I thought I was going to die when I got up this morning... afternoon, whatever. The point is that I stupidly let Michelle talk me into going out for my birthday last night, some sort of Muggle custom involving getting ripping drunk and going from pub to bar to pub until you either can't stand up on your own or end up going home with the first fairly attractive bloke who doesn't make you want to vomit or giggle with his pick-up line.
Oh gods, I don't know what possessed me but last night - I did it. I slept with a man. And it was bloody brilliant. I think.
I don't even remember which bar we were at, all I remember is looking up and he was standing next to our table asking me - me - to dance. When we reached the dance floor a slow song started and he put his arms around me. Even thinking about it now makes me tingle. I need to remember, for future reference, that the tingling feeling is dangerous, makes me forget my common sense completely.
Somehow we ended up in a hotel room, I never did find out why he had a hotel room already - he said he wasn't married or dating - What if he was married? What if I had sex with a married Muggle? Great sex, but still wrong, very wrong - but nice - no wrong.
Calm down, Daph, he said he was single. Why would he lie? Does it really matter at this point? Isn't it a little late to be worrying about it now?
Where was I? Hotel room. It gets a little fuzzy at this point, but... oh Merlin, the things Jim made me feel. I'd been kissed before but he was really good. There's that tingle again, damn traitor. He treated me like I was special, he called me beautiful. I think I'll remember him saying that forever. I don't know, but I think at the time - I think he meant it, that I was beautiful. No one else had ever said that to me. I've been told I was pretty, that I had a great smile, that if I lost a few pounds I could be beautiful - but no one ever looked at me like that and just ... said it.
I've heard the stories, and Michelle is forever dragging those magazines with the naked men, so I knew what to expect. Well, I thought I did, I didn't expect that he would - put his mouth - and that was amazing and then he... No. We had sex. I'm guessing I forgot to mention the whole virgin thing, because he was a little surprised about it. After that it sort of began to blur together and I'm positive I stopped being able to think. At some point I was on top - was that the second or third time?
Gods, I don't remember. Which really, really, really sucks because I'm positive I would like to remember the whole evening in exacting detail.
He asked me for my full name and number and I didn't... He's a Muggle. I'm a witch. If Da's old associates ever found out I was seriously interested in a Muggle, oh, it wouldn't be pretty. I love Auntie Kathryn but her husband - and until I can afford to pay them back, every bit of my life is open to their scrutiny. I couldn't do that to an innocent man. I still can't. Even if I wanted to, I don't know his last name or where he lives, if he's even from London. I don't even remember what bar we were in on the off chance he's a regular there. Surely I owe him some kind of explanation? But what? "Sorry, you're a fantastic lay but I'm a witch and my benefactors would just as soon kill you as see a Pureblood dating a Muggle so I'll just be leaving. How about one more for the road?"
That just screams Obliviate Me! doesn't it?
Maybe it's all for the best, really. I should just forget about Jim and just remember what I can of the good parts... the really good parts. His hands, his mouth, the feel of his skin against mine, his voice, those eyes, those kisses that made me so...
I told him to call me Daisy?