The 3rd date
An afternoon discovering treasures at the Soane Museum – and I was punctual for our meeting this time. There wasn’t a queue and very few visitors. So we could linger and take our time over the exhibits which interested us – the Rake’s progress, the Canalettos, an exhibition of Shakespeare, this being the fourth centenary of his death. John Soane himself had been an ardent fan of the Bard and so there was plenty in the museum reflecting this. The highlight of the tour was the basement, but alas the sarcophagus was being cleaned and shrouded in ply. I promised to return next month when it should be displayed again – he tells me it is his favourite piece. I was hugely taken with the skylights and staircases. The enthusiasm shown by some of the volunteers eager to share their knowledge of the pieces was infectious and added to the quiet splendour of the place.
Later we walked around Lincoln’s Inn fields – a typical garden square with mature London plains and maples, pausing for a drink at the cafe as it was a hot summer’s day. We sat in the shade and eventually walked down to the India Club at the Strand for dinner and a beer before heading on to the theatre – an Alan Ayckbourn farce which didn’t disappoint although I thought it was rather dated. I didn’t recognise any of the actors but he had seen three of them on TV before.
We took the tube back to his and there I discovered that he too has a collection – mainly of fantasy and science fiction reading material, some DVDs, CDs and pictures of ethereal as well as corporeal female forms, some of whom were in stylistic pose. We talked frankly again (he was willing to satisfy my curiosity over his two other current lovers) and even at this second coupling we have become more familiar with each other’s bodies. He put on some music and we kissed and enjoyed intimate moments to Leonard Cohen, Pete Atkin and even Serge Gainsbourg. I laughed at the cheesiness of engaging in intimacy to the sexy French crooner. When we did fall asleep, it must have been four in the morning.
During coffee in bed at around ten he told me how much he enjoyed seeing me at ease in his bed, waking up with me and that I was the first person he had ever met who liked morning sex. It was a very indulgent Sunday morning, both of us sharing a reluctance to do anything apart from kissing and touching each other.
I may have hinted to him in a brief moment of abandon that I could see myself falling in love quite easily with him – he has been such an intuitive and tender lover. His response, in as gentle a manner as possible was that I may have a long wait before I heard him say those three little words. It sounds like a challenge to me! And yet, … and yet. Whilst I am excited at this I am also trepidatious about our possible mismatch – his advanced years, intellect and experience compared to my relative youth and tendency to the frivolous. He allows me to tease him – for now because he appears enamoured of me. But when my novelty value wears off … and
when he finds someone shiny to adore
will my heart survive that break once more?