Velvet Kicks

It was spooky.

"I thought I'd found a way of dealing with it all", she said. We were trying out the much-hyped Flat White at Costa. Not as milky as a latte, not as frothy as a cappucino. Made with three shots of espresso, and a dense, velvety milk layer. The ultimate fusion of milky smoothness and a caffeine kick.

"I met this wonderful man....." she looked nervous, eyes darted from side to side to check for acquaintances with flapping ears before she carried on. Or maybe it was the three shots of espresso. I smiled knowingly, nodded. "We just clicked straight away. We have so much in common. It's been a revelation. I mean, we all know everyone's already hooked up into their arrangements, but it's been great to have this in my life".

"So what's upset you?" I asked. "Has your husband found out?"

"Oh god, no. Nothing like that."

I waited. Something more complicated, obviously. What woman doesn't have a knot somewhere in the knitted-together mess of modern day working-mum life?

"He's written me some wonderful emails. All the things I have been longing for, he's been feeling the same! Walks on the coast path. Going to the theatre. Long relaxed dinners with wine and flirting. Lying in bed with the papers, someone to talk with. All that".

I smiled wryly to myself. Everyone wants that, don't they? I thought about the poem, the one that sits at the top of this blog. Is this where I was going? Is this where any of us were going when we set out?

"Well, good for you", I said. "He sounds lovely. Treat yourself, make the most of it. We've all got our way of keeping the head above water. It does sound rather wonderful. Theatre, dinner, lying in bed with the papers.....Mmmmmm......."

"Course, we don't actually do any of those things," she shrugged, spooned the dense velvety milk layer from the bottom of her cup. "We just meet in hotels and fuck for a couple of hours. We don't even have supper - he prefers to eat with his wife when he gets home. I don't really hear from him in between, other than to make arrangements."

I squirmed uncomfortably in my seat, looked away.

"I thought I'd found a way of dealing with it all", she said. "But actually I fear I've just created another situation where I sell myself short".

We kicked it around for while, the pros and cons, the ins and outs. We decided that, on balance, being desired for an hour or two a week by a clever, attractive, sexy man was still worth it.

We had another coffee. It's the only guaranteed way these days to get your heart to race.