The Taming of Monique

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Babes

This is a work of fiction. No person in this story is based on or relates to any living person.

The activities described in this story are imaginary and are neither condoned nor recommended by the author.

*****

Monique falls for just the right guy.

She strode into the bar, looking as though she owned the place. We get plenty of chicks here, but she was exceptional. For a start she was tall, about six foot in her heels I reckon, well built with curves in all the right places. She was well-dressed in a cream low-cut blouse, moderately tight black skirt finishing mid-thigh, sexy fishnet stockings and black four inch or so heels. She oozed confidence and sexuality and, with her waist-length blonde hair neatly fastened in a ponytail down her back, drew the attention of every man in the bar.

“What can I get you, Ma’am?” I asked as she positioned her tight derriere on a bar stool.

She looked at me as though I was a less than salubrious insect and asked for a bloody Mary. I mixed this and handed it to her, exchanging it for a fifty and finding the change for her from the till. She took a sip, grimaced, then turned her back and surveyed the bar. Nothing or nobody seemed to attract her attention, so after pushing out her chest and flaunting her 36D boobs, she turned back to me.

“What do people do for a good time in this hick town, mister?” she asked disparagingly.

“Whatever they damn well please,” I replied disdainfully. I was certainly in no mood to allow this brazen hussy to get the better of me and I certainly wasn’t going to pander to her snobbery.

My answer obviously took her by surprise, probably not used to receiving as good as she got, I thought, and she turned back to me and smiled for the first time. The smile almost made her look like a human being.

“So what would you do for a good time, mister whatever your name is?”

“My mother called me Randolph but most call me Randy. I am sometimes too. What’s yours?”

She smiled again, her smile lit up the whole bar. I noticed that many of the patrons had stopped their talking and the pool games they were playing and were watching the pantomime taking place at the bar.

“Monique,” she replied softly.

“So what’re you doin’ in this hick town?” I asked, using her term for the place.

“Just passing through, thank God. How about you?”

“Well, I was born here and have lived here all my life, so far,” I replied. “I guess you could call me a local.”

“OK, so where can I get a reasonable room with a comfortable bed and a decent meal?” she asked.

“Yeah, I’ve got all those at my place. Wanna share?”

She looked at me as though I was less than dirt and for the first time appeared to be at a loss for words. Eventually she overcame her repugnance to tell me that she wasn’t that desperate. She turned back to the bar again and a couple of regulars came up for refills, nodding politely to Monique, who studiously ignored them.

A vehicle pulled up outside and a moment later Sheriff Bruce Forlong walked in for his regular evening pint. He stopped as he entered, obviously taken aback by the stunning blonde at the bar. He walked slowly towards me and greeted me as I pulled his usual pint.

“Good evening,” he greeted Monique, “I’m Sheriff Bruce Forlong. I hope you’re enjoying the hospitality we offer in our little town.”

Monique’s demeanor changed radically as she replied.

“Good evening Sheriff. Yes, so far I’ve found my brief stay in your little town, as you put it, to be tolerable.”

“That’s great. If you have any problems just let me know.” He glanced around the barroom and moved a little closer to her, lowering his voice. “They’re a pretty basic lot but their hearts are in the right places.”

“Thanks for that, Sheriff. Right now I need somewhere reasonable to stay. All I’ve had so far is a ridiculous offer from Randy, which, of course, I refused.”

“Well, we’re not really on the tourist route here so there really isn’t anywhere set up to cater for tourists. However, if you wished, I live alone since my wife died and you would be most welcome to stay in one of my three spare bedrooms.”

“Hmmm,” replied Monique, considering the offer, “I guess if that’s the situation then I might just have to accept. Thank you for your generous offer.”

“You’re most welcome,” replied the Sheriff, “And please, call me Bruce. I’m off duty.”

“Thank you, Bruce. Is there somewhere I could eat first please? Where would you recommend?”

“Well, actually you’re standing in not only the best eating place in town, but also the only eating place. I eat here every night and would be honored if you would join me for dinner. Can I buy you another drink first?”

Monique thanked him, I poured another bloody Mary and together they walked to a table to await Fran, our waitress. I watched as the bar atmosphere returned to some semblance of normality, the locals obviously discussing the new arrival and the way in which Sheriff Bruce had apparently perabet tamed this renegade filly.

After dinner, Sheriff Bruce and Monique left the bar together, Bruce giving me a wave and a wink as he walked out, and drove off, Monique following the Sheriff in her own flash European import car.

*****************************

The following Sunday Bruce and I sat at home and discussed life. Needless to say, our discussion turned towards happenings after he and Monique left the bar a few days before.

“Huh, bloody bitch,” said Bruce heatedly. “Biggest cock tease I’ve ever met.”

“Oh? You want to tell me what happened or is it still too tough to talk about?”

“Well, you know I’ve been real down since Mary died last fall. My sex life has been zilch. Can’t do much around here with everyone knowing everyone else’s business. I also still feel almost duty bound to be faithful to Mary even though I know she’s gone. However, when Monique arrived I thought maybe she’d been sent somehow to look after me. The thought even crossed my mind that just maybe Mary was looking out for me from wherever she is now. Stupid, I know.

“Anyway, we got home and I took Monique in with me and showed her around. She chose a spare king size bed and changed into more comfortable clothing, as she said. When she came out I expected her to at least be dressed in clothes, but she appeared in sexy lingerie with an almost transparent gown over it, tied with a bow just above her breasts, the nipples of which were clearly visible. She sat down next to me, really close, and placed her hand on my crotch, giving me a kiss on the cheek. She thanked me for the bed and said she’d really like to pay me somehow for the accommodation. Obviously I thought she meant she was available for sexual congress, so I put my arm around her and we started fondling each other in an intimate manner, if you get what I mean.”

I nodded briefly.

“As the evening drew on she became more forward and soon had my cock in her hand, jacking it slowly while I was about to start removing what little coverings she had to really get down to business. Suddenly she just yawned, and stood up, telling me that she’d had a long drive and had a long drive again tomorrow so she was off to bed. I obviously thought this was code for me to follow her and have a night of loving, but when I tried to follow her I found she’d locked the door. I called out to her and she just told me ‘Good night’ and that she might see me in the morning.

“You can imagine how I felt. I was sexy as hell, frustrated to buggery, ready to fuck anything on two legs, yet at the same time I had this guilty feeling about betraying Mary. I crawled off to bed and slept very poorly that night. Next morning I heard her moving about so thought maybe now she would be more refreshed and more receptive, but was mistaken. She’d been awake for a while, was dressed in her travelling clothes and invited me into her room without hesitation. We kissed and cuddled, feeling each other in most erotic ways, and I was just about to make my move and remove her skirt and panties when she jumped up, said she had a long way to go today, thanked me for the accommodation, picked up her bag and headed out the door.

“Well, you could have knocked me down with a feather. Once again I felt cheated; very aroused, ready for a great time with a gorgeous chick and then nothing. Never trust a woman, that’s my thoughts on the matter. They’ll lead you on then disappear, leaving you horny and angry. It’s only today that I’ve calmed down a bit, but if I ever meet her again I’ll certainly tell her exactly what I think of her.”

********************************

Monique pulled into the city and drove into the entrance of her apartment block. She flipped the keys to her Audi to a parking valet and took the elevator to her suite on the 23rd floor, with beautiful views of the city, coast, and foreshore. She walked in, accompanied by the porter carrying her bag. She showed the porter where to put the bag, tipped him generously, closed and locked the door after him then collapsed onto the bed, sobbing her heart out. She felt terrible. She hated herself for leading poor Bruce on then rejecting him. He was, she knew, a really nice guy and deserved better than that. She would have loved to have made love with him all night but had deliberately chosen to ignore that opportunity in favor of leading him on and frustrating him, punishing him for things that he, personally, had not done.

Her mind went back to her mother in the Paris slum, when she was only very small, and when men would come and beat her mother, for what she did not know, while she hid in a cupboard until they had gone. At that young age she hadn’t known that her mother was a prostitute. All she knew was that her mother had sent her away with a friend who then raised her as her own child. The only lasting thing she had of her mother was the memory of her insistence that she must never trust a man.

Her perabet giri┼č thoughts came forward to her failed relationships, to the men who had mistreated her, had hurt her both physically and mentally, who had abandoned her after she had mistakenly trusted and loved them. She remembered the exact moment when she had decided that this would never happen again and that she vowed to seek revenge on all men for the wrongs these men had done to her. She felt the bitter anguish boil inside her as she used her energy to maintain these vengeful thoughts. Another wave of tears flooded through her as she thought about her hopes and dreams of a stable, loving marriage with a few gorgeous children; hopes that were dashed by being betrayed by the only man she had ever really loved. She had chosen to protect herself against further heartache by never allowing any man to get close to her again.

Yet that was not enough. Her vow to punish men had led her to entice them into compromising situations and then dump them, often, as in the case with Bruce, against the wishes of her body and the rational part of her mind. She would have loved to have been held, cuddled, and made love to by Bruce. He seemed a very genuine person, sad after his family tragedy, two lone spirits who had met, with the means to comfort each other, yet her drive for vengeance came between them and she left him lonely and frustrated, as she herself had been as she drove away. One part of her asked how long this must go on; the other part, the hurt part, the controlling part, answered forever.

Slowly she pulled herself together, washed her face, rang down for some dinner, opened a bottle of wine, and ate and drank the evening away, alone. Tomorrow would be early enough to face the world as she returned to her job as the prize bitch courtroom defence attorney, defending the scum of the earth, or so she viewed them, men who she had never met yet who she hated for being men.

*******************************

The legal seminar had been long, dull and boring but at last it was Friday and she was on her way home. Monique was ready for a cocktail, dinner and then a good sleep in her own bed. Another hour and the flight would land, meantime, even in first class, she had to have someone placed next to her. He hadn’t tried to get her into conversation or, worse, to hit on her, yet. Actually, the lonely part of her thought, he looks a real nice guy. He seemed to be deeply engrossed in a book he was reading which, from the brief glance she’d had of its cover, appeared to be something to do with alternative energy, an area of interest for her but only from the legal perspective.

He looked at his watch and grimaced, then turned to her.

“Do you have the time please? My watch has stopped. Probably a flat battery, I guess.”

“Yes, that happens,” she replied, “It’s 5.30pm. I guess that watch batteries have to run down sometime, usually at the worst possible time.” She chuckled.

“Yes, guess so. My name’s Aidan, by the way.”

“I’m Monique,” she replied with a smile. He’s not really so bad, despite being a man, thought her lonely part. She looked at his hands; no rings. Doesn’t mean he’s not married but maybe . . .

Don’t be crazy, chimed in the bitchy, vengeful part of her, still hurt after all those years, he’s a man; his only use to you is as a target. Still, target, lover, friend, whatever; maybe he could be useful.

“That looks like an interesting book you’re reading,” she said.

“Yes it is. It’s pretty technical but definitely interesting. Alternative energy’s a really hot topic right now and the basic problem is that people have believed what they’ve been taught about energy, without giving quantum physics a chance to be developed.”

“So are you a scientist or something?” asked Monique, intrigued by this guy despite herself.

“Engineer, actually, specializing in the design of prototype alternative energy systems. We have one that seems to be producing energy from thin air at present. If it could be developed it would certainly revolutionize transport. What field are you in?”

“I’m in the legal profession,” replied Monique.

Time went quickly as they talked and grew to know each other a little better. He’d had a failed marriage, his wife walking off with another man, and for the first time Monique found herself telling another man about her failures in the relationship area too. Aidan listened sympathetically, but without pity, putting her traumas into perspective and pointing out the learning that she had been offered by these so-called mistakes.

“You know, they say that there’s no such thing as a mistake; it’s only a learning opportunity,” he told her. “So I wonder what learning opportunities you’ve had from all those so-called mistakes.”

Monique didn’t reply, but sat quietly as she thought about his comment. The hostess came on the PA system and told them they would be landing in a few minutes and the usual landing preparations they should perabet g├╝venilir mi make.

“Are you a local here or a visitor?” asked Aidan.

“I’m a local, and you?”

“I’m visiting for a few days. Want to see an old guy who has been pottering in my field for many years and has made a few remarkable discoveries, which, as usual, nobody believes. It’s amazing how the credibility of a person seems to depend so much on the position he holds in his work or society. Who knows how many potential discoveries have been ignored due to this.”

“Where are you staying?” asked Monique.

“I haven’t booked ahead; it was a last minute trip because the guy was reluctant to see me so made the visit for only 24 hours ahead. Where do you recommend?”

“Well, I live in the city and have a few spare bedrooms if you want to bunk down there for the time you’re here.” It was out before she even thought; spoken words that could not be retracted.

“Thank you, Monique, that’s a very kind offer and I would love to accept if you’re sure that’s OK.”

She had a chance to back out, but just as she thought that, she heard herself say: “Yes, of course that’s OK. It will be a pleasure to have some company for a change.”

The plane landed and Aidan and Monique went through the normal formalities, collected their baggage and Monique led him to her car.

“Wow!” exclaimed Aidan, “An Audi R8 Spyder! What a car. What did you say you did again?”

“I said I worked in the legal system,” replied Monique, “Actually, I’m a defence attorney, and a very good one so I’ve been told. The DA hates me, so that’s a start.”

They climbed into the car and Monique quickly threaded her way through the traffic, arriving shortly at her apartment building, tossed the keys to the valet and together Monique and Aidan took the elevator to her apartment. She opened the door and invited Aidan inside. The lights of the city were just twinkling on and the coastline was still visible in the twilight.

“Wow, some apartment,” commented Aidan.

Monique led him through to a spare bedroom.

“You can use this room while you’re here. There’s an ensuite bathroom so you can freshen up and come out to the lounge for a drink when you’re ready. What’s your poison?”

“Jack Daniels thanks if you have it, on the rocks.”

“Done. See you in a few minutes.”

When he arrived in the lounge Monique was already seated on the sofa with her shoes kicked off, bloody Mary in her hand and his drink was on the table in front of the available seat on the sofa. Part of Monique was screaming at her for even having him in the apartment, let alone allowing him to sleep here, and especially indicating for him to sit next to her instead of in a chair on the other side of the room. However, in the last couple of hours she had become accustomed to ignoring that part of her.

“Thank you,” acknowledged Aidan, sitting beside her. “This is a wonderful place. You live here permanently?”

“Yes, it’s just so handy. I work just down the street, five minutes’ walk, car parking is safe and easy, as you saw, meals are good here with a wide choice of menus. So what would you like to order?”

She handed him a menu and he quickly chose the steak. Monique ordered for them both by phone, confirming how he liked his steak done.

“Look, let me pay for the meals at least. I feel I need to make some contribution for this luxurious accommodation, terrific company and wonderful dinner.”

“It’s all a bit complicated really,” explained Monique, “I simply put everything on my bill and at the end of each month it’s automatically deducted from my bank account. I never see the money. So treat it as a present.”

The bitchy part of her was having convulsions. Monique smiled inwardly; I’ll show her who’s boss, she thought. About time I took control of me rather than letting me be run by a dysfunctional inner self.

The conversation flowed freely and easily as they sipped their drinks until their dinners arrived and they sat at the table to eat. Monique opened some wine and poured them each a glass as they chewed meditatively, made small talk and admired the view up the coastline. Once dinner was over, they retired to the sofa once again with coffee and liqueurs and the conversation changed also as they found themselves talking of lost loves and betrayal, expanding on the past emotional traumas they had started discussing on the plane. Monique found that Aidan was the first man she had been able to talk with about her past relationships, and that he was sympathetic and knowledgeable about interpersonal interactions. She valued his male viewpoint also, a viewpoint she had never heard before as she had been unwilling to listen to men in the past. Already she recognized that Aidan was changing her, or rather, she corrected herself, she was changing in response to Aidan. She realized the subtle difference was important.

By the end of the evening they were sitting close together, her head on his shoulder, both with eyes wet and red rimmed from tears, unshed until tonight. They both realized they had stored up a great deal of hate, jealousy and fear and that this coincidental meeting and subsequent open and honest discussion had been unbelievably cathartic.

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