On their first date Alexander made Ava cry.

It was, in fact, a wonderful evening. They’d met at a conference, he the keynote speaker, she showing high end technology to the gathered CEOs during the break. A simple follow-up, a direct message, and she’d agreed to meet him here at the cocktail bar with its many rooms, opulent sofas and armchairs. A fireplace crackled and spat as they sat chatting on a velvety couch.

He was a good listener. Really didn’t talk about himself, to her surprise, although during the course of the evening she discovered that he was an adventurer, rediscovering life after a long marriage.

Alexander had been open about it. “Well, my family didn’t say much when I got divorced. I mean, I don’t see my parents very often anyway, they’re in Scotland. But they were always a bit funny about my marrying someone who didn’t match their expectations.”

Ava was enjoying his honesty. It felt comfortable, and she opened up into it. “Mine were even worse. Judgmental. I don’t think they ever thought he was good enough. And they were so happy when it ended, it was so hurtful. But do you know what? I don’t care.” She looked pained. “I’m just going to live my life how I want to do it. No compromising my needs just to please someone else. And if I ever get into another relationship, nobody will ever tell me what I can or can’t do again.”

She felt suddenly emotional, and vulnerable, despite the fact this was a first date with a relative stranger. Well, a handsome, confident, seemingly nice stranger. She looked into his eyes.

“I hear you.” He put his hand gently on hers. It felt sympathetic, not romantic, and it disarmed her completely. “It sounds as if your parents may love you more than you think. Mine were just being small-minded. It feels like your parents were just being protective of their only daughter. Sounds like they do really love you, even if they express it badly. Maybe?”

He took a sip of his drink, still touching her hand, and the silence stretched a little. Ava suddenly realized she had soft tears running down her cheeks.

“Sorry, I wasn’t expecting to get all emotional,” she wiped them away, “what must you think?” She tried a small smile, which turned into a sniff.

“No, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry, and I certainly didn’t mean to upset you. Your parents sound so unlike mine I let myself get carried away.” He smiled at her, and glanced at her empty glass. “Thankfully mine are five hundred miles away. Should we see if the waiter is closer? Would you like another drink, or do you fancy getting something to eat?”

The conversation moved to lighter things.

He really was interested, fascinated by this beautiful woman in her late twenties, perhaps ten years younger than his late thirties. He found himself as enraptured with her as she was with him.

Their kiss, later, downstairs partly hidden beside a polished elevator, was by turns tender and urgent, and towards the end they were pressing themselves into each other, breathless. But he put her in a taxi, not wishing to risk breaking the spell by being too pushy. They each went home smiling.

⁂

Later at his spacious flat, alone, damp from his shower, Alexander Laing rubbed the towel absent-mindedly across his face. He was remembering her smile when he first caught her eye across the room. The conference had been full of potential clients, but once he’d seen her, her sheer energy, he’d kept glancing in her direction.

When they had bumped into each other during a break, there was an instant connection. They both knew, it felt like, that they needed to meet. They both carried a coffee and a juice and laughed when they realized they could only bump elbows by way of greeting: “Ava.” Her eyes, her lips were mesmerizing.

“Lovely to meet you Ava, I’m Alexander. I’m just about to…”

“I’m aware. I did the tech demo earlier.”

“I saw, I’m sorry I couldn’t stay and watch. Look, I’m sorry I’ve got to prepare.”

She smiled at him so brightly it took him a second or two to gather his wits and turn for the stage. At the end of the conference he caught a glimpse of her again, talking animatedly with the stage techs. He waved in her direction as, with only half his attention, he said goodbye to one of the attendees, but she didn’t see him.

Dropping the towel on the small table next to a chrome and leather Wassily chair he tapped the screen of his phone. He was hoping to see a message from her. One from a friendly Boston competitor, Dominique; a ping from his crypto portfolio app, but nothing from her.

Alexander had been with his ex for a long time, before a painful decision but relatively amicable parting. He’d spent a few months recuperating, keeping his head down.

His best friend Luna had told him he needed to get out and start having fun again.

He had had some fun. He’d started going out to parties, going to galleries with friends. Some of them had tried to fix him up of course with pretty women and once with one of the most camp men he’d ever met. “I wasn’t sure so I thought it might be worth at least trying,” the friend who introduced them had said. They’d had a riotous evening. It had ended with drinking and dancing at a private club – Alexander belonged to a couple of them, exclusive and open only to paying members, perks of his work. His date had vamped it up and tried and failed to persuade him to take him home.

Alexander had slept with quite a few women, rediscovering himself and his tastes. The more he strayed from the kind of sex he and his ex had enjoyed together, the more Alexander realized he had a lot to explore. He clearly had an untried, undeveloped thing about sex in dangerous situations. He absolutely loved giving pleasure to the women he bedded. His self-assurance was attractive, and his confident commands gave his partners a safe space to relax into submission.

He was beginning to think of himself as a Dominant. He liked being in charge in the bedroom.

Then again he loved their surprise when this became about their pleasure, which just added to his allure.

Alexander was enjoying the journey, though hating the dating apps. He had deleted them all several times. His occasional dates, usually resulting in several nights of glorious sex, were fun. These flings swiftly ended when it became clear he wasn’t emotionally available. He wanted more of that kind of fun. He didn’t want any kind of real commitment. He definitely didn’t want to be in a relationship again, not for a while.

After the conference he’d remembered her pretty smile but thought nothing more of it. And then a day later he’d received a direct message to one of his social media accounts. She wanted a copy of his slides. He laughed out loud, a quickly suppressed exclamation. Still laughing he’d replied, “Only if I can buy you a drink.”

In bed that night Alexander was drowsily thinking about the evening. How vulnerable she’d been. How much he had opened up. How they’d both said that, given their recent past, they weren’t looking for anything serious. That they’d both agreed that they weren’t going to compromise ever again, each rejecting co-dependence. It had been a relief, to them both. Perhaps that’s why they’d been so open with each other – no threat.

And that (slightly drunken) kiss! In the corridor of his home-from-home, the private members club that was his safe place. A mistake? He remembered the taste of her lipstick, the feeling of her soft, soft lips and her urgent tongue. He realized he was getting an erection.

⁂

“No, I really don’t need a boyfriend. I don’t need anyone right now, Letts.” Ava and her closest friend Scarlett – Letts – sat shoulder to shoulder looking out over the café’s bright interior. The little round table bore coffee cups, a paper wrapper for the sweet chocolate treat they’d delicately shared and a pot of sugar packets. Ava’s bag sat by her side. “Besides, I’ve got my vibrating friend in there,” nodding at the handbag, “Just in case.”

Scarlett joggled her shoulder; “You’re an orgasm addict!” But she too had a sex toy in the purse beside her.

“But it was a lovely date. Really unexpected, I mean he was amazing on stage, that speech he gave was electrifying.”

“Electrifying?” Her friend looked at her like she was a little crazy.

“Well maybe I’m exaggerating a little bit. But he made everyone else’s presentations look amateur. He’s got this presence, I don’t know how to describe it.”

“OK… And back to the date? What happened?”

“He was the perfect gentleman. Kissed me thoroughly then put me in a taxi. Talk about leaving me wanting more!” Ava grinned at the memory. “Anyway I said I’d go out with him again.”

“Ooh, sounds like someone wants to get laid!”

Ava nodded enthusiastically, giggling as she turned towards her friend and wiggled her eyebrows. Scarlett laughed too.

“Maaaybe I do. I definitely don’t need a boyfriend though. I’m just like you, perfectly self-sufficient.” A meaningful look towards Scarlett’s purse – they both burst into giggles again.

Ava bristled with sexuality. She was attractive and flirtatious, and secretly, often uncontrollably horny. She played with herself frequently, often fantasizing about showing off – perhaps sharing something with her desire to be on stage, which had led to a sporadic acting career.

She had even experimented with masturbating outside, in an empty park, on a bus, and once on a beach in Ibiza. She’d surreptitiously fingered herself with a tote bag shielding her movements as she looked around, nervous but thrilled. By the time her orgasm overtook her, her towel had been soaked beneath her shaking, wet thighs.

Ava’s exhibitionism hadn’t proceeded further than masturbation, and the (occasional, random) men she went home with usually wanted basic sex rather than exploring her erotic fantasies.

Scarlett had been single for a couple of years. She claimed to her friends that she was tired of men, and that she’d given up trying to find someone who would treat her with the reverence she deserved. In fact she just wanted someone who would respect her for who she was.

She distracted herself writing erotic stories and posting them online. Almost all were pure fantasy. She’d never really ever had great sex, and she envied Ava and her occasional escapades with the random hunks she picked up in clubs. Some of the titillating morning-after stories Ava told her had made it into her online posts, and she now had thousands of followers. And yet none of it was real. These short dirty fantasies were exactly that, products of her vivid imagination. They were fueled by the erotic novels she’d been obsessed with as a teenager, Emmanuelle and those of Anaïs Nin. Or they were the embellished retelling of her friends’ juicy tales, made juicier as she wrote. This vicarious sex life wasn’t at all what she craved. But every time she found herself with some man it would end with her feeling used and unsatisfied and plain angry at herself.

What she wanted was Ava’s life. Glamour. Going off and doing plays. All those auditions: one day Ava would be a star, Scarlett was convinced. And those cool presentations with futuristic gear and CEOs and big conferences. She thought back to their conversation at the café and wondered what Alexander looked like.

⁂

On their second date, in a busy upmarket steakhouse, their conversation turned to their turn-ons. They became increasingly flirtatious. Over red wine and fine food, with the noise of the diners and the bar and the bustle of the waiters, Ava looked around. She then tried to surreptitiously remove her sexy red bra from beneath her top – but it pinged out from her sleeve. The surreal interruption momentarily silenced the couple at the next table. They looked on, mouths agape, before with some difficulty refocusing their attention on each other. Ava just laughed, an infectious outburst reflecting her own surprise.

Alexander’s erection, which had sprung into life while they were flirting, grew south down the leg of his jeans. She watched him looking at her nipples as they stiffened unfettered beneath the sweater.

He looked up. “There’s something intoxicating about you Ava. You’re so sexy. And you don’t care who sees it.”

She smiled, teeth white. She felt sexy. “What does it make you want to do, Handsome?”

“I want to take you here on this table. I want us to tear each other’s clothes off and go at it like we don’t care who’s watching. You bewitch me and I’m not sure I can resist.”

Ava looked at him, corner of her mouth in a smile, and she pushed her chest out and did a quick, subtle wiggle that made her breasts jiggle back and forth. “Come and get me,” and she bit her lip, deliberately provocative. She could hear his low, playful growl across the table as he lifted a hand to signal for the check.

⁂

The espresso machine’s urgent gurgling behind the bar interrupted conversation for a moment. At their usual corner table in the badly lit wine bar, Luna set down her glass of red. Alexander was looking at his phone.

“Stop it! You’re like a man obsessed – which dating app is it this time?”

“Ah, no, I deleted it again. It’s nothing.”

Luna hated it when Alexander wasn’t completely straight with her. They’d had a short-lived relationship before he met his ex-wife. Despite the fact he had been so frustratingly vanilla in bed (and so entirely unsuitable for her) she had fallen a little in love with him. The ex had been suspicious of their continuing friendship, but Luna had been determined to win her over and had succeeded. The ex-wife had recognized the permanence of the two friends’ bond and had sensibly chosen to welcome it rather than let it become a source of ongoing irritation. Over the years their carefully controlled friendship had morphed into something deep and rich. Still, their flirting and their double entendres could be intimidating to their respective partners, as could their almost telepathic ability to assess and agree on a shared evaluation of potential sexual conquests. When he and his ex had split up after many years, he and Luna had agreed not to let sex get in the way of their great friendship. Staying close to Alexander was more important than anything else. These Thursday get-togethers were the result. Luna always drank rich reds or buzzy cocktails, Alexander endless subtle variations of an Old Fashioned. He took a sip.

Luna was enjoying seeing her friend getting his mojo back. It was fun listening to him describe the women he saw, dissecting the dates and flings he had. In truth she enjoyed the sexy conversations. There was something juicy about listening to his detailed descriptions of his blossoming sex life.

She knew he wanted to explore his boundaries and fantasies further. Alexander knew he had spent years stuck in a (mostly happy enough) rut, and there was a lot more for him to discover. Not just about what things might or might not be fun to try, but also about his own sexual turn-ons.

Not currently dating anyone herself, Luna was enthusiastically egging him on. She was currently single following a horrendously messy break-up. She’d downloaded a hookup app to see if she could get some action but the short-lived conversations were depressing.

In the meantime watching him being a bit of a player was a lot more fun than having to go on crappy dates with selfish, porn-copying fuckboys.

“What happened to that woman with the big brown eyes? You said she was amazing in bed?”

“Who? Oh, her. Lisa. She got annoyed I didn’t want to see her every night. You know. Called me names and stomped out. She wasn’t right – and I’m not looking for anyone anyway.”

“Sorry. Would’ve been messy.” She snuggled into him, comforting and comfortable. “So you’re not back on that dating app then?”

“No. You?”

“Waaay too vanilla for me, you know that. I like them kinky as I can get. Gimme threesomes!”

He coughed slightly on a sip of his cocktail, raising his eyebrows at her.

“Perv!”

“How did that date go? The one with the sexy techie?”

Alexander leaned forward; explained he’d now been on two dates with her. She was an actress, he said. Doing a corporate gig because, well, you know acting; one TV commercial then waiting tables for a year. But clever. Ava is so clever, he explained. Smarter than anyone else he’d dated. So no waitressing, instead demoing super-advanced technology to CEOs at conferences.

Luna asked for more. Was she good in bed? Blushing slightly he confessed they hadn’t got that far yet. She teased him; “Losing your touch?”

He drew back and looked at her, eyebrows raised. “Really? Really Luna? You think I’ve lost it?” He reached for his phone, found Ava’s profile, showed Luna.

“Wow, you’re punching above your weight eh mister?” She smiled, genuinely pleased for him. She thought Ava looked gorgeous. Mind you, she thought Alexander was gorgeous too. And he may even be getting better in bed with all the recent practice. She half put away the thought, half enjoyed it as she passed him back his phone.

But Luna was surprised at how he spoke about Ava. Clearly this wasn’t your usual quick shag, nor was it one of his fortnight-long sexual sweat-fest relationships. In fact his next question told her this could be really different. He asked her what he should cook when he invited her out at the weekend. Luna smiled. They both knew he was hopeless in the kitchen (well, not quite – his specialties were fried breakfasts and washing up). But he was serious. And so they ordered another glass each and started plotting. By the end of a thoroughly pleasant evening, when he was helping her on with her jacket, he had a plan. Luna, mindful that she cared deeply about this man, murmured a quiet warning to her friend.

“Careful you don’t get bitten.”