I study his face. His expression is neutral but there is something in his eyes. Something I can't read, but that intrigues me nevertheless.
"And if I want more?" The devil knows what has come over me. I'm not really contemplating sleeping with him but I want to see that panic again. My words hit the bullseye, and he gives me the same look as a few minutes ago.
"Then I would agree, as long as we set some rules."
"Bullshit," I exclaim which earns me some curious looks from another table close by. "Bullshit,” I repeat in a muted tone, “I saw the panic in your eyes. You’re lying again."
"No, I'm not. But you’re right. The thought does scare me." His voice is soft. He no longer has the puppy dog enthusiasm he had when we were younger. Back then, he would go after every idea he had with passion. Now he seems to be more grounded, weighing up both sides of a coin.
"What scares you about it?"
"I’m not sure we could leave the emotional baggage behind us. Even if we’re not in love I would need you to trust me, and the question is if you could do that given how much I hurt you ." Oh wow. He’s showing more vulnerability and honesty than I expected.
"Maybe you’re right. But then, this experiment was never about emotions and I do trust that you would never hurt me …physically. That much I know." My fingers keep stroking over the napkin as if they want to flatten out all creases. "But, let's not talk about it. It's irrelevant because we're not doing that ."
Ben is silent for a second before agreeing, "No, of course not."
"No." Our eyes meet and my heart is beating a little faster.
"Right, do you want dessert?" He knows I have a sweet tooth and my very obvious squishy bits show that this hasn't changed.
"No. Thank you. I should get home." There is disappointment on his face for a second but he waves the waiter over and asks for the bill.
"Let me at least give you a lift back to Little Hadlow."
"That's not necessary," I object. The thought of sitting in a car with him for another hour makes me feel nervous.
"Don't be silly, Amelia. I have a driver who will take me home and we live in the same village." He’s right. It would be ridiculous for me to take the train when we’re going to the same place.
"Fine," I finally agree and place my debit card next to his on the little tray with the bill .
"No, Amelia—"
"Yes, Ben. This wasn't a date. I'll pay my half." I can see he wants to disagree but in the end he doesn't. Apparently he hasn't completely changed.
I'm sitting on my bed phone in hand, staring at the number I'm about to call. Ben's number. I take a deep breath and press the call button before I can chicken out.
It's been a week since our dinner. On the drive back home we carried on chitchatting about this and that, but neither of us touched the two contentious topics: our past and our original reason for meeting. If I say our goodbye was incredibly awkward, I am not exaggerating. But what is the appropriate way to say goodbye to a guy you agreed to meet to explore kinky sex, but who turned out to be a heartbreaker from the past who wants to make amends and be your friend?
He walked me to my door and I had to stop myself from giggling because it felt very much like some cheesy Hollywood romcom movie. But then, of course, there was no kiss or declaration of feelings. Instead we just stared at each other, waiting for the other person to say something. Eventually Smutty decided he’d had enough and started to scrape the door, meowing pitifully to make it clear that he was very displeased with me coming back so late again.
"Give me your phone," Ben had demanded, and his tone made me somehow putty in his hand because I handed my mobile over and unlocked it for him. Not sure what voodoo that was.
"Now you have my number and I have yours," he smiled. "Anything you need or if you want to chat more, or join me and Coop for lunch, call me. Or text me." He gave me a cheeky wink. He bloody winked! Does he not know that this is catnip for women around the world ? I just stood there gawping as he strolled back to his car, but then Smutty went absolutely mental inside and I finally tore myself away.
So, for the last seven days I’ve looked at his number more often than at gifs of my favourite actor and I'm not even sure why. It's not that I’ve forgiven him, but his words just keep making more and more sense the longer I think about them. Spending time on the dating app has convinced me that I want to give this a try. Another daydream of a dark and handsome guy gently squeezing my throat whispering, "Now, darling," made me come so hard yesterday that I squirted! Smutty came running into the bedroom in a panic because I had also screamed out loud and he probably thought someone was attacking me. Not that he was necessarily concerned about me, but he probably was worried that he'd lose his personal slave.
But as much as I want this, so far everyone that has contacted me on the app has been rather strange. Aside from Ben of course. I have only had odd messages.
Michael
Does your cat like to watch.
I mean, fuck off.
And then there was Roger, who told me he wants to pleasure me with a brush. The first brush I saw was the round barrel with metal bristles on my vanity table, which I think would land me in A&E. No, NO!
Oh, and the Lord was back:
Wilfred
Lord Anal Pain is not pleased with you. Beg for forgiveness.
And… blocked.
I know there must be plenty of genuine people on this app but just like with mainstream dating apps, I seem to attract only the weirdos. All I keep hearing are stories of people who meet their significant other online, and I can't even find a casual pleasure dom who doesn't want to defile me with a brush.
Which brings me back to Ben. He was right, we have seen each other naked… a lot. And from memory Ben was a mighty fine sight, even the deflated baby mole dangling between his legs. That memory makes me snort because he hated it when I referred to his penis as the baby mole. Mole as in the blind animal living underground, not a birth mark. And just to make it clear, I didn't refer to it as baby because it was small. Nope, he had no problem in that department… had, has? I guess the size wouldn’t change over years. No, I once came across the image of newborn moles on the internet and, what can I say, they have a certain genital look.
So here I am, doing the most insane thing I have done in years. Probably more insane than when I decided to book a full AFF course (that's Accelerated Free Fall course) before even doing a test skydive. I thought I could take up skydiving as a new career. Luckily, the skydiving school insisted I do a test tandem jump first. I ended up clinging to the inside of the plane calling the instructor a flying arsehole, which I had to apologise for once the plane landed safely. Needless to say that the school and I both agreed that I wasn't suited to it.
Okay, Amelia, you can do this. Do it... do it... DO IT! Just rip the metaphorical plaster off.
I hit the call button. The phone rings once, twice.
"Hello, Amelia." It's so unfair that his deep and smooth voice still makes me weak in the knees.
"Hi," I reply nervously and I sound a bit squeaky. "Are you busy?" I crawl on top of my bed and cross my legs. Smutty jumps and curls up in my lap as if he can feel that I need his calming influence. In reality he probably just has an itch he wants me to scratch. My fingers start stroking between his ears and he purrs.
