There was once a boy-man that I met through my professional network. We had passing pleasant conversations. We worked (and still do) in the same sector and profession – so really there was no escape…
I met him in City 1. At the time he made it clear he was interested in me, but as I was in a long term relationship and living with my other half, I wasn’t going to risk it. Especially as Mr ToTC wasn’t flipping my switch massively.
Years passed, we kept in touch through professional circles.
A couple of years ago he was in City 2 for work. As I live in City 2, I said drop me a line and we’ll do drinks / dinner. I know what it’s like to be away from home for work – pretty fucking miserable if you’ve got no friends, social life etc.
We went out in the nice part of town and had a nice meal. We then went for cocktails. A very decent evening, the kind of thing I do with my close girl friends.
As the night drew to a close, he asked me if I wanted to see the hotel he was staying in. He knew from various conversations I’d wanted to see the interior of said hotel for quite awhile as it was supposed to be pretty special.
That was probably the only smooth move of the night…
Once up in his room and after surveying the building, I said I’d sit and watch some TV whilst I waited for my taxi. It was an awfully hot night and absolutely everywhere seemed stuffy – I certainly wasn’t in a sexy time mood.
However, he was.
Somehow he managed to whip everything off down to his boxers in a really short space of time. I was somewhat amused by the magic striptease. He asked me to stay as he had waited years to spend the night with me. We wouldn’t do anything, this would be the start of something no doubt, etc etc.
The heat had obviously gone to my head (it wasn’t the sight of his near naked gangly self I can assure you) so I agreed, ignoring all the weird comments about “the start of something” presuming he was pissed or suffering from heatstroke. It was really late and a taxi would take a while to arrive anyway.
So, we went to bed. I insisted on being given something to wear so ended up in one of his t-shirts. I kept my bra and knickers on as well. I thought this sent an obvious signal.
My signal was lost in translation. After starting to kiss me – one of the most awful kissers ever, like some sort of dry, mouthy fish – he proceeded to put his hand up my t-shirt. It was like being 12 again and behind the bike sheds at school. I couldn’t believe quite how bad a fully grown man could be at simple things. I couldn’t find the words to stop the car crash without being so very rude so tried to feign tiredness and kept rolling away from him.
Tiredness and rolling was unsuccessful.
He then inserted his hand into my knickers, “just to see what it felt like.” I felt like some sort of science experiment, freak and paedophile all at once. Mr ToTC is a fair few years older than me, but I still felt like I was deflowering him or something. I had to tell him I had to get to sleep as I had plans the next morning.
The next morning, after him trying to stick to me all night like a peasant to a loaf of bread, I made my excuses. I don’t think I’ve voluntarily sprung out of bed that quickly ever, or been that awake so early. I scuttled off home filled with relief.
Luckily he got the message that the night had been a bit crap once in the hotel. We still chat occasionally (the professional network can be painfully small) but there has been no request for another “dinner.” I’m incredibly grateful for this as I think with age I have become meaner and its unlikely I’d be able to bite my tongue on his complete lack of skills in the bedroom and why it wasn’t “the start of something…”
Thank god for geographical distance as well…