I love to meet Tom for coffee. It adds a different dimension.
We cannot touch, other than the ritual hug and kiss of old friends greeting one another. There is no lingering kiss, no passion. Even the way we look at each other must be more guarded.
We must take care not to talk too loudly of when we next can meet, of how much I long to have him inside me.
In a small city like this, there is always the chance we will be seen by someone we know. Sharing a coffee should cause no speculation - we have known each other for many years and work in the same industry - but anything more than that could easily be noticed and would be seized upon as a chance for speculation and gossip.
I find all this quite titillating. It gives other opportunities to tease, to build the anticipation for our next, more private meeting.
Today, just before we parted, I wrote a note on a coffee shop napkin. It said: 'Knickers? No, I'm not wearing any'. I slipped him the note as I left, knowing it would drive him wild to watch me walk away.
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