Cup of tea, love?

I went out looking to get laid, out of revenge. I wanted some hot wuk. So I went to the club and danced with a few dudes, it was pretty ace. He was just sitting, chilling – not bad looking, pretty good rhythm. Way too tall for me, but hey. I didn’t care.

He sat and i wined on him all night, he was hot, sweaty, I was aching. Towards closing time, he said, ‘How about we go back to my place’. Yes! Great idea! I practically panted.

We spilled out of the club, both of us dripping wet in a -3 November early Thursday morning.

Where do you live? East london. Me too. 

So we get on the night bus, which took forever. He was a merchant banker. MBA – another one. We talked business and economics – something I find dead sexy. Turns out he was loaded – I wished he paid for a cab.

We get all the way to his place after all the chatter and all the night bus gaff and the first thing he does is offere me tea and toast.

Say what? 

Toast. And a cup of tea.

No hot kissing as soon as the door is shut, no desire to rip my clothes off. But TV and jam on my toast.

I thought maybe he lived with other people.

‘This is all your place?’ i say



He goes to the toilet for like, ever, probably desperately searching for condoms, and I’m watching bombs go off on CNN, eating white bread toast with too much jam.

My fingertips are sticky, but not in the way I was hoping for.

Once i’m done, we creep up to his room. He keeps the lights off and we fuck. In the dark. Like a married couple in trouble. Wet. But not in the way I was hoping for.

It’s OK, to be honest. I’m glad for the physical contact without the connect, but he comes quickly and falls asleep straight away.

Either the talk of business and politics was a mad turn-off, or he’s still getting over the married vibe and forgot what hot lust was like.

Silently rebounding.

I was tired, so I slept in his bed the night through. Again, grateful for the warmth and the vague sense of someone else in the bed.

When i said goodbye in the morning, he had to let me out the door.

On the front step, I thanked him for an enjoyable night and he was awkward – said ‘er.. i’ll be home after work late, i guess’.. he had heard something else entirely. Something about seeing him again tonight. 

‘i said ‘thank you for an enjoyable night” and smiled. hoping it was clear that i had wanted nothing from him.

I walked off, pitying his assumptions about me, thankful that we didn’t even exchange names.