So, the date with the 6’5 cutie…
I texted him before I arrived at the restaurant and joked that he should wear a yellow ribbon so that I would recognise him. He fashioned something ribbon-ish out of post-it notes that he had presumably finagled from the wait-staff, and was wearing it tucked into his shirt when I arrived. Cute.
He stood when I approached the table, a half-hug hello, I clocked how big he was (very ‘former international rugby player’ big: wide shoulders, meaty arms) and got to check out how tall he was. He was taller than me in my 4″ heels, but didn’t ‘seem’ tall somehow.
We had a long lunch and talked. Mostly vanilla stuff, some past relationship stories, we touched on D/s a little, talked about work, gym, general interests… standard fare. There was no real flirty vibe between us, it was just… conversation.
He has pretty pale green eyes and a very full-lipped mouth which would normally have me transfixed, but he was a bit of a messy eater, so I couldn’t watch it as I normally might.
He suggested a walk after lunch, so we wandered off for a stroll down to the river.
He still didn’t feel all that tall to me, so I made him stop by a shop window to look at our reflections, and sure enough, even though my shoes probably made me 6’2, he was significantly taller than me. It was odd that I didn’t *feel* his height, maybe because we were not physically close or touching.
As we walked and talked some more, I kept having to tell him to slow down as he strode off like he was in a hurry to get somewhere. It was pleasant, but not really *working*. I stretched it out to see if we would connect a little better, asking him more about himself. He answered happily, unselfconsciously, but it felt a little like I was holding an interview in terms of how the conversation flowed. I suggested we have a drink overlooking the beach.
We conversed relatively easily, but even when we hit on topics that interested us both, it never really took off into that zone where you poke around in each others heads with curious delight. I felt as if he wasn’t *really* listening to me, we didn’t really have a strong rapport, and conversations ran out of steam relatively quickly.
All in all, we spent about four hours together. At the end I walked him to his car, wondering if it was worth trying a kiss to see how it felt.
We made goodbye noises, and I told him to give me a hug. I was standing on a curb so we were about the same height. The hug was sweet. Despite the height parity, I felt tiny, like being wrapped up by a bear. As we broke apart, I leaned in for a really soft kiss, barely anything, exploratory, just to see what it felt like, fingers under his chin to bring his face to me. His lips were really soft. He kept a hand on my hip and I could *feel* his desire to pull me against him, a slight urging.
He accepted the kiss, waiting for my lead, which I like.
I told him to give me another hug. It was tighter this time, he pulled me against him, he grabbed my arse – not a subtle stroke-feel, but a full on *grabbing my arse*.
“Get your hand off my arse…”
He laughed sheepishly and immediately did as he was told. There had been just enough contact to feel his hard-on.
A few moments more of very soft kissing, tasting him a little, trying to see if anything clicked for me, and we said goodbye.
I sent him an email the next day saying that I wasn’t feeling the kind of rapport I needed to feel to take it further. He sent me a friendly reply. All very civilised.