Three (1)

I stood naked at the foot of a kingsize hotel bed, phone at my ear, saying to Jessica "you're an hour early."

In front of me, Ms. T. lay stretched out, wiggling helplessly with her arms pinned to her sides, an entire roll of bondage tape encasing her torso from shoulders to thighs.

"No, Mon. I'm ten minutes early. Your clock is an hour late."

It was like organising a very small party. Or a chaperoned blind date where the only thing the participants have in common is me.

Well, maybe not the only thing. They also shared a compelling mutual curiosity about what might happen. And some fantasies. It's a fragile, nervy arrangement that, if it doesn't collapse under the weight of planning and anticipation, might just get us all in bed together.

Almost, but not quite. There's no guarantee that the two strangers involved will get along, just like any other blind date arranged by a helpful mutual friend.

So, there we were. All about to meet one another. Slightly disheveled. And one of us, immobilized and lying across the bed, blindfolded.

This was part of the plan, in a manner of speaking. Stuck at work for a full day, Jessica was unable to join us until late afternoon. I like to imagine her bristling and shifting irritably in her seat, marooned in the mercilessly unprivate expanse of an open plan office, thinking about how we might be staving off boredom while waiting for her to arrive. This fortunate scheduling mismatch, gave T and myself a leisurely moment to wind down. And fuck. Not a hard, urgent fuck - more an appetising awakening of the senses for what lay ahead.

"Can you give us a few minutes?"

Over the phone, Jessica giggled. "I'm in the bar. Let me know when you're decent enough to receive visitors…"