'Stop, stop, wait.' I said, remembering one of Sandy's rules. 'We should use a condom.'He nodded, beyond speaking now, only leaping up nimbly to find his jeans and check the pockets. He sprinted back to where I lay with a foil square in his hand.'You brought one to work?' I couldn't quite believe it. Was I the only person in Glasgow who didn't anticipate a casual fuck at lunchtime? My model grinned, biting at the foil to rip it open. He had a wicked smile.'Boy scout motto. "Always be prepared". You never know who you'll bump into.'I wasn't in any position to argue, and I just marvelled at the sight of him, cock in hand, unrolling the rubber down his length and checking to see it was on tight. I lay back.
- From 'The Art of Fucking', in 'Sex with Strangers', published by - oh, some old forgotten publishing house that got dropped like a dirty hot potato when some politico schmuck decided he wanted to write his meemoirs. Or something. Allegedly.