decision, but probably not the one she wanted me to take. I would take a lover to finally push Andrew from my memory. This was not hard to do; there had been no end of men at tech willing to date me. In the end I decided not to date anyone in my class while I was still studying. Rather incestuous, and I wanted to stay on good terms with them as a group.

So when I returned to my studies I started dating a series of men that I met at parties and pubs. I don't remember them much as individuals. Just as a string of embarrassing episodes. My increased confidence meant that I was not prepared to immediately give them what they wanted, with the result that most lost interest in me. So it was not until I graduated the next June that I finally moved in with my boyfriend Jeff, a diffident young man who worked in a local supermarket as a trainee manager. My mother came for my graduation ceremony, and I sent a graduation photo to Andrew. I received another congratulatory message in reply, together with an account of his own life. He was enjoying the work in America, but still had not found a steady girlfriend.

After graduation I found a job as a consents officer at the local council and my life changed for the better. The extra pay meant Jeff and I were able to rent a small place by ourselves, and I could afford to heat it when I was cold, not just on pay day. My workplace offered subsidised counselling sessions for staff, and these were helpful in letting me come to terms with what my father had done to me, and to develop more self esteem. Because we were working as a team at work and not on commission, my work mates were more solicitous and my boss more polite and respectful, and I no longer dreaded going to work.

I was better in bed as well. Having experienced exciting sex with somebody who genuinely cared about me, even if only for the moment, I knew how to fake an orgasm, and it took Jeff a while to realise that I was dead inside whenever we had sex. As a result, my relationship with Jeff lasted a bit longer than with my Opotane boyfriends.

Until that time when I came home from work early because of a bomb scare at the council. It turned out to be a false alarm, but it certainly had an explosive effect on my subsequent life.

I heard murmurs and groans from the bedroom as I came through the door. There was a woman sprawled on the bed - couldn't see her face or head hair, but her pubes were red, her slit a glistening pink, and I could see the shape of her tits, the nipples perched on top like like two cairns. She had her legs wide apart, and Jeff was kneeling at the foot of the bed, just taking a rest from what must have been a quite vigorous tongue rubbing session.

As I watched he commenced running his tongue over the slit again, and I imagined it rubbing against the G spot. The woman emitted staccato yelps of delight like a puppy, gradually building in volume and intensity, until she gave out a continuous squeak, at which point Jeff straddled her and started thrusting so energetically the bed started rocking.

The bed creaking, the woman yelping and Jeff adding to the cacophony with a fusillade of cowboy-type whoops meant that they did not hear me creep closer. The unmistakable scent of vaginal juices wafted in the air, mixed in with a faint whiff of marijuana smoke. So that's what they had been doing to get into the mood.

Just at that minute, Jeff gave a great cry, and - gentlemanly as always - pulled out and stood up, hardly looking at his partner.

Then he saw me. "My God, Maxine," he yelled. His face turned bright red. "It's not.."

I laughed aloud. He had been about to say its not what you think and then realised just how lame that would seem in the face of what I had been observing for the last ... I looked at my watch.

"Three minutes," I said. "Not bad for you, Jeff." The woman, who I now saw was very young, still in her teens, was swivelling her head from me to Jeff in a rhythmical movement rather like someone watching a tennis match.

Jeff said nothing, looking far more embarrassed than she did. The woman started to stammer an apology.

"Oh don't bother to apologise, Miss... I'm sorry Jeff hasn't formally introduced us and I don't know your name."

"Yvette," she muttered.

"Don't apologise, Yvette. I've been trying to screw up courage to leave this deadhead for several weeks, and you've finally provided me with the incentive to do so. Why don't you put some clothes on then you and Jeff can continue your lovemaking somewhere else. If he's up to it. I hope you will not be too offended if I tell you I would rather you not step foot in my house again. Either of you," I added, looking pointedly at Jeff.

"Look, Maxine, we need to talk. I..." Jeff began, grabbing my arm as I made to leave the bedroom. I shook him off.

"There's nothing to talk about, Jeff. I have the lease on this property and I decide who stays here. I'm going back to town now, and I want you and your new girlfriend out of here by the time I get back this evening. If you have any decency you will wash the sheets.

I spent the day in the library, my emotions mixed. On the one hand it was something of a relief to get rid of Jeff, not to have to go through the ritual of sex twice or three times a week, where I was under pressure to perform, like a bad actor with an impoverished script. I sometimes forgot my lines, and once caught myself yawning when I should have been in the midst of orgasmic shrieks. Yes I could do without that.

On the other hand, it highlighted once again my sexual inadequacy and inability to keep a boyfriend for any length of time. Which is why I made up my mind to skype the only man I had ever enjoyed having sex with.

Jeff and his new lover had left when I got back. I opened the window to get rid of the sex smell, washed the sheets and looked up the time in Boston. It was 10:30 at night, which meant 6:30am over there. It would be late summer in New England, and I knew that Andrew wakes up at dawn, so he would be up, probably working on his tablet or reading something edifying before preparing to go to work.

I lay on the bed in my warmed room with the tablet in front of me and clicked his address. It answered on the second ring. Andrew was wearing a pair of pyjamas and lounging on his bed, a book on the bedside table.

"Good to see you, Maxine," he said. "Congratulations on graduating and on the job. You see, I knew you had it in you to finish."

"My love life still sucks though. I must be ugly and frigid. Nobody can stand me for long. They prefer empty headed teenagers."

"So that's what you called me about. Well, let me be the judge of that. Take off your clothes."

"What?"

"You heard me, take off your clothes. I want to see you naked."

"And you just think I will do as you tell me. You sound like my teacher again, bossing me around."

"Which you like, I know. I bet your knickers are getting wet just thinking about it."

He had me there. They were. I peeled off my top and undid my bra strap, letting the ladies out.

"Nice breasts," said Andrew. "Could you move them up and down for me." He made a circling gesture with his hands, and I imagined them stroking my breasts. The nipples went hard as circled them with my hands.

"What do you smell like?" Andrew asked.

"Well I haven't had a shower, so I'm a bit whiffy I suppose."

"I love your body smell, Maxine," said Andrew. "I love it that you don't shave your armpits, so the fresh young girl smell drifts sweetly into the room. It really turns me on. Especially when you get excited as you are now. I can just smell it tingling my nostrils. I'm getting hard thinking about it."

Was he just? I was getting pretty hot and sticky myself.

"Now take off your jeans," he continued.

This time I didn't argue. None of my other boyfriends had ever complimented me on my smell. I kicked off my shoes and socks and wriggled out of my jeans. I lay on the bed in just my knickers. They were a pink frilly pair I had put on this morning, knowing that I was about due for a sex session with Jeff, and that particular type helped get him hard.

"Now sit on the bed and show me your little pubes peeping out of your panties. Legs further apart," he continued. I stretched my legs apart as far as I could, and I felt my slit open, and the glistening liquid seep into my frilly knickers. I placed the webcam where he he could see this.

"Very sexy, Maxine my love. I looked at the image on the screen, where I could see my black pubic hairs through the thin lace, and a slowly seeping wet patch. I moved my hand towards it.

"Not yet," Andrew's voice was hard, and I jerked my hand away. "My turn." He started to take his own clothes off, and sat in the same position on his own bed, legs apart, his member pointing upwards.

"Imagine my cock inside you," he spat on his hand and stroked it a bit. Its glistening head reminded me of when I had last seen it, wet on that occasion with my own juices, which I could now smell pervading the room. I started breathing heavily and I could feel my face getting red.

"You're getting excited aren't you. You want to feel me inside you, moving, caressing your pussy. Go on, do it with your hands. I tore off my knickers and massaged my labia, groaning and panting.

"Spread your legs, Maxine. I want to see your lovely pink slit." I spread my legs further, moving my hand up and down, faster and harder, wriggling my upper body like an earthworm.

"You were aching to do that, weren't you. Now imagine I am kissing you roughly, rubbing my body on yours, all the way up, your hard little nipples, your pussy hairs wet as a rain forest, my cock hitting your clitoris, my groin grinding against yours, the smell of our mingled body juices, the sound of our grunts and screams, the bed shaking in our passion."

I rubbed harder, with my whole palm now, shrieking all the while. When I looked up at the camera Andrew was pointing his cock at it, and rubbing vigorously, making excited grunting noises. I stuck three fingers inside myself where they slid in with no resistance, and was moving them from side to side, wriggling and screaming, until suddenly there was a flood of liquid, and I lay on the bed panting.

It was several minutes before I looked at the camera again and smiled at Andrew, his penis now limp, milky liquid running down his thighs. "You liked that didn't you?" he said.

I nodded.

"So did I. Do you still think you're ugly and frigid? You're a little tease, Maxine, turning me on from across the world, and making me late for work."

"I'm turned on by you, Andrew, but others don't push my buttons at all."

"Remember when we first tried making love and you didn't want me, either." I nodded. It hadn't taken me long to get rid of that particular inhibition.

"I said that if I can't turn you on that's my problem, not yours, and I need to try harder. Do you remember?"

I nodded again.

"Well I did, didn't I. And it worked. But your boyfriends are not triers. You're a bit of an acquired taste Maxine. Like a fine wine or a piece of classical music. But those losers you go out with don't appreciate you. Making yourself available for them is like putting champagne in front of a beer swilling yokel. They won't appreciate it."

"I would have come with you," I said. "I told you I love you, but you never returned the compliment. Why didn't you?"

"Comes from being a teacher I suppose. What I felt towards you was a paternalistic tenderness. I didn't love you the way you obviously loved me. You needed to try harder too. But now it seems you have done. You've finished your degree, your career is going somewhere, and it seems you've come to terms with your past. You're more successful and more confident as a result."

I thought about what Andrew had said. Yes, there was more of me to love now. When I thought back on what I had been back then...

Andrew broke into my thoughts. "I have to get to work, Maxine. Students here pay a lot for tuition here and they get very stroppy if their teachers are late. I'd like to talk to you again some other time."

After Andrew hung up I lay on the bed thinking. Most men, wanting to seduce me, would have told me they loved me. Andrew's honesty was almost pathological at times. But then isn't total honesty important in a relationship, however harmful it may be at a job interview or a seduction.

Others had told me they loved me and didn't. Andrew didn't tell me he loved me. But perhaps he didn't know his own mind. His actions towards me, from the time I had been a student until now, had been much more loving than any other man I had met.

It was all very complicated and too much to cope with at the end of an eventful day. I felt tired and drained, but in a good way; like someone who has not just run a marathon but won it. I turned off the light and was soon drifting into sleep, my dreams pleasant.

The next day was a fine winter's morning with a promise of an early spring. I threw open the windows to get rid of the smell of my last resident boyfriend, and then breathed in the outside air, thinking. I didn't like to malinger, but I told myself I had been through a rough time and needed a mental health day. I called my team leader and told her I was not feeling well, and should be better the next day.

"Thanks for calling, Maxine," my supervisor Anna said. "You take care." I thought briefly of telling Anna something of my dilemma, but dismissed it. Her compassion was genuine, but so was her dedication to the organisation. I didn't want her to feel a tugging conflict of loyalties. This was something I needed to sort out for myself.

I wheeled my bicycle out of my garage and started the hard pull to a nearby waterfall where I often parked the bike and walked in the bush. The difficult exercise helped calm the thoughts bubbling in my brain. I was stronger now than I had been for a long time, had forgiven my mother and come to terms with my father. Perhaps now was the time to make a break in an exciting new city.