I often write erotica. Here's a teaser from my blog.

Looking back, I suppose I should have seen it coming. In the course of the five days of negotiations, we had grown ever closer. I had noticed the increase in brief physical contact: hands lightly brushing together, arms pressed close as we walked, the French double-cheek kisses gradually edging closer to the mouth and lasting just that little bit longer than they should. But now here I was...alone with her in a bar celebrating and noticing quite suddenly how stunning and all around lovely she was.

 
If I was 43 going on 30, she was 34 going on heaven. How could I have not noticed all these details before? My breath caught in my throat as I took in the sight of her. Rich, deep sable hair dancing playfully on her shoulders, her slim frame with an amply-filled bra, long legs that perched upon a perfect ass. And those eyes. I mentioned them before, I know, but electrifyingly sexy says it all. I was sure that all week they were intense and passionate but now they were firing off signals that I was almost afraid of interpreting.

 
"Cheers, Martin! Congratulations!" Her voice silky smooth, just throaty enough and with just enough French accent to maintain that irresistible charm.

 
"Sophie, I could not have done it without you. Cheers." I said, as I raised my glass in a toast to our success.

 
We sipped our champagne and let the bubbles do their wicked work. I should have been sitting there feeling like the king finance - as I usually do after wrapping up big deals - but I discovered I was feeling rather like a teenage boy again. I found myself wondering what to do and planning vague, badly organized excuses for leaving despite the obviousness of what was unfolding before me.

 
Fortunately, or unfortunately, depending on which side of my brain you are listening to, Sophie was far too brazen, far too driven, and far too adult for my own good.

Read on for more...