Bringing it Home
I am a preacher’s kid, and in middle school I began attending out of town church events. Dances, camps, retreats, events. At my first church camp, I danced with a girl at the last night dance. She was way above my pay grade and a seventh grader to boot. She took me aside and said, “Do you want to see my tattoo?” My mind began to whir. What would it be? WHERE would it be? She dropped the corner of her cutoff jeans and revealed a tiny flower. I could just see below her panty line, just enough to be able to concoct future fantasies. As I grew older, I began to have girlfriends at these events. At home, I was unpopular and self-conscious. In the Presbyterian world, I was a hot commodity. I was confident and funny and perhaps even a little bit suave.
I desired to bring this home with me. I went to the school dances and took advantage of the fact that the other boys wouldn’t dance and I would. Eventually, I did start getting the girls. I wasn’t terribly popular, but girls are girls.
This was a good thing for me, to have some out-of-town practice where nobody knew that I was a total nerd, and that’s what was happening with my business trips. At first, out-of-town Daniel stayed out of town, but I was slowly developing a persona; a different look, a difference behavior. When I styled my hair differently, one young lady at work said, “Alright! I like party Daniel!” It became a thing. When the mood would hit me, and the hair would spike and twist and get messy.
At first, on home turf where I was the straight-laced nice guy, I was behaving appropriately with women. Then came Julie. Julie was a redheaded devil of a woman at work. I first noticed her at a Christmas party. She was wearing a dress cut so low that I could practically see her belly button. I thought to myself, “Hmmm, I guess this is her thing; showing up slutty to the Christmas party.” She flirted with the boss who complimented her on “this year’s dress” and with anyone else she pleased. My predilections at home were still dormant at the time of the party, but they would catch up soon enough.
One day, I needed some office supplies and Julie was in charge of them, so I came to her cubicle. She was on a step stool digging through a file cabinet when I entered her cube.
“Hey Julie, I’m looking for a steno notebook, can you point me in the right direction?”
She turned my way and I found myself face to face with her significant cleavage. Hell, it wasn’t even cleavage, it was sixty percent of her breasts. She wasn’t wearing a bra. I lingered there and then she looked down at her own breasts and looked me right in the eyes smiled, and winked. I knew that she had wanted me to see, but I kept cool and left with my steno.
Meanwhile, I was writing a novel on company time. I’d engaged a cute girl from the editing staff to edit my pages which she did with enthusiasm. I was writing a chapter a week at my desk. Then my motivation plummeted and I never wrote another word. 50,000 words. A local professional novelist read it and wrote this to me:
You have talent! You are a very good writer. Daniel I just finished reading through chapter 4 of your novel and I am jealous. To think this is your first novel! Your characters are so alive, so engrossing. The emotions are very powerful. When he starts washing his hands instead of making love to her I am with her on that
bed, weeping, but I am also with him, powerless, obsessed, caught in
something he doesn’t understand. You are a master!
I don’t often brag on other writers, and I never lie about writing. It’s good. It’s real good. This isn’t kindergarten work, you’re writing at a professional level and have earned my respect. Your writing is potent and you have a good story with great
characters going. Your writing is very strong, very dynamic. I find it hard to believe this is your first project.
I had had an inspiration on the way home from work; an idea that I believed would change the world; bring peace to the nations. So, I read Stephen King’s book “On Writing” and just began writing. When I look back at the unfinished work, I still can’t believe that I wrote it. I’ve rarely written better. I wrote it all in a feverish 6 week period. And that’s how I did every project: in 6 week intervals.
I eventually became aware of my productive “cycles” and learned how to use them to my advantage. I would spend weeks or months accomplishing nothing at work, and then I would build whole software systems during my productive cycle. My wife recalls that in 1998, way before any of this she wrote in her journal, “Look out, Daniel is having another one of his cycles”. My diagnosis didn’t become clear until 2011.
Making a Move
Eventually, I was ready to make a little bit of a move on Julie. I shot her a message on the company message system, which is monitored. We started chatting and it got more and more personal, and then sexual. When no one was watching, we were physical with each other in small ways.
One slow afternoon right before Christmas, I caught her from behind in the supply area. She was wearing black leggings. I pulled her backside up to me and reached around her to grab her between the legs. I could feel her get soft and warm through her clothes. She moaned and pressed back against me, but only for a moment. She turned around and wagged her finger at me playfully. I wanted more. I wanted so much more, but she had her parameters.
We kissed on occasion. I woo’d her with dirty talk which I was getting pretty good at with my new found writing abilities. She told me several times that she went to the women’s room and get off to my words. Once, she sent me a pic of her greatly augmented boobs. I felt special in a way. The other guys were flirting, but she was putting out for me. We never consummated our relationship. Her condition was that my wife needed to be on board and we needed to have a foursome with her and her husband.
As full mania approached, so did the climax of our office flirtation. We were at a happy hour together after work. She was making eyes and playing footsy with me, so I excused myself to go to the men’s room. When I came out, she was there in the hall waiting for me. We were hidden from the rest of our coworkers. I grabbed her hard and pulled her to me and into an equally hard kiss. She grinded her pelvis into mine and kissed me back passionately and with a great moan. She would have let me take her fully in the men’s room, but I didn’t have the guts to do it in broad daylight. I wasn’t that crazy, yet.
By then, I was as fit as I’d ever been. As handsome as I’d ever been. And women were taking notice. Katie in accounting, who had discovered my porn rental on a business trip became very friendly with me. During the Christmas season, one year, she said if I got her some mistletoe toe, she might kiss me. I walked all over the campus looking for some in the trees. I knocked some down with a branch. Before I entered her office, I attached it to my belt buckle in a very suggestive way.
She laughed hard, and although I didn’t get a kiss because she was married, our flirtation escalated. We began exchanging messages and sharing our sexual fantasies. I asked her what she would do if we were on a business trip together. She said she would come to my room, but get herself off in the hallway before knocking on the door to get warmed up for me. Again, all of this was on the company messaging, and I was glad later.
Then she sent me pictures of herself half naked, washing a Ford Mustang. She had taken them as a gift for her husband. I felt that I was in then. I fantasized about her constantly. I beat off to her in the private handicap bathroom at work regularly. There was something so enticing about her tiny ass that I couldn’t resist the pursuit.
But one day, I blew it. At the end of work, I wrote a note and put it on her windshield. It said, “Girl, if you would let me, I would fuck the SHIT out of you.”
She freaked out. I had crossed a line. She was furious. She accused me of sexual harassment, and our relationship was over. She asked me to delete the photos, but I didn’t. I warned her that I had pictures and saved messages to prove that it was consensual. She never forgave me even when I began treatment.
I had sullied my workplace with my out-of-town behavior. I was starting to get a reputation of being wolfish but at the same time being a top-notch worker because in my six week spurts, I performed miracles. My grandiosity would quickly turn into results. I counter-proposed a multi million dollar project which beat out Oracle and Microsoft, and I delivered most of it in tremendous spurts of coding until I left the job entirely. After I left, they never finished it.
I developed a crush on the cute editor of my book. She was 22 or so, an art major and cute and chubby which I liked a lot. My attraction to her began when a Bengali friend of mine took her to bed. He said that in the morning she served him breakfast in bed with nothing on but thong underwear. I knew then that she was bold and comfortable with her body, and that changed the way I looked at her from then on.
I befriended her and I worked on it. By now I was working on five or six women, seducing them one little bit at a time. I imagined myself a fisherman with many lines out just waiting for a tug. When I thought the time was right with the editor, I tugged on that line, and I lost her.
I was online at home, and I messaged her for a friendly chat. I didn’t really have a plan, but when things got friendly enough, I told her how I felt. I don’t remember exactly what I said, but I let her know that I was attracted to her. That abruptly ended the conversation, and our friendship. I didn’t care, though. I took my shot and missed. As far as I was concerned it was a no harm no foul situation. I had plenty of friends after all. By now, I was acting as if no consequence could reach me. I did whatever I wanted to do. I took risks for sex. I alienated long term friends with my propositions.
Throughout this period I was misbehaving on trips as I’ve described. I never slept with anyone from work, but they were more than office flirtations. Sex is in the mind, and I shared sexual experiences with Julie and Katie enough for any spouse to be terribly hurt. And I did not care one little but, because I believed my wife was a total bitch and I should do whatever I wanted. I was simply liberating my self from bondage.