I do like to chat; not so much that my date tells me to shut up but enough to tell him what I want in no uncertain terms. I’ve always thought that communication is the key to success in all areas of life – especially when it comes to desire.
I have a weekend date with Roger starting at 7pm this evening. He loves to whisper things in my ear when I least expect them, even more so when I’m in the middle of a phone conversation or ordering my dinner. He delights in seeing the colour creep into my cheeks, the bemused expression on the Maître D’s face and dodges a playful slap from me with a laugh. I adore Roger’s sense of fun but that man can be so filthy.
I first met Roger at a PR convention at Le Meridian Piccadilly Hotel. Although I was there for the client not the PR. I was the doting girlfriend of the CEO, saying not very much and my jaw was aching from smiling. Roger was holding court with a group of suits and they were booming with laughter. From my position on the outskirts of a less gregarious group, I kept looking over. My gaze must have been particularly longing because my date glanced over too and said humourlessly: “that’s Roger, our new junior partner. He certainly livens up the place.” His colleagues all laughed nastily but I couldn’t help watching them for a while longer. Suddenly Roger caught my eye and winked. I actually blushed! By the time the convention was over, he had asked for my number. I said: “if you want to contact me, you’ll find a way” and left. Well, he must have done because I received a phone call a week later and I knew it was him when he chucked “well, well, well… aren’t you a dark horse?”
We arranged a lunch date for the day after, meeting in Le Gavroche in west London. I absolutely adore French food and he joked that if we both ate the garlic snails then there’d be no reason why I couldn’t kiss him later. I loved his cheeky personality and he made a small reference to the fact that everyone at the convention had wondered how I knew the CEO… or rather how he had managed to pull me! I laughed and replied “a professional Park Lane and Mayfair escort never reveals her secrets…”
We ate a little, drank a lot and laughed together even more than that. Eventually, Roger moved around the table, sat beside me, placed a hand on my thigh and said “take off your underwear, here at the table.” We were in a crowded restaurant, the clientele was desirable and we were at risk of being found out. However, we had an arrangement and I managed to slither out of my French knickers without attracting too much attention. I slipped them into his suit jacket pocket for good measure! Roger was delighted and made sure I walked ever so slightly in front of him for the rest of the night so he had a good view of my bottom.
Every time we go out together now, his demands get cheekier, the language more colourful and my underwear gets removed more quickly. I know Roger will up the ante even further tonight but I do hope we don’t get thrown out before pudding comes!