While the Wife's Away & Other Stories

AS I WALKED into the room he smiled, that smile I had seen the first time we met, the smile that had led me to his home tonight.
He was dressed as I had fantasised he would be – black suit, crisp white shirt, black tie, even the black patent shoes.
He held a glass of red wine in his hand but placed it on the coffee table as I approached.
No need to talk this time, no time for questions and answers. I simply moved towards him, placed my hands on his shoulders and then pulled him towards me, my hand moving up to feel his neck and the back of his head as we started to kiss and his arms encircled me.

I’D SOMEHOW known that it would come to this, even though we had only met 24 hours earlier in rather more formal surroundings.
He’d welcomed me into that panelled room, a sophisticated space for our first meeting, but the way he looked at me, just a flicker of recognition that promised far more than we were there for, suggested there was something not on the formal agenda that would have to be addressed pretty quickly and as we shook hands, the hold lingered for just a second longer than required, as though our fingers already wanted to be better acquainted.
He was considerably shorter than me but stockier too, the bulky frame of a man past his prime perhaps but that didn’t bother me because I’d always enjoyed sex with men who knew what they wanted from years of experience.