Upstairs, Downstairs…My date with Goatee

Goatee picks me up in his car, and he says we’re heading out of the city a bit to go see a photo exhibition of a friend of his. We went to Stirling.

There was this little art gallery showing the work of a black and white landscape photographer. The artist used to be a photo journalist, but when the recession caused him to lose his job he had a bit of a moral turn around. He decided that he was tired of taking pictures of death and destruction (he’d been in nearly ever war zone that had existed since the first Gulf War), so he’s now focusing on the ‘stark and contrasting beauty that is the Scottish landscape’.

But you know what was nice about this date so far? Goatee was already introducing me to his friends. After TheBoy I can’t help but be a little paranoid. In hindsight I know why TheBoy never introduced me to friends and family, so it’s quite nice to see that Goatee is upfront from the start.

There was free wine and champagne, but I stuck to juice. There were loads of interesting people there, and they’d come from all over the see this exhibition. There were journalists from the major papers, and there were other artists, plus the general public. We were there for a couple of hours, but the time just flew by because the conversation was so intense. All very grown-up. Talk about the government and the new spending cuts. Discussions about the future of art and the future of publishing. Several of these people had families, so of course there was talk of children and a future Britain for their children. It was like listening to Radio 4, but interactive.

We eventually said our good-byes, and Goatee took me to a little Bistro that was as much a bar as it was a restaurant. The place was heaving with students in Halloween costumes, but the food was good and it was a really good atmosphere. Goatee didn’t drink because he was driving, and I didn’t want to over do it – like last time. So, I just had one glass of wine. We chatted about the photos and he talked about all his friends we’d just met. 

We eventually left, and there was that ‘what now?’ kind of awkward pause. You know the one. Where you don’t really want the evening to end, but you don’t know what to do next. Goatee suggested heading back to Glasgow, parking the car at his then taking a taxi back out into the town for a few drinks.

He lives in an old refurbed Victorian house in Queen’s Park. He said he got it for a steal quite some time ago and fixed it up himself, so I had to have a look inside. It is absolutely gorgeous. It’s this crazy mix of old and new: original mouldings and fittings, but sleek furniture and mod lighting. He must have knocked out some walls because the downstairs is all open. The kitchen opens to the dining room which opens to the lounge. The walls were all neutral colours but the drapes and the throws bright and bold, and he had this gorgeous red leather sofa that was so soft and deep you could just spend your life in it. Plus, as he is a guy, there was the obligatory massive telly with surround sound. And he said he’s thinking of buying a 3-D telly.

I’m standing in the lounge, and he says ‘Ready to head back out?’ and he flips off the lights leaving us in the dark. Of course, I can’t see a thing, he apologises and turns the lights back on but just on dim. That’s when he says, ‘Or we could stay in?’

He walks over to his computer and with just a couple of keystrokes iTunes is playing some jazz. He takes me by the hand and waltzes me around. My heels are clicking on the hardwood floor, and I stumble a bit but he catches me. As I’m in his arms he kisses me lightly.

At this point a thousand thoughts are crossing through my mind all at once. ‘I shouldn’t be here.’ ‘I’m just now trying to get over TheBoy.’ ‘He doesn’t kiss like TheBoy.’ ‘Of course he doesn’t kiss like TheBoy.’ ‘His Goatee feels funny.’ And so on and so on.

Within a second I was kissing him back. It was like I was on autopilot, because my brain was running through the consequences while my tongue was exploring his molars.

He stopped kissing me for a moment and pulled back to say ‘I’ve been hoping for this moment ever since you walked into the office for the first time.’ Then he brushed a hair way from my face, kissed me lightly, and said ‘You are so beautiful and clever. And well, I’m just really lucky that you’ve agreed to come out with me….’

He didn’t finish the sentence, because at this point my body was puddy, my brain stopped thinking ridiculous thoughts, and my body wanted him so badly.

I don’t want to get too graphic, but I feel like I just have to share my experience. Goatee, right there in the lounge on the red sofa, did something that no man’s ever done to me before. (Okay, in school this guy once tried it, but it was so weird I didn’t let him continue.) Goatee went down on me. I know, how have I gotten to be a grown woman of a sexual nature without ever having enjoyed the pleasure of a man going downstairs? What have I been missing all these years!

I have truly never cum so hard in my entire life. Plus, I’m usually so self conscious the first time I’m with a guy. But I felt like I’d known Goatee for years. I felt so open and alive. I was ready to just enjoy the moment.

Although, I didn’t know what to do with my hands. I kept wanting to put them on his head. But he’s bald. So that was kind of weird touching his bald head.

After, I assumed he wanted a bit of head in return, so I went to unzip his trousers but he stopped me. He said that he kept his condoms upstairs and that we should go to the bedroom.

Upstairs, he popped into the bathroom to get a condom (and probably to wash off his goatee), and I lay on the bed. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know if I should get undressed, and if I did get undressed should I get under the covers. But what if I don’t get undressed and he comes back naked, condom on and ready to go. My shoes, stocking and under pants were downstairs; I was already half way there. But I didn’t want to be too forward, so I took off my bra but left on my dress.

He came out of the bathroom fully dressed. He kissed me and unzipped my dress. He felt that I didn’t have a bra on and said, ‘You cheeky monkey. You’ve been braless all night.’ I pushed the bra under the bed with my foot, and I kissed him back.

Now, I thought the pre-show on the sofa was good, but my god the main act was even better. He was tender and loving, but rough enough to make it interesting. It wasn’t all about him, but it wasn’t like it was some sort of chore. Pleasuring me seemed to get him off.

Very little of the night was spent sleeping, but by the morning I had dosed off. He woke me up with orange juice and toast. He asked how I took my tea, and when I said splash of milk and two sugars, he said ‘I’ll make sure and remember that for next time.’

Already, he’s assuming there’ll be a next time. But do I want a next time? Of course I do, with sex like that I want there to be an ‘all the time’! But what about a relationship? Do I need to get into one of those again? But he’s such a great guy, why shouldn’t I be in a relationship with him? Argggh! Why does this have to be so hard?

After a leisurely morning of toast, tea and juice, we drove me home. He said that he had a ton of errands to run (he’s fixing up the downstairs bathroom), but he’d ring me later. He kissed me, and I got out of the car, and I floated into the house dreaming of the night before.


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