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.

to let my gang bound out in

is much stronger today, the sea roiling, forbidding under the threatening

the sea a

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

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 to the sand, before

beach bar, I recoil at the ‘No Dogs’ sign on the door, heading instead for the car where, as I lift the hatch,

going to be wet

once more to the beguiling warmth of the bar, fling open the door and then

I go any further, and I unlace them, my numb fingers struggling with the knots. But nothing stops the steady drip of water from my

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

I say

a few coins

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

you, then? It almost got me too, but I must run faster than you.” He looks at me, brow furrowed. “Hey, are you okay? You really are drenched, aren’t you? Don’t you have any

bright sunshine when I

clean pullover in the car. Back in a jiffy….” He strides out, car keys jangling, returning a minute or so later,

on you. There’s a bathroom out at the back

are still sopping, but with the warm jersey, at least my

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

bit self-consciously, I return to the bar. He eyes me, mouth puckering. “Not exactly a fashion statement,

very much. I owe you one.” I say, pushing the sleeves up past my wrists, trying to free my hands to pick up my coffee mug. “I really appreciate it. Er…. do

we meet

my

wants a

An actual date?

It’s been a while….

I didn’t mean to offend you.” He looks down,