By: Harrison Abbott

He would come in for coffee many mornings a week. I liked him the first time I saw him, and then more and more as he kept returning; he had such a sunny face.

At the start he spoke to me in little whisks of dialogue. And he was funny. The way that some people have that natural ability to make strangers laugh. So much that, I started to look forward to him coming in. And made sure that my face was all done up; and I tried different things with my hair. And the girlfriend colleagues noticed me blush around him and they teased me about it, but they liked it too.

One day he asked me out. And I said yes. Hadn’t been on a date in two years.

He invited me to the theme park by the port. When I met him he kissed me on the cheeks and his lips felt ferociously good.

We walked through the stalls and amusements and he bought me some candy floss without asking whether I wanted any. I ate some and it made me feel like a kid because that was the last time I’d eaten that weird cottony texture … and it hurt my teeth, now, just as it did back then.

He asked me if I was competitive and I said yes (which was a lie). And so we played those gun games where you shoot the cylinder targets with an air rifle to win the prizes. I tried four times, with four bullets, and didn’t hit any of them. He got two out of four, and he won a couple of cuddly-toy things and he gave both of them to me.

Next, there was the little rollercoaster and he queried if I fancied that and I said no because I was terrified of heights, even though it was a wee one only filled with kids screaming on it. He said that was fine and we ventured along the portside and the sea was vast and somehow shut off in its indigo purpleness at the same time.

Then we came to the small ice rink. I suggested that we might skate?

He paid for our boots. And we skated around the mini rink and it reminded me of when I used to do this with my Dad and I wondered whether this was a creepy comparison. But it was really fun. The scraping sounds of the ice under us; and he was clumsy and nearly fell over a few times but he didn’t care that he wasn’t perfect and grinned the whole way.

After the rink there were food & drink stalls at the far end. There was a strong smell of meat and he asked me if I’d like some sausages and I said thanks but I wasn’t hungry because I didn’t wish to admit that I was vegan. (Yes, I know that’s lame.)

He bought me some mulled wine instead. Gaudy and hot. We sat next to the beach and drank them and he told me stories. He had a great voice that danced up and down.

It was getting dark.

“Do you want to come back to my place?” I said.

“That’s a brilliant idea, my dove.”

My place wasn’t far away. Ten minutes on the bus; and on the upper deck of the bus he kissed me on the lips in short, powerful intervals. He had a thick beard and it was like a brush was touching my nose, but it didn’t matter alongside the silky contrast of his mouth.

It was total night when we walked up to my flat.

He asked me who I lived with and I said my girl flatmate and then he asked if she was in and I said no.

There was more alcohol in my kitchen and I prepared some drinks. He came in whilst I was preparing them and he reconvened with the kissing. He lifted me up onto the counter. He bit my neck lightly with his teeth and I wasn’t expecting it and it made me gasp with glee. Then held my face in his palms and I blinked back into his eyes.

“Have another drink, mister,” I said to him, and I handed him his glass. “I need to go and pee but I’ll be back in a second.”

In the bathroom I washed my face and my whole body brimmed with sexual anticipation and I wondered why this handsome man was so interested in me too … I was super lucky.

When I went back to the kitchen he’d finished his drink and was pouring himself another.

“Come into the sitting room,” I called to him, “let’s put on a movie.”

I had a DVD of a silly Marvel film so I stuck that in. One of those glitzy modern movies where almost all of it is CGI mayhem.

And as it played on low volume in the background, he and I made out on the couch.

He took off my T-shirt and then my bra and he explored my breasts. I took off his shirt and adventured around his Greek-God torso. I felt under his jeans and he was hard and I was already wet downstairs too … and all seemed to be going perfectly well.

[These superheroes were fighting in the background on the TV and neither of us could care less about their crazy brawl.]

He undid my jeans and I let him take my pants down. Seconds later he unlocked his belt and took his boxers off and I was amazed and a bit scared and mostly succumbed and dazzled by his male totality.

But then he pulled me up, roughly. And held control of my body.

So, I had been on my back, with him above me: but then he lifted me up and turned me around, so that I was now on my knees in front of him.

I mildly resisted and tried to turn back to the way it was before.

He held my backside roughly. Wouldn’t let me move.

“Umm,” I interrupted, softly. “Can we do it the other way?”

There was no response from him. He just kept rubbing his thing. And then he lunged towards me with it. I didn’t want it. So I dodged him. Flinched away.

“Please,” I persevered, “I do really want to. I just don’t like it this way. Is that okay?”

I tried to swivel around from him. He caught my wrist. Clamped his big hand around my wrist. I said his name, and asked him to let go. He didn’t. I pulled from his hand. It clenched. I gulped. Then with his other hand he gripped my hair.

“Eh, I think we’ve gotten the wrong idea, here,” I said, “Can we just go back to kisses again? Would you like another drink?”

He scowled at me as if I’d never met him – a stranger that had offended him – and his eyebrows were Biblically black.

“I’m scared,” I whispered, “you’re hurting me.”

He released me.

Then he stood up and lifted his boxers and jeans up and relocked his belt. And then surged towards me.

I thought he was going to hit me. So I yelped. And shrank from him.

But, there was no blow. All he did was go into the kitchen and get his coat and then he stomped back into the living room and stomped down the corridor and left through the front door. He banged it shut after him. With quite the smack. Without a word. I was still just standing there, totally naked, apart from my socks … with this multi-million dollar film playing behind me.

Do you know: I actually wanted to run after him and get him to come back?

So I put all my clothes back on. Then when I was dressed, I realised I was still shivering.

I didn’t pursue him physically. But later that night and the next day I tried to call him. I thought there was some giant misunderstanding. He never picked up.

And he never came back to the café for coffee. Never saw him again.

The ladies at the café were all curious to know how the date had went. Because I’d told all of them about the theme park invitation; and they’d all been excited and glad for me.

I couldn’t tell them this story because it was far too vivid. Didn’t want to open up about it. So I said that it was a nice night but that I didn’t think he was interested in me because there was no further contact from his end. And they were sympathetic for a while and then disinterested and then they just didn’t care any more. The way other people forget things easily because it never happened to them personally.