Jason was the first man I met from Tinder. On our first meeting, I had gone to his room late on a stormy night in lingerie and a coat, and ended up snuggling and chatting for two hours. It was a lovely first Tinder experience.
We had been texting for about two weeks and there was a lot of built up sexual tension, but finding a suitable time and venue for the evening of play we both wanted was proving difficult. He travelled a lot for work, and was infuriatingly hard to pin down.
On this particular evening, I had given up on trying to make arrangements, and gone to meet some friends for dinner in the city instead. It was a last minute decision, and I arrived late, dressed in a patterned pencil skirt, heels, and black blouse that showed off all my curves nicely. I joined my friends, and enjoyed the meal, as well as a little lighthearted flirting with the friend they had brought along.
After dinner, we all headed down the road to meet another friend for some drinks. I was already pleasantly buzzed from the wine I’d had at dinner and I was feeling relaxed and ready to enjoy myself. I’d just ordered another drink when I received the text. “I’m free for an hour. Where are you?”