I couldn’t believe I was doing it, even as I walked through the elegant streets to Paternoster Square to meet him.
He’d chatted me up on an app; he lived nearby. He was a lawyer. He’d asked if I wanted to come over for quick, no-strings lunchtime sex and, rather than doing the sensible thing and ignoring it, I’d really rather fancied it. So I did.
It was quick, for one thing. I think the whole mess didn’t take more than a few minutes. We’d barely finished than we were both outside the door and, in just a few minutes more, I was back at my desk after one of the oddest lunch breaks of my life.
Quite honestly, I’d simply had a rather hectic, frustrating morning and thought that it might be a way to relax. I hastened to the bathroom just to check that there were no tell-tale marks or sticky patches on my clothes which might reveal my shame to the entire team.
I did have a fluttering worry that I might have been seen heading off with a strange man into a private, gated area near St. Paul’s, but it was only fleeting.
It was more the thrill of it; the high. I’d been out and had casual sex on my lunch break. How very…something. I’m not sure what to be perfectly honest. But it felt damn good, I’ll tell you that. It was almost like I’d joined some sort of mile high club. I wondered how edge or daring what I’d done really was. I mean, it’s my lunch break isn’t it? I can do what (or who) I want on it, surely.
That being said, I don’t think it’s something I’ll be rushing to try again. Boring as it sounds I think I prefer just getting some lunch and reading for a spell to relax my mind than the delicious thrill of secret, elicit local sex.
But, you know what they say, don’t knock it until you’ve tried it.