I put my card down because I could. His whole face changed. Some men only like cocky until the bill proves you need no rescuing.
Tag: intimacy
Do not just grunt and hope for the best. Tell me it is good. Tell me where. Quiet men make me bored and over perform.
Anyone will touch me in the dark. Fewer will hold my hand by the bus stop. That gap tells me more than those late texts.
Not showy messages. The are-you-home-safe ones after. Aftercare is a character test. Most good people pass the sex easily and then fail the morning kettle.
It was good. Too good, maybe. Next day he talks about timing and work stress. I know a retreat when I am watching one clearly.
It is a trick. If I look busy and shiny, rejection cannot land. Then I am on the sofa checking he viewed the story again.
If it is all serious I tense up fast. Filthy and funny is the mix. I come easier when I am not bloody posing about.
Not always, but often enough to notice the pattern. Body against body and the day shuts up. It works until I get fully dressed again.
I can do no-strings. I am genuinely good at it. Then someone makes tea properly and I invent a whole future they never once offered.
Drinks, sex, a vague plan that never lands on a calendar. I am done collecting almosts. Book a table or do not get me tonight.