When I got to the bedroom, he was still in bed, flanked by the cats.
I got dressed, he got up, spoke to the cats.
At breakfast, I came as close as ever I have to telling him how I feel, what's on my mind. But I held off a little longer.
I am trying to arrange to meet Himself again in a couple of weeks. I have a plausible excuse to spend the night in London. But I don't want to complicate things just at the moment, I don't want to provoke suspicions and jeopardise our meeting.
Maybe I should just say, casually,
'Oh, by the way, I'll be spending the night with my lover.'
Lover? Is that we he is?
He's a man I've met twice and had sex with.
Well, not just sex, actually. conversation, laughter, good company, fun. Teasing, of both varieties, cock and ego.
A charming, intelligent, funny, interesting, sexy man, who by some bizarre quirk of fate also finds me charming, intelligent, funny, interesting and sexy. Who'da thought it???
But love?????
Careful.
That way, madness lies.