We meet after work on a Thursday, I take him to a hidden cocktail place where you enter through the fridge.
It’s a bad idea as he doesn’t drink cocktails and slates the beer on offer. The waitress can probably tell and gives me sympathetic eyes, presuming we are on a date.
As we sit opposite each other it’s hard to tell if he’s into me. I’m not that into him but I expect I’ll still leap into bed with him. He has too many stories about work, he’s not really asking me anything. We leave early and he takes the commute home with me.
At the bus stop I pinch his cigarette- I figure if he’s going to taste of it I may as well too. It’s better than I remember.
On the bus he grabs my leg, we’re delayed in traffic and I’m frustrated.
I remember the feel of his shirt, silky and expensive – a Ralph Lauren. It’s awkward and I wish I was drunker or hotter or anything. His beard is surprisingly soft and I enjoy kissing him. He’s good with his tongue and fingers but doesn’t make me weep with joy.
We try a few positions and I’ve already forgotten what he felt like. I end up sucking his cock more than riding him. He comes with a roar and I am unsatisfied, we try again but he has to stop.
He’s already told me about 8 times he has an early meeting. We probably spent more time chatting than fucking.