The Middle-Aged Virgin_A Chick Lit, Romantic Comedy Novel_Newly Single And Seeking Spine-Tingles...

by Olivia Spring

  He clocked me walking towards him and began grinning.

  ‘Ciao, Sophia,’ he said, leaning forward to kiss me firmly on the lips. He’d just had a cigarette, so not the greatest aroma, but his lips still felt lovely. ‘Mmm,’ he continued as he took a step back to give me the once-over from head to toe. ‘You look very beautiful. Very, very sexy.’

  ‘Thank you, Vincenzo,’ I said, pleased that the red effect had worked, but also a little disappointed at his interpretation of the ‘sexy’ brief. ‘Shall we go and get something to eat?’ I asked, trying to change the subject in case he asked me if I liked his outfit.

  ‘Yes, why not?’ he replied politely.

  We headed to Bills for brunch and the conversation flowed nicely as he told me more about his work. After five years managing the same hotel, he was ready for a change of scene. He was currently toying with the idea of going down the training route—so rather than being on the front line, he would spend his days visiting different hotels and training their teams instead.

  Talking about work was fine for a while, but that wasn’t what I was really here for.

  I edged my seat closer to his and placed my hand on his thigh. He looked me in the eyes and leant forward to kiss me.

  Mmmm. That’s much better.

  ‘So,’ he said gently. ‘Shall we get the bill?’

  As we entered the Superior Room at the Park Plaza Hotel across the road from the station, we made a beeline for the bed (which, unlike the one in Florence, was a normal king size) and started whipping off our clothes.

  As I pulled my dress over my head, he undid his shirt and then removed it slowly. His slim, smooth chest was much paler than Lorenzo’s bronzed and beautifully hairy torso, but different didn’t mean bad. We threw the grey-and-gold cushions which were resting on the white pillows onto the brown patterned carpet of the medium-sized room. As we were only likely to be here for a few hours, we both agreed there was no point in opting for anything too premium. All that mattered was that it was clean, comfortable, and of course, that it had a bed big enough to roll around on.

  True to his word, he began kissing me all over, gently peeling off my thong as I raised my hips. I was definitely thankful that I’d taken the time to tend to my lady garden earlier.

  He placed his head between my legs and began licking slowly.

  Oh…yes. I like that…

  I’d always enjoyed a man kissing me there…mmmm.

  But as he finished and edged himself up my body with his manhood getting ever closer to my mouth, then took his hand and steered my head towards it, I froze.

  There was no doubt. He wanted me to reciprocate. But, how can I put this politely? The aromas that were coming from his nether regions were not the sweet scent of my favourite Jo Malone Lime Basil & Mandarin candle. Far from it. This was more burger and fried onions. A kind of stale this penis has not been washed today sweaty type smell…

  Should I say something? Maybe decline and say I don’t do that? But he’d already been down on me, so he’d think I’m a prude and I’d look like a pillow princess if I didn’t return the favour. But how? It stinks!

  I could ask him to take a shower. But then that’d ruin the moment and I really, really wanted to have sex today. I needed to have sex today. Help.

  Suck it up, Soph—literally, screamed Resanna in my head. Just close your eyes, imagine it’s Lorenzo, do it quickly, get it over with and then you can get what you want. I’m sure you’ve tasted worse things…

  My head was now millimetres away from his manhood. I took a deep breath, squeezed my eyes shut and opened my mouth reluctantly…

  I think I managed about thirty seconds before recoiling, pushing his body downwards and reaching for a condom. I felt like I’d just done a bushtucker trial on I’m a Celebrity…

  I cannot believe I just did that. Right now I just wanted to rush to the bathroom and wash my mouth out, but instead I said in my best seductive voice, ‘Vincenzo. I want you inside of me’. I gently tore the edge of the condom packet, took it out then rolled it onto him.

  He got into position. It was finally happening. He was inside me. There was a little discomfort at first, as obviously it had been a while since I’d experienced full penetration, but I didn’t care. I was so ready.

  We rocked forwards and backwards and the memories started to flood back to me. It was just like riding a bike. This felt good. Yes!

  I picked up the pace, rocking more enthusiastically. I’d waited so long for this and now it was happening, I wanted to give it everything I had.

  I began to gyrate beneath him, grabbed hold of his bum smacked it and then…

  ‘Oh, Sophia!’ groaned Vincenzo.

  Noooooo…

  WTF?

  In less time than it took to say Usain Bolt, it was all over!

  He collapsed on top of me.

  That was it? You’ve got to be kidding me!

  ‘Erm, Vincenzo?’ I said, struggling to find the words (well, polite ones anyway). ‘Did you come?’

  ‘Yes,’ he said, gasping for breath (not sure why when neither of us had had a chance to work up a sweat). ‘I’m sorry,’ he replied sheepishly. ‘I was just too excited.’

  Oh my goodness. After boasting about all the phenomenal things he was going to do to me, that was it? Five pumps and he’s done?

  Calm down, said Reasanna. Shit happens, right? It’d been a couple of months for him, so like he said, he was probably overexcited. Be understanding. Give him time and round two will be much better.

  Except it wasn’t.

  We tried for what felt like hours afterwards and he just couldn’t get it up. I even attempted oral again (after asking if I could give it a little rinse first, which made him blush with embarrassment. Sorry, but I couldn’t endure that again). At first it seemed to help. But no sooner had he entered me than it was over. I think I counted ten seconds, but that may have been generous.

  After realising that I was flogging a dead horse, I said I needed to get back and left.

  I slumped into the seat of the black cab, closed my eyes and let out an almighty sigh. That definitely had not gone as I’d expected. All that build-up. All that excitement, and that was it? My first time back in the sack in pretty much a year amounted to a few seconds of mediocrity? Why, God, why?

  I’d thought today, I’d feel like a fulfilled woman. That I’d be skipping through the hotel doors and humming a happy tune, whilst my skin radiated with a warm you’ll never guess what I’ve been up to post-sex glow. That I had found another Italian to satisfy my sexual needs. I hoped I’d be so high on lust that Lorenzo would well and truly be a distant memory. But rather than making me forget about him, Vincenzo had just made my thoughts of Lorenzo and our night together resurface.

  As the taxi headed over Vauxhall Bridge, I felt more frustrated than when I’d arrived. Seemed like losing your MARGINITY could be just as much of a let-down as losing your virginity. In fact, it was worse. At least when I was seventeen and had decided to finally ‘do the deed’ with my then-boyfriend Jeremy in his single bed one rainy afternoon whilst his parents were at work, I’d expected it to be awkward. It was the first time for both of us, so it wasn’t realistic to hope for fireworks. But what now?

  What if the earth didn’t move with the next person I sleep with? What if I was disappointed again? Was this why our generation had become MARGINs in the first place, because the act of having sex never actually measured up to the anticipation?

  Surely I wouldn’t have to settle for having bad sex at the grand age of thirty-nine? Would I?

  If today’s underwhelming experience was anything to go by, the future was not looking bright.

  Shit.

  Chapter Thirty

  When I’d first got home after the unfortunate encounter with Vincenzo, despite trying to stay positive and reassure myself that one man’s performance was not representative of an entire gender, I was still feeling disappointed.

  It was his overconfidence that irrita
ted me. Why boast about his extensive bedroom skills if he knew he had problems performing?

  I’d initially written him off completely. Don’t get me wrong. If this was a serious relationship, then we’d work through it together as a couple. But we were not in a relationship. This was supposed to be fun. A mutually satisfying arrangement.

  Roxy’s response reinforced my thoughts:

  Roxy

  Next!

  Sorry he was a flop, darling. No sympathy for him after he made himself out to be the world’s greatest lover. Get back on the app and find someone else who can actually keep it up!

  However, Fran was much more sympathetic and made me question whether I’d been too hard:

  Fran

  You know what? I wouldn’t write Vincenzo off totally, hon. These ‘flops’ happen. Even the most skilled lover can get nervous or excited. Especially if he’s thinking he’s with a beautiful, successful woman, has hyped himself up and realises he now needs to deliver. That can be a lot of pressure on a man. It may just be a one-off. In the absence of anyone else, if you enjoy his company, consider keeping the door open and meeting him again.

  Hmm. She had a point. I’d enjoyed talking to him both on and offline, especially as it was a distraction from thinking about Lorenzo (well, most of the time) and keeping my mind off chiselled-jawline Charlie. I liked kissing Vincenzo too, and perhaps it was a little harsh to judge a person on one (well, technically two) poor performance(s). He’d been uncharacteristically quiet and avoided eye contact when I’d left the hotel. He’d probably been beating himself up about what had happened (or rather, hadn’t) ever since. I started thinking I should show a bit more compassion and give him another chance. So I did.

  By now it was Thursday, and we’d been messaging every day. I’d broken the ice on Tuesday by asking if he got home okay on Sunday night after I’d left.

  We were now planning to meet up this coming Saturday. I was up for giving it another go as there had been no improvement in the options available on either of the three dating sites.

  Rather than go out for lunch, he’d suggested that he cook for me instead. At first I was apprehensive about going to his place, as I’d only known him for just shy of a week, and when I’d told my mum the other day that I had signed up to a few of the dating sites (it was during one of her increasingly frequent what’s happening on the man front? interrogations and I wanted to show her I was making progress), she’d started relaying a load of horror stories she’d heard of women who were killed after meeting up with guys they’d met online.

  Great, I’d thought. Exactly what I need to hear. Not. But then I’d decided that I couldn’t live my life in fear, so I pushed that negativity out of my head and accepted Vincenzo’s invitation. Provided I kept my wits about me and gave Roxy and Harrison full details of where he lived, etc., I should be fine. Meeting in daytime also seemed a lot less sinister somehow, but I wouldn’t let my guard down. I’d still take my personal alarm with me, ensure my phone was charged and tune into my gut when I got there.

  I had noticed, though, that lately when we’d been messaging, the conversations had taken a slightly different turn. One minute the messages would be super polite and ‘straight’, and then the next, his would turn saucy.

  He’d just messaged with directions to his place and had sent me the itinerary/menu for the afternoon.

  Vincenzo

  Hey, sexy…I’m going to cook for you, then I’ll take a hot shower and make love to you, then we’ll go for a walk. You’ll turn me on so much that we’ll make love again and again, then we’ll go out to dinner and I will take you back to my place. Wear those heels in that photo that I love…

  Wow. Okay, then. I chuckled to myself when I read the bit about the ‘hot shower’. Clearly I’d given him a cleanliness complex. Good! Maybe I’d save another woman from enduring the same ordeal in the future.

  But he was overselling himself again. After his performance last week, was he really going to be able to get it up that many times? Hmm. His next message was much more ‘normal’:

  Vincenzo

  So I will make you baked monkfish with potatoes. Sound good? I will also choose a good white wine.

  See what I mean? His messages had gone from saucy to straight in seconds. I typed a reply:

  Me

  Sounds delicious. Thank you.

  I loved monkfish. I was looking forward to it. Well, I was, until I received his next message…

  Vincenzo

  P.S. I wanna lick your pussy for my dessert so pls make sure it’s completely shaved. Not with lots of hair like last time. Can’t wait to see you on Saturday!

  What the hell?

  Now, whilst I understand that everyone has their personal preferences, and like I said, I’m all for women dressing up to please a man if they so wish, I do take offence at being told to shave off my lady garden completely. What a bloody cheek!

  Would he do the same for me if I asked him to shave his sack and crack? I like the way my garden is pruned, thank you very much. Whilst I know many women love to have it all bare down there, which is entirely their choice, personally that’s just not for me. I’d wanted to give Cameron Diaz a high-five when she encouraged women to keep a ‘curtain of pubic hair’ in that book she wrote a few years back. I fired off a reply:

  Me

  As much as I’d like you to enjoy your ‘dessert’, I’m not into the bare look down there, I’m afraid. I can go low, but it won’t be shaved off completely. Each to their own, but that look isn’t for me…

  Vincenzo

  Okay. Sorry if I offend. At least you can still eat my banana split for your dessert…

  Eat his fucking ‘banana split’? Really? I couldn’t guarantee I’d be able to do that again. The first time was kind of traumatic. I’d better manage his expectations.

  * * *

  Me

  Maybe…we’ll see. Can’t promise.

  He read my message and then logged off. Strange..

  A few hours later he logged back on:

  Vincenzo

  Sophia, I think maybe I am not your type. I need hot fun to fit my style. I think this can be an issue for me.

  For goodness’ sake. He’s acting like a baby. Now seething, I shot him a reply:

  Me

  So what, just because I won’t shave completely or promise to go down on you, you don’t want to meet anymore?

  Vincenzo

  Is not about the shaving. When a woman says she don’t like to be hot, I lose attraction.

  What the fuck is he talking about now?

  Me

  When did I say I don’t like to be ‘hot’? I was looking forward to seeing you this Saturday. But if you don’t want to have fun with me anymore, then no worries.

  Vincenzo

  I understand but I want to do naughty things with you. I wanna make a porn with you, are you ready for that? I wanna fuck you with that black dress on and those heels as you’re so stylish and sexy.

  A porno! Is he for fucking real? I knew I was supposed to be living life and embracing new things, but that was a step too far…especially for a casual date and a guy I barely knew.

  Me

  You’re right. It sounds like you’re looking for something a bit more adventurous. Definitely not into making a porn, I’m afraid. Bye, Vincenzo.

  Wow. I had not seen that one coming.

  I wasn’t sure what was worse: the guys like Diego, Nathan and Javier, for example, who declared their sexual intentions and fetishes upfront, either within the first few minutes of messaging or on the date, so you could then immediately say thanks, but no thanks and move on quickly; or guys like Vincenzo, who give the impression of being a sweet man with ‘straightforward’ non-kinky sexual desires, but then dropped the bombshell that they wanted you to be a leading lady in their home video. Oh, and ordered you to shave.

  Sweet Jesus. I wonder what Roxy and Bella will make of this at our FTA on Sunday…

  ‘So what happened to Mr.
Flop, then?’ said Roxy, sipping on her G&T innocently.

  ‘Roxy!’ said Bella, as if springing to the defence of Vincenzo, and all men suffering with erectile dysfunction. I wondered if she’d be feeling so sympathetic at the end of this story…

  ‘Well, first he told, not asked, told me to make sure I shaved my fanny completely so that he could eat it for dessert,’ I said, tearing off a piece of bread and dipping it in olive oil.

  ‘Oh!’ said Bella, cringing as she wriggled around the leather banquette in our normal spot at Hush.

  ‘So you don’t have a Hollywood?’ said Roxy, widening her eyes. ‘I have to say, when it comes to tackling fanny fur, I’m totally with Vicky B on that one.’

  ‘What, when she said that she thought Brazilians should be compulsory at age fifteen?’ I asked, surprised at her declaration. ‘Well, if you’re with Victoria, I’m definitely in support of Gywnnie and Cameron,’ I said strongly.

  ‘What did they say again?’ asked Bella frowning.

  ‘Some nonsense about rocking a seventies vibe down there, I think,’ said Roxy, jumping in and rolling her eyes. ‘Spare me the details, Soph, but I find it hard to believe that you, Queen of the Beauty PRs, with VIP access to every laser machine and salon in the country, are sporting a fully grown bush down there!’

  ‘Ha-ha, Roxy. Well, I didn’t say I was. I laser my legs and my underarms, but not my nether regions. Although I know they say it’s safe, personally I’m just not comfortable having lasers beamed around down there, and it’s nice to have a little coverage for my undercarriage. As long as it’s neat, tidy and well trimmed, that’s enough for me. Plus it adds a bit of mystery,’ I said, smirking.

  ‘You cannot be serious, Soph,’ said Roxy in disbelief.