The performance drops in the back seat. I replay the look I should have left on. Call it a good night. Mean it halfway, barely.
Tag: nights
Mascara at midnight, work badge in the same bag. This city watches you switch lives in one carriage and nobody comments. That is the mercy.
People love a girl who is easy to plan around. I have taste. I have a body. Wanting both respected is not me being difficult.
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.
If it is easy, I stay out. If I am bored in twenty minutes, I should leave. I rarely leave. That is always the problem.
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.
London is useful for that mood. Pavement, pace, no eye contact at all. You can finish a whole private argument before the next packed overground.
Uber. Bar. A name I will not save. I sat at work hoping nobody asked. Being skint makes romance feel like a secret little purchase.
Do not guess like you are brave. Ask. Then do it like you meant the answer. Confidence is listening with your hands still on me.
Water and a check in are not deluxe. They are basic. If you can take your clothes off you can ask if I got home.