“Truth or Dare?”
"Truth."
“What’s the worst sex you ever had?”
“Oh god,” I laugh, my face burning scarlet with my hands covering my face. I look up and remember.
Back at the turn of the millennium, when MSN chatrooms were hotbeds of lust and cybering, I had fallen for a smooth-talking, witty, funny American. There was something free about talking to someone half-way around the world. I found I could talk more easily to someone I’d never met than with people face to face.
And then the bombshell dropped.
“Hey, Susie... Guess what? I’m going to be in the UK for a few weeks with work and I should be able to make it up to Edinburgh for a day or two.”
“That’s great. Maybe I could show you around?”
The offer was out of my mouth and typed on screen before my brain caught up with me.
“Mmmmmm, I know exactly where I’d like to be shown around, you naughty girl.”
Fuck, I’d seen his picture and he was cute looking but cybersex was one thing. Meeting up with a random stranger who could be a serial killer for all I knew was a slightly different matter. He’ll never make it, I reasoned. He won’t have time. He won’t realise Scotland isn’t a suburb of London.
But a couple of months later, I had somehow agreed to meet him. He’d messaged me that he was staying in one of Edinburgh's innumerable hotels and it had a pub downstairs. I’d seen a picture of him, but I’d still insisted he met me outside. I was not going to trawl the bar like a hooker searching for him.
And then my period started. Fuck!
I messaged him, telling him I’d got my period but his reply was so nice, I felt I couldn’t cancel on him.
“That’s ok. We can still meet for a drink. I have to head to Newcastle tomorrow so won’t be back again.”
I put on a green velvet dress over a pair of black bra and knickers along with a pair of black woolly tights. I was just glad that the first day of my period was a light one, but I knew I’d have the stomach cramps from hell tomorrow.
I clomped down the cobbled street in my boots, turned the corner and there he was, smoking a cigarette and searching both sides of the street at once, waiting for me.
It was the clumsiest meeting. I walked up to say hello and he tried to shake my hand and kiss me on the cheek at the same time, while I was going for a quick peck on the lips. The resulting face mangle left us both blushing and looking a bit uncomfortable.
“You grab a table and I’ll get a drink. What would you like?”
He came over to the corner table with a bottle of beer and a glass of white wine and sat down, grinning. The conversation flowed, it was like we were back online. The nervousness was forgotten as we talked about music. We had a shared appreciation of The Clash, the Dead Kennedys and The Pixies. We talked about movies, how Almost Famous was the perfect movie and the first time I’d actually liked an Elton John song. The wine flowed. When he casually mentioned he had a bottle of champagne in his room if I fancied coming up, no strings attached, well, I giggled and agreed.
In the room, while he fiddled with the champagne cork, I turned on the tv and found the MTV channel. I almost turned it off again as Shania Twain told us she felt like a woman but turned, distracted as I heard the pop of the champagne cork.
We clinked glasses and I knocked most of the bubbles back.
“I’ll be back in a minute,” I giggled and slipped into the ensuite bathroom. I was feeling a bit tipsy and reckless and slipped off my dress and the rest of my clothes. Wearing just my bra and knickers, I stepped back into the room.
He stood there, sort of gormless looking, holding the bottle in one hand. I walked up to him, took the bottle and put it on the bedside unit and pushed him back onto the bed and climbed on top. I wasn’t sure if it was the champagne, the wine before it, or the knowledge this was a one-off but I never felt more flirtatious. I unbuttoned his shirt, pulling it open and sending a button flying off. We kissed, his hand pawing at my breast through the bra while I ran my hands over a smooth hairless chest.
I reached for the bottle and poured some champagne over his chest, bending my head down to slurp and lick it off. His hands reached behind and unfastened my bra and suddenly I found myself on my back. He grabbed the bottle and poured it over my boobs. The feel of the champagne bubbles on my nipples was so cold it felt like a shock. He mimicked me, sucking the champagne from my breasts, tugging the nipples with his lips, greedily moving from one to the other.
He reached down and tugged my knickers down while I lifted my hips to help him. He slid his trousers down, khaki chinos I recall with a shudder, and I saw his cock swell in his boxer shorts. He was enthusiastic and got between my legs, pouring more champagne over my curls and licking and lapping at my pussy. He was more like an enthusiastic puppy than a lover, but it felt good. It’d been a while since anyone has gone down on me and I was starting to enjoy it.
