Most people think of a fling, a one night stand, a moment of passion, as being just that - incredibly full of passion, the feeling that you're taking a risk each and every moment you're with that person and that element of danger heightens your awareness and makes each moment so addictive, so full of emotion and desire that just consumes you totally.

What I experienced on Saturday night (or very early Sunday morning, more accurately) was something very different from that. I felt completely safe and protected in my friend's arms, and ironically enough, it was that very feeling of safety which prompted me to disregard the little voice in my head which was saying that maybe I shouldn't be responding to him, that maybe I shouldn't be Frenching him back. It's just that... even as I felt his arms caressing me, even as I felt how he much he wanted me, I knew that it would never get to a stage whereby I'd panic and not know how to get out of it. I trusted that my friend wouldn't do anything to hurt me.

It's strange.