The Morning After the Shag Before

Music: In the Morning - Razorlight

The morning after our first date sex-a-thon, Craig’s alarm goes off at 8:00am.  Sadly, he has to get up and check on his team of painters and decorators in the absence of his holidaying Dad. I always wake up early when I’ve been drinking and partly because of this and partly because of the strange location I’d already been awake since 7:00am.

Craig stretches, then rolls over and turns to face me.

“Good morning,” he says, half-heartedly rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“Good morning,” I reply.

I can tell that things are slightly different now. Of course they are bound to be, as we are both now sober(ish) and are lying in bed together with the cold light of day streaming in through the curtains.

In the harsh morning light there is no attempt to cuddle and I feel a bit awkward. Craig starts to mess with his phone as he has a few missed calls from the blokes on site. This doesn’t bother me too much at first, but after his phone rings for the fifth time I politely ask him if he wouldn’t mind putting it on silent mode. I understand that he has to go to work, but manners are manners and he still has a naked woman in his bed to deal with first.

I am conscious of my morning breath, and I’m sure that the Alsatians downstairs had sweeter breath than me after a night out. Therefore, before Craig had woken up I nipped into the en-suite and rubbed toothpaste on my teeth with my finger to try and freshen it up. I don’t think it really worked as my mouth still tasted like I’d been sucking on a turd, but this didn’t seem to matter to Craig as we kiss for the first time when sober.

The kiss is nice, slightly awkward, but nice. Our bodies move closer together and as Craig pulls me towards him I let myself relax. We start to touch each other again, and after a few minutes of kissing and groping we start to have sex. Without alcohol coursing around our veins, it isn’t quite up to the levels of passion from the night before. I know I am not looking as good as before we went to bed (despite my best efforts to freshen up with the bits of makeup I’d stashed in my bag), and we end up having face over the shoulder sex:

In the missionary position, with my face over his right shoulder and his over mine.

We don’t look each other in the eye.

He comes.

He climbs off.

He gets up to make me a cup of tea.

Now that was the first time experience I'd been expecting.

Samantha Jones eat your heart out.
I did it. Or more accurately, we did it.

The first time it was drunk and great. The second time it was sober and a bit shit. But I don’t care, as I had a brilliant night, some pretty good sex and all with a younger, good looking man who I wouldn’t mind seeing again for an action replay.

I am proud of myself that I didn’t freak out when it came to being naked and I must be OK at sex still as I made him come twice.  Hurrah for me.

As I lie in bed pondering this, I can hear Craig talking to his brother downstairs and banging around in the kitchen. I pull the duvet up around my chin and am about to doze off to sleep again when my phone starts to ring.

That’s odd. Who on earth is calling me this early on a Sunday morning?

I reach out to the bedside table and pull my phone out of my bag. I check the caller display.

It’s my Dad.

Oh shit.

This can’t be good.

To be continued... (sadly)

The Paint Job

Music: Let's Make Love and Listen to Death from Above - CSS

I can’t actually believe I suggested that Craig and I go back to his place.  On our first date.  I know I said I wanted to be all Samantha Jones-like about the whole thing, but at that moment I felt surprisingly calm and confident.  It was weird.

Craig tells the taxi driver his address and takes hold of my hand. I wonder if he's nervous too, or if since his recent break up he takes girls home for sex pretty regularly?
(Thinking about it now I doubt it to be honest.  He lives with his parents and if they’re anything like mine, as lovely as they are, their presence in the house is such a passion killer).

The taxi pulls up outside his house a few minutes later. As I climb out, Craig pays the taxi driver which gives me time to take it all in.

The house is pretty big, I think it is detached and it is on a newish estate. I see Craig's white van (that he crashed) and its gaffer-taped wing mirror and smirk to myself, and then catch sight of a sporty looking car which I assume to be Craig’s. I hear the taxi drive off, and feel Craig wrap his arms around me from behind before he kisses me gently on the neck.

“So here we are then,” he says, then takes me by the hand and leads me through the door at the side of the house.

We walk into the brand new kitchen which is all gleaming white surfaces and shiny chrome fixtures and fittings. Before I have chance to take off my coat I am promptly attacked by his two dogs, both old Alsatians who seem desperate to lick me to death. Craig finds this endlessly amusing.

“I think they like you,” he laughs.

Great.  I'm going to stink of Alsation and dog hairs are so not sexy.

“Can I get you a drink or anything?” Craig asks politely.

“Just some water please,” I reply.

I’m already feeling nicely tipsy and I don't want to tip myself over the edge.

We stay chatting in the kitchen for a while.  His dogs attempt to shed all their fur on me whilst Craig busies himself by making sure the house is securely locked up.

I can tell that Craig is nervous now as he is jabbering away for England and seems to be a lot more on edge than earlier in the night. After about ten minutes of fending off the dogs and making nervous conversation, I figure that if I don’t make a move then we will be standing in the kitchen all night. As he finishes his drink, I touch him on the arm and gently say,

“Let’s go upstairs”.

Craig looks at me and pauses before he replies.

“Yeah, OK. Let’s go upstairs.”

Here we go.

I follow Craig up the staircase and he leads me into his bedroom. It is quite a big room and facing the entrance there is another door to an en-suite bathroom. Wow, I am impressed. At least this means I won’t bump into his brother during a mad dash to the loo at 4am. The room is very plain: magnolia walls, white bedding and not a lot in the line of “things”. The only exceptions are a TV on a chest of drawers facing the bed, and a picture of Craig driving a Ferrari which was taken on a track day. I did think this was slightly odd, but then again Craig hasn’t been living back here for very long and he said that he’d recently swapped rooms with his parents. Fair enough, the décor is the least of my concerns right now.

I put my bag down on the bedside table, then turn and move towards Craig who is standing awkwardly at the end of the bed. We start to kiss, and then start to kiss really passionately. He takes off his jumper and I feel his toned body through his shirt underneath. God he has a great body. We rip each other’s clothes off, hands touching everywhere, desperate to feel each other. It feels like how sex looks in the movies. It is so passionate, and so different to the calm and collected removal of clothes before-slipping-under-the-duvet preamble to sex that I experienced with my ex-boyfriend. Craig has a fantastic body. He isn’t too muscular, but he is really toned. His arms are strong and his chest is smooth and sexy and I am really turned on.

We have sex that lasts almost an hour, in different positions, fast and slow. I thought I would be bothered about another man seeing me naked, but as it turns out I didn’t even give it a second thought. I am so wrapped up in the passion and feel so sexy that the fact that another man is staring at my tits doesn’t even enter my head.

As first time sex goes, wasn’t bad. It wasn’t too bad at all. It's true what they say: tradesmen are very handy.  Craig did a slightly weird thing where he closed his eyes occasionally, but I’m hoping this is because he was in sheer ecstasy and not because he was imagining shagging someone else. For me it was good, and I was pleasantly surprised that Craig ventured down south on me too, although bless him, it didn’t really do that much for me. When we’d finished, Craig put his arms around me, and when I didn’t think it could get any better, it did.

He spooned me.

I wasn’t expecting a display of closeness like this, but it was nice.

“Wow,” Craig says as we lie there together. “Thanks for a great night.” And with that, he kisses me on my cheek and nuzzles his face into the back of my neck.

What a great night.

I fall asleep drunk and quite literally knackered.

I had officially been painted and decorated.

The Date

Music:  Sexy Boy - Air

I feel surprisingly nervous as I get changed for my first date with Craig in Nicola’s spare room.  In an effort to stop my entire body from shaking I down a couple of shots of sambuca to calm myself down before my taxi arrives. Hmm, not sensible.

I can’t believe I feel so petrified. I’ve dated before, so why am I so worried? On the advice of my friends I’ve decided to wear a sexy semi-sheer black shirt, indigo skinny jeans and heels. I think it’s an outfit that isn’t overtly “Come and get me” but ticks the all the right boxes: it shows off my legs and the little cleavage that I have without being too revealing. Well, that is the plan anyway.

My taxi into town arrives ten minutes early, which is annoying as of course it means that I end up arriving in town ten minutes before I should. I don’t want to be the first one there and have to stand outside waiting like a total loser, so instead I wait around the corner and busy myself by calling my Mum.

Yes, that’s right. I’m about to go on a date with a man who I fully intend on shagging in less than six hours time, and there I am making small talk with my Mum. With everything that is going on with my Grandma's illness, the comedy value that is my love life is the only thing that seems to cheer my Mum up at the moment. She is so excited about my first proper date since my ex, especially as she never liked him.  At all. If only I had listened to her back then.

Whilst I’m chatting away to my Mum I see the figure of a man who I vaguely recognise walking towards me. Happily, the flashback snapshot images that I captured of Craig in my mind finally click into focus. It’s him, it’s definitely him. And he is very, very sexy.

I have to get rid of my Mum immediately. She is still babbling on at the other end of the phone, bless her.

“Have a lovely time!” she says again. “I hope your date goes well. Have a great time...”

“OK. OK Mum, I will”

“Don’t get too drunk now...”

“Yes Mum.”

“Enjoy yourself!”

“I will Mum. I’ve gotta go..”

“Spea..”

And much to my shame, I cut her off, just as Craig walks up to me.

“Hi,” he says, smiling broadly. “So you’re early too!”

I am so relieved, as he is not only good looking, he isn’t ginger and he does bear a passing resemblance to sexy rugby playing God Brian O’Driscoll.

Result.

“Only by a minute,” I reply casually. “For once my taxi arrived early.”

“Shall we go inside?” he suggests, to which I smile and follow him around to the bar’s entrance.

In the sober light of early evening Craig is looking good, and I mentally pat myself on the back for an excellent effort. Craig’s shoulders are broad and his arms look great under his jumper. In fact, come to mention it I think he is wearing the same outfit as he did on the night we met.

I’m sure he’s washed it in the meantime though. I hope.

Either way, he is pretty God damn sexy.

As it is quite early we manage to grab ourselves a table, which I am pleased about as I don’t know how long I would be able to stand up in my towering heels. Being a gentleman Craig insists on buying all my drinks but I refuse, as fair’s fair, and after all I plan on using and abusing him later. We chat really easily on a whole load of topics, from the usual suspects of sport and films to where we wanted to travel to and about ourselves in general.

“You know, I don’t actually come out to Preston very often,” Craig says as we sip our third drinks of the evening. “When we met I was out celebrating my birthday.”

“Oh really?” I reply, sounding surprised.

Shit. Did he tell me it was his birthday the other weekend? I was so drunk I can’t remember anything.

“I’m sure I told you that the other Saturday?” he says.

Bollocks.

Craig shrugs.

“Maybe not. After all, I don’t think we actually talked that much,” he continues, with a cheeky smile playing across his lips.

I smile, and find myself batting my eyelashes at him as I look away coyly. What the hell am I doing? Fluttering my eyelashes?

“You really made my night,” he continues.

Well that’s it. Now you’ve just made me blush.

He’s either being a bit of a sweetie or he is a total charmer, and right then I couldn’t decide which one it was.

Craig then goes on to reveal that he managed (more successfully than my friend Nicola) to take a sneaky photo of me.

“Here it is!” he laughs, as he hands his phone over to me so I can take a look.

It is absolutely horrendous. And I mean awful. I am drunk, my hair is all over the place and I look like I’m singing. Badly.

“Oh my God, that is so embarrassingly awful,” I say to him. “Please delete it!”

Craig just sits and laughs as I squirm. But it is as nice laugh. He’s not laughing at me, he’s laughing with me.  (I think).

“I can’t believe you actually wanted to see me again if you thought I looked like that!” I cringe.
“Please delete it!”

I’m practically begging him. This is so embarrassing. I’ve seen zombies in low budget horror films that look better than I do in that hideous photograph.

It is all very good humoured banter and we are getting on great, especially when Craig finally stops teasing me and deletes the photo.

Through our conversation I find out that even though he’s only twenty five, Craig is six months out of a nine year relationship. Blimey, he’s got staying power. He tells me how he had been with his ex since school and they had been living together, however when they split up he moved back in with his parents just until he can get himself back on his feet. I don’t think that’s too bad and it all sounds very sensible, but I have to stop myself from considering his long term potential again, especially now I know he’s not scared of commitment.

Especially on a first date for Christ’s sake.

The night continues and we move from bar to bar, still having a good time, still getting progressively more tipsy. As the drinks and conversation flow, I decide that I really do quite like Craig. He really is rather sexy. By the time we reach bar number three we are holding hands, and in bar number four we start kissing each other like horny teenagers. At about 1:30am we head off to a club for a bit of a dance, but it is pretty quiet inside so the decision is made to call it a night and head off.

As we walk hand in hand towards the taxi rank, nothing is said about where we were going and we just carry on chatting away about random stuff. I definitely want to go back to his place and I desperately want to rip his clothes off and see him naked. Through his top, his body and arms feel amazing, but I want to feel them skin on skin.

There are a few taxis lined up as it hasn’t reached kicking out time at the clubs yet, so we jump into the first one in the queue and it drives off.

The taxi driver turns his head to look at Craig. “Where to mate?” he asks.

Craig looks at me, and I look back at him expectantly. So here it is: decision time.

I take a breath, and then calmly say:

“Your place”.

(To be continued...)

T minus 12 hours

Music: Big Calm - Morcheeba

That's T minus 12 hours until my first date with Craig.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!

The bare facts are:

Craig and I are going out for drinks.

Craig has the house to himself this weekend. 
(Well, if you don't count his younger brother).

I know I’ve got my friend Nicola’s spare bed reserved for the night, but I’m kind of hoping that we end up back at his place...

I never thought I’d hear myself saying that, but I’m determined not to get freaked out by the whole sex thing this time around, and I'm seeing Craig as just a bit of fun.  My "back in the saddle" guy, if you know what I mean. 

The last time I was single after splitting up with my long term boyfriend, aka The Evil Cockbag, I was pretty much petrified of the thought of any other bloke seeing me naked.  I suppose that's what happens when you've been with someone for nearly four years.  Well, that's what happened with me anyway.

I know it’s officially our first date, but I'm not ruling anything out.  If it happens, it happens and I won't make myself feel bad about it. 

Sex and the City's Samantha Jones eat your heart out.  Or something like that...

AAAAAGGGGGHHH!  Sod that.  I am freaking OUT!

(Note to self:  Must remember to buy some condoms.  You know, just in case.  Oh, and shave my legs).