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“(Probably) No” means “Yes”

This was the most confusing answer to a question I’d ever recieved in my life. It was an impossible answer. I wondered if Roland meant that he’d only hit the one million mark a couple of hours ago but he’d spent some change since then so now it might be £5 less than a million or whatever.

“How can it be ‘probably not’?”

(Pause, think) “Because I don’t think that everything added up would come to a million…probably not…but it depends, because I’m worth much more than a million.”

This didn’t make any sense. It was making my brain itch. I was thinking, shit, I should’ve waited till later to get him tied up and just torture it out of him, it’d be easier and I’d get a straight answer.

“But it’s either yes or no,” I whined.

“The question is: Does it matter?” he said.

I thought, Of course it does, it’s a landmark goal for most people! A never to be fulfilled dream! Haven’t you ever watched Only Fools and Horses?

I said, truthfully, “Because it’s been my goal to fuck a millionaire and I want to know if I’m fulfilling two goals at once!”

He looked at me and goes, “Oh. Well, probably not.”

“Can’t you just stick your card in a machine and then you would know?”

“Well, how do you know you’re a millionaire?” he asked.

“When you look at your account and it has at least a million.” [Or if, like me, you have several accounts, you add them all together.]

Roland explained that since he has 50% of the shares in Luxor he has over 2m which he can use to buy stuff even though it’s not actually in his account; like me, he explained, I get paid from Luxor. So altogether he’d have about 3m he can actually use although most of it isn’t under his own name. And he can sell the shares for 2m at any time, or dissolve the company and get the 2m. He used to have more money but he put a lot of it into the company. And he can transfer it between the company’s account and his personal account.

“So, does that count?” he asked.

“Yeah. It counts. Because you can use it to buy stuff and you can put it in your account anyway.”

He laughed. “Because that suits your particular fantasy better.”

We had to go back to the car for his phone in case his colleagues called. I said he was naughty for illegally using Luxor’s funds to pay me. He countered that it was not illegal because using the company’s money just had to be “in the course of a business” (I still remembered the wording from Commercial Law as he said it) “and,” he said, “you, my dear, are a business.” And laughed.

 

 

 

 

 

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Roland reads this blog

Both my bank account and my vagina were not filled. So I called him.He sounded surprised and, well, wondering; either he didn’t know what I was about to say or didn’t have my number saved, or hadn’t looked at his phone to see who was calling.

On the off-chance he didn’t know it was me, I decided to see if he could recognise my voice: “Hi, Roland. It’s me.”

He laughed. He laughs a lot, like me. “Kalika, it’s lovely to hear from you my dear. How are you?”

“Gooood…,” I said. “How are you?”

“I’m good, too.”

“I’ve been thinking about you a lot.”

“You know, I’ve been finding myself thinking of you as well, quite a lot, which I hadn’t expected.”

“Really?”

“Yes.I do think of you sometimes at odd moments for no reason.”

“You haven’t been writing to me.” 

“I’ve been very busy – we’re buying this place [the office he spanked me in, in which he was answering the phone] – I’ve been talking to lawyers.”

“I’m a lawyer. Sort of.”

“I have got something sort of half-penned, but I don’t want to send it out just yet.”

“It’s okay, take your time,” I said, convinced of the safety of the deal. I can hear that he is happy and relaxed talking to me.

We set a date, he’ll book a hotel room so we can stay the night.

He said he wanted me to bring my favourite book that I read at age 9 and was now rereading: The Last Vampire 5: Evil thirst by Christopher Pike.

“I’m interested to see how we got here, you know – on this interesting and scary adventure, and if that book’s your favourite it might tell us something and I’m still looking for inspiration for the video; that book might give us some ideas. It’s part of the story,” he says.

“How is this scary?” I ask. I’m surprised it’s scary for him.

“Well, I’m not like you, you’ve got nothing to lose,” he says, and I think I do – my emotional health, as I’m so inexperienced, for a start; my first time doing most sex acts; my virginity. “I do have stuff to lose,” I say and he corrects himself “well, nothing she doesn’t want to lose,” and  laughs a lot.

“What do you have to lose?” I ask, intriguiged.

“Well,  there’s the problem of it being found out; a lot of people would be against the idea of me doing this.”

“I’m doing it too. If I become famous later on it’d affect me more than you.”

“Yes, but it’s different for you, they would say, a young woman not much older than 18, who didn’t really know what she wanted in her own mind, but as for me, I should have known better.”

“Oh yeah. I forgot. Like if I told someone and a journalist got hold of it, it’d look really bad for you. But they won’t, I’ve only told 2 people and they don’t know your real name.”

“Yeah, I think you should be careful whom you tell.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be careful.”

We chatted about abstinence rings and chastity belts.

“Chastity belts never actually existed. They couldn’t be worn for long periods of time without causing genitourinary infection so they didn’t exist during the Middle Ages, they were made up during the 1800s, though I admit I have not researched it in-depthly,” I tell him.

He is amused and not surprised. He says people will always find a way around chastity devices anyway.

I tell him I’m writing a blog about our journey. He says it looks good, and I’m like, “You’re reading it? You’re reading it right now?! Which bit?”

“I’m reading The Tower: where it all started” he says, “And there’s a nice picture of the restaurant.”

I’ve thought about the cons of letting him read it: the bits where I describe him negatively, and the way it will affect my writing to know he’s reading it. But I’ve decided not to let it affect my writing, and it’s his blog nearly as much as it is mine; just another piece of creativity that comes out of this adventure. And he has every right to read it.

“You know what I just thought?”

“What?”

“Well, if I have something that I have to hide from you, and your goal is to get it out of me, and then you get points.”

“What sort of things?”

“Like where I’ve hidden something, or the names of my accomplices. But there might be 5 things, and you get points depending how much information you get out of me, whether it’s one or two and so on out of five.”

“Oh, I see. So I’ve got to spank or torture or tickle it out of you. And then I get points.”

“Yeah, you’ve got it!”

“And what do I do with these points?”

“Well, I’ll do stuff I don’t want to do.”

“Are we talking about mouth stuff?”

“Yes!”

“So, how many of these points would I need before you’d do that?”

“Five.”

“And who gets to decide these points?”

Pause. “You.”

“Do I have to be fair?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I think I can be fair.”

I tell him he can give me an enema and if I can’t hold it he can punish me lor do anal – I forget what I said.

“This is stuff you want done to you, isn’t it.”

“Yeah.”

“Then I think it’s only fair that you also do stuff that you don’t want to do. Is that fair.”

“Yep.”

“And I also think that part of it is that you don’t necessarily know what’s going to happen that night. Is that fair?”

“Yeah.”

Roland had to go and give out an award or something, it was 5pm but he was busy. It made me happy to talk to him. He said “I love you,” before he went; he never ceases to surprise me and I don’t think it was a mistake (you know, when you get used to saying something to your gf/bf/spouse and accidentally say it to someone else in a similar situation). I said something stupid like “Yeah. You, too,” or something.

 

 

 

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