A dance...

He’s damaged. Newly single, he’s fragile and frustrated. The lack of regular sex is a shock to the system. I sense in him a smooth power and comfort. He’s used to being secure in the routine of monogamy. His role has never been questioned; his power has never been challenged.

I love his delicate vulnerability. Confident in his ability to manipulate he slides into my circle. He wants relief and attention. He wants to be masculine and desired. He wants to forget for a moment the reality of the loneliness that waits for him at home.

In a different world I may have given him my number; instead I make him my favourite for the evening. ‘Let’s dance’. Let me crawl into your lap and press my naked breasts against your cheek. Let me straddle your body, and tease you with an idea. I rotate my hips and feel his breath catch. Arching in his lap I play with the intimacy and the escape. Another song, and then another, and then perhaps a few more… He’s frustrated and beautiful. The outcome might be the same as every other night at home alone, but at least he now has a new inspiration. Right now, in this room, he can forget how lonely it gets.