The Red Box

I wasn’t a ‘one night stand’ sort of girl. But it had been a long time. And every now and then, a girl needs to indulge herself.

He was a ‘Mr Big’ if ever I met one. And I don’t mean in the sense that I would fall in love with him. He was rich, successful, powerful. He had made several radio appearances and was being followed for a TV Series about himself and a business investment he was pursuing. He had brains – two degrees from Oxford – was a historian and a published author. In terms of success, he was at the very top of his game. In fact, he was at the top of everyone’s game.

He messaged me through an online dating site with one of the longest, most interesting messages I have ever received. He was incredibly polite and explained what he was looking for articulately and with apologies in case his message caused offence. He explained that he didn’t want a ‘regular relationship’ because he was too busy and out of the country too often, but was looking for someone who might enjoy ‘uncomplicated and highly satisfying encounters from time to time…someone who would appreciate having her every physical need taken care of while enjoying a bottle of champagne…’ He confirmed he was unattached, not married and in good shape. I screen shot his message and sent it to a friend in a ‘you won’t believe this message I’ve just received’ type way. Her reply surprised me, and tapped into something I’d been thinking all along without realising it: ‘Aren’t you intrigued to find out more? Could be an adventure?’

Always one for an adventure and with the feeling rising that an adventure of the sexy variety might be just what I needed, I replied to him. I told him this wasn’t something I would usually consider but admitted I was intrigued, and I took him up on his offer of getting his details and doing a little bit of detective work on him.

The best thing about his success is that it made him very easy to Google. Seeing clips of his TV series gave me a 3D perspective of him, unusual before most dates. He came across incredibly well. I got in touch to tell him I was interested but that I hoped we could have a ‘no expectations’ meeting first to see if we were attracted to each other. He agreed that this was a sensible idea and commented on how civilised the whole thing was. And it really was. It seemed like a sexy, grown-up and practical interaction with two people being very clear about what they wanted…needed…and working out how to go about it.

We agreed on a date and he said he had a special place in mind, texting me later in the week to confirm he’d managed to book us a table. Even though I felt confident that I could walk away if I decided things should go no further, the whole meeting was laced with sex and excitement. I went shopping to find a suitably sexy outfit, should we decide that we did want to take things further that night, settling on something light and silky with a zip that ran all the way down from the low v-neck to the bottom of the dress, just above my knee. I wore black lace underwear and hold-ups, and donned some of my highest heels. As I arrived, I felt sexy and confident.

The place he’d booked was indeed special. Nestled at the back of a top London hotel, the oak-panelled bar had the feel of a gentleman’s club from the twenties. The drinks menu was decadent and expensive, with every drink served in heavy, cut crystal tumblers with enormous (if slightly pretentious) blocks of ice. He was just as I had expected, having seen so much of him already. Incredibly charming and interesting, the conversation flowed easily and my nerves evaporated very quickly. He was far more open than I imagined he would be given the circumstances of our meeting, telling me about his family, showing me pictures of his nieces and nephews. He seemed like a good guy and I felt like I was on a normal first date –albeit an incredibly classy one. I found him attractive. He was tall, rugged…a touch of the Jason Statham about him (although an incredibly posh Jason Statham.) He came from a totally different world from me, talking about having ‘staff’ at home and how he couldn’t understand people who didn’t. He intrigued me, and the fact that we were worlds apart seemed to give me the green light: I could sleep with this man without any complicated feelings getting in the way. He was absolutely not the type of man who could fit in my life on a regular basis but on these terms? The idea excited me.

After a few rounds of drinks, he asked the waitress for the bill. I wasn’t sure what this meant – he hadn’t suggested we end the evening or that we go somewhere else. I continued to sip my drink, rolling the ice around in my heavy glass, and waited for him to say something about where he saw the evening going next. When he didn’t, I asked if he wanted to call it a night. He looked me in the eye and said, confidently; ‘Why don’t we go back to mine for a bottle of champagne?’ A thrill of excitement ran right through me. Locked into eye contact with him, I smiled…and nodded.

We hadn’t even kissed, yet I felt that this was the right thing to do. I wanted to be seduced. I wanted to enjoy stepping out of my normal dating boundaries and let myself go on a sexual adventure. I wanted to spend a few hours being less ‘me’…indulge purely in the physical…let go.

His place was a short stroll away. When we got there, he cracked open the champagne, lit candles all around us, and kissed me. We sat on his bed and talked some more, sipping champagne, him kissing me between words. It wasn’t long before he took my glass from my hand, put it on the side, laid me down and started to run his hand up along my leg, feeling the lace top of my hold-ups and groaning with pleasure, whispering ‘oh god’ in my ear.

He sat up and started to unzip my dress until it came completely loose, pulling me up to sit in his lap to let it fall from my shoulders. He became rougher now, kissing, sucking and biting my neck and chest, unclipping my bra and taking my breasts in his mouth, groaning in appreciation as he did. There was an animalistic urgency to everything he did, his bites getting harder the more turned on he became. He pulled my knickers off then stood up and quickly stripped himself, climbing on top of me then working his way down until his head was between my legs. I liked the feeling of the power he had, that he was in control and that he was getting off on enjoying me.

He seemed frantic and urgent and quickly climbed up to kiss me again, rolling onto his back and pulling me on top of him. Again he moved fast, trying to slide immediately inside me, with me stopping him to whisper ‘condom’. He reached out his hand and opened a large red box which sat next to his bed, passing one to me to put on him. The box had me intrigued. Too large to act as storage purely for condoms, I started to wonder about it as I slipped the condom onto him and slid him inside me. He felt amazing and I came fast once, and then again almost instantly, much to his delight. He pushed me off of him and laid me down on the bed again, a look of concentration on his face as he adjusted my arms above my head, before saying; ‘Stay exactly as you are. Don’t move. I want you to stay just like that…close your eyes…don’t worry about me. This is all for you. Just relax and enjoy.’ Being told what to do was as hot as hell and I tried to follow his instructions, although I couldn’t resist opening my eyes when I heard the box open. I saw him pull something from it before I closed them again, then felt him cover me in a cold, tingling lube with the flat of his hand. Gasping at the sensation, I wondered what was coming next. I opened my eyes and watched him. Again, he opened the box, this time pulling out a small vibrator. As I gasped in surprise, he turned it on and started to run it along my clitoris, watching my face as he did. After a minute or two, he reached over and the red box opened again, this time producing a second, longer vibrator which he slid inside me, a look of focussed concentration on his face. I let the multiple sensations wash over me until again, his urgency took over and he threw both vibrators aside, letting them vibrate angrily against the wall, climbed on top of me and slid into me again, groaning loudly and biting my breasts and shoulders.

He was strong and threw me into each position as he wanted to, flipping me over onto my stomach and pulling my arms behind my back as he thrust, furiously into me. His breathing became harder and he pushed me face down onto the bed, gripping me hard around the hips as he came, loudly, into me.

I lay face down in the sheets for a few moments, feeling the ache of him on me.

Sitting up, he grinned at me, handed me my glass of champagne and said ‘That is how every Monday evening should be spent.’

I finished my champagne and left soon after. On the way home, I noticed red marks on my chest and bruises forming on my arm. Once I got home, I took my clothes off and stood looking at my body in the mirror. I had love bites on my breasts and nipples, bite marks on my chest and shoulders, a purple bruise on my top lip where he had bitten me, and hand print bruises on arms and thighs. Our encounter may have been brief, but the marks he left on me lasted for days.

Every time I looked at them…I smiled.