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Featured Story

“Rob the Engineer” by Annika Cleeve

One client I particularly recall doing my utmost to avoid was Rob the engineer. He was in no way offensive on the ears or the bed. But the amount of crap I had to come up with to stroke his ego, made me hate myself for hours thereafter.

Rob was a man who suffered severely from premature balding, mind you only on his head. Everywhere else he resembled Chewbacca the wookie. His balding affected his confidence in so many ways that he really just withdrew from social society. I would tell him that he needed to get out there and let his personality shine through. Filled his head with compliments on his physique and lovely long eyelashes. For every compliment I gave, he had three self-criticisms to counter act; ‘But I’m only five foot six, girls like tall men. I have one eyebrow which I don’t want to wax or my mates will rib me even further’. It really was hard work spending an hour with Rob. It is much easier to give a thirty minute head-job, than being ear-fucked for that time.

Thus, I was not surprised when I walked down my stairs to be greeted by Rob, wearing a dead animal on the top of his head. I wanted to just burst into laughter when I saw him, beaming from ear-lobe to earlobe with self-pride and confidence. ‘There is something different about you. Have you been working out? You look much broader across the shoulders Rob?’ He was stroking that dead animal with enthusiastic vanity; it had genuinely become his new best friend. But my job was to pretend I hadn’t noticed. In my mind he had always been handsome, hair or no hair.

Sex with this new animal became far more challenging. He was reluctant to allow me to be on top in case the possum became detached from the motion on the pillow. Interestingly this ugly-ass rug adorning his head, seemed to improve his performance, with his false confidence, he could last longer and stronger than ever before.

Once he was spent, I knew the truth would unfold. He finally announced, ‘Didn’t you notice, I bought a hair-piece?’

‘Oh my god, you did too, It looks so natural that I hadn’t even noticed. You look fantastic, but then again you always did.’ He then relayed how he had started excepting invitations from his friends to go out on the town; he now had the balls to approach women that he hadn’t since his teenage years. ‘The best part Eve is that not one woman noticed that it’s fake yet!’

Yeah, in your mind Rob! People are just polite and don’t point out that it looks as inconspicuous as Rudolf amongst the other reindeer. But those thoughts never escaped my lips, they just sat in my head, screaming to get out. Rob, warned me that it was only a matter of time before he would get a girl-friend, and then our little rendezvous would come to an end. All thanks to his hairy little friend.

I had my doubts but I was hopeful for him. In time he did start dating a few nice girls here and there, but I would not give the hair-piece all the credit, but rather his new found confidence. After some eighteen months with the rug, and no fiancé on his arm, he decided it was time to part ways with his false friend. He was by no means disappointed with his little possum, quite the contrary; he had decided to accept a post in Indonesia building a mine or some such thing. So he was to be out of the country for two years, and seeing as though the hair-piece required regular maintenance (take it for walks perhaps) he decided to let it go. To cast eyes on him without it was such an improvement, but he had seemed to shrink a few inches, now he didn’t seem to stand as tall, project his chest out like he had with his false friend. ‘Rob bald is the new black. Thank god you let that thing roam free. It was not you, but I didn’t have the heart to tell you.’ As always he started to blush and feel a little happier about himself.

It was almost a year later when he walked back in to see me, still bald but now genuinely happy with his lot. As usual Rob paid me for two hours, so I told my phone girl Tina to start taking the next booking in an hour but not to knock on my door unless we had a client waiting. Rob always bit off more than he could chew so to speak.

Upon re-entering the bedroom, I was thrown on the sheets and pummelled with sexual ferocity for a full three minutes. He was one horney boy. He relayed he was so scared of disease from the Indonesian sex-workers, he had not dared partake of their services. But he had not gone without affection. He had met a local girl that worked in his hotel as a waitress. He was smitten from first sight. He was now head over heels, boots and all in love and soon to be married.

The next forty five minutes was spent nodding while Rob rambled like a fourteen year old about his 21 year old fiancé who apparently spoke little to no English. I was genuinely happy for him but I was completely cynical of the relationship. How do people who don’t speak each other’s language fall in love? Lust I understood. I also knew Rob better than he knew himself in this regard. He was so eager to marry and multiply that he would propose to the first girl who showed him the least bit of affection and who could over look his bald head, hairy body and Napoleon stature.

As Rob described; both were so smitten with each other that he had proposed within three months of meeting her. However “due to her Christian beliefs she would not have any sex with him until after the wedding”. My bullshit radar was now on full alert, but once again, it is not my job to tell a forty plus year old man the bleeding fucking obvious. But I had to give it a crack, my conscience wouldn’t allow me to stay stum on this issue. “Rob, you do hear about a lot of young, poor, women from third world countries who fall for men only to find out years later the girls are simply gold diggers who are desperately after an escape for themselves and their families to a lucky country. Do you think that she could be playing you?” His facial reaction seethed of pure anger.

“Eve I am not a stupid man. I am an International business man. I think I can smell a scam or a poor investment a mile away.” I let the subject drop, but he was too annoyed to stay for another quick knee trembler, so he jumped in the shower and left in a huff.

It would be many years until I saw Rob again, and the Rob that returned was a shell of his former self. He had been rolled! He was now going through a divorce, he had a young baby and had moved out to the affordable suburbs after the forced sale of his inner city house. His confidence was shattered, and his faith in people in general had dissipated. As he puts it ‘everyone but him could see where his future was going, but failed to warn him.’ I asked him if he would have listened had his friends spoken up. In no uncertain terms he stated; “Of course I would have, as a business man and an engineer, my job is to assess all objective data before making any decision”. His bald head was now the least of his worries, his very intelligence had been bought into question and found wanting. He had gone into the metaphoric ring with an uneducated twenty-one year old, and had come out second best. I felt so sorry for Rob, he was desperate for genuine love and affection – as long as it came from a girl that could be on the cover of any magazine. Thus my sympathy only ran so far but his cash was always welcome.

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