A Note to the Reader: although the following scenario is fictitious, it is based on real life. Once again, I must begin by thanking 'Aubrey' - my girlfriend, partner-in-crime and mistress - for allowing me to immortalise our wonderful relationship in this way.
*
As with most evenings, the traffic in London was proving to be a frightful pain. True, it was not exactly gridlocked, but the endless stream of cars was sufficient to reduce movement to a crawl; and from time to time, the driver of the bus on which I was sat would blare his horn loudly as he was cut off by one of the many cyclists who were weaving easily between the lanes. Thankfully, I had more than one reason to be distracted from the general chaos outside, and I found myself reaching instinctively for the silver chain around my neck as my thoughts turned to Aubrey, who I was due to meet in an hour or so.
Although our ongoing relationship had remained a secret from our colleagues at the office, several of Aubrey's 'girl-friends' were aware that she had become involved with a mysterious younger man, and I was told that tongues were beginning to wag as to the potential identity of her toy-boy. As expected, however, my Mistress was maintaining an impenetrable veil of secrecy, refusing to disclose any more than the most basic information about our antics, especially when pushed as to the extent of my prowess between the sheets.
Even so, the reputation of 'Mr. Big' - for such was the nickname that the girls had unknowingly bestowed on me - was causing something of a stir around the water-cooler, and Aubrey would often entertain me during late-shifts by filling me in on the latest gossip. Apparently, several of the young secretaries and interns had begun to speculate as to whether they might be able to persuade her to 'loan me out' for bachelorette parties and the like; naturally, I speculated that they imagined me to be some sort of toned, muscular demi-god straight out of an American 'frat house'-type film. I had a feeling that, if they ever discovered the truth, several of those girls would likely be sorely disappointed.
Obviously, I always did my best to voice such thoughts in good humour: the last thing I wanted was for Aubrey to think that I saw her as having settled for a 'second best' option. If there was one thing that I loved more than anything about her, it was the care that she took to never put such thoughts into my head; and her constant reminders that she looked upon me as the best thing that had happened to her in a long time. Unfortunately, I would occasionally take my self-deprecation too far - perhaps by saying that I didn't deserve to be with a woman like her - and that would force Aubrey to lay me across her knees at the earliest opportunity, and give me a few cautionary smacks with her paddle.
Tonight, however, nothing of the sort was going to happen: I was in far too good a mood to be speculating about what kind of man the naive young ladies in the typing pool suspected 'Mr. Big' to be. Nor was I concerned with how they might respond to the revelation that the strapping hunk of their fantasies was in fact only 5'6", corpulent, and afflicted by early signs of male pattern baldness. No, my focus was entirely devoted to the woman who had become as central to my existence as the Seven Sacraments had once been; before three fatal years at university which had all but severed my spiritual bond with the Church. To paraphrase Heath Ledger in 'A Knight's Tale,' I had taken to saying my Rosary to Mistress Aubrey and no-one else.
Even as the bus pulled into Grosvenor Gardens, my fingers were tracing the links of my silver chain in much the same way as they had once counted off the endless repeated sequence of the 'Our Father,' 'Hail Mary,' 'Glory Be' and 'Apostles' Creed.' I had fallen into a silent reverie, thinking back to that first night that Aubrey and I had declared our love for each other; and to the following morning, when I had passed her my Claddagh Ring at the breakfast table. As she had placed it back upon my right hand, the heart now pointing inwards, I had pledged my devotion to her, and declared that - regardless of what I might 'get up to' with other ladies - my 'first time' would be with her alone.
That was another reason why we were being so careful to conceal our relationship from the prying eyes of the office. Though the world was becoming more accepting with respect to 'alternative' sexual practices and 'alternative' relationship dynamics, we both felt that our colleagues might still harbour suspicions as to the true nature of an 'open' relationship. Would they truly understand that neither Aubrey nor I looked upon additional sexual partners as posing a threat to our own love and affection; or would they see it merely as an excuse for me to sleep around, and to indulge some strange perversion by encouraging Aubrey to 'scratch her itch'?
However, I was paying little heed to such thoughts tonight; instead, my head was filled with memories of Aubrey and I in various stages of passionate entanglement. As I hauled my duffle-bag off the bus's luggage rack and hoisted it over one shoulder, a particularly memorable vision flashed across my mind; the memory of when she had first emerged from the bathroom on that first night in Liverpool, swathed in that long black evening gown with the sequinned bodice. I could still remember how spell-bound I had been, and how she had advanced across the room, drawing me into a breathless embrace and pushing her heaving bosom against me.
As I recalled again the feeling of our lips meeting for the first time, my heart quivered in my chest and my crotch began to burn with lust. This situation was not helped by the fact that, no sooner was I out of the station, than I heard a very familiar voice calling my name from across the street. I stopped dead in my tracks. Aubrey had emerged that moment from Victoria Station - she had evidently travelled down by train - and her arrival was so precisely timed that you might have suspected that she had apparated. Moreover, she seemed oblivious that passers-by were staring at her, because she was grinning from ear to ear, jumping up and down, and waving at me like a maniac.
