As I wash the sheets we slept in together, discard the tickets and receipts, delete all traces of the photos I took of him, I feel a calmness, a tranquility wash over me. It was a magical few days.
The economist arrived around midnight in a taxi, having barely made his plane. Cancelled trains and delays in getting to the airport had threatened to ruin his secret birthday treat. I saw his taxi from the window and my heart skipped a beat as I recognised him stepping out. He rang the doorbell and I buzzed him up, watching him climb the stairs to my flat and felt a rush of joy. The last time I had seen him was after our shared lunch some weeks ago. The whole concept of him taking time off work to travel to see me, of spending his birthday with me here, had seemed so surreal for so long. We kissed passionately as the late dinner I was preparing for him bubbled on the stove. He looked tired, yet happy. I love those long, lingering kisses – the type you experimented with at school, when kissing was as far as you would go. It is incredible how erotic something so simple, so innocent can be.
We shared some wine and ate our midnight snack. He told me about his week, his travels, his work. We kissed, touched, embraced and moved to the bed with our wine glasses. I took my time unbuttoning his shirt and his jeans, enjoying the feeling of his warm skin and firm torso. I am mildly obsessed with his body. I could spend hours looking at him, tracing my finger along every bone, muscle, crevasse. He has a beautiful, uncomplicated body. I feel so terribly clumsy when I lie next to him. He pushed my legs apart and began to stroke my pussy with his fingers and tongue. Delicately, timidly at first, but feeling my body responding to his touch, he increased the pressure and speed, pushing his fingers deep inside me. Some men’s fingers are just the right length to touch my g-spot without even trying. The economist has the right fingers. As soon as he slipped them inside, I could feel the deep buzz, the flip, the leap of my cunt as he touched me inside and out. I let my mind go, tossed aside all the thoughts that keep me on the brink and felt the tide of orgasm wash over me. It was a much-needed, much-desired, much-craved orgasm. We fucked until 3am when we finally succumbed to sleep. I lay there, conscious of his body next to mine. I listened to his fast deep breathing, could feel his heartbeat through the mattress. He is a furious sleeper, he sleeps with such concentration, such dedication.
We woke early the next day – a day of work for both of us. He put his arm around me and I could feel his erect cock against my ass. I reached back and began to masturbate him. He pushed me face down onto the bed and entered me from behind. I loved the rawness of it, the feeling of being fucked whilst still half asleep. We shared breakfast in a cafe before I went to work. All day, my mind was distracted by thoughts of our night together. He had also told me over dinner that he has been seeing someone. I knew about her, I know who she is. It made me feel slightly sick to hear of their dates together. I was surprised at my reaction. Of course I have always known he will date other women, in fact I have encouraged him to do so. But it was difficult to accept nevertheless.
We met at the flat in the evening. It felt strangely normal to open the door and find him there, working at his laptop. He was exhausted from his run and so dinner was a simple, local affair. As midnight struck and it was officially his birthday, I bought him a special birthday drink in a little bar on the way home. We were slightly drunk and weaved our way home and to bed.
I had been thinking about how to make his 40th birthday a very special and memorable one. When the alarm went off, I got up and made coffee, placing a little chocolate truffle with a birthday candle on the tray with the cups and grabbing his present from the cupboard where I had been hiding it. He had a business call to make first thing and so I left him in bed to make the call. Freshly showered and feeling incredibly horny, I took a leather belt and silk scarf from my wardrobe. He had finished the call and was still lying naked under the covers. I sat astride him, taking his hands and tying them above his head with the belt. Then I gently tied the silk scarf over his eyes. I wanted to give him a birthday blow job he wouldn’t forget. Using a feather I touched his body delicately, brushing it over his stomach, hips and thighs, licking and nibbling at his nipples. I let my mouth wander down his body and teased his erect cock, letting him feel my lips clasp him again and again, but not allowing him to climax. He was so quiet, so relaxed and happy to be tied up, blindfolded, teased. I watched his timid smile as I took his balls in my mouth. He was so beautiful to look at. He was craving release and I took him in my mouth once again, sliding it in and out with a constant rhythm and pressure that made him even harder and finally allowed him the climax he had been searching for. I swallowed the hot jets. We lay naked, side by side and I cut him free of his ties.
We spent the day walking around the city, sharing breakfast, looking at some beautiful paintings, lying in the grass allowing the sun to warm our winter-pale skins. We found a quiet little restaurant for a late lunch, sitting outside, sipping cool white wine and enjoying that first day of spring when your body begins to awaken from the long winter months. I took him for ice cream, walking along the river and ending up in a rooftop bar where we watched the sun set over the city, sipping our cocktails. Light-headed and slightly drunk, we headed towards the restaurant I had booked for dinner, stopping to ride a merry-go-round on the way. I wanted him to let go, to feel free and happy. All day, I had taken photos of him and looking at them now, I love his laughter lines and the yellow hue of the merry-go-round. He looks so happy. Dinner was an intimate affair, followed by a club and some live jazz. It had been such a perfect day. As we walked home, he received a text message from his ex wishing him a happy birthday. He took it badly and I wish I could have erased that moment, to not let it cast a shadow over our time together.
We fell into bed, sleeping late the next day. We spent almost the entire day lying naked in bed, chatting, listening to music, behaving like adolescent students. It was decadent. We dressed an hour before his taxi arrived and shared a late lunch in a local cafe. I can’t quite describe my feelings. Tender is perhaps the best word. I wanted to keep him, to look after him, to protect him. It was a quiet hour, both of us aware that our secret sanctuary of the last few days was coming to an end. We kissed tenderly again, in the same spot where we had stood only three nights previously. So much left unsaid. He is back in London now, attending a birthday party Moriarty has organised for him tonight. I know that she will be there to toast him and I wrestle with how that makes me feel.