divorcedlondon

This week, it seems like all I have is news on other people that I know.

Some of it is unexpected, some is surprising; other news I have is quite frankly worrying.

Some of it is good news; some of it is not.

The biggest headline this week is also the most unexpected; my best mate, “Bob” got married!

I can’t believe it myself; I thought he would never re-marry! “Gobsmacked” doesn’t even begin to describe my reaction!

He and his new wife, that rich bird from Chelsea, had a quickie ceremony in Paris last week. “Bob” says it was a spur of the moment decision and he didn’t have time to tell anyone beforehand, or I would have been his best man, again.

I still can’t believe it. The last time I saw “Bob”, only a couple of weeks ago, he gave me the impression that he was moving away from this women.

I’ve met her, she’s a bit posh and snooty, but I guess “Bob” knows what he’s doing. If he’s happy, then I’m happy for him.

“Bob” has moved into her place in Chelsea already, which means he’s giving up his flat here in my building but he’s not selling it; he wants to keep it and rent it out.

He asked me if I wanted to move into his flat when my lease is up, but I don’t. His flat doesn’t have a Jacuzzi and the views are not as nice, so I’ll stay where I am.

I am happy for “Bob”, but I can’t say I’m not disappointed that he’s leaving the neighbourhood. It was fun being mad bachelors on the town together, but I know that things change.

Life is change; change is life.

I’ve told “Bob” that I want to take him out to celebrate, like a belated stag-do and I’ve already suggested our favourite lapdancing club.

“Bob” declined, because he is trying to keep his nose clean, but I’m certain with a little gentle arm-twisting, I’ll get him to join me!

Don’t worry; I shan’t be following his example. The way I feel right now, I never want to get married again.

I’d have to be crazy to want to fall into that trap a second time and one thing I can assure you that I am not; is crazy.

Now for my shocking news; my mate Hans from my office has disappeared. Perhaps that’s an over dramatisation, but he really has vanished.

When I came into work this week, he wasn’t at his post, which is normally the main reception of my building where he’s been working as a security guard, longer than I’ve been there.

I didn’t think much of his absence at first, but I mentioned in passing to another guard; that I hadn’t seen him all this week and they told me he quit, unexpectedly, without any notice.

It’s very strange.

Hans and I became friends not long after I started; he’s from South Africa, but was working in London to earn better money than he could make back home.

We went out for drinks a couple of times, including one famous night at the lapdancing club. I even spent some time coaching him so he could pull the girl who worked on the coffee cart in reception.

She quit her job too, right after their big date.

Hans hasn’t been himself since then; he’s been quiet and withdrawn. I did try to coax out of him what was wrong, but he remained silent.

As soon as I found out Hans quit, I tried phoning his mobile several times. It went straight to voice mail on each attempt.

As I was a bit concerned, I decided to visit his bedsit in Shoreditch to see how he was and I got my second shock; he wasn’t there either.

I spoke to someone else in the house and they said he left at the weekend and didn’t provide a forwarding address; but they thought he returned to South Africa.

This guy didn’t know why, but he said someone else in the house said the police had been there looking for Hans.

The police? What would the Met want with Hans?

I still don’t know don’t know the answer to that one. It’s all a big mystery! He was a decent guy; I just hope he is OK.

I saw Elvis last week to score some more charlie, as I’m really going through the stuff quickly lately.

I’ve even been having the odd line with my morning coffee recently, just to give me a bit of a boost at the start of my day. Nothing seems to cut through a bad hangover like a bit of cocaine; it clears the fog from my head quickly and effectively.

I love the stuff so much; it’s not funny! I find myself thinking about it all the time, even at work, so I’ve been doing it there too.

It mixes so well with alcohol, I can drink for England if I’ve got a bit of coke to go with it!

I finally put “Wheeler” the office dealer in touch with Elvis; Elvis was happy for me to make the introduction.

I did tell Elvis that “Wheeler” was just a kid and not to give him a hard time, which I guess is about all I can do. I’ve also told “Wheeler” to treat Elvis with a lot of respect. It’s out of my hands now, so I hope they get on and there’s never any trouble. I don’t want that on my conscience!

“Wheeler” was thrilled; after they met up, he had nothing but praise for Elvis and his “product”.

I thought “product” was an interesting choice of words and it got me thinking, cocaine is a product, it just happens to be illegal right now. It’s manufactured and marketed just like any other “product”; those involved in the distribution are like any other business. They want the best wholesale prices, reasonable mark-ups and a faithful client base.

As a salesman at heart, I certainly can appreciate that!

Elvis visited me last Friday night; he came to the flat to drop off my purchase. It was the usual; pay for six grams, receive seven. It’s a real bargain and worth the three hundred quid I pay for it.

Elvis wanted to know what I thought of Nikolina, the Bulgarian whore he sent to see me a couple of weeks ago.

I told him how much I enjoyed her and in truth, I did. She was hot, she was horny and she was enthusiastic; what was not to like?

Elvis’s follow-up question was a simple one; why haven’t I asked him “for another one of his Bulgarian whores?”

The answer was simple; I haven’t had the time.

I told him I would like to see another one, this Saturday night. He told me I’d have to pay this time.

That’s not a problem; I don’t mind paying for it. Nikolina was a freebie and I don’t get many of them with prossies, do I?

He said he had another girl in mind for me this Saturday, younger, prettier and sexier. It sounds good to me already!

I’ve booked a two-hour session for the reasonable price of two hundred quid, which is what I would expect to pay for a hot eastern European escort from my whore website, so it’s fine.

I decided to give the pre-orgasmic women one last go and I saw three of them last week, which I know contradicts my “two per week” rule, but fuck it, rules are made to be broken!

I was far more cautious and deliberate in my choice of women to “help” this time and the additional effort did pay off.

Instead of working through all the email replies to my advert in chronological order as I’ve been doing, I looked for the replies that “felt right” to me.

What’s the point of having the best discreet judgement on the planet if I don’t use it and trust it when I need to?

I know it’s probably a bit dull to keep explaining what I get up to with the pre-orgasmic women, so I’ll spare you the full details and just stick to the statistics.

Of three women I met, one of the paid me and I kept it, two of them received refunds and all three of them had countless screamingly intense orgasms.

When you’re good at something, when you have a natural talent, it should be encouraged. I have a talent, a knack, an inherent skill for licking clits and making women cum.

Think of it as my “raison d'être”; I certainly do.

I might even have a follow-up session with one of them, as she’s emailed seeking a return engagement.

It would be cruel to deny her what she wants; what she needs: The full discreetlondon treatment, again and again!

I phoned my solicitor for some legal advice last week, which I’ve since followed.

I brought him up to speed on the paternity saga and he suggested I write to my soon-to-be-ex, stating my position, so there are no doubts or questions. Along with my letter, I enclosed a photocopy of the DNA test results.

Basically, I told her that as I was not her child’s father, my responsibilities, financial or otherwise were now nil.

Further to that, I’ve cancelled my standing order with my bank. More importantly, I’ve advised my ex-wife that if she doesn’t apply for the “decree absolute” within the next fortnight, I would instruct my solicitor to initiate the second, final phase of the divorce.

I wish someone had told me this was an option months ago; I thought only she could do it!

I want this marriage ended once and for all. I want nothing more to do with her. I want my unconditional freedom!

So far, I haven’t had any response back from her; not a peep, but it’s only been a few days.

I meant what I said, if she doesn’t file for the final paperwork, I will.

I’ve had enough!

The most disturbing thing to happen in the last week is something I still haven’t got my head around. It concerns my personal assistant, Terry.

I’m really not sure what to do about it.

Terry was my predecessor’s PA and I inherited him when I took the job, so he wasn’t my choice.

That said, he’s very good at keeping things moving and sometimes I think he runs the department on a day-to-day basis far more than I do.

I depend on him for so much in the office; I don’t know what I’m going to do without him, if I sack him, which is what I very well may do. I don’t think I have a choice.

Allow me to explain; a few weeks ago, I suggested that we do some free work for an AIDS charity and he was very excited by this. He practically beamed at me.

Then, a couple of weeks ago, at his birthday lunch, he said something to me that made me think his interest in me was more than professional and that perhaps he had the wrong idea about me.

Terry’s very obviously gay and I’m very obviously not and that’s normally not an issue for me. After what happened last week, I think I have a big and serious problem with him.

I had a long, liquid lunch one day last week and I was also a bit coked up; it’s a combination that leaves me pissing frequently. I had to make several visits to the men’s room that afternoon.

During one of these trips to the loo, my last trip, while pissing into a urinal, Terry came in and stepped up to the one adjacent to me.

And then, it happened. I caught him staring at my cock; really taking a long look at my package. And what’s worse is when I caught him doing this, he looked up and grinned at me; leered really.

It made me feel really uncomfortable, perhaps a little violated as well.

It was a very awkward moment. I didn’t use the men’s room again on my floor that day and have avoided it as much as possible ever since. I don’t want a repeat of this.

What I haven’t done is confront Terry and I don’t know if I even will.

What would I say? “I don’t mind a quick glance at my todger matie, but staring and drooling over it is only going to get you a punch in the face!”

I don’t think so.

I tried to convince myself that I imagined it all, that I’m being paranoid or oversensitive because of his sexual orientation, but I’m not.

I’m certain that this really happened and my gay personal assistant has a crush on me! I can’t think of a worse situation to be in.

I think I’ve already made up my mind; I know what I need to do.

I’m going to have to let him go.

I’ve got a meeting with the Human Resources manager tomorrow to discuss the situation. I’m hoping I can sack Terry without too much hassle and then the real fun begins, finding his replacement!

I can promise you right now, my next secretary will not be a man; gay or otherwise. I’m going to hire the hottest, easiest, most qualified woman I can find!

Speaking of hot women in my office, I’ve rescheduled my trip to B’rum with “Jenny” for next week and I am really looking forward to it.

All this anticipation and waiting is making me want her all that much more, which I didn’t think was possible.

She’s offered to make the travel arrangements and from the sly wink she gave me, I have a feeling she’s booked us a suite to share, rather than two separate rooms. It’s probably wishful thinking.

I might have even suggested this to her.

Ok, I did suggest it, in a semi-joking, semi-serious sort of way, but the final decision will be down to “Jenny”. I’m hoping she’ll take the hint!

Perhaps I should have jumped on “Jenny” back when I had the chance, while she was competing with “Ginny” for that promotion. It’s easy to second-guess yourself, but I have to stand by my decision.

I had another chance when we were in Manchester a month or so ago, but “Jenny” ended up shagging our client instead.

Next week, I’ve just got to have her! I can’t leave it to chance this time!

All the news from this point is good; very good actually.

I’ve been corresponding with one of my many fans recently and she sounds so hot and so sexy that I’m considering breaking my longstanding rule of not meeting women who contact me via this blog!

She’s also in London, twenty-five years old and I get a real sense that she understands me better than any woman I’ve ever known.

I guess she does know me better than most women, because she is such a dedicated follower of my blog! She seems to be able to quote my writing back to me better than I can quote it myself!

She understands my sexual needs and all my wicked desires completely.

She is bisexual herself, so she would be happy to share me and be shared with other women. She’s even interested in sharing whores with me!

She also says she likes a bit of charlie and she says she loves the idea of me taking a double dose of Erectalis for the sole purpose of endlessly rodgering her senseless!

She sounds like she’s really my kind of gal!

I’m very tempted to arrange to see her this weekend.

At this point, I don’t know if I can stop myself!

The other thing about her I like is that I am convinced she is not a reporter trying to identify me.

I’m always suspicious when women contact me after reading my blog, but with good reason. Others have tried to fool me in the past, but this time I’m fairly certain she is as genuine as she seems.

Again, I need to trust my discreet intuition; and that little light in my head is blinking bright green for GO!

The other thing about her that has me enamoured is how wonderful she’s been throughout my ordeal with the paternity of my wife’s daughter. It’s really been a blessing for me.

It also didn’t hurt that she’s sent me lots of photos of herself that she’s taken especially for me. I like the personal touch; and I like it in person even more!

I’ve had other fans taken an interest in my life, but when they realise they can’t ever meet me, they fade away. It’s different, with this new one.

Mainly, I think we are both on the same wavelength; we see things in a similar light. If we do meet, and the more I think about it, the more I know that we will; we are just going to click.

She’s been asking me to ring her at home and already sent me her number. I think I’m going to phone her this evening, after work when I get home.

This one could be very good!

But that’s not even the best news, which I’ve saved for last.

It’s actually the most amazing news that I could possibly hope for and it’s something I’ve wanted for a very long time.

Even stranger is you will never guess who it came from!

Doug!

Yes, Doug!

Maybe he’s not the media twat I was starting to believe he was.

Ok, maybe he is, but he’s actually managed to sort something out for my first blog!

“discreetlondon: the secret internet diary of an unfaithful husband” is going to be available in print very soon and I expect all of you to order your own copy when it’s published! I’m counting on it!

It seems like it’s taken forever to get to this point, but I’ve finally made it. Quite frankly, it’s about bloody time!

Doug is hoping that it will be available around the first of May and as soon as it is, I’ll post the details here.

I’m going to post them everywhere!

If it all comes together as outlined, you should even be able to order it from Amazon, which is “amazonazing!”

It may seem strange to you that I am so excited about my first blog being turned into a book, since my real name won’t actually appear anywhere on the cover, but to me it doesn’t matter. I actually don’t care about having my real name on it. I’ll know that I am going to be a published author and that’s what really counts.

I had just about given up on Doug doing anything for me and lo and behold, he pulls this miracle out of thin air and so quickly too.

Actually I have known about this for possibility for a couple of weeks, but didn’t want to mention it here on the blog until it was a certainty.

At this point, the publication of the book is definite and if everything stays on schedule, the release date shouldn’t change either.

Within a fortnight, I should see the first test printing and once I approve it, we should be on target for the first of May.

Doug and I have agreed a split of the profits and he was quite reasonable in the end over his share. He still thinks the real market for my story is a television series, but that’s because his experience is mainly in that medium.

He also says that’s where the real money is, but if that were true, wouldn’t Doug dress better? Whenever I see him, he always looks a bit like a tramp.

I know what I’ll do; I’ll buy him a sharp suite with my first royalty cheque. That is, if there is a first royalty cheque!

The one thing that may disappoint you all is that I won’t be making any public appearances in your local bookshops.

I’m sorry, but how could I possibly sign autographs in public while remaining anonymous?

The short answer is; I can’t.

There won’t even be a photo of me on the back cover, even though it was suggested. We’ve settled on a silhouette of me instead.

If anyone out there thinks I’m ever going to be identified as the author of this blog, you must be even crazier than Nharls Berkley!

I’m going to remain anonymous in perpetuity and that means forever!