We met at a bookstore. His accent was what made me wonder who he was, where he was from and it was also the perfect excuse to strike up a conversation.
As we were lying naked and he was nibbling my body I asked him who picked up who. He asked me for my number and called me immediately after that encounter, but I had smiled at him.
He's a painter and will leave in two weeks.
I left his apartment at 3:30 in the morning. I love waking up alone and wondering if all that my body tells me happened, did indeed happen.
We went to a jazz club where he is an associate. It used to be a bank and it has vaults all over. After the first two drinks, lots of conversation and mystery (I didn't tell him much about me, and he found that very enticing) he wanted to show me around, his place, his area, his territory. He made me open up a vault, I turned the handle with some effort and stuck my hips out, I knew he was watching.
We went inside and he showed me around, the door closed behind us. It could be opened, only, from the outside. He asked me again about the bruises in my arms and knees, wondering what sort of perversity I was into, I let him wonder.
He touched me, he kissed me, he nibbled my bellybutton and my thighs. I wasn't sure if I was going to make him suffer, to play the 'conservative' little whore that warms up but doesnt bite. I was playing around with my options when his nibbling got the better of me.
There we were, standing inside a vault, the jazz was coming thru the thick walls, I knew I was trapped, even though I could have done an escapade... and I let him seduce me.
Its sad when the pre- is so much better than the post-. And its even sadder when a guy uses the "condoms aren't working for me" excuse to excuse their non-hard-on issue.
I did have fun though... and the Greek, no matter what they tell you about stereotypes, they are true and oh, so anal.
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