A few years ago I was in a London pub on a Friday night and wound up talking to Kiera. She was dressed well, classic black number, gold ear rings and a delicate necklace that subtly drew the attention down. She had a great figure, full and curvy, and was a little older than me which was a nice surprise. I’d always had a thing for older women but never really got the chance to talk to them.
My friends had moved on to the next bar so we were left alone. The conversation was fun. She was eloquent and witty, and things were getting a little bit flirty. She explained she was visiting for work, asked me what the dating scene was like in london and wanted fun stories about nights out.
We’d been sharing a bottle of Malbec and carefully inching closer to each other as the night meandered on, and it was only when she went to pay that I noticed a flash of silver on her left ring finger.
“Is that a wedding ring?” I asked, slightly shocked.
“It is,” she replied with a hint of a smile.