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THE SEX DIARIES: 'I want to focus on your play-zhure,' purred Italian Alessandro. That was fine with me...
Now I was separated from my husband of 15 years, I whirled around London like a middle-aged dervish.
I flirted with men. I slept with an old friend. I was in a 'situationship' with gorgeous 27-year-old Eliot. I kissed a man I'd just met on the Tube, on the way home from a night out.
In short, I behaved like a cliché of a divorcée (even though mine had still not come through). It was fun, but I was acting like a 48-year-old teenager.
So when my barrister friend suggested I come to her Chambers' summer party, I accepted with alacrity. A nice lawyer was absolutely who I needed to meet, a divorce lawyer preferably, considering the expense of my own.
Sunshine and Aperol spritz were on the menu at the Chambers' summer party... but would something more romantic be on the cards for Annabel Bond?
Annabel (not her real name) found the perfect staycation romance with Italian waiter Alessandro
A much more sensible proposition than Eliot, whose power over me I was desperate to loosen.
The party was in full swing when we arrived. The cobbled square was strung with lights, the bar awash with Aperol spritz. High earners shrugged off their jackets and loosened their ties. Hot night, it was summer in the city!
My friend introduced me to a solicitor, about my age. He was shorter than me . . . and wearing a wedding ring. He was charming enough, but the conversation quickly trailed off.
Time for a cocktail. There must be someone here who wasn't married. The lawyers clustered in animated groups, talking shop and office politics. Not much flirting going on, at least with an outsider.
But never mind, the cocktail hit the spot and the DJ was playing my favourite song. Only three people were dancing, one of them was a tall guy, late 30s, in a slim-fitting suit jacket and stubble. His tight polo shirt showed off a lean physique.
His name was Alessandro and he took my hand and twirled me about until I didn't mind that we were the only ones dancing. After that he got me a drink, and after more dancing he pulled me over to a dark corner of the courtyard.
'Why do you keep looking over your shoulder?' I asked.
'So my boss doesn't see me,' he replied.
I expected to see an elderly lawyer, but Alessandro pointed instead at the restaurant manager. Instead of pulling someone called to the bar, I'd pulled someone who worked at a bar. But never mind! An Italian waiter, on a hot summer's night — now that's a fantasy of a different kind. I probably wasn't ready to settle down with a lawyer yet anyway.
Alessandro explained that although he'd finished for the night, it wasn't professional to be with one of the guests.
'But I couldn't resist you,' he added, smoothly.
At the end of the evening he pushed me firmly against the wall and pushed his tongue just as firmly into my mouth. Then he asked for my number.
'You are very beautiful,' he said. And he was very handsome, even if his aftershave was a bit strong.
Well, why not? I thought. It could be my London summer fling. I hadn't behaved like this since I was in my 20s, but I was outside the safety net of my marriage and there was no rulebook for me now. Anyway, maybe Eliot was doing the very same thing. The following week I met Alessandro again, in a cafe near his house. I was grateful that we kept away from deep and meaningful conversation. I didn't want to talk about my ex, or my three children. Anyway, we had not met to chat.
'Divorced friends had regaled me with their crazy sex lives for years,' says Annabel. 'I used to think it sounded exhausting, but now I was one of them' (picture posed by models)
I still couldn't believe I was doing this, though. Divorced friends had regaled me with their crazy sex lives for years; I used to think it sounded exhausting, that I'd rather be tucked up with a cup of tea, but now I was one of them.
Alessandro's flat was tiny, immaculate and filled with white furniture. He wasted no time in leading me to his Ikea bed. I liked his authority, and his absolute lack of shame — it helped me let go of mine.
I knew I wouldn't see him again, so I didn't care that I was older than him, or that I might sag in places he wouldn't expect. But I went to the gym now; if I was wobbly, I was also strong. I felt as good as I was ever going to.
'I want to focus on your play-zhure,' purred Alessandro. That's never been said to me by an English guy, and it was alright with me. I told him exactly what I liked, and didn't like; he was so obviously turned on that it was easy to be bossy.
Alessandro was the perfect mix of dominating and eager to please. If he had more stamina than me, it was only by about ten minutes, and he seemed genuinely excited to have me in his bed.
Afterwards, as I drove back home, my heart ached a little, but I wasn't about to import Alessandro into my life. It was the perfect staycation romance.
Annabel Bond is a pseudonym. Names have been changed.