Claire, the Slut, Whore and Mistress...

[AhMeng]

you spoilt me lah... now I don't bother reading any other thread in the whole forum...

....that you are a die hard romantic kukubird like me....

 

[bushtucker]

gawd you still haven't entered her temple of desire? my neck is very long now from all that waiting.

 

[Charlie99]

Roger You seem to guess my Part 8 (which I have started in draft) pretty well. You are indeed a sexpert

But stay tuned. There's could be a bit of a twist in the next episode. Haha.. Lol

Glockman is the expert, and offering wise counsel.

 

[glockman]

Roger You seem to guess my Part 8 (which I have started in draft) pretty well. You are indeed a sexpert

But stay tuned. There's could be a bit of a twist in the next episode. Haha.. Lol

Not sexpert, but I think we all can see where you're heading......you are, afterall a hot-blooded male. Cannot blame you. The only cure is to get a betterer, hotterer, sexierer chio bu with a loyal heart to snap you out of her dangerous spell, out of her orbit.

 

[glockman]

you are indeed a good friend glockie...

What can I say? My first name is Saint, when I don't have my crosshairs on a chio bu. When I do, all bets are off!

 

[AhMeng]

gawd you still haven't entered her temple of desire? my neck is very long now from all that waiting.

 

[AhMeng]

Not sexpert, but I think we all can see where you're heading......you are, afterall a hot-blooded male. Cannot blame you. The only cure is to get a betterer, hotterer, sexierer chio bu with a loyal heart to snap you out of her dangerous spell, out of her orbit.

What can I say? My first name is Saint, when I don't have my crosshairs on a chio bu. When I do, all bets are off!

You Are Indeed
A

​

 

[AhMeng]

Part 8

As I was to take the leap to Claire's worldly paradise, the rational side of my soul reminded of Glocky's wise words:

“Claire is a smart girl, all right. She is gorgeous, but she's also very skilled at fucking the minds of the people around her. Every instinct in me screamed the word ‘CAUTION'".​

My sanity prevailed, with Glocky's wise words, ringing loudly in my head. I resisted, controlled and successfully "circumvented" my blistering urge. I would had been an "unfaithful" bastard, had I partake physically, in her self induced tryst.

However, watching her in action had its inadvertent consequence. Her gentle insertion, coupled with a few rapid, heavy shoving with her juice-drenched fingers inside her clean shaven muff; blushing; gasping and squirts had inevitably edged me on. I, unwittingly came, wanking myself away, while watching her delirious acts of lust. It was tantalizingly irresistible. I felt ashamed, though pleasured.

After cleaning myself up, I sheepishly slipped myself into the bedroom. Claire was already in La Petite Mort, mumbling why I had taken so long in the shower. I attributed to her naughtiness in drugging me unnecessarily at our favourite restaurant bar. She smiled.

In her dreamy, semi-exhausted eyes, she added: "You were watching me and wanking off in there, didn't you?". I was taken aback. Embarrassed. She was indeed a Machiavellian, devious and scheming. This time, she definitely caught me with my pants down. I protested, but she said "It's ok dearie, I did it for you, so that you will never forget me".

Seeing Claire naked had always been disarming for me. As my eyes roamed from her face to her décolleté, she looked incredibly sexy. I moved my sight to her breasts. Without her Victoria Secret black demi cup, they weren't as lifted. They were much more natural, but still as perfect and exquisite as they were. I felt "lecherous". To be honest, I had wanted to feel, squeeze and lick them, but resisted once again.

She proceeded to snuggle herself into my arms. Our naked bodies touched. Her soft and milky breasts felt warm as they pressed onto my chest. Slurring and reminiscing our past, she dozed off, as we hugged each other to sleep.

It was 5:30am Saturday morning. My body clock had always punctual. I was wide awaked, staring at a young, beautiful, sexy and alluring "Beast" next to me. I gently moved her hugging arms away from my body.

Claire looked desirously beautiful, notwithstanding her night of self induced passion cum insidious "plot", surreptitiously inducing my wank, and taking full advantage of my inherent weakness. I craved to kiss her cherry lips, but I held myself back.

Instead, I gave her a forehead kiss. She must have felt it and mumbled, "I love you hunkymonkey". I did not respond, and she gradually eased back into dreamland.

I was pensive, in deep thoughts. I was preparing Claire's favourite toasted brioche, Pan Pacific pork garlic sausages, sauté mushroom with scrambled eggs for her breakfast. When I was done, I concluded that we should, and could only remain as good friends. Trust, once broken, would never be able to restore back to its original state.

The forehead kiss was rhetorically synonymous to the current state of our relationship. I certainly do care for her. But I had to refuse any carnal or sexual relationship with her. I reckoned the forehead kiss was symbolic, and a lot more sincere (as "good friends"), than kissing her sexy cherry lips (as "lovers and/or sex partners").

She was delighted that I made her favourite breakfast, though I did not tell her that the toasted brioche was expired by at least by 4 to 5 days. I guessed the brioche was reflective of "now expired us" in this short and turbulent relationship.

I asked if she would return my apartment keys, as we were now no longer an "item". She refused. She insisted that we could work this out together, salvage our relationship, and start afresh. I was speechless. Dumbfounded. Annoyed.

An eerie silence. We continued our breakfast.

My mobile phone on the dining table rang. The caller ID displayed a Chinese contact name, and a China IDD code number. She caught a glimpse of the screen display, while I quickly snatched to answer. It was my China business partner. She had called to say she was at Pudong Airport, catching the morning Air China flight, and arriving Singapore in the afternoon. I kept the conversation professional and hung up as soon as I could.

And there Claire was, staring at me, in her huge daggar eyes...


(To be continued...)

 

[Bacccarat]

.



.Machiam Sidney Sheldon.



.

 

[mixmasternrv]

.



.Machiam Sidney Sheldon.



.

More Harold Robbins-esque I think

 

[AhMeng]

.



.Machiam Sidney Sheldon.



.

More Harold Robbins-esque I think

​

 

[yinyang]

Part 8

As I was to take the leap to Claire's worldly paradise, the rational side of my soul reminded of Glocky's wise words:

“Claire is a smart girl, all right. She is gorgeous, but she's also very skilled at fucking the minds of the people around her. Every instinct in me screamed the word ‘CAUTION'".​

My sanity prevailed, with Glocky's wise words, ringing loudly in my head. I resisted, controlled and successfully "circumvented" my blistering urge. I would had been an "unfaithful" bastard, had I partake physically, in her self induced tryst.

However, watching her in action had its inadvertent consequence. Her gentle insertion, coupled with a few rapid, heavy shoving with her juice-drenched fingers inside her clean shaven muff; blushing; gasping and squirts had inevitably edged me on. I, unwittingly came, wanking myself away, while watching her delirious acts of lust. It was tantalizingly irresistible. I felt ashamed, though pleasured.

After cleaning myself up, I sheepishly slipped myself into the bedroom. Claire was already in La Petite Mort, mumbling why I had taken so long in the shower. I attributed to her naughtiness in drugging me unnecessarily at our favourite restaurant bar. She smiled.

In her dreamy, semi-exhausted eyes, she added: "You were watching me and wanking off in there, didn't you?". I was taken aback. Embarrassed. She was indeed a Machiavellian, devious and scheming. This time, she definitely caught me with my pants down. I protested, but she said "It's ok dearie, I did it for you, so that you will never forget me".

Seeing Claire naked had always been disarming for me. As my eyes roamed from her face to her décolleté, she looked incredibly sexy. I moved my sight to her breasts. Without her Victoria Secret black demi cup, they weren't as lifted. They were much more natural, but still as perfect and exquisite as they were. I felt "lecherous". To be honest, I had wanted to feel, squeeze and lick them, but resisted once again.

She proceeded to snuggle herself into my arms. Our naked bodies touched. Her soft and milky breasts felt warm as they pressed onto my chest. Slurring and reminiscing our past, she dozed off, as we hugged each other to sleep.

It was 5:30am Saturday morning. My body clock had always punctual. I was wide awaked, staring at a young, beautiful, sexy and alluring "Beast" next to me. I gently moved her hugging arms away from my body.

Claire looked desirously beautiful, notwithstanding her night of self induced passion cum insidious "plot", surreptitiously inducing my wank, and taking full advantage of my inherent weakness. I craved to kiss her cherry lips, but I held myself back.

Instead, I gave her a forehead kiss. She must have felt it and mumbled, "I love you hunkymonkey". I did not respond, and she gradually eased back into dreamland.

I was pensive, in deep thoughts. I was preparing Claire's favourite toasted brioche, Pan Pacific pork garlic sausages, sauté mushroom with scrambled eggs for her breakfast. When I was done, I concluded that we should, and could only remain as good friends. Trust, once broken, would never be able to restore back to its original state.

The forehead kiss was rhetorically synonymous to the current state of our relationship. I certainly do care for her. But I had to refuse any carnal or sexual relationship with her. I reckoned the forehead kiss was symbolic, and a lot more sincere (as "good friends"), than kissing her sexy cherry lips (as "lovers and/or sex partners").

She was delighted that I made her favourite breakfast, though I did not tell her that the toasted brioche was expired by at least by 4 to 5 days. I guessed the brioche was reflective of "now expired us" in this short and turbulent relationship.

I asked if she would return my apartment keys, as we were now no longer an "item". She refused. She insisted that we could work this out together, salvage our relationship, and start afresh. I was speechless. Dumbfounded. Speechless. Annoyed.

An eerie silence. We continued our breakfast.

My mobile phone on the dining table rang. The caller ID displayed a Chinese contact name, and a China IDD code number. She caught a glimpse of the screen display, while I quickly snatched to answer. It was my China business partner. She had called to say she was at Pudong Airport, catching the morning Air China flight, and arriving Singapore in the afternoon. I kept the conversation professional and hung up as soon as I could.

And there Claire was, staring at me, in her huge daggar eyes...


(To be continued...)

Lau kau, brilliant stuff. Guess your next episode will be akin to old adage:
'Hell has no fury like a woman scorned'

 

[AhMeng]

Lau kau, brilliant stuff. Guess your next episode will be akin to old adage:
'Hell has no fury like a woman scorned'

I have started Part 9 draft
I promise myself not to drag in excess of Part 10. It's too much recollection for me. Not great for my aged brain cells.10 episodes should be just nice

 

[yinyang]

I have started Part 9 draft
I promise myself not to drag in excess of Part 10. It's too much recollection for me. Not great for my aged brain cells.10 episodes should be just nice

Don't disagree.

Often the build up's the key, without stretching the finale too thin (just my honest, humble opinion).
And the going's good so far, and we don't want any spoiler either
The 6.6k views todate say something, no?

 

[AhMeng]

Don't disagree.

Often the build up's the key, without stretching the finale too thin (just my honest, humble opinion).
And the going's good so far, and we don't want any spoiler either
The 6.6k views todate say something, no?

Kumsahamida for the encouragement.
I always tell myself .....

 

[AhMeng]

Part 9

I found myself in the "witness box", "cross-examined" by a wily lawyer. Claire was gunning me down with a barrage of leading questions. Challenging every damn thing I said, she demanded that I was only allowed to answer "Yes" or "No". It was repugnant Claire at her nasty best.

She was pressuring me to respond to what she wanted to hear, and would have no qualms in shooting down any reasonable or logical explanation I had. I was treated like a accused, struggling haplessly and helplessly, with a crafty "cross-examiner". If it ain't bad enough, she was playing "prosecutor" and the "judge" at the same time. It was appalling. The worst I have ever seen, and experienced of Claire. Unreasonable. Vexatious. Juvenile. Pettifogging at me with farcical venom.

"ENOUGH!" I exclaimed.

"YES! I am going out with my Shanghai business partner. And YES! We slept together in Shanghai and had the best fuck in my life." I lied in exasperation, giving back to her what she had wanted to hear.

"And she's not a fucking scheming SLUT like you!", I shouted at Claire, frustrated, losing my cool.

Claire fumed. She grabbed her cup of coffee, and instantaneously splashed over my face. Thank God the coffee wasn't piping hot. Nonetheless, I was fuming mad. If what had happened wasn't conduct unbefitting of a professional lawyer in Singapore, I certainly do not know what was.

"Just leave my apartment keys behind, and GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE! This is my apartment, not yours, so FUCK OFF" I exclaimed.

She yelled back, "You FUCKING two timer son of a bitch! I should never have let you FUCK me! MOTHERFUCKER!".

Claire stomped over to my favourite art piece in the living room, threw the whole plate of brioche, sausages, mushrooms, eggs, together with cutlery, at my cherished art piece. That piece of art was a legacy from my late AMDK grandfather's collection. I was boiling, utterly appalled. I grabbed both her arms, to prevent any further wrecking of my apartment. She broke free, swung her right hand, slapping my face with full force. Claire had gone berserk.

Picking up the fork from the ground, pointing at me, she threatened to stab me. I calmly told her to put that down, not to do anything stupid that she would regret for the rest of her legal career and life. The next thing I knew, the fork flew from her hands in my direction. It narrowly missed my head. Had she been a marksman at throwing forks, I would have been blinded by her. It was physical violence. Vile and obnoxious.

I did not retaliate. I had never hit a woman in my life, and I never will. It wasn't my style. If I am injured by her, so be it. Better me than her, I reckoned. She was after all a lady. I gave Claire a death stare, raised my hand, and pointed to the main door. "OUT, OUT, GET OUT OF MY SIGHT!".

She was equally stunned by her own uncontrollable emotional and physical outbursts. She grabbed her Chanel handbag from the sofa, walked towards me, slammed over my chest, and stomped off my apartment.

Peace at last. Thank the Lord she did not smash or burn down my apartment.

While cleaning the mess in the living room, I spotted an office lanyard with Claire's security access card. Next to it, a blister pack containing half green and creamy white capsules. They probably fell out of her Chanel handbag as she slammed it over me. I had a closer look at back of the blister pack.

It was "Prozac 20mg"!

I was stupefied. In my temporarily confused state of mind, my brain assiduously sought for answers. Why was Claire on Prozac? What the fuck was going on in her life? She was "recklessly" masturbating and surreptitiously performing live porn for me last night? How could she be in depression? Did her failed wedding with that AMDK cause her depression? Did Glocky and my hare brained scheme mess her up that badly?

I felt guilty.

Claire had always been a cheerful, buoyant and optimistic lady when we were together.

What tilted her?


(To be continued...)

 

[glockman]

Part 9

I found myself in the "witness box", "cross-examined" by a wily lawyer. Claire was gunning me down with a barrage of leading questions. Challenging every damn thing I said, she demanded that I was only allowed to answer "Yes" or "No". It was repugnant Claire at her nasty best.

She was pressuring me to respond to what she wanted to hear, and would have no qualms in shooting down any reasonable or logical explanation I had. I was treated like a accused, struggling haplessly and helplessly, with a crafty "cross-examiner". If it ain't bad enough, she was playing "prosecutor" and the "judge" at the same time. It was appalling. The worst I have ever seen, and experienced of Claire. Unreasonable. Vexatious. Juvenile. Pettifogging at me with farcical venom.

"ENOUGH!" I exclaimed.

"YES! I am going out with my Shanghai business partner. And YES! We slept together in Shanghai and had the best fuck in my life." I lied in exasperation, giving back to her what she had wanted to hear.

"And she's not a fucking scheming SLUT like you!", I shouted at Claire, frustrated, losing my cool.

Claire fumed. She grabbed her cup of coffee, and instantaneously splashed over my face. Thank God the coffee wasn't piping hot. Nonetheless, I was fuming mad. If what had happened wasn't conduct unbefitting of a professional lawyer in Singapore, I certainly do not know what was.

"Just leave my apartment keys behind, and GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE! This is my apartment, not yours, so FUCK OFF" I exclaimed.

She yelled back, "You FUCKING two timer son of a bitch! I should never have let you FUCK me! MOTHERFUCKER!".

Claire stomped over to my favourite art piece in the living room, threw the whole plate of brioche, sausages, mushrooms, eggs, together with cutlery, at my cherished art piece. That piece of art was a legacy from my late AMDK grandfather's collection. I was boiling, utterly appalled. I grabbed both her arms, to prevent any further wrecking of my apartment. She broke free, swung her right hand, slapping my face with full force. Claire had gone berserk.

Picking up the fork from the ground, pointing at me, she threatened to stab me. I calmly told her to put that down, not to do anything stupid that she would regret for the rest of her legal career and life. The next thing I knew, the fork flew from her hands in my direction. It narrowly missed my head. Had she been a marksman at throwing forks, I would have been blinded by her. It was physical violence. Vile and obnoxious.

I did not retaliate. I had never hit a woman in my life, and I never will. It wasn't my style. If I am injured by her, so be it. Better me than her, I reckoned. She was after all a lady. I gave Claire a death stare, raised my hand, and pointed to the main door. "OUT, OUT, GET OUT OF MY SIGHT!".

She was equally stunned by her own uncontrollable emotional and physical outbursts. She grabbed her Chanel handbag from the sofa, walked towards me, slammed over my chest, and stomped off my apartment.

Peace at last. Thank the Lord she did not smash or burn down my apartment.

While cleaning the mess in the living room, I spotted an office lanyard with Claire's security access card. Next to it, a blister pack containing half green and creamy white capsules. They probably fell out of her Chanel handbag as she slammed it over me. I had a closer look at back of the blister pack.

It was "Prozac 20mg"!

I was stupefied. In my temporarily confused state of mind, my brain assiduously sought for answers. Why was Claire on Prozac? What the fuck was going on in her life? She was "recklessly" masturbating and surreptitiously performing live porn for me last night? How could she be in depression? Did her failed wedding with that AMDK cause her depression? Did Glocky and my hare brained scheme mess her up that badly?

I felt guilty.

Claire had always been a cheerful, buoyant and optimistic lady when we were together.

What tilted her?


(To be continued...)

Another good reason to steer clear, she's nuts! Save yourself!

 

[AhMeng]

Another good reason to steer clear, she's nuts! Save yourself!

Roger.
Just completed the finale and epilogue in draft. Some minor editing to be done, and I am ready to send to print. Lol

 

[AhMeng]

Part 10 (Final)

I was done, cleaning up my apartment, post Claire's "cataclysmic" meltdown.

Her Prozac thingie was troubling my disconcerting mind. I called Claire's mobile several times, wanting to ask, and to know, why she was on depression medication. "Is it for real?" I wondered. I was sincerely concerned, and had already forgiven the earlier breakfast mess, that she had caused. After all, our relationship was good, while it lasted.

I told myself that no matter what happened, she would always remain my good friend. Recalling our past, we ought to be glad we had enjoyed the companionship, done our respective best, to keep our love going for one other, despite our individual flaws and carnal weaknesses. Forgiveness. If we really want to love, we must learn how to forgive first.

No answer from her mobile. I guessed she was still upset.

Should I just turn up at her place in Serangoon Gardens? After all, I needed to "reclaim" my apartment keys, which she had vehemently refused to surrender. I was confident that Claire's parents, would warmly welcome me into the house, and Claire would surely restrain her emotions, in the presence of her parents. I pondered, as I was driving home, after picking up, and sending the chiobu Shanghainese business partner to Grand Hyatt. I told her to refresh herself, have a relaxing massage at the in-house spa, which I had made reservation, and I would subsequently pick her up for dinner at 7pm.

Instead of heading towards my home direction via Tanglin, I took a U-turn detour, from Scotts Road, down PIE, CTE, AMK Ave 1, and arriving at Claire's Serangoon Gardens' semi detached front gate. I rang the door bell, and a cheerful Claire's dad greeted my surprising presence.

Her dad said Claire had some outstanding urgent legal matters to attend to, and had just left for office. I was puzzled. On a Saturday late afternoon? Urgent matters? I assured Claire's dad that everything was fine between Claire and myself, as he had a suspicious, worrisome look, wondering if we had a bad quarrel.

Driving and heading home, I was deep in thought and almost slammed my car into a van. Where the fuck is Claire? I was worried that she might do the unthinkable. " SUICIDE!". After all, she had concealed from everyone around her that she was on Prozac. My heart raced. I was spooked and my spine chilled. I was momentarily lost in the vivid recall of bloodcurdling suicide playbacks, that I watched on Youtube and social media.

And I certainly did not want to appear on 晚报, The New Paper, Stomp, HWZ EDMW or Sammyboy forums, as the man who sent Claire, to self annihilation. As with all suicides published in public domains, surely the sympathies would be with Claire, the chiobu young Singapore lawyer, as the poor victim, cheated by a man, more than a decade older than her. The "viral" public protagonists would definitely be more interested in "drama", rather the the real truth.

"God help me please, I need to find Claire..."

I sought divine intervention in desperation. For the very few times in my life, I opened my heart and prayed to God, begging nothing untoward would befall on Claire. And I promised the Lord, that if Claire was safe and sound, I would accede to her request to be back together. I would also make sure that she's off that Prozac shit, take good care of her, and do whatever I possibly can, so that she could lead a normal and menatlly healthier life.

Was she really in her office?

I realised that I had her lanyard containing her security pass. She couldn't be in office. I reasoned. Nonetheless, for the avoidance of doubt, which was already fragmenting my fragile mind, I reckoned I should just drive down to take a look. She could have gotten into office with the help of another workaholic colleague, on a Saturday afternoon, or maybe the security personnel.

Speeding down CTE, exiting at Outram and headed downtown towards Telok Ayer, I reached at her office in double quick time. Time was definitely of essence, when it's a matter of life and death of a lover.

As I had her security access card, I tap myself into the lift lobby, and arrived outside her office door. Peering through the all clear glass main door, there wasn't anyone in there. She had obviously lied to her dad, I guessed.

Strangely, as I was about to leave, my sixth sense was triggered. Maybe I should just tap myself inside and take a closer look, just in case. She could be in the restroom. Once I was in, I heard some noises in the pantry, a distance away. The lights were on. I was curious. I approached cautiously.

Gosh! I was utterly flabbergasted!

I saw Claire and her AMDK married boss (who is probably older than me), frenching away. Claire's fire engine red, strapless, body hugging tube blouse (which I like a hell lot for "ease of access") was partially down, exposing one of her boobs. Her left hand stroking and caressing his fly, and he was furiously kneading her exposed breast. They were so engrossed in their tryst, totally oblivious that anyone would walk into an empty Saturday office.

Stunned at what I had just witnessed, I retreated quietly, in a complete daze, slipped out of her office, unnoticed. At the ground floor lift lobby, I dumped Claire's lanyard and security access card in a bin.

Discomposed while driving home, the thoughts of Claire's earlier "betrayal", and now, the second "double-dealing" travesty, hurt a hell, hell, hell of a lot. Absolute Heartache. And what the fuck I was praying to God for her safety. The words "I AM A FUCKING STUPID IDIOT" plastered all over my pea brain.

Glocky had been spot on... Claire was a SLUT, WHORE, and MISTRESS of the highest order.

Even Aristippus of Cyrene, a follower of Socrates, would have been immensely proud of Claire's sordid practise of Cyrenaic Hedonism, as a way of living and life philosophy.


Epilogue

A couple of weeks later, I was shopping in Takashimaya for a Japanese shawl for my Shanghainese beau, for her autumn wear. From a distance, I spotted Claire. She looked every bit her usual vibrant self, carrying a couple of designer label shopping bags. She had probably, as she always would, enjoyed her branded retail therapy. She definitely did not look a wee bit "Prozac-ed" at all.

I walked over and said "Hi". She was surprised, but returned my greetings. I asked if she's free to have a coffee. She agreed. We chatted and updated each other, on our professional life, parents, friends and whatnot.

As we were about to part, Claire finally said she would return my apartment keys, the next time we meet. I told her it wasn't necessary.I had already engaged a locksmith to change all the locks. She broke out in cynical laughter, insinuated that I was, the usual, cautious and conservative hunkymonkey.

I asked a parting shot question, whether she was attached. She said she was, but refused to say more. It was pretty obvious to me, that she had become a mistress to her married AMDK boss. We parted, and had not contacted each other.

I hope she is off that Prozac shit, though it wasn't my problem anymore. I had done my best for her.

Life is short. Stay happy.

Disclaimer​

​

​

 

[Charlie99]

well written.
Good health and good luck.
Wish you many happy, healthy, Blessed years.