I met him in a local bar.
I was having a quiet lunch and a beer with the Saturday paper, looking forward to spending the rest of the weekend alone. I had no plans. Or, at least, all I was planning to do for the weekend was relax and enjoy being alone, with no chores to do and no appointments to keep.
"Excuse me – can I borrow your lighter, please?" I looked up. A dark-haired man, about my age – early thirties. That's all I registered. I smiled and handed him the lighter. I watched him as he lit his cigarette. Nice face. Nice eyes. He handed my lighter back with a "thank you," and I went back to reading the paper.
I had nothing to do and nowhere to be, so I ordered another beer and enjoyed the feeling of freedom. After a while he came back.
"Hi again. I need another light. Sorry. Mind if I join you?" His eyes were smiling.
I couldn't say no without seeming churlish. Vaguely flattered, but vaguely annoyed that I was going to have to give up my solitude and the paper, I smiled and motioned for him to sit down across the table from me.
He sat down. He didn't say anything. I felt embarrassed. One of us needed to say something, but I couldn't see why I had to go first. I smiled and reached for a cigarette. He reached across the table and picked up my lighter and lit my cigarette for me. Somehow, an embarrassingly intimate gesture.
Then he spoke.
"So – you're here alone."
"Well, I was…" I said with an ironic smile. Now it was his turn to be uncomfortable.
"Sorry – I didn't mean to impose…"
Nice eyes. Nice, soft, deep voice…
"No it's fine. Sorry – I just wasn't expecting company that's all." I smiled. "My name's Cat, by the way."
He told me he was called Andrew and we started chatting. About the weather, about what was in the news – about anything.
We both had some more beers. Although I hadn't been looking for company, I found myself enjoying his. And – if I was honest with myself - there was something increasingly compelling and attractive about this man.
"How about some dinner?"
The question took me by surprise. I looked at my watch. Eight o'clock already! If asked to guess, I'd have said it was five o'clock. I MUST have been enjoying his company…
I didn't plan to say it. I heard myself say it and was shocked. "Yeah, sure. Look – I've got some food at my place. Let me cook it for us."
It was too late to take it back. But I regretted it as soon as I heard it come out of my mouth. What had I been thinking? For all I knew, this man was a complete nutter on the quiet and was going to kill me or rob me or…
Well, yes. That was the thing. I was feeling slightly horny, slightly flirty, and slightly adventurous. Maybe we would end up…no. Better not to think about it. Think about how to deal with the invitation I shouldn't have given just now.
He hesitated before saying "…well, if you're sure…yes – that would be great…"
We left the bar and walked around the corner to my flat.
I gestured at the sofa. "Make yourself comfortable. I'll just go and get some drinks and then get the food on to cook."
I went into the kitchen. Time for a short reflection on my behaviour. Was I mad? What sort of risk was I taking here? But at the same time, I knew that, if I had the nerve, I'd make a move on him. I wanted him.
I returned with a bottle of wine and two glasses and I asked him to open the wine while I went back into the kitchen to start cooking dinner. I was slicing some vegetables when he appeared in the kitchen door with two glasses of wine. "Great," I said, and I went back to what I was doing. He walked over and put my glass on the counter next to me. He put down his own glass. He stood close behind me and suddenly his hands were on my breasts. Cupping them, moving gently. It was a shock, but I realised I wasn't scared. Just nervous and surprised. He bent his head and kissed the side of my throat. He was leaning into me now. I realised I'd stopped chopping. I dropped the knife onto the board and let my head fall back onto his chest.
One of his hands moved down my body to stroke the curve of my hip and then down and inwards, across the top of my thigh. I felt my clitoris twitch and then a sense of disappointment when he returned his hand to my hip.
His hand moved on, down the front of my thigh, until he found the hem of my skirt and started lifting it, his fingers grazing my skin. I sighed and moved my hand over his, gently urging him to take his hand higher. He was rubbing my nipple now. I was getting wet and swollen. Still I stood over the chopping board, not moving my body.
But when I felt his fingers grazing at the edge of my thong, I knew that pretty soon he'd feel how wet I was and know how much I wanted this. I moaned softly.
Quickly, he took both my wrists behind my back in his hand and guided me over to the kitchen table. He pushed me forward so that I was bent over the table. A flash of panic and then so much arousal that my legs went weak when I felt my skirt being lifted over my hips. He put a foot between mine and pushed my feet apart until my legs were spread wide.
"Do you want this to be good?"
His voice wasn't so soft now. Apart from his hand on my wrists, he wasn't touching me. I wanted this.
"Yes," I whispered.
"Then you'll do as I say."
I stiffened. What was he going to tell me to do? What was he going to do to me? I was feeling a little scared now. But still aroused. Still wanting him to touch me.
I whispered it again. "Yes."
"Take me to the bedroom."
I did as he said.
There were a few long silk scarves hanging on the back of the door. He picked them up.
"Take your clothes off."