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Adam sat in silence on the park bench, idly watching the ducks swim aimlessly around in circles on the surface of the muddy boating lake. It was quite warm for February, and the sun was shining with such intensity that he was forced to screw up his eyes against the glare which was reflected off the water.

What was he going to do? How could he possibly not know who he was or where he came from? If he knew what amnesia was (and he recognized the word as soon as the doctor used it) how could he not know anything about himself? It seemed so strange… to know things you were taught in school, mathematical formulae and historical facts and figures, that Paris was the capital of France and that Gordon Brown was the Prime Minister, and yet not know your own name or even if your parents were alive or dead!

“I’m sorry I can’t say something which sounds more hopeful,” the doctor had said, less than an hour ago as Adam had been discharged from the Infirmary. “I can understand how lost you must feel, but rest assured that most amnesiacs do recover some of their memory if not all of it.”

Adam smiled wryly. “And some never get their memory back at all, correct?”

The doctor nodded. “I’m afraid so, but the percentage is very small. Usually their relatives identify them from the newspapers or through the police, and once the patient is back in their home environment little day-to-day things keep jogging their memory.”

Adam wasn’t encouraged. He’d been in the hospital for over a month, ever since the police had found him, dazed and bloody from a head wound, wandering through the streets late one night. The media had latched onto his case, and for several consecutive days his face had been on more newspaper covers than Princess Diana’s.

But nothing had come of it. No one came forward to claim him, the police drew a complete blank, and, mysteriously, he had no form of identification on him.

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For as far back as I can remember I have had an interest, you could say an obsession, with beautiful women who were well-built and physically strong. As the years have gone by I guess I have become more “hardcore” in this interest. In fact it is a sexual turn on for me to think about a beautiful woman beating me in physical tests of strength such as arm wrestling and wrestling. I have thought about boxing as well, but I am afraid of black eyes, etc. At any rate, this story is about how I was introduced to a club of women who are all beautiful, well-built and physically strong.

I had been writing to Cat – a real live woman, believe me, for some time when circumstances made it possible for me to travel and spend several days in the area in which she lived. Cat had told me that she loved to wrestle and dominate her ‘victims’ physically before she took them apart sexually and that she had some female friends who did the same thing. I was so excited that I could think of nothing else. I arrived and contacted Cat to tell her the hotel where I was staying. She said, ” I’m so glad you are here. I have told the other girls about you and they can’t wait to see us wrestle. It’s really amazing, but I don’t remember ever being as strong as I am now. You get unpacked and settled in and then a few of us will come over to your room and we’ll have a little warm up contest to see who pays for dinner tonight. I hope you brought enough cash ’cause there will be five of us going out for a big steak dinner on you.” I hung the phone up and got all my things unpacked. It wasn’t long before I heard a knock on the door and I could feel the excitement as I opened the door.

Standing there were four big, beautiful women. I knew at this point that I would be no match for any of them. They were all dressed in tight sweaters, short skirts and high heels. It seemed to me that their legs were a mile long. They greeted me with big smiles and as each one shook my hand and introduced themselves they each gave my hand a sample of their strength. Cat said, ” We are starving so we’ll make this quick. Come over here and kneel down in front of me and let me give you a sample of my scissors hold. We could wrestle and the result would be the same; this way we don’t get all messed up before dinner. If you can last for 30 seconds without submitting then we’ll buy you dinner. ” I knelt down and Cat almost gently placed my head between her long legs. My throat was resting on her crotch and I was looking up into her smiling face. The girls counted to three and then Cat winked and squeezed.

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I was happy, a little excited even, to provide a night of lodging to Rod, the fellow from the home office, upstate. We had been working together on the new facility design for months. He was gorgeous and I enjoyed the few opportunities I had to be with him outside of the office — lunches and on one occasion a late-night cocktail at my apartment.

Not wanting to put him off or give him the wrong idea, I offered to sleep on my couch. Rod laughed looking at the loveseat that I called a couch. Not necessary, he said.

I didn’t dare assume anything from his casual observation that my king size bed looked like it could easily accomodate more than just the two of us. I crashed early, freeing the bathroom for my guest and creating what privacy I could by my sleep.

I lay quietly for over an hour before I heard him snap off the t.v. and come in to the bedroom. He stood in the doorway, framed from behind by the light in the bathroom and gently illuminated from the front by the lamp near my closet. I feigned sleep, watching him closely through thin, veiled slits.

I don’t know if I was hoping to see him undress, maybe, yes, that was a hope but one that I wouldn’t let get too high. He peeled off his slacks, shrugged out of his shirt and stepped out of his sleek briefs. My throat tightened. God, he looked terrific.

He pulled a dacron night shirt over his head adjusting it around his hips. After a few moments in the bathroom the light went out and he padded across the room. I felt the bed adjust itself as he lowered himself gently, even cautiously, into bed. It was clear he though I was asleep. Minutes passed, maybe an hour, I couldn’t tell. His breathing slowed, went deep and more quiet. Eventually I drifted off, too, full of notions and feelings that I refused to try and articulate for fear of what I might find.

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Debi and I had been married less then a year. As with many young couples there was never enough money to last the week. Debi decided to look for a job. Looking through the employment section of the paper was rather depressing. Nothing much to be had. The exception was the need for young good looking women to work in massage parlors. Debi laughed and said maybe she should try it. I was surprised to feel my dick jump with excitement at the thought. She was surprised by my reaction and after some discussion she agreed to apply at one not far from our house the next morning. We fucked and sucked the night away anticipating the next day. Debi got up early and picked out a sexy outfit of hot pants and a halter top. She looked great. Debi was 5′ 7″ (118 lb.), 36/23/35, with long blond hair. I wished her luck and kissed her good-bye a little after 10 that morning. The phone rang at 10:35.

Debi’s had talked with the owner and would be working on a trial basis pending a complete interview with the manager later that afternoon. Until that interview she would work with another girl learning how things worked. The girl who was giving Debi the rundown on how things worked was named Tina. Tina told Debi that no special skills were required and explain how she should massage a customer. Getting it perfect was not important as most customers were really not there for a massage. Tina then explained that most men wanted what she referred to as extras. Sexual favors for a tip. What extras Debi did and what she charged for them was up to her with a few exceptions. She was told not to fuck any walk-in customers. Hand jobs and blow jobs were what must guys wanted and they were allowed. Tina told Debi she would learn more during her interview with Tom, the manager. Tina also took Debi on a tour of the place. After entering the front door there was a counter and a few chairs. Behind the counter was a lobby area with a couch and some lounge chairs. This is were the girls sat while waiting for a customer. To the back side of this room was a hallway which was separated by another door halfway towards the back. The first hallway had two doors on either side.

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