Richard

Dear diary,
It was one of those clear winter days — sunny, cold, nothing unusual.
I had just finished some shopping and was on my way home when the weather suddenly flipped. Dark clouds rolled in, and heavy rain started pouring out of nowhere. My paper bag immediately began to soften in my hands, and I panicked, trying to find shelter before everything I bought spilled onto the street.

I spotted a bus stop and ran toward it. It was already crowded, people squeezing themselves in, everyone avoiding the rain. I was about to give up when a large, steady hand appeared in front of me, motioning for me to come closer.

The hand belonged to a man who looked like he walked out of a movie —
salt-and-pepper hair, scruff, strong jaw, warm eyes.
Something about him felt calm and sure.
He pulled me toward him to give me space under the small roof, and as more people pushed in, I found myself pressed against his chest.

I looked up to apologize, and he gave me this quiet smile that made everything feel a bit warmer. Then someone shoved from behind, and suddenly I was fully against him, practically held in his arms. I felt my face heat up, but he didn’t seem bothered. He leaned slightly toward my ear and whispered:

“Richard.”

His voice was deep and warm, and for a moment the whole crowd disappeared.

I told him my name, and we just stood there like that — close, almost too close — listening to the rain hammering down around us. Something shifted in that moment. His hand slid gently to my waist, and before I could think, he leaned in and kissed me.

It was slow at first, then deeper.
Soft lips, warm breath, rain all around us.
I didn’t care who was watching.

Only when the rain finally stopped and the crowd thinned did we pull away. I bent to grab my bag, and when I looked up, he was already walking away — until he turned back, met my eyes, and motioned for me to follow.

I don’t know why, but I did.

His apartment was warm, almost too warm after the cold outside.
He took off his jacket, then lifted his shirt over his head, revealing a strong, mature body. I followed his lead, taking off my own layers until we were standing there in nothing but our underwear, the heat making our skin glow.

Richard stepped toward me slowly, like he knew exactly what he wanted.
He cupped the back of my neck and kissed me again — harder this time, deeper.
Our bodies pressed together, warm and tense, and something inside me just gave in.

Clothes dropped to the floor quickly after that.
He pushed me gently toward the bed, guiding me down with a firm hand on my hip. When I lay back, he climbed over me, his weight settling onto mine in a way that felt safe and intense at the same time.

We kissed for a long moment before things naturally went further.
Richard took the lead — steady, confident, knowing exactly how to move.
Our bodies fit together easily, and the mix of heat, sweat, and his touch made everything blur.
It was passionate, physical, unfiltered — exactly what I needed.

When we finally collapsed together, our skin was warm and damp, the air thick with the smell of winter rain and heat. We stayed like that for a while, catching our breath.

Later, we said goodbye the way strangers who shared something intense do — quietly, without promises, just a small smile before parting ways.

It was a winter fling.
Short, spontaneous, and exactly right for that moment.

And honestly?
It was pretty perfect.