Searching Again

The end of the relationship with Cleo coincided with an exceptionally busy time at work, one of our partners has had an unfortunate cancer diagnosis and your blogger has had to cover his work.

He’s a lovely guy, late fifties, been married to a long suffering wife for 30 years that he met at Cambridge and his hobby is fucking black women.

Yes, whilst many management consultants are happy to sate themselves with golf, or watching rugby, my dear colleague has a penchant for ebony ladies, usually under the age of 25.

Like me, you may feel that knowing a secret like this on a work colleague is a tremendous burden, however, since I chanced upon it after a late night whisky session during a week in Tallinn a year ago, he’s actually gone up in my estimation and it will go with me to the grave.

So, dear Patrick’s, thankfully treatable, cancer shock, has prevented me from dipping into the sugar bowl for a couple of weeks.

Thursday saw my first post-Cleo date.

I had exchanged a few mails with a lady called Leanne, who’s been in London a few months after moving here from N Wales. She’s a trainee accountant with one of the big boys, straight after 3 years in a middle rank uni, which no doubt had some kind of positive discrimination programme going in favour of Welsh comprehensives with names that no Englishman can pronounce.

She caught my eye a few months ago as she advertised that she was looking for an older guy who enjoyed spanking.

My attention was captivated and we arranged to have a drink in the City.

I arrived around 7, and waited.

She arrived a few minutes later, not the thinnest woman, but witty and funny with a lovely deep Welsh accent.

Although we had only planned on a quick drink, we decided to have dinner and all seemed good. She went on at length at how she loved being tied up and had several relationships with both older men and women.

Then came the bombshell…

“I’m a virgin”

“Excuse me?”

She repeated it, she was a virgin.

“Hang on, you’ve just described all sorts of sexual adventures that are relatively advanced for a 23 year old and you’re a virgin?

The answer was again affirmative.

“Does it put you off?”

I couldn’t have been more shocked than if the attractive lady opposite me had confessed to gender re-assignment (she’d have still held my interest!)

Leanne went on to explain that her first few years sexual activity had been only with women and she’d only found herself attracted to guys in the last year or so. She’s been a bit apprehensive about letting them fuck her and always contrived to blow them.

My immediate answer was no, of course not.

We left the sushi place and I put her in a taxi home and paid the driver.

I walked along the Embankment to the tube, thinking that I’d heard it all.