Do you remember the first thing you did when we met in the office in Hampshire? I was flustered when I arrived. The man I was having an affair with had driven me there from Nottingham where we had spent the night after a conference. We’d had a vicious row over me flirting with another man attending from one of the other offices. It was payback for him refusing to have a conversation about leaving his wife. We got very drunk. I locked myself in the hotel bathroom and refused to come out. He tried to kick the door in. So when I first met you, I had a raging hangover and was in the death throes of a badly damaged relationship. I was wearing a two piece, Dorothy Perkins, knitted suit; beige. It looked chic on the hanger, but crap on me. It was itchy and the skirt kept twisting round my legs.
You and I had never met, I knew nothing about you. We had a desk in the corner of the, very small, office. I sat down next to you, you’d arrived earlier, and we did some basic introductions. While we were talking, I felt your hand on my knee. I was, in spite of appearances, oddly naive, and what happened next was not what I was expecting and definitely not in a public space. I suppose I should have known at that moment that you were going to become something that had ‘danger’ signs slapped all over it. I suppose that is one of many things you don’t remember.
Spellbound and Swallowed 