How Did I Get Here?

Do you ever ask that? "How did I Get Here?" Do you ever wonder what choice, what decision, what conversation hurtled you away from one happy ending to another quite different ending?

In order to tell you where "Here" is I need to back track and tell you what happened in the weeks between that blissful day in the country and the other week when I ran in terror down to my Mothers place and what sends me further afield to my dear Frenchman in Paris tomorrow. If you are following me on twitter then you may have noticed that tomorrow I'm going off radar. Alpha and the Captain think I'm going to a spa in Italy that bans computers and phones.

Yes of course my phone and the internet work in Paris but I need to get away and I can't do it with my inbox and iPhone buzzing every ten minutes.

I need to think.

To business then. How did I get here?

My Captain and I went back to the Perfect English Village after our brief and very naked nap. We spent the next two nights at the pub which, amazingly, still hired out rooms as it had done for the past four hundred years. Those two days passed in a haze of great sex, good food, warm fires at night and lazy walks in the country during the day. It rained on the second day so we borrowed wellies from the wet room and strode out for a walk anyway. This led to rather damp sex under a majestic old oak tree which was incredible in its own druidist sort of way.

Eventually a lack of clean clothes and simple decency sent us back to London. There are only so many times your hosts can tell you've just had a shag before you start to look like two nymphos on the run from a sexaholics anonymous meeting. I managed to call Alpha enough to not look like I was avoiding him and still keep it hidden from the Captain.

I also called the Frenchman and told him I wouldn't be coming down that Wednesday but could I please come down later. My Frenchman laughed at me and asked me what games I was playing. He made me promise that I wasn't playing with any silly boys and that I would see him before I left for China again. He wasn't going to return to Beijing until I did which was sweet. Thank god he doesn't confuse lust and love.

The next few weeks passed an in a haze of lunch, shopping, sex and a blissful romance that unfolded before me like an unexpected flower. I kept my cards pretty close to my chest. I suspect that the Captain just assumed I was independently wealthy and traveled for fun but would now stay in London to be near him. I shied away from any discussions about "us" or, God, worse, "feeeeeelings." I think that he loved that I didn't give him everything and it lent some kind of mystery to me that only made him desperate to discover my secrets and have them for himself.

I knew that he was starting to fall for me but I foolishly ignored it and him. Perhaps I was in love with the idea of making someone fall in love? Any woman likes to flex her muscles when it comes to men and I can strike a pose better than the best of body builders.

Our days fell into a familiar patten. We would wake early at one or other of our places. He had a bachelor pad ten minutes from my house and it was as English as could be. He had inherited it from his uncle who had been an old roué and spent his declining years at his clubs in St. James. The place was still redolent of cigars, whiskey, and leather chairs inherited from his grandfather. I had a key for his within the first week. So we would wake, get ready and either eat a couples breakfast together or go hand in hand to a local bakery for fresh croissants, fresh unsalted butter and home made jam. He would head off to the city to work in the family company then get back to mine for six. I know he rushed "home" to me every day. I would greet him with a drink and a kiss then we would head for dinner or take it in turns to cook for each other. It became a couplie routine that smothered and enticed me.

The sex of course was incredible. In turns wild, intimate, outrageous, dirty, and questionably legal (if you get caught that is) in a couple of cases. I aimed to keep it away from the intimate side of course but when a man is on top, his arms are around you, he's staring into your eyes and then steals your moans with kisses as you cum shuddering together it's hard to keep things businesslike. When you fall asleep in his arms, night after night, it's hard to remind him that it's just for sex.

I had tried leaving each night so that we didn't actually sleep together but he left me weak and pliant and too tired to move. That's what I tell myself at least.

How long did this go on for? A month I think. I knew I would have to head back to Alpha soon but each week there seemed another reason to stay on.

Things came to a head however when he invited me to that damned dinner. I only have to close my eyes for a minute and there we all are...