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.

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

surf is much stronger today, the sea roiling, forbidding under the threatening sky.

the first raindrops splat fatly onto 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

behind me. Calling the dogs in, I sprint back up

behind me, and a second or so later, the whoosh of water hammering on to the sand, before it catches

drenched, and the 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, slobber and hair over

be wet and stinking for

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

them, my numb fingers struggling with the knots.

It’s Ben, sitting at the

please,” I say to

me,” says Ben, dropping a

cup, warming my fingers, but still shivering. My clothes are clammy

It almost got me too, but I must run faster than you.” He looks at me,

my head. “It was bright sunshine when I left

a jiffy….” He strides out, car keys jangling, returning a minute or

“Get that on you. There’s

clothes from 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

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

trying to free my hands to pick up my coffee mug. “I really appreciate it.

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

sip my

wants a date

An actual date?

It’s been a while….

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