Julius asked me if I might be interested in a threesome with him and a nineteen year old. The saucy little minx had sent him some rather delectable pictures of herself in very suggestive poses. One had her legs apart for example and another with her back to the viewer but her face in profile and her medium length fringe covering part of her eye. It was most definitely a come hither look if I ever saw one.
Of course I said yes but I did wonder whether she was really nineteen. To me she looked far too young to be engaged in the sort of debauchery we had in mind. And was she really who she says she is? I asked him when she fancied this threesome but have yet to hear back. It all sounds far too good to be true.
Yesterday afternoon I took Julius to see the Kjartansson exhibition at the Barbican. He too found it magical in its full immersive experience. We went into the room with the 9 video harmonising installation where the feminine is celebrated in music – the idea of individuality and celebration of togetherness makes the theme of divorce even more poignant. There were other displays but we chose to watch this twice, in all its 64 minutes. On both occasions it felt right to embrace occasionally. Although I first saw this with Tomas last week and we enjoyed our first kiss here, I felt a profound sense of closeness experiencing this artwork with Julius. I was glad that he found it all as enchanting as I did.
There wasn’t a plan for him to stay the night with me but after the exhibition ended at 6pm he showed me where he worked nearby and we spent a contemplative moment in Cardinal Hume’s garden of peace before going around Bunhill Cemetery to pay a visit to William Blake’s memorial. A quick pint each of Seafarer’s at the pub opposite and I remembered that the cupboard at home was nearly bare, so we nipped into a small supermarket for some supplies. By the time we got back and I’d made dinner and then we had our cuddle, we were both too exhausted to move and in the end he spent the night. It was lovely to wake up together, although being the more morning person I was restless at the crack of dawn and had to take the dog out for a walk on my own. Climbing back into bed later, we had another close and intimate embrace before breakfast.
Julius tells me that he feels very tender towards me – I asked him if this had anything to do with the fact that he is so much taller or older than me but he denied it saying it was more to do with how I am. I suspect he is from an era where men behaved in a chivalrous manner towards women and I feel very fortunate that we have grown so fond of each other so quickly. Doubts about how long this is likely to last no longer trouble me. I told him that Ewan was coming down from Scotland in a few weeks to visit me. He asked if I’d like to take some time out from him to entertain Ewan but I reassured him that I was only meeting up with Ewan for a day and night.
When we said our goodbyes on the tube platform later we knew that it wasn’t long before our next date. Somehow we have managed to increase the frequency by one date every couple of days!
A rather frisky evening spent in text chats with two of my current beaus, Ewan and Julius, as well as a potential lover – the art historian, Tomas, who told me last night that he was in a playful mood having just finished working on an academic nude that evening. I invited him to play with me, letting him know that I was reclining on my bed sans culotte, as it were. He found it a welcome bit of information and offered to stroke my inner thigh. I found the exchange incredibly tantalising, as it escalated, with both of us employing bolder and more salacious language. It culminated with an arrangement to consummate our flirtation some time next week.
Ewan meanwhile, reiterated his desire to indulge in an orgy with me, detailing the extent of his proclivities with increasing fervour. When he sent me a graphic image of his own state of arousal, asking for one from me in return, I declined, pleading the inferiority of my phone camera and the poor lighting at that late hour as my excuse. The following morning, quite coincidentally Douglas made contact on his way abroad via the airport and I sounded him out on his keenness to join Ewan and me at some stage in the near future, whether with or without his current lover Carrie. He was delighted and offered to arrange something with us on his return.
It comes as no surprise now that Julius and I are engaged in text chats or emails on a daily basis. That evening we filled our diaries with future dates; we might meet as often as twice over an 8 or 9 day period, leading up to our holiday together at the end of next month. Our exchanges were more decorous – we regard each other with greater warmth and affection and a large degree of respect. There was nothing prurient and the terms we used rang with sincerity.
We still have yet to find a name for me to address him by as his real name happens to be identical to the one used by someone who had been very close to me from my past. I had asked him to think up something he might be comfortable for me to use with him but we were nowhere near figuring this out.
He has dates with some of his current lovers but I don’t ask him for details, feeling more or less confident now that he still regards me as his favourite, just as he is mine.
The above image taken from http://littlepennydreadful.tumblr.com/post/102159517051/rivesveronique-margaret-watkins-academic-nude
The first driverless taxis have taken to the streets – apparently we won’t have to learn to drive anymore. At least not in Singapore.
It’s been just under three years that I’ve been freed from the tyranny of tight spaces. My car parks itself – Japanese technology at its finest. Who knew that I could fall under the spell of this incipient indolence. I have never been known for my work ethic and so quite rapidly became the victim of labour saving technology – search engines, deliveroo, uber, and home delivery of all my online retail therapy. I longed to have my entire needs satisfied without leaving the house too much, content to remain homebound. I would venture out on first dates and gauge how soon it might be safe to invite my paramours back home.
The lovers who are not put off too greatly by a less than tidy homestead have been happy to be accommodated by me. One such is Pieter. I have been dating him for a little under two months, shortly after I got back from down under. He is Dutch and had business of some sort in the UK. His company would put him up at a hotel somewhere in west London but the few times we’ve had our trysts have been at mine. He is urbane, willing and dare I be critical … sometimes a little too perfunctory. Still, I had no complaints … but since the intimate dalliances or love making with Julius ( as he likes to describe it), I have become reluctant to invite Pieter back to mine. As a testament to his polish, he listened patiently to my demurrer and invited me back to his hotel. Now, it has been some time since I have indulged in hotel sex – it has its own particular mix of sleaze and clinical (read soulless) hygiene that appeals to my prurient side. And so the evening on a late flush of summer sun saw two very satisfied adults having adult and sophisticated fun.
It isn’t something I’m in a hurry to share with Julius, not least because I’m reluctant to cause any uncalled for upset.
The 97% match is an art historian, (edit – let’s call him Tomas) head of his department at a post-graduate art school in London. We recognised each other at once outside the art centre at the Barbican – my choice of venue, even before I’d discovered his professional interest. In a darkened studio our hands brushed against each other’s until at one of the larger rooms, behind a pillar, we embraced. We went down a level for cocktails where he told me of his complicated love life involving one long term partner and other tempestuous lovers. He walked me to my station later that evening and we enjoyed another kiss at the top of the stairs. We exchanged phone numbers and he sent me a sketch by Antoine Watteau the following day – a libertine painter who painted love and had no time to spend on actual love-making – my new love interest tells me. The refined banter between us hinted occasionally at libidinous themes and he invited me to the hunterian museum as a precursor to indulgence of a more sensuous nature. How could a girl resist? I assented, of course.
The following evening I had a date with Julius who continues to delight me. He had indicated that some of his friends might be at the Crossbones vigil we were attending and I’d been slightly apprehensive. As it happened, there was no one there who knew him very well and so the evening had been all right. When the vigil was over we went for a drink at a pub before coming back to mine. In my bed, after dallying about downstairs baptising the sofa in the living room, we came upstairs, and then I remembered and we booked the tickets to go on holiday together for the end of next month. We marvelled at our confidence about the strength of our relationship, to take such a bold step other lovers might consider foolhardy since it was only our sixth date, but we were both certain that it was unlikely we might ever fall out.
I spent the entire night cradled in his arms – both amazed the next morning that we suffered no ill effect from this unfamiliar sleeping position. We re-affirmed our adoration of each other, and were careful and also careless about describing our emotions. The carelessness sprang more from spontaneity and the care we took in our choice of words stemmed from a desire not to alarm the other. We understood where we stood with each other and I can enjoy this phase of my life being the apple of my lover’s eye, until the end of the year at least!
Ewan makes a date finally, having received the parenting calendar for the new school year. We pencil in an evening in a fortnight’s time as he is given to understand that my own diary was being rapidly filled. I am jealous of the time I can call my own after being pressed by the new men in my life to meet them. Goran still sends me messages and I no longer feel the need to meet him. What a difference a few months apart has made and I am regaining my self-esteem, helped tremendously by the ardour of Julius’ passion.