Choosing Her Lover

We lie together quietly, he beside me, hands behind his head on the pillow, staring up at the ceiling “Wow! That was quite a ride, Kirstie. Thank you.”

“Thank you. I enjoyed it too.”

“When you asked me to manhandle you, I didn’t expect to enjoy it as much as I did.”

“You’ve not done that before?”

“No, I haven’t. I’m more accustomed to women who want flowers and romantic dinners.” He props himself up on one elbow, looking down at me. “You’re a bit of a contradiction you know.”

“How do you mean?”

“You tell me that you want control of your life, that you want to be in charge, but in the bedroom, you enjoy being…. I don’t think mauled is too strong a word.”

Heat blushes up my face and he rolls his eyes. “Don’t be embarrassed. If that’s what gives you your kicks, I’m happy to help….” He hesitates. “Is that why some of your previous…. partners…. didn’t work out? They weren’t comfortable delivering what works for you?”

“Some of them, certainly, yes.”

“You want to meet up again?”

“I’d love to.”

“Good.” He looks pleased, really pleased. “I’m leaving in the morning for this trip, but I’ll be back in the area next weekend if you’d like….”

“Suits me.”

“Great. I’ll see you in a few days then. And next time, I’ll know what to expect. I’ll come prepared.”

*****

The day is much darker than on my last visit to the beach, overcast and with the breeze gusting cold. Rain threatens, and I decide not to walk too far from shelter.

I open up the car to let my gang bound out in a melee of joyous, barking enthusiasm, racing off ahead of me to go chase waves

the sea roiling, forbidding under the threatening

sheeting down over the sea a mile or so out, a grey haze that obliterates the view. The

back up the beach, racing for cover. The dogs, in a spirit of co-operation, weave themselves

few hundred yards short of the cafe, I hear the splatter of raindrops behind me, and a second or so later, the whoosh of water hammering on to the sand, before it catches up with

picking up, the chill bites through me. Dashing for the warmth of the beach bar, I recoil at the ‘No Dogs’ sign on the door, heading

wet and stinking for the

of the bar, fling open the door and then stand dripping on

and I unlace them, my numb fingers struggling with the knots. But

familiar voice. “Or hot chocolate perhaps?” It’s Ben, sitting

I say to the

a few coins on

hands around the cup, warming my fingers, but still shivering. My clothes are clammy with cold, clinging wetly

then? It almost got me too, but I must run faster than you.” He looks at me, brow furrowed. “Hey,

sunshine when I left home. Didn’t

the car. Back in a jiffy….” He strides out, car keys

me, “Get that on you. There’s a bathroom out at the back to

from a near stranger, but I’m in no position to argue. My jeans are still

of me inside. I’d not realised before how broad-shouldered Ben is, or for that matter, how much taller he

to the bar. He eyes me, mouth puckering. “Not exactly a fashion statement,

wrists, trying to free my hands to pick up my coffee mug. “I really appreciate it. Er…. do mind if I borrow it to go

we meet up for a meal?” He

sip my coffee,

wants a date

An actual date?

It’s been a while….

fine. I didn’t mean to offend you.” He looks down, then away, out of the window at the