Suzanne Portnoy

This has been a bit of a weird week.  First, you may have all noticed, my blog went down and reverted back to November 06.  I couldn’t figure out how to get my newer posts back until I discovered a website for uber-geeks where I met a Russian dude who fixed the problem in 30 minutes for the price of a round of drinks.  So thank you Sergei for sorting out my blog!  Much appreciated.

Looking back at the November 06 post made me want to cringe.  Back then, I was coming out of a relationship with a complete scoundrel who still owes me £2k.  If I’m honest with myself (and only in retrospect can I be truly honest with myself) the writing was on the wall of that particular relationship from Day 1 when he told me about a girl-friend who was helping him with some work who turned out (of course) to be a lover. Most men have a challenging relationship with honesty, but in his case it was a lot more than challenging, it was impossible. There are some days I wonder whether he had mental health issues but there’s no one I can ask. We no longer share friends and haven’t spoken in a long time. Reading over that old post I did wonder why I had stuck with him for so long.  Nowadays I doubt we would have gotten beyond first base.  I know I’ve had my stupid moments but I like to think that I’ve gotten wiser with age.

Enough of the past and onto the present. I’ve really been hammering it this week as my kids’ free time has been dramatically cut short by my eldest who decided to come home early. Usually I have a month of solitude so having only two weeks this year has meant I’ve had to cram funtime into 14 days. I’ve taken hedonism to new heights. On Thursday I’d arranged to meet a new guy for drinks.  We had only exchanged one email, hadn’t spoken on the phone but I felt like going out and had no expectations.

He turned up late outside Green Park station and looked pretty close to his photograph.  Six foot one, slim, thinning dark hair, quite attractive.  We went to the Mayfair Hotel and after a couple of martinis and a lot of laughter he was looking even more attractive.  A third martini and I was ready to jump him in the bar.  I hadn’t had a three martini night in a few years and for a good reason - they make me wild.  By 10.30pm we were alone in the bar making out and by 11pm we were in a black cab, him with his hand up my dress and me feeling his cock through his trousers.  I’m sure the taxi driver was enjoying the show from his rear view mirror.

The next morning, I rolled over and we had another session.  It was the first time I’d had a new man stay at mine since last year and it felt nice to spoon and cuddle.  If I hadn’t been so incredibly hungover it would have been nicer still.  He left at 8am to go to work and I eventually managed to drag myself out of bed by noon.  It wasn’t until then that I noticed the bite marks.  There were two on my leg, another on my arm and a fourth on my bum.  I’m not a big fan of biting and bruise easily.  I knew that within a couple of days they would be worse but I had to laugh.  It had been some night. I very much doubt we’ll be let back into the Mayfair Hotel.