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.

out in a melee of joyous, barking enthusiasm, racing off ahead of me to go chase waves

the sea roiling, forbidding under the threatening sky. I walk briskly, warming myself against

further from the bar than I intended. Turning, I see rain sheeting down over the sea a mile

is the cafe bar I left behind me. Calling the dogs in, I sprint back up the

it. A 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

wind 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 instead for the car where, as I lift the hatch, as one, the gang jumps inside, shaking rain,

to be wet and stinking for

I sprint once more to the beguiling warmth of the bar, fling open the door

boots before I go any further, and I unlace them, my numb fingers struggling with

perhaps?” It’s Ben, sitting at the bar, himself nursing

say to

says Ben, dropping a few

my fingers, but still shivering. My clothes are

He looks at me, brow furrowed.

sunshine when I left home. Didn’t think I needed anything

out, car keys jangling, returning a minute or so later,

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

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

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

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

up my coffee mug. “I really appreciate it. Er…. do mind if I borrow it

we

sip my coffee,

wants a

An actual date?

It’s been a while….

offend you.” He looks down, then away, out of the window at the lashing