Behaving like teenagers

Very few women contact me first; I usually initiate the contact, but Mel was an exception. Her email said she liked my profile and thought I was an interesting person who she would like to get to know better. Her photographs were not conclusive but promising, and her profile had, interestingly been written by her teenage daughter! It was a glowing portrayal of her mother as part angel, part saint, part victim of a bad earlier relationship. It was intriguing.

We exchanged email addresses, and chatted on msn for a while. I gave her my number and she sent me text messages as full of 'xxx's as her emails. She is a warm, caring and trusting woman who, despite having been hurt in the past, is still old-fashioned and believes in happily-ever-after. What surprised me more than anything is when she asked me out for a drink yesterday afternoon, and asked me to pick her up at her house! I said she was trusting.

We went to a nearby pub and found a leather sofa in a slightly quieter area where we could talk. We both sat sideways, leaning towards each other. I wore black jeans and a turtle-neck sweater, she wore faded denims and a see-through chiffon blouse with a plunging neckline that revealed a quite impressive cleavage. We chatted amiably about our past lives and our present situations. I asked her about music and what she wanted in a man. She asked me very little except about my family.

Once, while asking her a question, I gently touched her knee, which was about two inches from mine. Then later, she briefly touched my arm. Our body language was completely open, both of us subtly portraying an interest in the other. I found it hard to resist staring at her cleavage or touching the soft bare skin of her forearm. Eventually, when her hand strayed too close to mine, I touched it, and she folded her fingers over mine, holding on to my hand.

After a while I got another couple of drinks and when I sat down, we were even closer together. Now she sat straight on the sofa, her legs crossed straight out in front of her, but as close to me as possible. My arm rested along the back of the sofa and she leaned back into it, as if to cuddle. I leaned forward slightly to look at her. She turned her head and leaned forward as well, and without warning we kissed.

Her lips were soft and her tongue warm and moist and tasting of red wine. I put a hand at the back of her head and the kiss seemed to last ages. When we parted, I felt a little embarrassed; two middle aged people behaving like teenagers in a public house while a football match was in progress. Shameful! But I enjoyed it, and wanted more. Other parts of my body were responding too.

When eventually we left, she stopped in the parking lot and we hugged and snogged again. It was like neither of us wanted the afternoon to end. I took her home and we sat talking in the car, reluctant to part. She talked about a party she had been invited to and I offered to take her. Then she spoke about a wedding in August, and the first tingle of apprehension rushed over me. We both wanted to meet again, and tried to figure out how, where and when we could be alone together. She had the idea of having her daughter look after G while I cooked her dinner. I agreed and we set a date for Wednesday.

Eventually, she kissed me goodbye and went inside.

Over the next few hours, we exchanged text messages of appreciation and longing and I agreed to take her to the party on Saturday. I spoke to G about it and he is quite keen to meet Mel's daughter and quickly agreed.

My social calendar, it seems, is swelling.