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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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“Probably not.”

He parks and we talk about stuff and I say, “Have you ever had sex in the backseat?” There doesn’t appear to be enough space, and  I point this out to him. He laughs. I swear, he laughs all the time, just like me. I wonder if the entire world is just all a big game to him, like it is to me. Maybe he thinks video games can’t offer the thrills and heightened emotions that real life can. That adrenalin is a toy. That’s what life is to me. Only kink and the Case could ever summon the adrenalin.

He says, “No, but I’ve done it in the front…because the front seats can do this…” there is a slight hum and the seat basically becomes a slightly raised bed.

“Cooool,” I say as the seat returns to normal.

“We should do it after you take my virginity. Drive somewhere remote and do it.”

This makes him laugh again for some reason. The fact that he has clothes on irritates me. I want to see him naked. He looks good lying down, though. Vulnerable. I think off ripping his clothes off but I think the windscreen isn’t tinted enough for that. And he might not like that. I know that as a hooker you should go with what the punter wants.

(I really want to bite Roland’s cock right now as I am typing this. Crunch. Just bit my thumb instead. Ow. It hurt. Maybe that’s how he felt when I did that? And why I couldn’t bite as hard as I wanted because I knew it would hurt him. Actually, I suppose it would feel worse to him cos of sensitivity.)

Roland’s Blackberry rings and he talks about business stuff into it while the person on the other end is completely unaware that he’s sitting in a car with a prostitute, about to feed her so she’ll have enough energy to be debased later on. Naughty. Roland then moves the car forward while using a handheld phone, which is illegal. Doubly naughty. Roland does illegal things all the time (by which I mean extremely trivial traffic ‘offences’) which is really hot for some reason. (Although when other people do it, it isn’t hot, because they’re students and not professionals like Roland who are supposed to obey the law.)

We get out of the car and walk over a bridge and he tells me his company is being sued over a patent and it’ll take over a million to bring the case to court and all this stuff. Intellectual property law is not my forte. He needs Leanne for this. So this conversation is going waaaaaayyyy over my head. Also, we didn’t learn how much it takes for a company to bring a case to court. I can sort of tell Roland doesn’t like lawyers.

Anyway he keeps talking and it makes me feel sad that he/Luxor will lose a million. We walk on for a bit and eventually I go, “Do you, like, actually have a million?”

He pauses, thinks, then says, “…Probably not.”

 

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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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