I do like to chat, not so much that my date tells me to shut up but enough to say to 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 7 pm this evening. He loves to whisper things in my ear when I least expect them, even more so when I’m in a phone conversation or ordering 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 filthy.
I first met Roger at a PR convention at Le Meridian Piccadilly Hotel. However, 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 laughed nastily, but I couldn’t help watching them for a while longer. Suddenly, Roger caught my eye and winked. I blushed! By the time the convention ended, 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 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 hope we don’t get thrown out before the pudding comes!