The first time Leila was about to have sex with Norman he asked her if she would do something for him.
Here we go, she thought, preparing for whips, or him wanting her to piss on him. Men were so predictable.
‘Put your swimming costume on,’ he said.
The costume was damp and smelt of chlorine. A Nike black all in one, medium high gusset, sports back, neoprene, no nonsense number, it chafed her vagina. Hard making love in such a thing. But it seemed to do the trick for Norman. He became quite red in the face. At the last minute she unrolled it, as if it was an especially tight condom. That episode should have warned her.
Their first meeting had been so hopeful. They’d bumped into each other at the swimming pool café, and it seemed churlish not to sit together after swimming in adjacent lanes. Then they got talking. The after-swim coffee became regular...