Two days ago, I underwent my chemotherapy session. My oncologist communicated that it was merely to maintain my ability to eat normally and to mitigate pain, but it was not curative. Yesterday, the majority of my day was spent in rest under the vigilant eyes of my children and caregivers. It was only today that I returned to the studio to revisit my memoirs and the significant portion of my life documented there.
Before me lay my notebook, and today, I felt a compulsion to pen down a fresh page. I picked up the fountain pen and began recounting my memories:
It's been 5 years since my wife's demise. During this time, I have wholly devoted myself to work and my children, perhaps as a method to alleviate the pain of loss. While I yearn for female companionship, I harbor no intentions of embarking on a romantic relationship at this time, as I am not prepared to ride the emotional roller coaster that comes with love. But undoubtedly, I long for the warmth of a woman.
"But don't you feel alone?", my secretary Jannet probed, "No, I have my children and the company of my servants, who, over the years, have become an integral part of my family" I replied. "But, I meant female companionship" she clarified, "Honestly, while I do miss the physical intimacy, I don't yearn for the warmth of love, which I lost with my wife" I responded. The conversation abruptly ended, and I thought to myself, "I believe I may have crossed a line with her. I shouldn't have responded that way; I owe her an apology."
For several days, my interactions with my secretary were strictly professional, and one day I decided to present her with a small box of chocolates as a token of my apology. "Please accept this gift," I said, "It's a small gesture of apology for our conversation a few days ago. I believe I may have crossed a line, and you truly deserve my respect." "Thank you, but this gesture doesn't imply anything romantic, right?" she queried, "No, absolutely not, it is merely an apology," I clarified.
Several days passed without incident, then one day, while I was seated at my desk, Jannet approached me and asked, "Mr. Williams, do you find me attractive?" The question took me by surprise. She was undoubtedly a beautiful woman, with blonde hair, green eyes, around 30 years old, slender but with a sculptural body, and extremely intelligent and efficient at her job. "You are a very beautiful woman, but, as I have mentioned before, I am not interested in pursuing any relationships at present," I replied. She persisted, "I don't mean that, do I appeal to you physically? Would you consider being intimate with me?" Once again, she left me speechless. I took a moment to compose my response and then answered, "You are attractive, and yes, I would consider being intimate with you, but as I have mentioned earlier, I do not wish to enter into any romantic relationships." She grew solemn and said, "I have a proposal for you." I was intrigued. She suggested we meet for a drink at a bar that evening, and we could continue our discussion. We agreed to rendezvous that night at a discreet piano bar.
I arrived early and ordered a whiskey. She arrived a bit later, looking stunning in a form-fitting black dress that accentuated her well-sculpted body. Her makeup was subtle yet enough to highlight her natural beauty. I couldn't help but admire the vision before me. We began conversing. During the discussion, she opened up about her financial situation, revealing that she had a young son to support and his father had shirked his responsibilities. To make ends meet and supplement my salary, she worked for an escort agency, where just a few appointments a month helped her stay afloat. I was taken aback by her confession. Not only did it make me reevaluate the salary I was paying her, but it also gave me much to ponder. "I never engage with coworkers; I always ensure my clients are people who are not part of my regular circles," she mentioned. "Why did you think it would be a good idea to propose this to me?" I inquired. "Because I respect you, because I know you are a gentleman and won't spread rumors in the office, and also because I harbor some feelings for you. Despite knowing you're not interested in anything romantic, I figured I had nothing to lose," she confessed.
After her revelation, I assured her that her secret was safe with me. I also promised her an immediate salary hike and asked her to help me develop a support program for all the women in the company who were in a similar predicament. "I have one request," I told her, "I want you to have your last appointment with me tonight, and then never return to this life." She agreed, and after finishing our drinks, we checked into a hotel.
Between the progression of my wife's illness and the time elapsed since her death, it had been more than 8 years since I had been intimate with a woman. I felt like a teenager experiencing his first time. She took off her dress, unveiling a black silk lace lingerie set that flattered her figure magnificently. A small rose tattoo on her right side added to her allure. She began by kissing me and massaging my shoulders, effectively relaxing me. Then she undressed me and proceeded to pleasure me in ways I had never experienced before. We made love all night. She was a goddess both in giving and receiving pleasure. I never sensed any discomfort from her, and I felt a torrent of pleasure that I had seldom experienced before. We spent the night together, and in the morning, we parted ways, taking necessary precautions to ensure that this encounter did not devolve into a painful sentimental journey. She made a promise to never work as an escort again.
Back at the company, recognizing Jannet's talent, I promoted her to head a department aimed at improving the working conditions of all my employees, particularly the women. She did a remarkable job throughout her tenure until her retirement. During this period, she met one of my employees, with whom she fell in love, culminating in marriage and a life together.
I remember vividly the day she handed me an invitation to her wedding. "Mr. Williams, here's your invitation. I want you to attend my wedding. You know I owe you a lot." I opened the envelope and found a small card that read in black letters "Entertainment and special services," followed by a telephone number. "It's the card from my other job. I recommended you, so they will treat you well, just in case you require any special services," she said, gave me a peck on the cheek, and bid farewell.
We remained good friends for the rest of our lives. I got to know her children, and one of them inherited her mother's talent and now serves as my children's right hand in the company.
As I concluded my note, a sense of satisfaction and joy washed over me as I reminisced about those moments. I thought to myself, "Well done, well done." I closed the notebook and retired for the day.