Me: Great, thanks. Whereabouts in London do you live?
The following day…
Them: Ealing. u?
Me: Clapham. What do you do for a living?
Two days later…
Them: Work in a bar. u?
Me: Marketing. What do you like doing for fun?
After yet another 24-hour wait…
Them: watching films, going out with friends, sex…
Them: Where do you live?
Me: Noticed how you casually dropped the ‘sex’ in there…
Me: I did actually already mention where I lived…
What feels like ten years later
Them:
He he!
Them: oh yeah!
Me: DELETE
Should’ve known from his opening line and text speak it couldn’t go anywhere…
Unlike these guys who took an eternity to reply to a simple message (probably because they were busy messaging hundreds of other women) and would forget the answers you gave to questions (that’s assuming they even bothered to ask a question to keep the conversation going), Vincenzo seemed different. He took an interest in me and what I was doing and remembered to actually ask about it afterwards (e.g., How was your meeting? How did the fish pie you cooked last night taste?). I know it sounds crazy to think that a guy would get brownie points for remembering what I ate for dinner, but that was a big deal in this new-age dating world.
I enjoyed our conversations. It was nice having someone to chat to in the evenings as the house was always so quiet, and even though I still had my friends and family, sometimes I just felt a bit lonely. We were both keen to meet, but our schedules kept clashing. He’d suggested going for a drink the day after we’d first started chatting, but I had a client dinner. When I’d asked about this evening, initially he’d said he couldn’t as he was due to work until 11 p.m. However, as the hotel ended up being quieter than normal, he was able to leave early and messaged me and—well, here I am.
I’d hastily WhatsApped Roxy on the way to let her know where and who I was meeting (complete with description, his username, and mobile phone number). As I’d already set up my escape plan by telling him I could only go for a quick drink and stay half an hour tops because I had an early start, I didn’t think I would need a rescue call this time round (I might regret that, but let’s see). ‘Don’t worry, Roxy,’ I’d said. ‘I don’t think I’ll fancy him, so I’ll be tucked up and in bed by midnight.’
‘Thea?’ said a heavily accented voice from behind me.
I spun around and…oh!
I hadn’t been expecting that at all.
It was Vincenzo, looking significantly more handsome in real life than his photograph. He was wearing smart black jeans and boots, a light blue shirt and a beige trench coat. Nice. His dark eyes sparkled and his eyelashes were ridiculously long. Why, God? I’ve never understood why men are given long lashes whilst we ladies need to resort to layers of mascara or extensions to achieve the same length. And his lips. Mmm, they looked luscious in his photos, but now, just inches in front of me, they were even more tempting. I was suddenly feeling a lot more optimistic about being attracted to him.
‘Vincenzo! Lovely to meet you,’ I said, reciprocating his two kisses on the cheek. ‘How are you?’
‘Well, a little tired after a long day,’ he said in his thick Italian accent. ‘But I am pleased to see you, so I will be fine,’ he added, flashing an enthusiastic smile.
We headed to the South Bank and grabbed a table outside Strada. He told me how he’d originally come here for a holiday but had liked it so much that he’d never left. We discussed our love of food, and he told me about all of the dishes he liked to cook and I attempted to share my limited Italian repertoire.
Although he showed no signs of flirting, which I took to mean that perhaps he didn’t fancy me, I was definitely finding him attractive. I like that he’d made an effort for the date and he was able to hold a conversation here in front of me (so many people are good at chatting online, but struggle in real life). I guessed his job meant he was used to socialising and making people feel at ease.
As I took a last sip of my G&T, I glanced at my watch. 11.30 p.m. Shit. I’d only planned to stay until 10.30 p.m.
‘I should be heading home,’ I said, placing my glass back on the table. His face fell.
‘So soon?’ he asked.
‘Well, I’d only planned to stay for half an hour, remember, because I have an early start in the morning…’ My voice trailed off, and his pretty eyes began to look almost tearful. ‘I’m just going to pop to the ladies’.’
As I washed my hands, checked my hair in the mirror and touched up my lipstick, I started thinking. I’m having a good time, aren’t I? So why cut it short?
Exactly.
I headed back outside to the table.
‘Are you sure you can’t stay out a little longer?’ he asked.
‘Well…I am enjoying your company, so—’ Before I could finish my sentence, he jumped in.
‘I am really glad to hear that, Thea! I am loving your company too. Come,’ he said, standing up and then linking his arm in mine. ‘I know a great bar called Las Iguanas just two minutes away, where they do great cocktails, have a DJ and dancing…’
Oh, what the hell. I didn’t really have anything to do tomorrow morning, so why rush home?
‘Okay, Vincenzo. Let’s do it!’ I said.
He ordered a large glass of pinot noir and a cosmopolitan for me, and we grabbed a table in the corner next to the window.
I loved the vibe. There was a little dance floor area, which was packed with people dancing to a salsa song that I vaguely recognised. Vincenzo stood up, encouraging me to join him (I politely declined) and started swinging his hips left, then right, merengue style. With moves like those, I bet he could do some great things in the bedroom…
Focus…focus…
The conversation continued to flow, but the more I saw his juicy lips moving as he spoke, the more frustrated I became. Did he find me attractive, or was this going to become a ‘friend-zone’ situation? I hadn’t stayed out late to gain another friend. It was time to take control and move this on a bit…
‘So, Vincenzo,’ I said, staring him straight in the eyes and smiling cheekily, ‘what made you send me a message? What did you like about my profile?’
‘Well, I cannot tell lies,’ he said as he unwittingly fluttered his eyelashes and blushed a little. ‘I find you very sexy. You have a nice smile and beautiful body. I love the photo of you in the black dress with the high heels. I want get to know you more.’
Good! Now we were starting to make some progress. That was the same dress Lorenzo had liked. Certainly was a worthwhile investment.
‘And you? What do you like about me?’ he asked.
‘Your eyes and your lips,’ I said, gently touching his hand, which was resting in the centre of the table. ‘Definitely your lips,’ I said, cocking my head to the side.
And that was it. Before I’d even had a chance to finish my sentence, he’d leant forward, taken my face in his hands and started kissing me. There were no half measures. He planted his lips on mine with with full force and enthusiasm. These Italian men kissed so passionately—I loved it!
Despite the slight aroma of the cigarette he’d smoked whilst I’d gone to the loo, I reciprocated, flicking my tongue against his. Whilst my hand rested on Vincenzo’s right cheek, his hands were excitedly exploring my body—brushing against my left breast, down to my bum, across my thighs and then…
‘Mmm, perhaps we should save that for another time,’ I said, gently pulling my lips away and steering his hand from continuing its determined journey up my dress.
‘Oh, I am sorry, Sophia. I could not help it. You are so beautiful,’ he said, his eyes drunk with lust.
‘That’s so funny,’ I said, letting out a little laugh, whilst conversely he began to frown.
‘Why do you say it is funny?’ he asked, now frowning
more intensely.
‘It’s just that I wasn’t sure whether you found me attractive,’ I said, smiling. ‘This evening you’ve been so—I don’t know, professional? Up until five minutes ago, I thought maybe after meeting me, you just wanted to be friends.’
‘Ah, I am sorry!’ he said as his face relaxed again. ‘Perhaps it is nerves. You are so successful and even more beautiful in real life, and so I was not sure if you liked me like that. But then when you go to the bathroom and you come back with fresh lipstick, I think ah, perhaps she is interested…’
‘Really?’ I said. ‘You saw the fact that I’d reapplied my lipstick as a sign that I liked you?’
‘Well, yes,’ he said casually. ‘If you do not like me and you are going home, then there is no need for lipstick.’
Hmmm. That was certainly an interesting observation. I avoided pointing out that I also might have put lipstick on mainly because it needed topping up and I wanted to keep my lips hydrated, but this time I decided to let it go. Right now I was more interested in enjoying my first proper snog since Lorenzo.
I was right about those lips. They were definitely delicious and perfect for long kisses. On the few times that we came up for air, I worried about the intense display of affection—particularly as anyone I knew could walk past the window—but then I thought, Fuck it, who cares? For once I’m going to let my hair down and enjoy myself.
We chatted, salsa-danced and kissed for hours. When the bar closed, we strolled along the South Bank hand in hand. This was lovely. Good call to stay out rather than rushing back home like I was Cinderella with a midnight curfew.
We sat down on a bench, and Vincenzo placed his hands gently on mine. ‘Sophia,’ he said, now using my real name, which I’d revealed earlier. ‘I want you.’ He stared deeply into my eyes. ‘Tonight. Come back to my place.’
I couldn’t deny I wanted him too. Not as much as I wanted Lorenzo, but that wasn’t meant to be, and after coming so close to having sex, then having the opportunity snatched away from me, I was definitely more than ready to lose my MARGINITY. But like this? Right now? Tonight?
I wasn’t worried about the ‘rules’ about how many dates you should go on before sleeping with a guy. After all, it was my body, so I could do what I liked with it, when I liked. It was just that my gut was telling me I needed to press pause and exercise some self-control. And after only knowing him for barely six hours, I certainly wasn’t going back to his place. He could be some crazy murderer.
‘Vincenzo, I want you too, but not tonight,’ I said before leaning in to kiss him again and then gently pulling away. ‘I should go home…’
‘Well, let me come with you. Sophia, there are so many things I would love to do to you…I know you will enjoy,’ he said, licking his lips.
‘Mmm, I’m sure I would, Vincenzo, but not tonight,’ I said, resting my hands on top of his.
He stared at me intently as if assessing whether there was a way to change my mind, but this time there wasn’t.
‘Okay, Sophia,’ he conceded. ‘I understand.’
I ordered an Uber, which arrived in minutes, and we had one last kiss in full view on the main road. Once again his hands began to wander, but this time, I decided not to stop them. So much for self-control…
‘Next time, mate,’ shouted a drunk, dishevelled-looking man as he passed us, ‘go to a hotel and fuck her!’
Charming. But probably true…
As I climbed into the back of the cab and waved goodbye, both my libido and I started hoping that ‘next time’ would be happening very, very soon.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
I couldn’t sleep. Every time I thought about Vincenzo kissing and touching me, my whole body would tingle and I’d wriggle around the bed in frustration. I was so horny. And it was really uncomfortable…
By 10 a.m., my frustration levels were off the scale. Self-control is all very admirable, but what was the point of making myself suffer, when this could very easily be resolved?
I searched for his number, which I’d added to my phone last night and fired off a WhatsApp message:
Me
Good morning Vincenzo. Tomorrow’s your day off isn’t it? Fancy meeting up and continuing what we started?
No point in waiting for things to happen. I wanted him, he wanted me, so why not just go for it?
Seven minutes later my phone pinged.
Vincenzo
Good morning, Sophia. I like your suggestion very much as I cannot wait to kiss you all over. Let’s meet for brunch in Victoria at 1 p.m. and then we can go get to know each other better…
Done. The advice to treat dating with the same tenacity I used for my work was definitely wise. It felt good to take control of my romantic life.
Roxy was right. Keeping your options open definitely seemed like the way to go. Since I’d been speaking to Vincenzo, I’d stopped obsessing about Charlie. We didn’t get to speak on the phone as he was busy preparing for his business trip to Australia and then when he was free, I had a meeting. But we’d exchanged several messages that Monday evening and also before he’d boarded the plane on Tuesday. Mainly to do with organising the repair of my car, but he’d also confirmed that we were on to meet when he got back, which was something nice to look forward to.
I admit, after I’d finished messaging Vincenzo, I did feel a tiny twinge of guilt about setting up a sex session with him, whilst knowing full well I would be going out with another guy in a fortnight. But then I came to my senses and reminded myself that I didn’t owe either party anything. Likewise, neither did they. I barely knew either of them, and we certainly hadn’t made any formal declaration of monogamy. And after knowing me for just shy of a week, I’m sure Charlie would be enjoying himself Down Under (possibly quite literally…) and would not be giving me a second thought. So my intention was to do exactly the same.
Today was the day. After spending what felt like the entire morning primping and preening, I was ready for action. Nails and toes were done, make-up was looking natural, hair had been waved, plus the lady garden had been trimmed and shaped.
When I think about it, it’s exhausting the regime that women go through. I often wonder why we do it. As much as I’d like to say it’s all for me, I’d be lying if I didn’t admit there is definitely a desire to ‘please’ a man. Of course, that statement opens up a whole can of worms in itself, but like Monique said, provided it’s on your terms, it’s okay. Despite it being a pain to do, I did want Vincenzo to desire me, so the rigmarole was worth the ‘reward’.
I slipped into a red lacy thong with matching bra, then pulled on a red figure-hugging dress which skimmed the tops of my knees, and clung perfectly around my boobs and arse. I remembered reading an article in the Daily Mail about a study that revealed that wearing red increases a woman’s sex appeal, which was exactly what I wanted to do today.
‘Yes!’ I said to myself as I looked in the full-length mirror, spinning around to examine both sides as well as my pert behind. Fingers crossed, with this outfit, my confidence and my flirting dial turned up to maximum, Vincenzo wouldn’t be able to resist me.
Just as I was composing myself in the taxi to Victoria, my phone pinged. It was a message from Roxy.
Roxy
So, is today the day you’re re-popping your cherry?
Ha-ha! Funny, but true, I hope.
I quickly replied:
Me
It is indeed! On my way to meet him now. We’ll go for brunch in Victoria and find a hotel nearby…
Roxy
Woo-hoo! You go, girl!
Me
Any last tips for this MARGIN? It’s been a while…
Roxy
Darling, just relax and enjoy! Losing your MARGINITY isn’t as scary as losing your virginity, particularly as you kind of had a practice run with Lorenzo. You’ll be fine. Sex is just like riding a bike. You never forget. So just lie back and let your bodies steer you to Pleasureville!
Me
Ha
-ha! Steer us to Pleasureville! Where might that town be, Roxy? Just off Junction 10 of the M25? Hilarious!
Me
I’ll try! I’m hoping he’ll guide me. Judging by the way he moved when he was dancing and all the things he’s been saying he’d like to do to me, I reckon I’m in for an exciting afternoon
Roxy
Yay! Message me AS SOON as you leave the hotel. I want to know everything!
Me
Will do! x
By the time I stepped out of the taxi, I was bursting with anticipation. After the false starts with Lorenzo, all the hours of swiping, enduring the creepy messages and going on those weird first dates, I’d finally met a decent, smart, handsome guy and was ready to dust off the cobwebs downstairs and get my sexual mojo back.
On one of his messages earlier this morning, he’d asked me to dress ‘sexy’, so as well as my man-magnet red dress, I was also wearing nude suede open-toed high heels. Of course, in the interest of equality (and to stimulate my libido as much as possible), I’d asked him to dress sexy too.
As I strode confidently across the concourse of Victoria station, I scanned the exterior of WH Smith’s to see if he’d already arrived.
He had, and oh dear…
That was his idea of sexy?
The suave, sophisticated look that I’d loved on Friday night had been replaced with an outfit that could only be described as ‘try hard’. He was wearing a black biker jacket which had been zipped all the way up (and made him look totally uncool—probably the complete opposite of what he was aiming for), black sunglasses (even though it wasn’t that sunny today), light blue jeans and black biker boots.
You know those old photos of James Dean wearing a black leather jacket and jeans, looking all mean, moody and totally hot on a motorbike? Yeah, well, Vincenzo did not look like that. Instantly turned off. Shit.
Reasanna piped up and told me not to be so shallow. Once you see those eyes and those lips are on yours, Sophia, all will be forgotten.
The Middle-Aged Virgin_A Chick Lit, Romantic Comedy Novel_Newly Single And Seeking Spine-Tingles... Page 23
