By the time we had got back again, I was utterly captivated by him. My muscle bound boyfriend could have walked up at that moment and I would have been totally cold to him. It was like an epiphany in my understanding of what I liked in men. I had extracted information from him about what his plans were for the next few days, when it turned out his wife would be away visiting friends and family. He had to stay to look after his business, but seemed perfectly happy to have the time to himself.
That night he was going to a local bar in our village and it was here that I dragged my friends that night before we headed for the bright lights of the city. They couldn’t understand why we were going there first, but I made some lame excuse about flirting with some rich older men who would buy us drinks and they seemed happy with that. So dressed to kill, we followed my plan.
When we arrived, he was stood by himself and obviously happy to do so, just chatting idly with occasional passers by. After about twenty minutes, I made a big thing of ‘accidentally’ brushing past him when heading for the loo. His face broke into the warmest smile when I stopped and talked to him rather than simply say hello. With a couple of drinks on board I felt confident enough to ask him over to join my friends and I for a drink.
I could almost read their minds as I walked over with him, wondering what on earth I was doing bringing this guy over. His same languid and disarming conversation, punctuated with teasing and charm soon had them won round. The close confines of the bar allowed me to be a little tactile with him, though beyond one or two almost unconscious touches, he was a total gent. By the time we got up to leave, they had lost all their cynicism about this older guy. He gave us all a peck on each cheek as we said our goodbyes, me last of all. His whispered “Thank you…” as we kissed, lingered in my mind all night.
In the taxi to town, my friends half grilled me about him. As soon as I said he was married they kind of dropped the subject, though with a mocking, “Shame, because you look like you fancy him!” I laughed it off and they passed any further opportunity to grill me. They were right though.
Saturday came around and I decided to invite myself over to see him with a bit of a fib. Clutching a couple of tickets to the opening night of a new bar, and knowing he was on his own, I called round. “What a pleasant and unexpected surprise this is, come in, come in” he asked and ushered me inside. His kitchen was beautiful, but lived in. He sat me down at a small table at the window that had two chairs which enjoyed a fabulous view across the fields and woods behind his house
“I’m just making coffee, can I offer you some?” I took the offer and explained the reason for my call.
“I’ve got tickets for the opening night of this new place in town and wondered if you would like to come with me. My friends and I really enjoyed last night and you were kind to us with the drinks, so I thought I could return the favour if you weren’t doing anything? My mates are at another party, but I think this will be cooler” I blurted out as confidently as I could. After all I had never asked a man out, let alone a married one twenty years older than me. I needn’t have worried, as his acceptance was swift and willing.