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.

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

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

over the sea a mile or so out, a grey haze

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

or so later, the whoosh of water hammering on to the sand, before it catches up

at the ‘No Dogs’ sign on the door, heading

going to be wet and

warmth of the bar,

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

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

say to

dropping a few

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

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 other clothes with

head. “It was bright sunshine when I left home. Didn’t think

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

it at me, “Get that on you. There’s

bit odd, accepting clothes from a near stranger, but I’m in no position to argue. My jeans are

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

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

up my coffee mug. “I really appreciate it. Er…. do mind if I borrow it to go home in? I’m happy to post it

we meet up for

sip my

a

An actual date?

It’s been a while….

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