Sweet Hole

’It was nice to see you again,’ I said. ’Not that I saw for you for very long the first time. And that was ... gosh ... ten years ago? Can it really have been that long?’

’I guess so. But hopefully it won’t be such a long gap next time.’

’I hope not,’ I said.

’We could always cheat,’ she said. ’You could give me your phone number. But only if you want to, of course.’

I gave her my number, and the next moment my phone rang.

’There you are. Now you have my number too.’

I glanced at the screen. ’I do indeed.’

Thinking about it later, Janet was definitely not the sort of woman I would normally go for. Yes, she had a sweet face and beautiful shoulder-length hair. But she also had boobs the size of melons, a bit of a tummy, and an ample bum. From what I could see, her thighs would also come in handy if you needed to kick start a jumbo jet. She was certainly substantial. But she was also undeniably beautiful and ... well ... there’s no other way to put it: she was sexy as all fuck.

The following day, I had to fly to Glasgow to talk to some people at the university there. I also thought that it would be an opportunity to have dinner with a chap I know who, for a piece of the action, is often prepared to put seed funding into new industrial technology projects. Given that dinner wasn’t until eight, I thought that I had better take a hotel room for the night and fly home the following morning. I got Myrna to book me a room at Thistle Glasgow, on Cambridge Street, just near Sauchiehall Street.

The day was productive, and the dinner was both productive and pleasant, and I got back to the hotel shortly after ten o’clock. I must confess that I was tempted to call Janet. Just to say hello. But then I thought better of it. Ten o’clock? Who knows? Perhaps she had already gone to bed.

I poured myself a wee dram. I was in Scotland after all; it seemed the least I could do. And even after half a bottle of red wine, the whisky tasted very good. But I still couldn’t stop thinking about Janet.

When I had run into her the previous day, she had been wearing a silky black blouse and a shortish grey tailored skirt. She had also been wearing bright red patent leather pumps. Probably Salvatore Ferragamo. But now I found myself wondering what she would look like in lingerie. Or even in ... well ... nothing at all.

I suppose because of her size, I imagined her wearing quite sturdy undergarments. I imagined her wearing one of those deep suspender belts that is almost an old-fashioned girdle. I have to say that the thought was quite arousing. Just thinking about it, I felt my cock begin to stir. I took a second sip of the warming whisky and removed my trousers. As my friend Anthony says: once you are past 40, it’s always a shame to let an erection go to waste.

The following day I flew back to London and spent a busy afternoon in the office. But then, somewhere about 5:30, I started thinking about Janet again. Should I phone her? I didn’t want to seem too eager. But, on the other hand, she had given me her phone number. Why would she have done that unless she had wanted me to call her? I scrolled through my contact list, selected Janet, and pressed Call.

The phone rang five or six times before she answered. And I immediately heard voices in the background. ’Hi. I’m in a meeting,’ she said quietly. Her voice sounded warm and friendly.

’Sorry.’

She laughed. ’Don’t be. I’ll call you back in about 15 minutes. OK?’

’Yes. Fine,’ I said.

It was almost six by the time she called back. ’How are you?’

’Good. Yes, good. just got back from Glasgow. Well, this morning actually -- but you know what I mean.’

She laughed. ’Glasgow? So you got third prize. Who got first?’

’I quite like Glasgow,’ I said. ’In small doses.’

Again she laughed.

’Look, I wondered if you’d like to catch up for a glass of wine. I know that would make it twice in one week, but you did say that we shouldn’t wait for another ten years.’

’I did,’ she said. ’Are you thinking tonight?’

’Yes. We could go back to the Turtle -- or somewhere else if you like.’

’I’d love to ...’

Yes!

’... but my sister and I are having supper with our aunt this evening. It’s my sister’s last night in London. She’s going home tomorrow.’

’Oh,’ I said, trying not to sound as disappointed as I felt. ’Oh, OK. How about tomorrow then?’

’For the next couple of days I’m in Leeds. Why don’t I give you a call when I get back? Maybe we could do something on the weekend.’