I’m stringing my Exgf along for the sex and a need for revenge, but true love is what I’m looking for. I sign up for MatchAffinity one more time as they are offering a one-month special again. The market has refreshed and there is a lot more new faces and profiles, some of which warrant making contact with. One in particular stands out because she is (apparently) living only 6 miles from me.
I write to the half dozen profiles that interest me and the gal down the road writes back within hours, which is always a good sign. She’s in her late thirties and has beautiful blonde hair. We swap a few emails over the course of a week and then agree to meet on the afternoon of the last public holiday in August.
Her email messages indicate that she is a straightforward person and wears her heart on her sleeve. Her only photo shows a face that I find pretty enough, but not excited about. She responds very quickly to all of my messages and seems very keen to meet me, almost too keen. She tells me about her high-flying, high-powered, undoubtedly high-paying job for a major company. I think most guys would be intimidated by her status in the workplace, but not me. I think of her as Career Girl. Despite my slight discomfort about her keenness and probably being a ‘London Girl’, I’m curious about her as we seem to aspire to the same things. I have nothing to lose except a little time and a little money, but the payoff could be big; this is what a gambler would call a ‘good proposition bet’.
Could she be The One?
We meet in her town on the Monday Bank Holiday and it is a glorious Summer’s day. Clear blue skies, a pleasant temperature and the sun warming the skin with the slightest of breezes keeping everyone cool; a perfect day for a date outdoors. She’s sitting on a low stone wall alongside the clock-tower where we have agreed to meet. I am always early as I don’t like to keep anyone waiting, but she is even earlier. She’s looking down, thumbing away at her phone, oblivious to me and the world around her. She has cropped beautiful fine blonde hair and a milky white skin. Her three-quarter length khaki trousers complement her white blouse-like top and white court shoes. Dark brown sunglasses hide her eyes, but nevertheless I like what I see.
I disturb her from her texting, she stands up and comes under my nose in height. I kiss her hello on her left cheek and she turns the other cheek asking to be kissed there too, a la French style, which I find cute. She doesn’t smile as we say hello and it feels that she is a little uncomfortable as we make small talk and walk towards a nearby famous pub. I put that down to her being nervous, but I know she’ll relax when she feels safe with me. I quickly launch into a trusted topic – travel. This causes her to relax, open up and become chatty. It doesn’t take too long before I feel that I couldn’t speak for fear of interrupting her.
At the pub we’re confronted by a seething mass of people, families in particular, with screaming misbehaving kids; it’s noisy. I join the queue at the bar while Career Girl goes to find a table in the beer garden, hopefully in a quiet corner away from the annoying masses. Eventually I join her with our preferred drinks which happens to be identical ciders, which pleases me. Is it a sign of some kind?
I take my sunglasses off and she does the same. Career Girl has intriguing grey-green eyes, which I like. She isn’t the prettiest girl I’ve dated, nor the ugliest but everything else is acceptable or better. She dresses well, behaves well, speaks well; she’s a lady. It’s a good start.
We toast our drinks and conversation continues to flow easily and naturally. She tells me about her career and how it has been her number one priority in life until recently. She has had two long-term relationships that have spanned her adult life. I resist the urge to ask why they ended; it doesn’t really matter. Besides, the ultimate answer for all of us and our failed relationships is the same: we weren’t right for each other.
After an hour of fun banter, a table with an umbrella becomes available. We move over and I notice that her arms are glowing. I use this as an excuse to touch her, all in a deliberate effort to connect on a whole new level with her, i.e. physically. I like the feeling I have while being with her and it feels natural to move things up a notch. I touch the back of her biceps, which is a pretty neutral area to touch a woman, feigning concern over her being burnt by the sun. She doesn’t flinch. Her skin feels soft, smooth and cool. Our eyes connect and we share an intense moment.
Career Girl goes to buy a second round of drinks for us. I’m still not used to a woman paying for anything on a date with me. I don’t think I’ll ever be comfortable with that. I am though beginning to appreciate the novelty though of being with a woman who does have her own money. It means she won’t be interested in mine, not that I have much.
After two more hours of chit-chat with the sun on my back and two ciders in my system, I’ve come to the conclusion that she’s a Good Girl and a Giver. I like how I feel being with her. I like her. I feel like kissing her.
“What colour are your eyes” I ask, wanting to make sure that my colour-blindness isn’t too far off.
“They’re a grey-green,” she says. I was right, but just then an idea comes to me.
“Really? Come closer, I want to check,” I say, not mentioning my handicap.
She leans forward and I momentarily get a view of her cleavage. She’s an a-cup, but I don’t care, I like her.
“I still can’t see, the sun’s bright. Come closer,” I coax.
Career Girl comes even closer and our noses are almost touching. She’s leaning on the table and smiling. I just need to go a forward slightly and I can kiss her. I do something else instead.
“Closer,” is all I say.
She leans into me, closes her eyes and we kiss. I didn’t move a muscle to make this happen. She’s kissing me and it feels good.
Her lips are soft and fine. Because of the cider she tastes sweet. Neither of us use our tongues and instead just slowly massage our lips into each other. After about 10 seconds she pulls a couple of inches away from me, looks deep into my eyes, smiles then sits back in her seat and lets off a breath of exhausted satisfaction.
I got a woman to kiss me; I’ve never done that before and it worked a treat. My head is swimming, I can feel chemicals racing around, it feels good. As first kisses go that was exceptional. Kissing on the lips has never been a big deal to me, but with her it feels exquisite. More please.
We continue talking as if nothing had happened. After few minutes a beautiful silence falls between us and we look at each other with hungry eyes.
“Come back here,” I say and she leans forward, but this time stops halfway across the table. A defiant act of asserting herself, this thoroughly modern professional working woman who probably has men at her work scared of her. She’s testing me and setting some boundaries; I can respect that.
I lean forward and cup her head with a hand, our lips slowly meet, she closes her eyes. Her almost platinum blonde hair feels like strands of silk in my fingers. She opens her mouth a little and we kiss for even longer than out first kiss. She lets off a little sound of satisfaction as her shoulders narrow. I always keep my eyes open when kissing a girl the first few times because I want to see what’s working and what’s not. I tease her by touching her bottom lip with my tongue, just a little prod to see how she reacts. She instantly responds by sliding her sweet tongue into my mouth and letting off a breath through her nose. I can feel my cock hardening as blood warms up in my body. I pull away and she smiles with her eyes closed.
We talk for another hour and every passing minute feels better than the one before. There is a definite meeting of minds between us. She’s a smart cookie and can keep up with me in that department. I have made her laugh a few times, but not as much as I would like; our senses of humour are not quite the same. That’s an issuette to me because I think a matching sense of humour is important. It’s also now obvious to me that she fancies me somewhat more than I fancy her, but I think there will always be an imbalance between a couple in terms of who fancies who more. Do I want to have sex with her? Definitely. I sense it’ll be good, tender and sensual, but first things first. She has something on her mind too.
“I’m sorry, but I wasn’t expecting to spend so much time with you. I’m meeting friends in a little while.”
“Okay, no problem. This afternoon has been a pleasant surprise for me too.”
“I don’t suppose you’re free sometime this week?” Career Girl asks.
“I am actually. Why, what are you thinking?” Wow, she’s keen. It’s not an issue though. It’s a nice change to be with a woman who actually wants to be with me and makes that clear.
“How about dinner one night?” she says with a hopeful smile.
“I’d like that,” I say, trying to give her a reassuring smile.
I walk her back to the clock tower and we kiss some more. She wraps her arms around me in a sweet embrace and I take her body in my hands. She’s quite slender as I slowly move my hands over her back. I can just imagine being on top of her and feeling her legs wrapped around me as we make the writhing beast with two backs. She feels good in my arms and is making sounds of satisfaction as we kiss. Again I make the effort to pull away first; I want to leave her wanting more.
Career Girl smiles coyly and without another word she walks off, still smiling to herself. I stand and watch her walk down a street, a warm fuzzy feeling is covering my body. Our embrace felt damn good; I think we were both getting a little turned on.
Is there something real between us? Or was it all just the sun mixing with the alcohol in my bloodstream?
Ed Sheeran – Bloodstream