I started Friday night with a lump in my throat and tears in my eyes. Nothing to do and nowhere to go, really. I started walking and walking. I walked to the park and walked around it about three times and then I decided to go have a drink at this new little bar that’s in the basement of a cool boutique hotel a few blocks from my apartment.
Got there fairly early and started on a glass of champagne, talked to the handsome bartender a bit and had a small chit chat with another woman sitting by herself at the bar.
And then I sent a quick text to The Bulldog - just to say hi and see what he had going on. He immediately texted back that he had nothing going on…why?
I told him that I was thinking about going on a bender.
And then I quickly backed off because, well, I don’t know. I didn’t really want to hang out with him. I wanted to get drunk.
Still, he texted back a few times (while I downed three glasses of champagne) telling me that he was hungry and wanted to get something to eat and wanted to see if he could meet me there. Uhhhhh, I said sure but that I wasn’t going to be very good company.
He said that he was sure that wouldn’t be the case and told me again that he wanted to get something to eat but not there. So I texted him back, telling him to just come fucking pick me up and I’d go somewhere with him.
Twenty minutes later, we were zooming over to the cute little tapas place that we both love. We love to sit outside and drink the cheap Spanish wine, smoke cigs and talk for hours. And that’s what we did.
We talked and talked and drank and drank and smoked until the wind kicked up. A storm was blowing in and we knew it was supposed to be a doozy.
So we got in his car and zoomed away, but he did not take me to my apartment. Instead we went to his place. I did not question. At this point I was happy to be going to his place. A little thrill came over me for some reason. In fact, there was nowhere in the world I would have rather been than his place at that very moment.
Soon as we got there, he opened another bottle of wine and we sat on his front porch and drank wine and smoked and chatted with his next door neighbor until the rain started blowing too hard.
We went inside and sat on the couch and he turned on the latest Anthony Bourdain - the one where he is in Shanghai…because he knew I’d like it since I’m headed back in a couple of weeks.
So. At some point, and I don’t really know how it happened, but we started making out on the couch, and when I say making out, I mean the hottest and heaviest of making out. The most passionate kisses turned into something even more and before I knew it we were in his bedroom and clothes were flying and it was just about the most spectacular fucking I’ve ever had in my life.
Yes. This is THE BULLDOG we’re talking about here. The guy who never even held my hand! The guy who gave me a HANDSHAKE at the end of an amazing trip to his family’s vineyard several hours away. The guy who refused to show any affection towards me - ever!!
And when I tell you it was good, I mean it was truly one of the best, sexiest, steamiest, most intense, impromptu, brilliant, delicious events I’ve ever experienced.
It was almost as if I’d been asleep for a long time and he woke something up inside of me. Oh did he evah.
We got up and he dressed me in his clothes and we went outside into the rainy night and had more wine and more kissing until we had to go back inside and do it all over again.
Oh my god.
And again in the morning when we woke up because I distinctly remember requesting a morning session. I did. And I received.
We went to breakfast and he took me home. I wasn’t sure how we would say goodbye, so when he took my hand and kissed it I felt my heart drop a little. But then he requested real kisses and I was thrilled all over again.
I am blown away by this development.
I don’t know where it’s going and I don’t know what will happen, but I feel a bit like a new woman.
How’s that for a twist?
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