Fridays antics had left me feeling happy and horny and luckily for me more was to come the very next day. A new client had arranged to meet me at his hotel in Canary Wharf on Saturday evening. My journey to the hotel was tense with anticipation. Like all my clients (I am very fussy about who I see) my new guy sounded lovely and on meeting him I was far from disappointed. After gentle conversation to get us relaxed we took to fucking like two long lost lovers, sharing sweet, tender moments in each others arms, our bodies locked around each others; an hour passed far too quickly.
Sunday dawned and it wasn’t long before it was time for an evening appointment near Tower Bridge, one of my favourite spots in London after dark.
I was touched to be greeted with a glass of champagne, followed by a deep kiss; it was a ‘lets forget it’s Monday tommorrow’ kind of fuck; a hedonistic hour spent enjoying each others company and leaving the day to day behind. I walked back to the station in a happy haze, saited for now, my mind still and peaceful. Crossing Tower Bridge, I had my first experience of it’s other function, it was filled with trapped and intrigued tourists as the road had split and risen skyward, letting a ship through it’s centre, before returning to it’s normal state, like nothing at all had happened and it was just a normal bridge. I followed the river path past the Tower of London and HMS Belfast, enjoying the beauty of this part of the Thames at night before catching my train home, surrounded by other commuters, enjoying the memories of my secret life.