Fiction, Relationships

What happened back at Gino’s after the nightclub

Let me tell you a story of late 1980s London. One of unrequited love, loyalty, sex-of-sorts, a dark-brooding male and a super-hot babe.

There I was on my way to meet my best friend from work. My best friend, who incidently I was in love with. His office was in a posh West End of London square. But this story is not about him, it’s about Gino…and me.

I was feeling savvy and sexy. Tits bouncing as I walked, no bra. Tight jeans painting the outline of my equally tight bum cheeks. Wavy, long blonde hair blowing back in the summer breeze. I was a babe, and I knew it.

A guy began to walk in step beside me. He was young and cool looking. Swarthy and impeccably dressed. We began to chat, laughing and joking as I dodged the commuters on route. He was not threatening, just chancing his luck, asking me where I worked and, maybe stupidly, I told him. He said he would be waiting for me the following day when I finished.

True to his word, as I walked out of the building, there he was. Gino.

I smiled as he handed me a take-out coffee. We sat on the wall opposite and sipped them. Somehow, mine was just how I liked it.

He told me his family owned a few Italian wine bars. I’d heard of them. Coincidently, he managed one just along the road from where we were sitting.

He was witty, the right age and intelligent. What more did I want? Ah, yes Vic — my unavailable best friend!

But of course, I agreed to go out with Gino. I pondered that I might have fun and I could hopefully make Vic jealous. Oh, people don’t judge, I was young, you would have done the same!

He told me to dress up. I chose a knee-length, figure hugging, backless dress, and I have to say he pulled out all the stops for me.

We started off in a champagne bar then went to Stringfellows —an expensive, upmarket nightclub in the heart of London.

We ate a cosy, costly dinner and then joined some high profile guests. It was fun. I enjoyed being spoiled, treated like a princess. But I had a good head on my young shoulders, which was not easily turned. I had started mixing with a few so-called pop stars from a young age and been to a couple of celebrity parties. However, Gino’s behaviour and attitude did impress me. He seemed like a gentle…man, and genuinely interested in me and my life. I was actually enjoying myself.

By the end of the evening we’d both drunk a little too much, and when he asked me back to his flat I said, yes. This was very unusual for me. I was twenty and hadn’t notched up countless conquests. More than some my age, but less than most. Rather than playing the field, I had been involved in a few long-term relationships.

He had a nice pad. Like I said, he had everything going for him. Before long we were on the floor kissing and, as a red-blooded male, he was making sure he didn’t miss a move. I was particularly cross with Vic as he had let me down only the previous week, so I was not going to be resisting on his account.

But things escalated fast. Suddenly my knickers were off, his fingers were inside me and his mouth was on mine. You couldn’t blame him. I appeared to be there for the taking — writhing enthusiastically down on his hand, before he flipped me onto my knees. It happened so fast, rubber on, cock in — we were having sex before the realisation hit me.

He was shafting me like he meant it… loved it… wanted it. And I was bent over, on all fours, thinking — how did I get here?

All of a sudden, it felt very wrong; prostituting myself to make the man I loved jealous.

“STOP,” I shouted at the top of my lungs. A risky request.

But you know what this guy did? Aroused as he would ever be. In, the moment. You know the one… Ramping up the stakes…

However, he stopped immediately.

Heard me. Heard the emotion in my voice. Pulled out without questioning.

I sat up, thinking this is awkward. Embarrassed, I apologised and told him about Vic.

He listened and ordered me a cab home. It was a very long journey and expensive, yet he even escorted me, chatting along the way.

The next day he called asking if I was OK.

This continued — he rang frequently for a few months wanting to take me out. We would laugh and joke, and I enjoyed chatting, but I chose not to see him again. However, I look back and think to myself, things could have turned out very differently.

Gino, what a guy…

Another from May More

And one from Posy Churchgate