What would Susie Singleton do?

Susie Singleton is your wife, only single.

She never married you, or anyone else. And she never had kids. You know her, as a friend. You fancy her a little. OK, quite a lot.

What does she do? Is she getting any? You’d like to know.

Woman-at-Bar-w-Wine-DSC02971Well, there’s story going round that she turned up at a bar called the Universal one Friday night, still wearing her work clothes. She picked up a guy called Brad, and took him back to her apartment. (She lives in the city, close to her work.)

Brad described the encounter to one of his work colleagues and that’s how the story got out:

‘She was intense. She hardly said anything, she just jumped on me. I really enjoyed it at first but she got really carried away when she started coming, and she bit me. Really hard. Right here.’

There was still a big purple bruise on Brad’s cheek when he told the story. He sounded believable.

A few weeks later, you get talking to Jane, a mutual friend, about the biting incident.

‘Susie is super embarrassed about that. She hasn’t called him back. Actually I don’t think she would have called him back anyway. But still, the poor guy.’

So why did she do it?’ you ask. ‘Was he threatening her?’ You feel an urge to protect Susie.

Jane laughs. ‘Hell no. He’s a decent guy. She says she just gets these urges sometimes. But she hasn’t done it in ages.’

‘So, she’s done that before?’

Again the laugh. ‘Yep. Back in her twenties she used to do it a fair bit. She’d have a big week at work, and then a few drinks, and she’d be right in there. One guy even had to go to hospital, thought he was going to need stitches, He didn’t, though.’

‘Jesus. I had no idea. I always thought she was kinda stright-laced.’

‘She is, mostly.’

You meet Susie in a bar the following Friday night. You know her by her back, her poise, her neck.

She’s beautiful, but seems on edge. You lose your nerve. You do not ask her about Brad. You go home early before she has her second drink.

First Into Bed

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She was always first into bed; her shoes kicked off with an easy flick, her sundress and underwear gracefully removed, then tossed carelessly onto the floor, her eyes barely leaving me all the while.

By then I would have removed shoes socks and belt, and no more. Pants, shirt, tie, all remained.

I asked her if she would mind if I did not dress formally on all our dates.

‘Of course I would not mind,’ she said. ‘I just wouldn’t have sex with you. But you can still buy me dinner.’