Just received an email from the Colonel, apparently he was lonely on his boat without me and that "porn food" woman, so he has invited a mutual acquaintance to stay with him and they may do some work together in future.

No further apologies about the awkward situation I caught him in, or for treating my friends with such a stinkingly dismissive attitude.

He thinks he's an aristocrat. In New York. He wants me to come visit and says he loves me but I know he loves himself above all others and I am now trying to get over the whole episode without too much of an emotional scab.

Maybe remembering the fab dirty sex may help?
We did it on the deck of his boat, suspended above the water in the catamaran's net, caught in the glare of passing boats and early sun rays.
I tried to get him to move less and pulled the duvet around us so we wouldn't get caught and arrested for indecent exposure at a popular film festival.
The next morning I found my knickers under the lounge table where he'd flung them in through the window.
(I did a sniff test to see if they were really mine;) )

His arrogant, deep voice made me wet, especially combined with his sparkling eyes, rough strong hands and probing tongue.
He was tall and maybe a bit overweight, but I loved his weight on top of me.
He cut a dashing figure in his tux and his sharp wit made me laugh.
In shorts and polo shirt he indeed looked like a mad school teacher however, as Daddy friend pointed out. He hated him, and I don't blame him.

He had this thing for running his hands across my body in public, which drove me mad.
I mean, how disrespectful is that!? You wear your most expensive evening dress and the guy you are with runs his fingers across your nipples or crotch, making you feel cheap and embarrassed, yet masochistically horny as well.
I guess I am just not as much of an exhibitionist as people think I am.