Sex toys have never been so low-tech when white cotton granny panties and a little imagination make for a hot night out.
“Don’t get dressed,” Dan whispers into the phone. He’s just come, and I can hear the drowsiness creeping into his voice. “I want to dress you.” His words soften like warm butter. “I dream of dressing you.”
My fingers are still curled over my pubis, slick and warm from my orgasm. I smile into my pillow where the phone is cradled against my ear. “I’m in bed. I won’t need dressing until morning.”
“I mean when I get there tomorrow night. Let me dress you. I have a surprise for you,” he adds, just in case I might need convincing.
Dan’s full of surprises. That’s why I still fuck him. Knowing that I’m the other woman makes the sex more exciting. Maybe it’s knowing he doesn’t want me to settle down and have his children.
I don’t ask how he manages our one evening a week. I don’t care. I don’t even know his partner’s name. I get my weekly shag and just enough risky phone sex to turn me all Pavlovian every time my mobile goes off.
The next evening I indulge in a candle-lit bath with lots of bubbles. I lie back with my eyes closed and masturbate. When I answer the door, I’m primed and ready, wrapped in a blue silk robe, hair and make-up perfect. I go all tingly as I imagine being wide-eyed and naïve, needing the help of someone older and wiser to dress me properly for a night out in London. I feel wickedly innocent standing before Dan, clutching the robe around me demurely.