“What are you wearing, Amy?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Tonight. For the dinner party.”

“One of these days, I’ll just answer your cheeky questions honestly, Billy Byrne.”

“Would that be of interest to me?”

“How would I ever know that?”

“Only one way to find out.”

“ : ) ”

“I’ll just come smart casual.”

“Perfect. Are we coordinating?”

“Possibly, hence my text.”

“I’ll decide by mid-morning.”

“I’ll sit by my phone in anticipation.”

“You do that, haha.”

“I’ve got the wine; I’ll bring it with me.”

“Perfect.”

“He gave me a 2012 Dom Perignon, too. Would that be too much?

“Pearls before swine, Billy. But it might be nice to relax afterwards with a nice glass of Dom.”

“I’ll stick it in the fridge, then.”

“Perfect. As to your opening question. Very little. : )”

“Thanks for that. Now I need a cold shower. ; )”

“Sorry, I forgot it was Wednesday.”

“I didn’t. See you later, Amy.”

“Looking forward to it.”

I read the text again, a slight stirring at the base of my penis. She was flirting with me, and now I had a vision of a half-naked Amy lying in bed, firmly implanted in my brain.

I got out of bed at 7:30 and made a cup of tea. I’d check my wardrobe later. I was about to hit the shower when another text came in. Ritchie D.

“Yup?”

“Yip.”

The phone rang.

“Morning, Ritchie.”

“Hey, Billy. Did I wake you up?”

“No, I was just deciding who I’m going to fuck over today. You’re in the frame now.”

“Good, I could use a good fucking over.”

“What do you need, Ritchie?”

“Can you spare me an hour this morning? I’ve a meeting about a Deep Retrofit Scheme. I’d be interested in your thoughts.”

“Shit, what time?”

“11:00 in Civics.”

“Ah! The bastion of bad decisions, where good ideas go to die.”

“Don’t say that in there.”

“I won’t. What’s in the scheme?”

“They need to make a big splash,” he said. “I think they’ll probably go at houses that can be pumped with insulation first.”

“Fuck! Seriously?”

“Yes. They can kick that off quite quickly.”

“What’s the timeframe?”

“I’m going to be telling them that we can start in two weeks.”

“Where?”

“There’s 400 houses in Dublin 1 that we can start,” he said. “It’ll oil the wheels for us. At a guess I’d say the final rollout will be over 8,000 units across the city.”

“Will it not take a few months to tender that out?”

“No. I’m looking after it.”

“Enough said. Do you want me to pick you up?”

“No, I’ll meet you on the steps at 10:50.”

“Ok, see you then,” he said. “Oh, by the way, can you organise to get a few preliminary surveys done just for yardages?”

“Why?”

“It’s for the contractor, the cunt wants €300 to do them.”

“Would he not be doing them for pricing purposes in any case?”

“It’s the Council, Billy.”

“Ok. I’ll do them for €299.99.”

“They’re handy, Billy. I was thinking €100 each.”

“Think again, Ritchie.”

“Ok, €120, but that’s it.”

“Fair enough. Send me a spreadsheet we can use to input the data. I’ll be able to see what’s needed before I commit.”

“I just emailed it now. See you later.”

8,000 units at €120 is €960K. Plus VAT. Another fiver would make it a cool million. I'd do them myself for that, depending on what was involved.

“This’ll be interesting,” I thought.

At 9:30 I was engrossed in the spreadsheet. It looked simple enough. All they wanted was yardage estimates for external walls, roof, and attic ventilators. I did my own house, and it took about five minutes, including writing the values into the spreadsheet. I was trying to make it a little more labour-intensive, so I came up with the idea of typing it all into the spreadsheet to make it look more professional. If that wasn't worth a fiver, nothing was.

I began to assemble what I needed for the meeting and finally noticed that Debbie wasn't in. I wondered why she hadn't called, so I called her to see if she was ok. I heard it ringing in her office. She'd left her phone behind her when she left the day before. There was nothing I could do about that, so I jumped in my car and headed into town.

I parked the car and was standing on the steps outside the Civic Offices in Wood Quay at 10:40. I had just assisted a lady to carry a pram up the steps when I felt a hand on my elbow.

“I hope that woman’s husband doesn’t check her for fingerprints, Billy,” I heard a familiar country accent say.

“Ah, for fuck’s sake, Timmy Woods,” I said, shaking his hand warmly. “Do you still get nosebleeds when you arrive in the big city?”

“D’ye know something, Billy?” he said. “You get uglier every day.”

“I know, Timmy,” I said. “Your wife was saying the same thing to me in bed last night.”

“Was she?” he laughed. “Did you kick her out of the bed?”

“I tried, but she loves my cock.”

“Addicted is she?”

“Between that and my tongue, Timmy, she has it bad.”

He roared laughing as Ritchie D joined us. He looked at us both.

“Filthy bastards! Outside Civics, of all places,” he said with mock abhorrence.

“He started it,” I said and got a push the back as we followed him through the revolving doors. “These doors don’t work in the same way as the ones you’re used to down the country, Timmy. Just follow Ritchie and do what he does.”

“Keep it up, Billy,” he laughed as we entered the giant obelisk overlooking the river Liffey.

“So how are things, Billy?” Timmy said. “Are you kept going?”

“Yeah, it’s busy at the minute, you?”

“Ah, it’s not great. I’m hoping for good news here today.”

Timmy was the owner of one of the biggest insulation and plastering companies in the whole of the British Isles. They were also one of the top ten firms in their field in Europe. Timmy’s left hand didn’t know what Timmy’s right hand was doing and he’d never admit to doing well.

We sat in a large meeting room on the second floor, totally encased in glass.

“Now I know how a goldfish feels,” I said, taking a seat at the oval table.

Ritchie and Timmy stood behind me, going through some papers. My text alert sounded. It was from Amy. A picture of her in a tight black dress that finished about ten inches above the knee and just about covered her breasts as it stopped just slightly above her nipples. It had two spaghetti straps, one of them hanging seductively off her shoulder. I froze in place, mesmerised by her beauty. I was completely thrown off by it. Another text came in then.

“Will I do?”

“Fuck, Amy. You’re incredibly beautiful.”

“It’s just a dress, Billy.”

“Believe me, Amy, I realise that.”

“It goes on and comes off the same as any other dress.”

“I need to see evidence of that.”

“Perhaps that could be arranged.”

“Are you toying with me again?”

“Possibly.”

“You’ll always be the Belle of my Ball.”

“Thank you, kind sir. Until tonight. Don’t be late.”

“I’ll be outside your door at 5:00 LOL.”

“No smoking out there.”

I closed the text down and opened the photo she’d sent. She was an absolutely stunning-looking woman. I felt a stirring in my loins that immediately shut down when I heard Ritchie talking behind me.

“Just friends?”

“We’re coordinating outfits for tonight,” I said.

“Is that what they’re calling it these days?”

“Ritchie, much as I’d love to, it’s not on the table. It isn’t even in the room.”

“€50 says it is,” he said.

There was something about him that unsettled me. Ritchie wasn’t, putting it politely, profligate with his money.

“Well, whip it out and give us a look at it, then,” I said.

“You’d fucking turn her down just to win the bet, you cunt,” he said, laughing.

“Maybe if there were a few more zeros on it, I would.”

He had to run outside to talk to a couple of people and Timmy sat down beside me.

“What do you make of all this?” he said.

“Hard to know until we see the actual program.”

“How do you mean?”

“Have you noticed that they only give us a very small idea of things? 400 units to kick off an 8,000-unit program?” I said. “I don’t buy it.”

“Why not?”

“It’s like being brought into a big house, Timmy,” I said. “They show you one little room, maybe a study, something small, and ask you to price it out. So, you price it and then they hammer you down with the illusion of doing the rest of the ground floor.”

“Ok.”

“But what about the rest of the house? Who’s gonna do that? How much are they gonna do it for?”

“I don’t know what you mean, Billy,” he said. “I’m here to talk about 8,000 pumping jobs.”

“The Council owns over 50,000 properties, Tim. They can’t all be pumped.”

“Why not?”

“Because many of them were built with solid wall construction back in the ’30s, ’40s, ’50s, and ’60s.”

“Maybe they’re not doing those," he said.

“Somewhere in this building, Tim, there’s a room with a citywide plan to upgrade the housing stock. There has to be because the government signed up to the Kyoto protocol.”

“Are you saying that we’re being hoodwinked?”

“They’re not clever enough for that, Tim. We just need to be a step ahead.”

“In what way, Bill?”

“Approach this with caution. Don’t give them stupidly low prices,” I said. “They’re dangling a carrot this morning and they’re hoping we’ll eat it for a price we can never sustain.”

“So, what’s the plan here?”

“We listen, take notes, and ask a few irrelevant questions,” I said. “I’ll get some background from a very knowledgeable source tonight and then we can move on it.”

“When do we mention prices then?”

“You already told them you wanted €300 for a yardage survey, you fucking tool,” I said. “What else did you tell them?”

“Nothing; I don’t even have a specification on the beads yet.”

“Did Ritchie counter your €300 price?”

“He offered €150. I told him to fuck off.”

“Ok, leave those surveys to me,” I said. “We’ll do them quick and put a bit of pressure on. Then you can hassle the shit out of them.”

“You’re a calculating whore, Billy,” he said, “I always admired that about you.”

“Coming from you, Timmy, I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“We need to stay in touch, Billy,” he said.

“You know my number, Tim. I won’t do anything without telling you first.”

We shook hands on it.

“Speaking of surveys,” he said. “Would you do 170 of them out in Clonee for €200 a pop?”

“How much have you got in for them?” I said, staring into his eyes.

“€350,” he said without flinching.

“Payment straight away?”

“Yes.”

“Are they ready to go?”

“Yes, I need them started by the weekend.”

“€250, and you’ve got a deal.”

“Done.”

“Get Mairéad to email the addresses to me. I’ll get them started tomorrow.”

He sat back as Ritchie returned with a couple of men in suits. The meeting panned out exactly as I expected, and we left the room at noon. Timmy went on ahead of me and I saw him taking his phone out of his pocket. My phone rang a few seconds later.

"Tim," I said quietly.

"Are you alone?"

"Relatively, why?"

"Do you know Jocky Flynn, my partner?"

"Yes."

"There's a guy out near Drogheda that is a bit of a cute whore," he said. "His name is Waxy O'Connell and he's trying to make a name for himself."

"Ok, Tim, he wouldn't be the first."

"Yeah, I know," he said, "but I don't have much time for this fucker. From what Jocky tells me, he's going to register a company that has something to do with Energy Credits. He's talking about approaching all of the Councils around the country and offering to short-circuit their Procurement procedures by offering to do what you're doing for free."

"Is he mental?"

"No, he's a bit of a cute whore, I told you. He's going to try it and then claim back the Energy Credits from one of the oil or gas companies. He thinks he'll get lads like yourself in to do the surveys at a knockdown price and then clean up in the process, so you need to cover your arse, just in case."

"Is he called Retroactive Improvements?"

"I think so, I'll find out for you. Why?"

"He wants to talk to me. There's an email on my phone that I didn't open yet."

"Well at this moment in time he has nothing behind him. I'd move on it now if I were you."

"Thanks for that, Tim, I'll let you know how it's going."

"No problem, Billy. You didn't hear that from me."

Ritchie caught up with me then and we went to Eddie Rockets in Parnell Street for a burger. I was a bit distracted, and he noticed it.

"What's going on in that head of yours, Byrne?"

"Oh, nothing at all, Ritchie," I said, "I was just thinking about something that the Woods fella said."

"What was that?"

"He asked me to do a few surveys for him," I said.

"Where?"

"Clonee."

"How many?"

"170."

"How much?"

"€250."

"Fuck, that's not bad money," he said. "You're only thinking about it?"

"Ah no, that's a done deal," I said. "It was something he said that struck a chord with me."

"What."

"He mentioned about how frail the structure is under what we do. The lack of foundation or certainty."

"Woods said that?"

"Not in those exact words. It scared me a little, to be honest, Ritchie."

"Why?"

"Well, we have nothing in writing with the DCO work except for a few texts that we exchanged."

"Is that not enough?"

"No, and it's funny, because I was just trying to think how many different rates we're using for so many different kinds of properties. I'd like to regularise everything, Ritchie, because it's going to end up in confusion. I don't like confusion."

"I don't either, that's why I like to deal with one person for everything," he said. "Why don't you do up something that we can make official and throw in a generic that we can use for future projects like this cavity fill program?"

"Why don't you?"

"I don't have the time. If you do it up, I'll sign it, and that'll be set in stone then."

"I'll see what I can do, Ritchie. Pass me that ketchup, will you? These cunts must be trying to ration it. By the way, I’ll need €150 for those yardage surveys.”

“Ok, fair play.”

I was halfway through my burger when my phone rang. It was Debbie. I felt it in my stomach first and excused myself to take the call outside the restaurant.

"Debbie," I said.

"Billy, I'm so sorry about this morning," she said.

"Are you ok? I was worried about you," I said. "I tried to call, but you left your phone on your desk."

"I know," she said, "I came down to collect it, and I’d hoped to see you so we could talk."

"That sounds serious," I said. "Are you having second thoughts about the job?"

"Not in any way, shape, or form, Billy," she said. "I had a small procedure done yesterday and it was suggested that I have something else attended to while appointment times were available. That's where I was this morning."

"That's a relief, Deb," I said. "I'd hate to lose you."

"No, I'm going nowhere, Billy," she said, "you're very good to me. You sound a little down, though, is something wrong?

"I don't know yet; I'm in town at lunch with Ritchie."

"That's code for something needs to be sorted out, isn't it?" she laughed.

"You know me so well, Debs," I said, joining in with her laughter.

"How can I help?"

I told her the whole story and the conversation I'd had with Ritchie. She made a few suggestions on what to put into the agreements and agreed that it was the way to move.

"When can we have those, Debs?" I asked.

"I'll get working on them now, Billy. Can you hold him there for an hour?"

"What about collecting the kids from school?"

"I brought them in with me. I'll text you when I'm done, and I'll leave the agreements on my desk."

"Fantastic. I'd be lost without you, Deb. There's ice cream in the fridge for the kids."

"You're so nice, Billy, thanks. I'll be a little later tomorrow. One of the teachers wants to see me about something.

"Take your time, Debs, and thanks for this."

"Don't mention it."

I went back inside and ordered a fresh meal to drag the time out. We chatted about stuff, and it was nice. Ritchie loves a bit of gossip, so I told him about what happened with Debbie and asked him his thoughts. He gave me chapter and verse on how inappropriate it was before asking me if I fancied her. I demurred, saying there were too many years between us. He agreed with that.

I heard Debbie's text as it arrived in my phone and suggested we go and sign these agreements. He followed me home and we read through them quickly before we both signed them all. Before he left I grabbed the bottle of Dom and handed it to him, he was taken aback.

"Are you sure about this, Bill?"

"Just say thanks and fuck off before I change my mind."

"This is going in the collection," he said, and he ran out to his van.

“What collection?” I asked.

“I’ve a few nice bottles that I’ll never open.”

“What kind of bottles?”

“My father got me a bottle of Midleton Very Rare a couple of years ago,” he said. “That started me off.”

“Well, enjoy it, Ritchie.”

I closed the door and tidied the contracts away. My brain was still in gear as a text alert pinged my phone. Amy.

“4:00. The countdown is on.”

“Are you all set?”

“I can’t wait for it to be over.”

“You’ll be fine; I have every faith in you.”

“I’m looking forward to our post-dinner bubbly. An inspired idea.”

“I aim to please.”

“See you soon. I’ll look through the peephole at 5:00.”

Shit! I jumped in the car and drove to Amiens Street and arrived home at a little before 6:00 with a new bottle of Dom. I guessed that Amy would have the best of food, but I was hungry, so I made a sandwich and a mug of tea and consumed it while sitting at my computer.

At 6:30, I was showered, dressed, and on my way to her apartment, arriving at 6:55. I braced myself for a vision in a sexy black dress but was pleasantly surprised when she opened the door wearing an elegant peach concoction that screamed class and understated seduction. I laughed as we embraced.

“Gotcha!” she said as she kissed me.

“You look good enough to eat, Amy,” I said, trying not to drool.

“I’d probably be peach-flavoured.”

“I can test it for you if you like," I said. “It’d be no trouble at all.”

She laughed, put her arm around me and brought me inside to an atmosphere of muted panic. A small team of people were busily setting the room up and the aromas emanating from the kitchen were almost a meal in themselves. I sniffed the air. She had an amused look on her face.

“Truffles?”

“Yes, I love truffles, Billy.”

“There’s an underlying aroma of something else, though,” I said, testing my sense of smell, “wild garlic, am I right?”

“Yes, with a touch of lemon balm.”

“What are we having, Amy?”

“A lamb main course,” she said. “My sister hates lamb, so I try to oblige.”

I handed the wine over, and she dealt with it by handing it off to one of her ‘staff.’ She took the champagne, and we sat on a beige sofa as she opened the box to look inside.

“It’s always beautifully presented, Billy, isn’t it?”

“Yes, a bit like yourself, Amy.” I said, “a class act.”

“It’ll be nicely chilled by the time these philistines leave.”

“It certainly will.”

“Thank you so much.”

She smiled as she leaned in and kissed me. I touched her bare shoulder to feel her soft skin, and I’m sure I heard a little sigh.

“So, what’s the plan tonight, Amy?”

“”I expect they’ll be here soon, Billy,” she said. “I’d like us to present ourselves to them as a couple. Are you ok with that?”

“Your wish is my command. Do we remove ourselves from the room for our usual bedroom dalliance at 9:00?” I asked. “Or are you going to feign your usual headache?”

“You know something, darling Billy?” she whispered in my ear. “You might just regret saying that later.”

“I’ll nip out and get some paracetamol then.”

We both laughed and she kissed me again.

“Two kisses in twenty minutes,” I said, taking her in my arms, “how about one more to sustain me? Three is a luckier number.”

“How can I refuse such an offer, Billy?” she whispered as our lips met in a soft, lingering caress.

We held each other for a beat as we broke our kiss, and she touched my face with her forehead. An individual light blonde hair escaped to fall over her eye, and I was in the process of putting it back when I heard the harsh sound of an older female voice.

“Hey, hey, hey, you two. There’ll be none of those PDAs tonight,” Amy’s sister laughed.

I fucking detested the sight of her immediately, but I laughed it off.

When everyone arrived, we had a surprisingly nice evening, the food was exceptional and the wine flowed as the conversation sparkled. Amy and I sat together and maintained the illusion with fond words and knowing smiles. Adding to it further with gentle touches and intimate glances sharing private thoughts.

After dinner I put on some soft music which lightened the mood and encouraged relaxation and harmony. Amy was by my side the whole time and she was beaming as we seemed to have pulled it off. I went out to the balcony to have a smoke and her brother-in-law, Henry, followed me out.

“This is a lovely place, Billy, isn’t it?” he said.

“Yes, very exclusive, Henry.”

“How long have you known Amy?” he asked.

“Oh, Jesus. It must be twenty years since I first met her, Henry.”

“Really, that long?” he said. “And you only got together six months ago?”

“We’re both very busy, but she’s worth waiting for, Henry; Amy is an incredible woman.”

“I have to be honest, Billy, I always suspected she was gay.”

“What?” I said, feigning shock and indignation.

“Well, we’ve never known her to have any male relationships, so it’s easy to make the assumption.”

“Did she have female relationships?” I asked.

“No, not that I’m aware.”

“So, you immediately leap to the most likely, but least probable one, Henry?” I said. “That’s a bit small minded, if you don’t mind me saying.”

“What would you think if you were in my shoes, Billy?”

“I don’t have to think. She’s a beautiful, intelligent, accomplished, and self-sufficient woman, Henry,” I said, “and she’s fun, elegant, romantic, and feminine.”

“We never see that.”

“You’ve never looked beyond your parochial assumptions, Henry, and I’d appreciate if you’d not speak like that about the lady I adore.”

“I apologise profusely, Billy,” he said, backing off. “There was no malice intended.”

“Good,” I said. “Now if you don’t mind, I’d like to finish my smoke in peace.”

He left me to finish my cigarette. I returned to the living room when I was finished and sat beside Amy as she was explaining something to her sister. At 9:45 they made motions to leave, and we bade them farewell from the hall door. Amy sat on the settee and patted the cushion beside her. I sat down and relaxed.

"Thank Christ, that's over," she said.

"They're a bit full on, aren't they?" I said.

"Yes, but this time I didn't get any of their sorrowful meanderings as to my plight as a decrepit old spinster," she said with a smile.

"True, but did you not think they were looking strangely at us?"

"In what way?"

"I don't know, maybe we overdid the romance thing."

"What does it matter, Billy?" she said. "We do what we do."

She stood and walked to her kitchen, picked up two champagne flutes and the bottle of Dom, and returned to the settee.

"Would you like to do the honours?" she said, holding the bottle in the air.

"You're quite welcome to, Amy, but I can see by the way you're holding it that I'd better do it."

"I always spill it when the cork pops out."

"It's the first spurt that does the damage," I said, and she laughed heartily.

She held the flutes as I unwrapped the foil covering the cork. She watched me as I slowly unwound the wire retainer. She leaned her shoulders back a little as I turned the bottle whilst gripping the cork and she smiled when she heard the whisper of exhalation as it opened, emitting a tantalising sigh as a feint mist ascended from the neck of the bottle. She held out the flutes and I filled them. We clinked glasses.

"To us," she said in a toast.

"To absent friends," I said in return.

I placed the bottle in a cold ice bucket on a side table and we sat together in silence and sipped the delicate fermentation. She poured the second glass and leaned back against me as she sipped. She picked up a remote control and turned the lights off, leaving just the light from the night time city to illuminate the room through the huge glass walls overlooking Hanover Quay.

"That's better," she said.

I took her hand as we sat, and she interlocked her fingers through mine.

"A penny for your thoughts, Amy," I said.

"I overheard what you said to Henry," she said.

"Which part?"

"All of it. You protected my honour, Billy."

"I wasn't having him say anything negative about you, Amy."

"He thinks I'm gay?"

"I'm sure some people think I'm gay too, I wouldn't worry about it," I said. "When they're slagging you or me, they're leaving someone else alone. Besides, what business is it of anyone's if someone is gay or not, in this day and age."

"Do you think I'm gay?"

"Why, do you have any videos?"

She laughed.

"Seriously, Billy," she said.

"No, I don't see that at all, Amy."

"Thank you," she said, "because, I can assure you that I'm not."

"You don't need to convince me, love."

"You adore me?"

"What?"

"You told Henry that you adore me."

"That's a very loose interpretation of what I said."

"Well, tell me the exactitude of it."

"I asked him not to speak like that about the lady I adored."

"Is that not the same thing?"

"It's a slight sublimation of it, I feel," I said, the heat beginning to rise around my shirt collar.

"Billy, you're talking to me now, not Ritchie D."

"Ok, sorry," I said. "Yes, I do adore you, Amy, maybe not romantically, but I've held you in the highest esteem ever since we met all those years ago."

"I know, Billy," she said, "and I feel the same."

"You're a beautiful woman, Amy," I said. "I'm enjoying sitting here with you just holding your hand and sipping champagne."

"Yes, it's peaceful."

I looked at her dimly lit profile as she gazed out the windows and I wondered how she hadn't been snapped up years before. There was a determined set to her profile that told everyone not to mess with her, but there was a softness to her eyes that belied the stern exterior. She leaned forward and placed her glass on the coffee table in front of us.

"I need to use the little girl's room," she said, and floated elegantly across the floor. I checked my watch to plan what time I needed to leave. It was only yet 10:20. I considered 11:00, or slightly before, a proper time to make my exit.

While I waited for her return, I picked up the empty glasses. brought them over to the kitchen and ran them under the tap. I was wiping the counter down when she returned to the room.

"Leave that, Billy," she said, coming over to me.

"It just takes a second, Amy."

"Leave it, please," she said and put her arms around me.

"I ..."

"Leave it alone and kiss me," she whispered, "please."

I needed no encouragement. My arms encircled her as our lips met softly. Her tongue flicked gently across my lips, and it immediately sent a current right through me. She was firmly in charge as she opened my mouth with hers and began slow rotations of her lips, carrying mine with them as her tongue almost just appeared inside my mouth and attached itself to mine.

She took my hand and led me to her bedroom. My head was spinning, and I knew I needed to gain a semblance of control. She stopped beside her bed and turned her back to me.

"Will you unzip me, please?"

"Amy, are you sure?"

"I've wanted this for a very long time, Billy." she whispered, as the zip travelled slowly downwards.

I slipped the flimsy straps of her dress from her shoulders, exposing her naked back. I held it as it dropped towards the floor and watched as she stepped out of it and placed it delicately across a bedside chair. I kissed the soft skin at the side of her throat and allowed my hands caress her stomach. She turned and took my lips again, breathing deeply as she mined her way to my soul and causing an immediate response from my penis as it became fully erect and harder than I could remember. My hands drifted to her bum and softly held her, the feel of the silk in her miniscule thong driving me to distraction.

She unbuttoned my shirt as I undid my trousers, both of them finding their place on the floor as she held my hand and slipped deliciously onto the bed, bringing me along with her. She lay back as I paid close attention to her perfect breasts. Not large by any means, but perfect in construction and weight. They were topped by two hugely erect bright pink nipples, which begged me to take one in my mouth. I couldn't refuse, and a whispered "Yesss" sent a shiver through me as I soothed it with a gentle sucking motion, lifting and lowering my head as I suckled. My hand drifted to her stomach, generating a slight inward movement and a sigh as she took a handful of my hair and held on to it as it drifted lower to the peach thong that cradled her vagina in a smooth silk pocket of sophistication, a guardian angel to her refined femininity.

The sheer sensuous feeling caused me pause as my fingers tasted the softness. Her legs parted very slightly as she raised her knees in the throes of her arousal. My hand slipped under her thong and across her smoothly shaved Mons Veneris. I moved slowly and sensually, building her arousal millimetre by tortuous millimetre. The alterations in the pitch of her breath indicated my progress as I slowly slid the luxurious garment gently over her hips and down her perfect legs, leaving her naked and filling my eyes with wonder.

I kissed her softly there and she held my head gently, guiding me rather than stopping me. My hands drifted to her knees and gently moved them apart as I moved my face to join them. I kissed inside her inner thighs, taking an age to reach the centre of her sensuality. She opened up to me and gave me the first sight of a vulva that God himself had designed. It was beautiful, slender lips that were slightly opening to reveal a bright pink centre that glistened in the refracted light of the dim bedroom. Her arousal was obvious as she lifted her hips to me, offering me her vulva. My tongue rested inside the lips of her labia, and I heard a hiss of expectation as it slid slowly downwards towards her vaginal opening, resting there for a beat before returning along her the inner leaves of her, almost floral, labia. Her taste was of nectar, her scent of peaches and cream, the lady was perfect in every way.

I would happily have remained there forever, but she began to breathe deeply and call my name in an agonised whimper. I did not wish to cause her any discomfort or disappointment, so I sought the haven of her clitoris and allowed my tongue to work in circles around it as I listened for signs of impending climax. It hit suddenly as the first slow ooze of a milky fluid streamed from within her. I felt her body begin to tremble and squirm in my arms as it built slowly. My tongue cleared the fluid from her vaginal opening and inserted itself inside, seeking the warmth and comfort it provided.

My mouth was suddenly filled with more of her milky fluid as her hips lifted rapidly from the bed, and she cried out as her orgasm took her away from me as she clung to me and began to cry. I quickly went to her and took her in my arms. I whispered words of love and comfort as she rode out the seismic effects on her body. I held her as she returned slowly to me, and she smiled as I wiped her tears away with my thumb. She kissed me then, a deep and soulful kiss that cannot be manufactured. It told me that she was with me, it told me that she wanted me there.

"Billy, love," she whispered.

"I know, Amy, I know," I whispered in reply.

"How did you do that?" she said with the voice of a younger girl.

"It's my Superpower, my wonderful Amy."

"Superpower," she repeated, as her eyes closed, and she drifted off to sleep.

I lay beside her for a while, just watching her sleep. At 2:00, I covered her and dressed quickly. I wrote a quick note and left it on her bedside table. It simply said,

"I'll never forget this night, B."

I let myself out and drove home, my head still spinning, the mental pictures and the sounds of her flicking through my brain, keeping me aroused. I got into bed and was halfway to sleep when my text alert sounded.

"You left me."

"You looked too peaceful to rouse."

"You left me."

"I'm sorry; I didn't want to disturb you."

"Please come back."

"Are you sure?"

"If you don't come here, I'll go to you."

"I'll be there in ten minutes."

"You do adore me."

"I know. I hate that Henry, fucker."

TO BE CONTINUED