I gave in, in a moment of weakness I allowed my loins to take the call. I agreed to see the married man.
Then, because, my stomach instantly turned over with butterflies, my ego soothed and in all honesty I was flattered.
Now, I can't justify it.
The first message said how much he had missed me, and what he would do if he saw me again. I ignored it. The second message stated how much he wanted to see me. I said I was out of London. The third message asked me to let him know when I was back. I ignored it. The fourth message a week later asked me to meet him that night. And I did.
Four messages - is that all it takes?!
The sex was predictably animalistic, wanton, wrong and almost clinical. He has a colder Thirty than the one he met months ago. We kiss a lot, but not enough. We fuck hard but hardly intimate.
I like the fact he doesn't stay the night, I can chastise myself and I can hit my head against a wall without his help, thank you very much!
All in all, afterwards I felt physically satiated yet emotionally empty.