The Draftsman

I had dated him 8 years previously. He lived with his parents which made sex conservative.
It was comfortable with him. No danger, no thrills. Just clean uncomplicated sex.
As a result I fucked someone else. And couldn’t really carry on the pretence. Probably broke his heart.
Now I was fresh out of a long term relationship and he found me on Friends Reunited.
Probably bad timing.
He wouldn’t leave me alone once I gave him my number. Called me all the time while I was at work. Pestered me to meet up.
I gave in.
I invited him to a private view at a gallery I was a regular at.
He turned up in an Indiana Jones leather jacket and cowboy boots. The jacket, he proudly told me, was from the actual store Harrison Ford bought his from. I wanted to die. The only thing for it was to drink.
The gallery closed and the party moved on to a fashionable and exclusive bar, members only. I remember dancing with a friend right by the DJ and him standing watching me. He hated dancing.
I could have danced all night but realised the time and the fact I had work in the morning. We left quickly.
On the tube he tried to convince me his last tube would have gone already. I gave him an earphone and played him some of my favourite music. I was slipping back into the old habits.
we arrived back at mine and he made to come into my room. I stopped him and showed him the spare bed.I think I even tucked him in.
I woke the next morning to find his hands over my tits, groping them, playing with my nipples.
He’d got into bed with me.
I slapped him away.
“Oh come on” he said
“No. Get out!”
His hands were now on my butt, stroking my skin. I could tell in that one touch that he still loved me. But it felt wrong
“I mean it! Get off”
I got up.
“Okay okay” he conceded.
He moaned about me having nothing for breakfast, the fact I didn’t even have any milk.
“You always used to have tea in the morning!?”
He hadn’t changed at all.
But I definitely had.

It was too easy to fuck him again. And I don’t like things easy.

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