I was sorry to feel him go when we disengaged and he dealt with the rubber.
He returned, stretched out next to me, and said, “You drained me.”
“Good.”
There comes a time when the world intrudes on whatever temporary little cocoon you’ve built, when the spell has dissipated and the present re-establishes itself. It was the inevitable letdown after sensual mindlessness.
I wondered: what was this for him? A screw that fell into his lap? Why not? It had been for me. Fact was, I wanted more. Pathetic really, thinking that a one-off could and should lead to more.
But I took a chance. “I’d like to do this again,” I said.
He pursed his lips, looking serious. Glancing at me and then away.
My heart sank.
Finally he smiled. “Maybe we could go out first. Let me woo you now that we’ve got this consummation business out of the way.”
What a lovely accent, I thought. And a lovely, reassuring statement. I smiled back. “Wooing sounds good.”
I got dressed while he lay naked on the bed.
As I turned to go, he asked, “I’m curious — why do you “Helin” written above your pussy?”