And so finding myself in good time for my afternoon appointment I spent a few minutes in an anteroom, waiting for Madame C to appear. An elderly coffee table carried an array of disappointing pornography so I closed my eyes and shifted my focus inward. I quickly sensed that I wasn't here for my upper thighs or to reawaken my regressions, but simply to clutch any woman's arse and bury my head in her cunt. And so it was, exuding a nonchalent benevolence, I renegotiated with Madame C and she agreed to an extended oral, the price unchanged. I spent an hour working on the thighs, the clitoris and the vagina of madame C and, aside from straying to the nipples, ensured a concentration of purpose and, assuredly, as she writhed towards her several ends, I knew that I had summoned and wrangled and, finally, mastered the mess of all my guilts and regret over Helen. I heaved a deep breath and, as Madame C lay below me, eternally realised, I felt like the priest of her and all women and, in keeping, sought no reciprocation and felt, in fact, quite indifferent as Madame C laboured with my dick. I kissed her hand and put it away.