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.

let my gang bound out in a melee of joyous, barking enthusiasm, racing off ahead of

sea roiling, forbidding under

the sand, I realise that I have walked much further from the bar than I intended. Turning, I see rain sheeting down over the sea a mile or

beach, the only shelter is the cafe bar I left behind me. Calling the dogs in, I sprint back up the beach, racing for cover. The dogs, in a spirit of co-operation, weave themselves around my legs, forcing me to break stride,

I hear the splatter of raindrops behind me, and a second or so

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, slobber and

car’s going to be wet and stinking for

warmth of the bar, fling open the door and then

unlace them, my numb fingers struggling with the knots. But nothing stops the steady drip of water from my

familiar voice. “Or hot chocolate perhaps?” It’s Ben, sitting at the bar, himself nursing a

I say

Ben, dropping a few coins

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

but I must run faster than you.” He looks at me, brow furrowed. “Hey, are you okay? You really are drenched, aren’t you?

sunshine when I left home.

car. Back in a jiffy….” He strides out, car keys jangling, returning a minute or so later, his hair wet but

that on you. There’s

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

not realised before how broad-shouldered Ben is, or for that matter, how

eyes me, mouth puckering.

up past my wrists, trying to free my hands to pick up my coffee mug.

that you handed it back to me, perhaps when we meet up for a meal?” He cocks an

my

a

An actual date?

It’s been a while….

not interested, that’s fine. I didn’t mean to offend you.” He looks down, then away,