I’d been stood up and it sucked.

On a whim I’d swiped right on Tinder for a guy with a winning smile. We’d texted a couple of times and agreed to meet here. Now forty-nine minutes past our meeting time he was a no show.



Steam swirled from my latté, the aroma mingling with the buttery fragrance of my fresh croissant slathered in whipped cream 

“Fuck him! Didn’t need him anyway!”

I slid my chair outwards, keeping an eye on the door just in case he showed up. In the meantime, I amused myself by imagining the relationships between couples in the café.

I found myself mesmerized by a man and woman seated nearby. They were locked in heated conversation. She seemed put out, either by him or by something they were talking about. I couldn’t tell. 

But she wasn’t the one who interested me. He drew my attention like a magnet to a pin.

I could imagine him in a foreign movie, dark, naturally tanned and with the kind of sexual aura that promised something that made my pulse quicken. There was no doubt, he was an alpha male, my kind of male.

I warned myself, “Hold it Sarah, you’re getting way ahead of yourself…”

But, oh my, he was gorgeous! That strong nose, those full lips and lines of amusement flaring from the corners of his eyes made me catch my breath. Not that he was laughing now. 

I stared, not caring who noticed. How old was he? Maybe late 30s, or even early 40s. No wedding ring. 

As she jabbed her fingers at him, I noticed she wasn’t wearing one either. 

Were they friends? Ex-lovers? 

Quite suddenly the drama took a turn; the woman jumped up, grabbed her tote, and marched out.

He didn’t follow, nor did he look upset. Did I glimpse a smile across that delicious mouth as he shrugged?

Then he glanced up and saw me staring. It was too late to look away. 

Damn it, Sarah! Caught in the act! 

I felt my cheeks burn with embarrassment. His eyes held mine, brown versus blue, and for an exquisite nanosecond we teetered on the knife edge of mutual desire. The chemistry flamed high across the room. I felt the wet spreading between my thighs, my inner lips swelling in readiness.

My world shrunk to him and me.

He stood up, threw a couple of bills on the table, then stopped. Instead of turning towards the entrance, he gave me the very, very slightest nod before striding into the depths of the café. 

I didn’t waste time thinking about what to do. I abandoned my coffee and followed him.

He was waiting at the doorway to an office of some sort, his dark eyes focused on me coming towards him.

The click of the lock behind us was like the first drumbeat to a suspense movie. He looked down at me, pinning me against the smooth wood of the back of the door and thrusting long fingers into my shawl of pale hair. 

Without a word, our mouths meshed; we devoured one another. He tasted of coffee, mint, and an unmistakable undercurrent of male sex. His taut, muscular tongue explored my mouth.  My lips opened to him like a flower woken by the promise of a new day.

The only sound was our breath, then his grunt as he pushed down my panties, spreading my inner lips and thrusting two fingers into me. He searched for my g-spot, swollen and alive with desire. He massaged it in a knowing act of exquisite sexual arousal. It was such intimate behavior between total strangers that I almost swooned.

I unbuckled his belt and ripped down the zipper of his jeans. 

Oh my God! His cock, engorged and ready, stretched diagonally across his belly. It was almost the width of my wrist, the broad tip trapped in fabric.

I pushed down his undershorts. He pulled me closer, and I felt that magnificent cock pushing upright against me. I ****** my hand between us, searching for him. He felt sublime in my fist. My fingers, wet from his oozing precum, slid from his base to that divinely sensitive spot below the crown.

“Not so fast!” 

I find men with deep, resonant voices who take charge irresistible. 

He searched for my ****, rolling its hardness beneath his fingers. His breathing stepped up a notch and I felt myself go weak at the knees.

I wanted all of him in me – I’d never fucked a cock that size before.

His fingers dug into my hips as he hitched me up against the hard surface, lifting my legs so that I could clasp him around his waist.

With his eyes locked on mine, he levered his cock down, searching for the point of least resistance before thrusting up hard into me. I clenched my inner muscles tight, slowing him, heightening his pleasure and mine.

“Damn it… what are you doing?” His voice was harsh, mock-angry.

I gasped, “Just playing with you…” 

“Careful! Unless you want this over before it’s even begun. And don’t play the innocent!”

It was as if I’d set him a dare and he had risen to meet my challenge by relentlessly driving up into me, hurting me, stretching me. It felt sublime. 

There was no point in resisting when all I wanted was more. I felt his broad tip pounding against my cervix, the jolts of pain giving way to unbelievable pleasure. We were locked together, seeking our rhythm. 

I don’t know how long it was before I began to lose control. And then I felt it; the waves of molten heat rippling from my pulsing ****, my spasming inner muscles and out to every part of my body.

I moaned, my voice unchecked.

Panting, he waited for my ****** to slow, before lunging back deep, deep into me. His dark-lashed eyes closed, his nostrils flared in his moment of release. He leaned down, grasping the tender flesh of my shoulder with his teeth.

I cried out, ‘You’re hurting me!’ But he was beyond hearing me, focused on his own pleasure. 

I dropped my legs onto the floor. His cock, now softening but still darkly swollen, slipped out of me. 

He put a finger over my lips, holding the magic of what had just happened within the bond of silence.

Then, as I watched, he hitched up his jeans and tightened his belt. The door clicked behind him. 

“Wait, don’t go”, I called after him. “I don’t even know your name…”

HOPE YOU ALL ENJOYED IT HEHEHEHE**

I stood there for a couple of minutes; desolate, empty, alone, trying to recover my sense of self.

My croissant and latté were waiting for me, cold.

Then I glanced down; he had scrawled on my table mat his cellphone number.

And below that, “Henri. Call me!”

Sunday, Monday, Tuesday… his image played like an elusive backdrop to my days.

On Wednesday Tatiana and I were having a drink after the latest Bond movie. I told her about Henri and his ‘call me’ note.

Her intense green eyes drilled into me, “Sarah, you don’t have a clue about this guy besides you tell me he was a divine ****. He could be married with three kids for all you know. Or a serial rapist!”

“Yes but…” I trailed off.

Tatiana has been in a steady relationship for years. She has no idea what it’s like trying to sort the wheat from the chaff in today’s scene. 

“Tat, I felt that there was something there, something special, that I can’t simply walk away from.”

“He was so mysterious, so sure of himself. We connected. I can’t explain. And that cock. You have no idea what it did to me! I don’t want to chase him, but I have to find out whether there could be more to this.”

Tatiana sighed. “Baby, back you go to Heartbreak Central!”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

She’d made her point. She knew I was dead set on calling him. It was only a matter of when.

Thursday, Friday…

I woke late on Saturday after tossing and turning all night. Should I call today? Was I being too eager? What should I say?

Before I could dive back into the vortex of yes/no/maybe, I decided, “Just do it!”

He picked up on the second ring. That rich deep voice made me melt. 

“Hello, Henri here.” 

I started out light and bright. “Hi it’s Sarah. You remember we met last Saturday when we… when we…” I was losing my composure. Henri came to my rescue. 

“So Sarah is the temptress who shot me into the stratosphere last week. I wondered when you’d call.” The frisson between us zipped through the ether. There was no doubt in his voice. I felt myself responding – wet, swollen, hungry. 

He went on, “Look, I’m meeting friends for dinner tonight. Casual. Would you like to come?” 

There was no point in playing coy. “I’d love to.” 

I’m in the fashion industry so I shouldn’t have panicked over what to wear. I chose my new blue silk slip-dress that slithers over my curves and reveals my back. I left my hair loose down to my shoulders.

My nerves almost got the better of me as the uber pulled up at an upscale bistro. But as Henri got up to greet me, I knew that calling him had not been a mistake. Our eyes met and the wick of sensual promise flared, unbidden. 

Henri pulled out the chair beside him and I felt his hand slide over my hip as he guided me to my seat, hinting at the intimacy we’d already shared. I glanced up at him. I saw intensity, curiosity, and ***** desire.

There were two other couples at the table. The women appraised me coolly; who was this unknown female Henri had inserted into our cozy dinner at the last minute? Henri introduced us:

“Sarah, these are old friends, Charles and Derek. Lawyers, but don’t hold that against them.” 

The blonde and brunette, Joanne and Mercer, were their partners and, I might add, singularly smug in their good fortune.

We ordered and the others chatted. Under the table I felt Henri reach for my hand. My heart staggered.

One of the guys asked, “Henri, how’s the market this week? Any stocks I should be buying?” Henri laughed, “No insider trading buddy!” 

Then their attention turned to me. Mercer, the cool blonde, asked, “Well, Sarah, what d’you do to pass the time?” Henri was watching me intently. 

I replied, “I’m a shoe and accessory designer. Quite well known actually. I see you’re wearing my brand ‘City Chic’.” 

I glanced at Henri. From his expression, I guessed my reply was making him see me through a different lens. 

And now it was my turn, “So Mercer, what do you do to pass your time?” 

“Oh things…” she muttered, showing off her profile and pursing her mouth.

Henri chuckled and smiled at me. He liked my sass. 

The chemistry between us clicked up a notch. I felt his fingers skimming my ***** back. ******** had begun, very discretely. Beneath the table he took my hand and brushed my fingers across his groin. He was hard, ready, as aroused as I was. We were entering that exquisite bubble where no one else exists, where even the slightest contact, the merest glance, says everything about where the night will end.

Later, when we stood up to leave, he leaned across and whispered in my ear, his breath a hot caress, “Sarah, will you come to my place?” I nodded. As we walked out, I teased, “No wife away for the weekend?” 

He grinned down at me and the fan of laughter lines I had noticed that first day, deepened.

“No wife, no kids, no exes, but maybe with you, who knows…”

In the darkness of the taxi he took my face in his hands and kissed me deeply. I shuddered as that bold, strong tongue explored my mouth. I flickered my tongue over his lips in response. 

The lights of Manhattan shimmered through the vast glass windows of his apartment.

He took my wrap, then stopped, turning me gently towards him. “Sarah, no back-of-door quickie this time. I want to get to know you. Are you with me?”

“I am,” I whispered.  

Tatiana, eat your heart out! 

Maybe, just maybe, Henri would prove her wrong.  

**THE END

THAT'S ALL FOR TODAY

HOPE YOU ENJOYED IT HEHEHEHE**

The Friday night drinks party at work was over. I’d been standing around for hours and my new three-inch heels were killing me. I just wanted to go home, treat myself to a nightcap and something to eat, before pulling on one of the old T-shirts my ex had left behind when he had taken off with his lab assistant three months ago.



The bastard!

I opened my front door and clicked on the lamp in the living room as I walked through to the bedroom leaving a trail behind me – my dress, bra and panties. I tossed my shoes across the softly lit room, sinking my feet into the carpet.

Did I mention that his lab assistant was a guy?

Probably not. I was still recovering from the shock and preferred not to mention it – not even to myself.

What was clear to me, though, was that Greg was not coming back.

Ironically, he was one of the most macho-looking men you could want to meet. Apparently, that meant nothing; gay men, as I’d discovered on Google, were often fabulously good looking and sexually sophisticated. I must have missed something in the six months we had been married and in the two months of our whirlwind romance beforehand.

He’d come home late and more than a little drunk. It took a while but eventually he blurted it out;

“Stella, there’s no easy way to tell you. In some ways I’m as stunned as I know you’re going to be, but I’m gay. I’d kind of known, but I’d thought it a passing thing which is why I never brought it up.”

“What? Gay? No!”

He stood there in our living room, flushed and ill-at-ease.

“Stella, as much as I love you as a person, there’s someone else in my life and I know he’s the one for me. This isn’t what I had in mind, but it has to be.”

“Who is it? Do I know him?” I rasped, my mouth dry. We’d barely settled into married life together. Now this!

I had felt as if the anchor in my future life had been yanked up and I was free-floating in a sea of despair, anxiety and loss. Hadn’t I been enough for him? But I now knew that he was what he was, and it really had nothing to do with me… but a shred of doubt still floated around in my mind.

Before my hunk of a husband had gone off with Dennis, pretty Dennis, who I had never in a million years considered a competitor, Friday night was ‘fuck night’.

Now I was alone and hungry. Since Greg had gone, I’d let the refrigerator run low.

I pulled out my cell, dialed the local Greek restaurant and ordered more take-out than I could possibly eat on my own, but then I was still struggling to adjust to the ‘on my own’ bit.

As promised, 15 minutes later, the home delivery guy rang the bell. I’d dug out one of Greg”s T-shirts, tied a sarong round my waist to cover up the fact that I wasn’t wearing panties and went to the door to collect my souvlaki-with-the-lot, dips and hot Greek bread.

I opened the door and the delivery guy stopped me in my tracks.

He was tall, rangy, and young – probably a college student topping up his income by delivering take-out. When I say young, I mean young; maybe 18 or 19. I’m 34 so by his standards probably in the same category as his mother.

He grinned, “Evening ma’am. Your order.”

And then he just stood there, our eyes locked. You could have started a car with the sexual energy whipping between us. I could see he was summing me up, his gorgeous blue eyes under strong brows, playing with the possibility that his night might be taking a turn for the better.

I felt my womb drop. He had sun-streaked light brown hair, wavy and worn long to his shoulders. He was one of those young men who have yet to fill out but who are pumped with testosterone. He was also polite. He was waiting for me to decide, for me to choose what to do next. I could have said a simple, “Thanks,” taken the parcel and shut the door.

I didn’t.

Instead, I reached out and grasped his shirt, pulling him inside.

“Lady, are you sure about this?”

I threw caution to the wind. It was ‘Friday fuck’ night after all.

“Come in…”

I lifted his loose top and gasped. “I didn’t know before, but now I’m sure.”

A smile flickered across his handsome sculpted lips. He had dimples that creased his cheeks making him even more attractive.

It was his cock! I could clearly see that he was big, very big, very long and very hard. It was out of proportion to his still youthful body but there was no doubting its hunger and its potency. It was engorged for me. It must have been a lightning response to the desire he saw in my eyes.

I sank onto the huge leather sofa in our living room; the one where I had fucked Greg when he was still Greg-my-guy and not Greg-Dennis’-guy.

“What’s your name?”

HOPE YOU ALL ENJOYED IT HEHEHEHE**