First of all, thanks for all the kind wishes with regard to the explosion in Hemel Hempstead. We’re not close enough to have been in any danger, but there’s something slightly weird in being pretty adjacent to an event that achieves global news coverage… and the skies were very dark indeed. Anyway, we’re all fine, and the wind seems to have shifted today because the plume is heading off in the other direction.
Right then. Saturday night… all started normally enough, other than the fact that BR parked her car at my house as it was en route to the restaurant that we were eating at. I had a bit of a chuckle at her parking as I stood at the door (so shoot me!) and then she came in and we had a glass of wine and talked for a while. She was… nice, but I knew immediately this wasn’t going to be a romance. But I thought it had potential to be a fun evening, and that was fine.
We left for the restaurant about half an hour later, and had a great meal. She was very tactile (my hands, arms and legs all got a bit of a feel at the table) and she kept making sexy eyes at me over dinner. At one point I burst out laughing and asked what “that look” meant, and she just grinned back at me. She was certainly funny, though, and we had a really good time. I drove us back to mine, asked her if she wanted a quick coffee, and assumed she’d be gone within the hour. Honestly.
The thing is, as we were sitting having a drink on the sofa, albeit slightly more alcoholic than coffee, her hand kept moving between her legs, and all the while her pupils were getting bigger and bigger. The conversation became a little more… personal, and then she just stopped talking and stared at me, her hand resting where it had been wandering moments before. “Looking at me like that isn’t going to get you anywhere…what is it you want from me?” I asked her.
“I just want to live for the moment. Fuck me” she said, without batting an eyelid. And we decided there and then that that’s all it was going to be. Two adults, no ties, and an immediacy about the need we felt. That was around midnight, and she left some time after 4.30 having had what she claimed to be the fuck of her life (I bet she say’s that to all the boys). I must have fallen asleep around 5, slept through three large explosions that woke up entire families 40-50 miles away, and then got up thinking it was just another Sunday.
And here’s the thing. I’m not stupid, and I know what and who I am. I’m no Greek god; I’m just a normal looking guy, a bit shorter than average, who happens to be able to engage with women, on all levels, more easily than most guys seem to do. But every time I take someone out, they just want to drag me into bed for some marathon shagging session, and I genuinely don’t understand what it’s all about. If I did know, I’d try to do something to stop it, because it’s slightly weird and I don’t seem to put up enough resistance.
Oh well. It could be worse, of course. At least it’s women.