"I like risk - I'm a banker"

"Do you think I'm thin, average or fat?" I asked Rob as we walked out of the tube and towards the nightclub.
"Thin!" he said. "God, average is horrible! I like women thin, proper model thin, that's what it's about. None of this junk in the trunk shit. I look at some girls that guys really fancy and I'm just like - Put down the fork love!"
"Wow," I said, genuinely shocked at the way he then went on to talk about a number of my healthy-sized colleagues. "It's refreshing to not have to listen to the age-old 'men like women with curves' story that most men feel necessary to go on about."
"Yeah, I don't know why girls don't work hard to be thin! Seriously, put down the fork!"


I had indeed put down the fork that day, so no doubt, Rob would have approved. After a dosage of laxatives I'd only had a small bowl of soup at lunch in order to keep my tummy flat for that evening. Most of the people from the office were hitting the local bar to celebrate a strong monthly performance and some were intending to take it all the way to a nightclub afterwards. Looking anything less than perfect was not an option.


Rob started at the company on the same day as me so we've been through a lot of our training together and get on exceptionally well. The typical lad's lad, cocky, arrogant, outgoing, obscene... but a damn good laugh if that's what you're up for - and on most nights out, that is definitely what I'm up for.
He had invited along to the bar a good friend of his called Harry who worked in one of the biggest investment banks in Canary Wharf. The second he walked in and put his lips to a straw in the pitcher we were all sharing I knew had to have him. Now if I'm completely honest, my hit rate with men is probably only about 50%. While I used to be highly successful at university, my success has certainly dwindled greatly since then and I was fully prepared for nothing to happen between us. However, being a huge fan of the chase and a huge fan of doing extreme things, I had absolutely no fears about going for him.


Was I attracted to Harry physically? Well, he wasn't the most attractive man in the bar that night that's for certain. Fine to look at but certainly nothing that would make me look twice in normal circumstances. I know, and I have no shame in admitting here, that I was far more attracted to the idea of him. I wanted a banker, I wanted to know what it was like to get underneath the blue suit.
"She likes bankers," I saw Rob whisper to Harry. I inwardly groaned. It's a long-standing piece of banter between us that I have a massive thing for bankers and fancy an ex-trader at work. Harry was going to think what most bankers think - that I wanted him for the money and sex-appeal of his work. I had to play my cards just right to get this one.


We chatted a great deal and began to get on pretty well although I made sure that I was never too explicit in my intentions. Eventually, a small crowd of us moved on to the Ministry of Sound and I knew that was when I would strike.
One of our crowd was a City Boy Salesperson, I spent much of the night watching him cold calling through the surrounding women without any hesitation or fear and not batting an eyelid in the face of rejection. He was a good looking guy. He knew one of them would bite eventually. I have to say that I actually watched with slight admiration at his determination and resilience.
As we gathered around the bar Harry was glued to his phone. I was frustrated. He was being so utterly unengaging. Eventually I had had enough and covered his phone with my hand.
"Stop it! We're in a club!"
It worked, we started talking again, laughing, pressing up close to hear each other over the din of the music. Suddenly he leaned in and held me close. I knew he wanted to kiss me. I put my hands on his chest to hold him back. A thought flashed through my mind - Do I really want to do this?


I grabbed hold of the collar of his City Boy shirt and pulled him towards me.


We kissed and danced for a few minutes before he made it clear that he wanted us to leave, or rather, "I wanna take your dress off and fuck you." As we walked towards the exit I pulled him back.
"I..."
"What?"
"I.... um...." I squirmed uncomfortably and pulled faces. "Oh God... um..."
I had only just met this guy tonight. I didn't even know his surname. I wasn't even orgasmically attracted to him.
Sure, I've had one night stands before, but it has always been with a guy that I already knew and was also extremely attracted to. Although I'd spent a good deal of time talking to Harry throughout the evening and he wasn't a completely random guy, I still felt very uncomfortable. I didn't do this kind of thing, especially not now that I was grown up and out of university. I'd promised myself that this wild behaviour was behind me when I took this job. I needed to be stable and healthy and grounded.
I grimaced apologetically. I didn't know how to say it. "I'm not a slut..."
He understood and we went back to the main floor. He kissed me seductively, pressing me against a pillar, running his hands up my dress. He was relentless. I made him work for it. But I loved every second. I slipped into ecstasy as he kissed my neck and I thought about how much I craved the physical act of love.
Desperate to make the deed acceptable in my head I began to question him.
"What's my name?" I demanded, narrowing my eyes.
He said my initials.
"Fucking hell, you don't even know my name," I exclaimed, hurt but sadly not surprised.
"Yes I do! I was introduced to you by your initials!"
"Yeah but that's not my name is it! Seriously, you don't even know my name! That's fucking awful."
"Ok so what is it then?"
"Ophelia."


Eventually, after finding out all the essentials I felt I needed to know and after lots more seduction on his part, I gave him the nod. I wanted it. I was going to cover my eyes and let go of my morals.
In the taxi I looked out at the city I loved. We drove past the London Eye, Westminster, Big Ben, illuminated, The Thames twinkling gold and black.
"London is so beautiful", I said.
"It is."
I was going to have sex with this guy. I was in this taxi on the way back to his flat so that he could fuck me. It wasn't the feeling I wanted.


I've not slept with a guy since I broke up with my ex-boyfriend Alex in August, but I hadn't forgotten how wonderful it had been with him.
I wanted to tell Harry that loved him. I wanted to hear him say it back to me breathlessly. I wanted to say his name - Alex
- I fucked Harry pretending he was Alex. Because in truth, I didn't have a clue who Harry was - I couldn't feel anything for him.


We chatted about his work at the Investment Bank. He'd been working on a big deal during the week,
"And I just took all that stress out on you," he said casually.
I turned away.
But I couldn't feel sad because I had known all along that this was a casual one night stand and I had given it my blessing when I stepped into the taxi with him.
He scratched his itch, I scratched mine.
I should just forget him. But of course, all I want to do is see him again.


As he saw me out of the front door we shared a kiss but he didn't ask for my number or say anything at all - but then again, neither did I.
I looked at him properly in the glare of the bright early morning sunlight as he stood in the doorway.
He had blue eyes.