’ Her face fell like the sunlight that was fading she was staring at outside of the window. I had to break the silence by asking, ‘Does he fuck li...e me?’ She cracked half a smile and half a chuckle, and said, ‘Do you really want to know?’ She was right, but in a way, but I did want to know. ‘Think Miles Davis, an expensive Cabernet, and being recited John Dunne and Pablo Neruda by memory, while bathing,’ she said. We both fell silent again. I don’t know what was going through her mind, but I. I dirty talked him as he wanked that sweet shaft in his bed. My imagination teased and enticed him towards his climax. I cajoled him into coming to my place the following evening with strategic withdrawals of my erotic lexicon. Even then he insisted it was just a drink, just a chat. I beat my meat as he came. He hung up and I finished imagining how I would use his pretty prick the next night.At lunchtime the next day I messaged him to ask if he would like some dinner at mine and he declined. I. More

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