The morality of the thing was not exactly clear. Luca was too old for me, and that was the least of the issues.
But if we had found each other at this bar without knowing each other, slightly drunk and out for a good time, that wouldn’t be an issue. Men don't tend to wear engagement rings, after all. I ordered us two more drinks as Luca slid in closer.
The next half hour was a furtive game. He found an excuse to touch my arm. I leaned forward so my blouse fell open and watched as his gaze dropped down. His fingers grazed my bare thigh, rough and calloused. I tried not to shiver.
Finally, Luca said: “I’m going to the coatroom.” He didn’t say anything else before he walked away. He didn’t need to.
I exhaled slowly. This was my choice. I recalled the vague dreams and extremely specific fantasies that had been boiling in my mind for the past month and rose.
The morality of the thing was not clear. But what I wanted was.
The coatroom was dimly lit. Luca took my hand and pulled me close. His chest was sturdy and I could feel the warmth of his body through my thin blouse.
He kissed me like the forbidden fruit that this was, reckless and indulgent. His every action was shameless. The inhibitions that had been fading over the evening were gone as my fingers tangled in his hair. His hands seemed larger now that they were on my body, gripping my hips as he pressed me against the wall.
His lips moved down my neck and I gasped as his hands also roamed lower. His kisses were open-mouthed and his eyes brazen as he watched me squirm. I pulled him back up to me, his lips back on mine, tasting the whiskey on his tongue.
Whatever high we had been riding on began to fizzle. I pulled away a little, our foreheads still touching as our breaths mingled. His hands fell to his sides as he took a few steps back.
I began to say something. That this was a one-time thing, that no one could know.
“I know,” he said, still breathless. He tucked a strand of my hair that had come loose behind my ear and smiled softly. “See you on Monday.”