We met in March, all professional and polite.
She climbed into my bed in June, when we worked together in Spain. A late night after a festival, sharing a room in a hostel in a back street of San Sebastian. She said she needed a hug, but it soon became more. Caresses turned to kisses, to tongues exploring, to fucking until the city was quiet and our early morning start seemed dangerously close. Half a day later she was gone, on to Paris and beyond, while I went South then back to London.
In October we found each other in Croatia, in a beachside hotel out of season. An afternoon of billowing curtains, lapping waves, tenderness and slow, languid lovemaking. A walk on the beach, a restaurant and falling asleep in each others’ arms. 2 days later she was gone again.
I saw her again in London, she’d met someone else.