Darn taxi was late getting to the hotel, errr... yes hotel... in the middle of the day... a week day.
As I walked into the foyer there were about 20 business men in there and I had to go to the reception and ask to be taken to The Footballer's room. As I said his name as quietly as I could I could feel the stares burning into my back and suddenly became fully aware of what I looked like - the choices were grim:
a. Just another groupie - how many has he had up there this week?
b. An actual hooker
I don't know what's worse!
I wanted to turn around and scream at them all that:
I'm not a groupie! I am not just at his beck and call because he's rich - HE chased ME! I have known him a month so this technically isn't even a first date! (not that a first date should eve
r be in a hotel room anyway) - don't judge me because of my Essex accent, my blonde hair and yes! These are FAKE! That doesn't automatically make me a gold digger who runs to do a kiss and tell in The News of The World before she's even got out the room! But you know what? I AM about to go and spend some serious hours NAKED with a hot guy that half your wives would trip over you to get to - so leave your judgements for them, not me!
Of course I didn't and instead went up to the room to meet my fate - and what a fate it was!
He met me at the door and I instantly noticed how tall he was - and how muscular and good looking..... sorry! And my nerves quickly dissolved into 'get me in that room - now!'
We chatted for a bit but it was obvious why we were both there and now I was glad that we were in the privacy of our own room - the chemistry was amazing (I'm sure you can't imagine that) and it was minutes before we were taking each other's clothes off.
His body was perfect and he is the most well-endowed man I have ever met - how did THIS never leak out onto the google findings? A girl should be warned.
Take your hand off the mouse and stretch your arm out - now if you're a girl like me I am not joking it was about the same size as my arm from wrist to elbow.
I had a great time, I had a great time three times... in five hours.
I had kind of hoped that once meeting him today that my little (major) crush would end. After all it's always the way isn't it - you admire someone from afar then once you have them it never lives up the expectation right? WRONG! It was all I had hoped for - and then some.
I had been emotionally trapped by him since the moment I met him - I waited on his texts, thought about him and talked my friends to death about him - and now here I was, I had done it- my milestone. Sorry I didn't tell you about the milestone. You see I've never done drugs, but what I feel for The Footballer is how I imagine it is to be addicted to drugs. I am always craving one more hit - just a single text from him can send my mood sky-high and I had come to depend on him to make me happy. I always wanted just a little... bit... more. I thought, right when I sleep with him that will be it - I will have acheived the ultimate goal (see what I did there) in getting as close to him as possible - except it's never enough is it? Sleeping with someone means you might be in the same bed, might even be as physically close as two people can be - but emotionally you can feel as if you are completely alone.
Anyway I ended up leaving his bed that day on a complete high - I had had my ultimate fix of The Footballer - my biggest yet. As I got in the taxi to go home I couldn't stop smiling to myself and felt an urge to call everyone I know telling them all about it. Unfortunately the taxi driver was also interested - he kept asking me why I had been meeting HIM - how did I know HIM - he couldn't believe that HE had called up some cabs for us - then the ultimate insult - he said:
"I couldn't believe it when The Footballer called up for two cabs - we raced to get there to see him - my mate Tony got to take the superstar and I got stuck with you"
Nice. But nothing could drag me down off my high!
I just hoped that this little rendez-vous hadn't fuelled my longing for him even more - because it felt like a dangerous game to be in - kind of like football where my heart is the ball, and I am now powerless to stop it being kicked.
As I walked into the foyer there were about 20 business men in there and I had to go to the reception and ask to be taken to The Footballer's room. As I said his name as quietly as I could I could feel the stares burning into my back and suddenly became fully aware of what I looked like - the choices were grim:
a. Just another groupie - how many has he had up there this week?
b. An actual hooker
I don't know what's worse!
I wanted to turn around and scream at them all that:
I'm not a groupie! I am not just at his beck and call because he's rich - HE chased ME! I have known him a month so this technically isn't even a first date! (not that a first date should eve
r be in a hotel room anyway) - don't judge me because of my Essex accent, my blonde hair and yes! These are FAKE! That doesn't automatically make me a gold digger who runs to do a kiss and tell in The News of The World before she's even got out the room! But you know what? I AM about to go and spend some serious hours NAKED with a hot guy that half your wives would trip over you to get to - so leave your judgements for them, not me! Of course I didn't and instead went up to the room to meet my fate - and what a fate it was!
He met me at the door and I instantly noticed how tall he was - and how muscular and good looking..... sorry! And my nerves quickly dissolved into 'get me in that room - now!'
We chatted for a bit but it was obvious why we were both there and now I was glad that we were in the privacy of our own room - the chemistry was amazing (I'm sure you can't imagine that) and it was minutes before we were taking each other's clothes off.
His body was perfect and he is the most well-endowed man I have ever met - how did THIS never leak out onto the google findings? A girl should be warned.
Take your hand off the mouse and stretch your arm out - now if you're a girl like me I am not joking it was about the same size as my arm from wrist to elbow.I had a great time, I had a great time three times... in five hours.
I had kind of hoped that once meeting him today that my little (major) crush would end. After all it's always the way isn't it - you admire someone from afar then once you have them it never lives up the expectation right? WRONG! It was all I had hoped for - and then some.
I had been emotionally trapped by him since the moment I met him - I waited on his texts, thought about him and talked my friends to death about him - and now here I was, I had done it- my milestone. Sorry I didn't tell you about the milestone. You see I've never done drugs, but what I feel for The Footballer is how I imagine it is to be addicted to drugs. I am always craving one more hit - just a single text from him can send my mood sky-high and I had come to depend on him to make me happy. I always wanted just a little... bit... more. I thought, right when I sleep with him that will be it - I will have acheived the ultimate goal (see what I did there) in getting as close to him as possible - except it's never enough is it? Sleeping with someone means you might be in the same bed, might even be as physically close as two people can be - but emotionally you can feel as if you are completely alone.
Anyway I ended up leaving his bed that day on a complete high - I had had my ultimate fix of The Footballer - my biggest yet. As I got in the taxi to go home I couldn't stop smiling to myself and felt an urge to call everyone I know telling them all about it. Unfortunately the taxi driver was also interested - he kept asking me why I had been meeting HIM - how did I know HIM - he couldn't believe that HE had called up some cabs for us - then the ultimate insult - he said:
"I couldn't believe it when The Footballer called up for two cabs - we raced to get there to see him - my mate Tony got to take the superstar and I got stuck with you"
Nice. But nothing could drag me down off my high!I just hoped that this little rendez-vous hadn't fuelled my longing for him even more - because it felt like a dangerous game to be in - kind of like football where my heart is the ball, and I am now powerless to stop it being kicked.
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