I woke from a deep sleep at 5:15 in Amy’s bed. She was sound asleep beside me. It had been an afternoon of unadulterated carnal fulfilment for us both, Amy especially. I was completely worn out and my penis lay flaccid and wan across my thigh, silently admonishing me for my overuse.

I went to take a shower before leaving Amy to her ‘thing’. I would have loved to have been inside her one more time, but I doubted I could manage it. The warmth of the memory would be more than enough to keep me happy.

I dried myself off and dressed in the bathroom. She was beginning to resurface from her rest. She smiled and lifted her hand in a weak salute.

“Are you leaving me?” she croaked.

“Yeah, I’ll leave you to get ready for your thing tonight.”

“Oh shit!” she said. “Thank you, that had slipped my mind.”

“Coffee?” I asked.

“Please. I’ll join you when my head clears,” she said.

I went to the kitchen and stuck a pot of coffee on to brew. I was hungry, so I revived a couple of the croissants, leftover from breakfast, in the oven, melting some butter to help crisp them up. She arrived beside me and put her arms around my waist as I lifted my arm over her head and held her to me, her head resting on my shoulder.

“You’re amazing, Amy,” I said and kissed her head.

“This has been a special couple of days, Billy,” she said, searching my eyes with hers. “I didn’t realise how much I was capable of coming, and every one of them shook me.”

“Can we do it again?” I asked hopefully.

“Do you think that this could be the only time we do this?” she said, her eyes pools of wonder.

“I wouldn’t like it to be,” I said, “but, equally, we have to respect that we’re business partners now.”

“True,” she said, “but I'm not in that for the long haul, Billy. I see that as a month of our lives, if not less.”

“Yes, I agree,” I said, “it’s going to grow into an awful logistical and administrative nightmare.”

“You’ve been thinking, I see,” she said, laughing.

“I’m sure you’ve seen it too,” I said, “I’m thinking that I should talk to Waxy after the weekend. I also think he should hear about what we’re doing before we speak.”

“Ooh, have you got a strategy in mind?” she asked, taking her coffee and croissants over to the dining table.

“Yes. I think I might let Timmy Woods tell him,” I said. “He’ll enjoy that.”

“When will you tell him?” she asked.

“On my way home,” I said. “I’ve a busy evening ahead of me.”

“Yes, you need to get everyone focused,” she said.

“I’m going to see if I can get another couple of surveyors on board too,” I said, “and I know just the man.”

“Is there anything you need from me?” she said. “Apart from what immediately springs to mind, of course.”

“Yes,” I said, “do you have a template that Debbie can use as a register for claiming credits?”

“I’ll have that later this evening, Billy,” she said. “I’ll get it over to you tonight. If Debbie is everything you say she is, she won’t find it too difficult,” she said. “She can always call me if she does.”

"I think Debbie can teach us both something, Amy," I said and kissed her.

We parted at her magic door, and I jumped into my car with a lightness I hadn't felt in years. My first call was to Barry Allison.

"Hey, Billy," he said brightly into the phone, "something the matter?"

"Hi Baz," I said, "Nothing at all. I was just calling to see if you had any more delinquent mates looking for survey work."

"Why? he asked.

"Because it’s about to get busy," I said.

"That's good to hear," he said, "but do we need anyone else to dilute our earnings?"

"That won't happen, Baz," I said.

"I can't see how it wouldn't, Bill," he said. "There's only so many units to go around."

"You haven't seen the bigger picture here, Baz," I said.

"Ok, Leonardo, enlighten me," he said.

"We're looking at a possible, and probable, 50,000 units over the next 5 years," I said. "Is that enough for you? Even you can't handle that kind of work."

"But between the three of us, Billy," he started to say.

"Baz, I won't be as actively surveying in the future," I interrupted, "I need another four surveyors, two to start immediately and two more in a couple of weeks. Do you know anyone we can trust to do a bit of work or not?"

"I know a few, Billy," he said, "although, ah nothing."

"Finish the thought, Baz," I said, knowing where it was about to go.

"If they were working direct for me, Billy, they might want to do it more enthusiastically," he said.

"How do you see that going, Baz?" I asked.

"Well, you'd just send me the addresses and I'd then pass them along to my lads, taking a tenner or so for admin expenses," he said.

"A tenner?" I asked.

"What?"

"A fucking tenner?" I repeated.

"Yes, a tenner," he said.

"You'd need more than that, Baz," I said, "otherwise you'd be working for them."

"How do you make that out?" he asked.

"Firstly, you'd need a minimum of €30 off the top to cover you," I said, "plus you wouldn't have the time to do any surveying yourself. Then, of course, would they work doing surveys for €50? I wouldn't, and neither would you. You'd be broke in a month."

"I never thought of that, Billy," he said. "I'm sure I could manage something, though."

"On top of all that, Barry," I said, "you'd need to put an office base together with all of the incumbent expenses that entails."

"Yeah, I hadn't thought of that, Billy," he said, "I'd need a Debbie too, wouldn't I?"

"At the very least."

"Ok, let’s do it this way," he said. "I'll round up four or five at €80 each and you pay me an extra fiver for every survey."

"If you issue the addresses, assemble the survey paperwork every week, email them to Debbie by the first of every Friday and invoice me directly for the whole thing," I said.

"Same payment terms?" he asked.

"You know me, Baz," I said, "I'm a simple being."

"Ok, that's a deal, Billy. I'll get two of them started before the weekend," he said.

"You may need four, Baz," I said.

"Why?"

"I'll be sending you three thousand addresses first thing in the morning, along with another 300 Active Voids."

"Can you break them down into workable amounts for processing, Billy?"

"I can have Debbie do it for you, Baz," I said, "but I’d need a tenner each for that."

"Ok, forget that so, Billy," he said.

Sometimes it pays not to try and be a smart arse. We hung up, and I called Ritchie D.

"Billy B!" he said musically.

"Hiya Ritchie, I've a missed call from you, what's the craic?" I said.

"Meeting tomorrow morning up in Bally go Fun."

"What time?" I asked.

"Can you do 9:00?" he asked.

"Not tomorrow, I can do 10:00, or you could drop into me at 8:00." I said.

"Actually, that might not be a bad idea, Billy," he said, "I'll have tea, and toast with marmalade."

"For fuck's sake," I said, "I have to supply marmalade now?"

"Can you not afford it?"

"I'll have an egg and chips instead of a steak for dinner tonight," I said. "I can afford it then. Is there any particular style of marmalade you prefer? No peel, Coarse Cut, Fine Cut, anything like that? Seville oranges or seedless, like Waxy O'Connell?"

"Are you finished?" he said, trying not to laugh.

"For now," I said.

"Don't make the eggs hard, Billy," he said, "I heard your teeth are acting up."

"I'm holding one finger up here, Ritchie," I said, "Can you guess which one it is?"

"The whole finger?"

"No, the other one."

I called Timmy Woods next. He answered with his usual welcoming, if suspicious, voice.

"What do you fucking well want?" he said.

"I love you, too, Timmy," I said.

"When are you doing them surveys for me, Billy?" he said, in efficient work mode then.

"When you send me the address, Tim," I said, "I'm not fucking psychic."

"Oh Jesus! Did nobody send them to you yet?" he asked, knowing full well that they hadn't.

"Not yet, Timmy," I said, "and I was so looking forward to getting them started."

"I knew I agreed on that price too quickly," he said.

"That was sarcasm, Tim," I said. "You should get out more, come up to Dublin and you'll get a crash course."

"I'd love to go up to Dublin more, Billy, but I'm afraid I'd run into too many cunts like you and Ritchie D."

"Just don't talk or wear those curtains that you use for a shirt," I said, "that's a dead giveaway."

"As much as I love talking to you, Billy," he said, "I have better things to do and nicer people to insult me. Now what do you want, for fuck's sake?"

"Waxy O'Connell wants to have a chat with me on Monday," I said, "I need someone to put a bit of a worm in his ear or up his arse."

"Ooh, can I do it?" he asked.

"Don't you like him, Timmy?" I asked.

"I detest the little fucker, Billy," he said, "tell me what you need."

"Ok, he wants to talk me into doing his free surveys for him," I said.

"That wouldn't surprise me," he said, "I hear he's offering €65 each, including the publication fee."

"He won't get anyone to do them for that," I said.

"He's offering exclusivity,” he said, “there’s always one prick who’ll do it.”

"Ok, well he should be advised not to put anything in writing, then," I said.

"Why not?"

"Because we have that whole energy credit and council survey thing wrapped up already," I said, "he's a bit too late."

"Lovely, and can I tell him that?" he asked, an element of glee in his voice.

"Yes," I said, "we have everything locked in, agreed and signed with the first set of credits changing hands overnight."

"So I'll tell him tomorrow?" he asked.

"Yes."

"What's in it for me?" he said.

"As the woman, who was buried up to her neck in the Sahara, said to the man who offered to get her out by asking her the same question," I said, "sand."

"I might get a little discount on my surveys though, would I?" he said.

"I'll tell you what I'll do for you, Timmy," I said. "I won't give you a discount on this first lot of surveys, but I also won't increase them the next time like I was going to. How's that for you?"

"It'll have to do, you prick," he said, laughing. "I’ll text you after I see him."

"Good man, Timmy," I said, "it's always great to talk to you."

"It's always an education, Billy," he said, "I'll give you that."

“Send me those addresses,” I said, ending the call.

I pulled into the driveway as it was getting dark. I hadn't realised the time. It was a little after 8:00. The lights were on in the office.

"Shit," I said to myself, "they must have been on all day."

I opened the door, let myself in, and walked straight to the office to switch the lights off.

"Jesus, Billy," Debbie cried as I disturbed her at her desk.

"Debbie," I said, "what are you doing in here at this hour?"

"I was just catching up on some of the hours I owe you," she said.

"There's no need for that," I said. "What about the kids?"

"My ex brought them out to his parents' anniversary party," she said. "I'd rather this than that."

I laughed.

"True enough," I said, "I'd probably be the same way myself. So what are you working on?"

"Amy emailed you an Energy Tracker," she said, pushing a pen into the dark hair covering her ear, "but I don't think it's accurate."

"How so?" I asked, leaning in over her shoulder to read where her finger indicated on the screen.

"See here?" she said. "This column shows a negative formula when, in my view, it should be positive with a percentage improvement."

"How much of a percentage?" I asked.

"Amy says ten percent, but I feel it should be a minimum of fifteen," she said.

"Why, Debbie?" I asked, suddenly interested.

She opened the detail sheet that Amy had showed me the previous evening and then opened the text she had received from Clem. She indicated the lines mentioning agreements and percentages.

"These are just discussion papers, Billy," she said, "nothing is confirmed at those rates. Usual practice is to include all percentages at fifteen percent and work from there."

She pointed to three further columns at the end of the row.

"I've included these columns to reflect a differing percentage addition in all cases, Billy," she said in a matter-of-fact fashion. "You can see the difference yourself. Amy hadn't included even the ten percent mentioned in the other documents. Maybe her mind was elsewhere."

"Maybe it must have been, Debbie," I said, "she's not usually like that."

"Should I call her and confirm it?" she asked.

"No, leave her alone," I said, "she's busy this evening."

"So, what'll I do with this?" she asked.

"Let's go with the fifteen percent and the highest of the three other columns for now," I said. "What does that work out at?"

"The highest is twenty-five percent, Billy," she said, typing furiously into her computer before striking the RETURN key with authority and finality. €4.6 million, plus Tax."

I sat back in the chair beside her and blew out my cheeks.

"Are you sure this is correct?" I asked.

"Yes," she said, "I'm positive."

"Ok, then," I said, "send Clem the invoice with a breakdown of what you did. Don't send him our version of the Tracker."

"Ok, but this is just the opening offer, isn't it?" she said.

"Yes," I said, "he'll send it out to three providers and, basically, start an auction. What you've come up with there is an auction reserve of sorts."

"Great," she said with a smile, "I’ll get it into presentable shape for you. Give me five minutes."

"Thanks, Deb," I said, "you're a star. Would you like a cup of tea? Or something a little stronger?"

"Well, what have you got, Billy?" she said with a big smile.

"What is your tipple of choice?" I asked.

"I don't mind a gin and bitter lemon on occasion," she said.

"That's not celebratory enough, my dear," I said, "how about a Gimlet or a Tom Collins?"

"Now you're talking, Mister Byrne," she said, "why don't you surprise me?"

"You're a cocktail girl, then?" I asked.

"I haven't had one for a long, long time, Billy," she said, a fleeting look of fond memories crossing her face.

"Well, we should have Cocktail Hour at least once a week after work in the future," I said.

She smiled and returned to her work as I left to make the drinks. I made one of each to give her the choice. I was finishing them off when she walked in and placed the paperwork on the countertop in front of me. I read it quickly and nodded my head for her to submit it to Clem and she returned to her office and emailed it off into the ether. When she returned, she joined me on the settee in the living room of the house.

"Sláinte!" I said in toast.

"Absent friends," she replied to a nod from me and sipped slowly from her drink, a Tom Collins.

"This is delicious, Billy," she said. "I've never had one of these before."

"It's not authentic," I said, "I use a touch of lime cordial in my recipe. It takes the bitterness of the botanicals away. I also use Gunpowder Irish Gin instead of Beefeater Gin. Would you like another?"

"Yes please," she said, "this is better than going to the pub."

"I'll join you in a Tom," I said, "the Gimlet is a fine drink, but I'm partial to a little bit of Tom every so often."

An air of conviviality pervaded us as the evening passed. About an hour after we sat down, she excused herself to use the bathroom, and I watched her walk away. She was barefoot, having discarded her shoes in the office, and she wore a dress with a floral pattern. It was a midi dress in pink and green, which lent a Bohemian look to her outfit. She had discarded a light cardigan, which left her arms and shoulders bare, and her hair had a sheen to it that hadn't been apparent to me previously. One of her pink bra straps was visible until she concealed it under the strap of her dress with her thumb as she ascended the stairs.

I was in the kitchen making more cocktails when she returned with a smile and an apology for the delay. She asked me to show her how to make a Tom Collins, and she leaned on the counter to watch. I was engrossed in my work and was happily mixing and stirring ingredients with my cocktail-making kit, a gift from my wife about a year before she left us. I was explaining this to Debbie as she looked up at me, her big eyes keeping contact with mine. She reached out and touched my hand.

"I'm sorry, Billy," she said softly.

"Thanks, Debbie," I said, "but don't be. Life goes on, and we adapt."

"That's true," she said, "even if we don't recognise it at the time."

"I never thought I'd ever return to an even keel, Debbie, I must admit," I said. "Yet here I am, busier than ever and making cocktails for a beautiful lady with the very kit that she gifted me all those years ago. It's almost like fate decreed it."

She smiled.

"I never thought I'd see the day when a kind gentleman would take the time to make me feel special again, Billy," she said, "and yet here we are."

She turned her head away slightly as I looked at her.

"You are special, Debbie, and you look absolutely beautiful tonight," I said.

She blushed and thanked me.

"We never really talked about what happened a couple of days ago, Debbie," I said.

"What is there to say, Billy?" she said. "We kissed each other, and I'm not unhappy about it. Are you?"

"No, not at all," I said. "Initially, I was horrified about my part in it, thinking I had crossed a forbidden line, but I enjoyed the kiss, whatever the pros and cons behind it were."

"I'm not embarrassed by it either, Billy," she said, "it's been a long time since someone kissed me like that."

"When you didn't appear in work the next day, Debbie, I thought I'd blown it," I said.

"No, that was my own fault, Billy," she said, "I got an appointment that was too good to turn down. I should have said something but, with one thing and another, I didn't get the opportunity."

She waved her hand absentmindedly.

"No need to apologise or explain, Deb," I said, "we're out the other side of it now, so to speak."

"Besides, although it was a nice kiss," she said, "it wasn't really much more than a peck, was it?"

"I suppose not," I said. "For me, it was the emotions that prevailed in the moment. We caught ourselves in time, I think."

"Yes, we did," she said, her head down, her eyes downcast, "unfortunately."

I looked at her as she took her drink from my hand and made to move away.

"Debbie?" I said. "What's the matter?"

"Nothing, Billy," she said. "I enjoyed the kiss and the feel of your soft lips on mine."

"I did too, Debbie," I said. "I really did."

I took her hand and pulled her to me. I took her drink from her hand and placed it behind me on the countertop. She touched my face and looked deep into my eyes.

"I'm only sorry I couldn't kiss you the way I wanted to kiss you," I whispered to her.

"Kiss me that way now," she said, swallowing something nervously.

"Are you sure?" I asked.

"It's all I've been able to think about since it happened," she said. "You say find me beautiful?"

"Yes, from the moment I saw you," I said.

She reached for my lips with hers, I held back.

"Debbie, you do realise the age difference between us, don't you?" I said softly, hoping it wouldn't matter to her.

"Yes, I do, Billy. After all, I do open your pension letters," she said with a smile. "Remember also that I know Melody, Billy," she said, "Melody is almost ten years younger than me."

"Has she been giving you tips and advice?" I said, smiling.

"Just a tad," she said, her eyes taking in my entire face. "I observed it all and acted accordingly."

"Whatever that means," I said.

"Why does she call you Billy Eyelash?" she asked.

"I have no idea," I said, "it started as a joke."

"She said something about superpowers," she said as I blushed.

"She's a little cow, Debbie," I said as our lips met softly, and she reached around my shoulders and pulled me to her.

She kissed me with longing, her lips holding mine in their thrall, almost trying to wipe away the feelings generated by our first aborted entanglement. I held her to me as the kiss deepened, my hands resting on the upper curve of her backside, touching her, testing her softness, her tolerance.

Our tongues met with a concerted sigh, and she pulled herself tighter to me, her body pressed fast against mine. Her lips moved slowly against mine, raising my arousal as she moved her hips slowly against mine. My hand slid down over the curve of her backside and pulled her closer to me as she stroked the back of my neck with her hand, encouraging my touch.

"Let's take this upstairs, Debbie," I whispered, and she smiled.

"Yes, Billy," she replied as she took my hand and led me to the stairwell.

She left the landing light on as we walked through the open door of the bedroom, and we resumed our kiss by the reflected light pouring softly through the open doorway. My finger found the zipper pull at the neck of her dress.

"May I?" I asked and slowly pulled it down following an assenting nod from her.

She wriggled herself free and pulled my polo shirt over my head before clinging to me again, allowing our skin to acclimate to each other. I felt the slight constraints of her bra under my fingers and asked if I could open it.

"Please, Billy," she whispered. "You've no need to ask."

I felt the gentle pressure as her breasts fell slightly forward upon the unfastening of the clasp of her bra, along with the increasing depth of her tongue as she searched my mouth for comfort. She sighed as my hands found her almost naked bum, slowly exploring her, feeling the smoothness of her skin against the contrasting texture of a tightly fitting thong as it wove its way around and over her hips, bum, and groin.

She released my belt and opened my trousers, sliding her hand inside and stroking my erect penis as it stood inside my shorts. She slipped my trousers off and pulled me onto the bed by the hand, reaching for me and pulling me in for a soul-searching kiss, wrapping herself around me in the process. Pleasantly surprised by her lack of reticence, I eagerly engaged with her, holding her closely to me and losing myself in her wonderful lips and the touch and feel of her tongue.

She rested her head on the pillow, her eyes questioning, almost unsure. I touched her left nipple lightly, and her eyes closed slowly and opened again.

“You’re so beautiful, Debbie,” I whispered in the dimness of the bedroom.

“Thanks, Billy,” she replied, her fingers touching my hand on her breast, “you’re so gentle.”

“Can I kiss your breasts?” I asked her.

“Oh, yes, please,” she whispered

“Is there anything you particularly like?” I asked.

“I like everything,” she said, a quiet tremble in her voice.

I cast a glance across her body before kissing her breast. She was very nervous, and she seemed to shimmer as she appeared to tremble at my touch. She wore a brief pink lace thong, and her legs were slightly parted. I touched her stomach with the flat of my hand in an attempt to quell her nervousness.

She moaned as I let it float across her skin and return to her breast. I kissed her again, and with a tortured whimper, she pushed me on my back and kissed my nipple. Her hand slid under the waistband of my shorts and nestled softly around my scrotum. She tugged at the garment, and I helped her to remove it as she stroked the base of my shaft.

My left hand slid down her back to the cleft of her bum, sliding under the lace of her thong as I felt her lips on the tip of my penis. She lifted off and watched as I slid her thong down over her hips, her bottom lip held between her teeth as her smoothly shaved mons came into view. I smiled when I remembered Melody's offered advice to her, and I looked at her as I touched her there softly.

"It's wonderful, Debbie," I said, "I want to taste you."

She turned on her back and let the thong slide off in my hands, opening herself to me as it released from her feet. I knelt between her legs and leaned forward to kiss her, the underside of my penis gently resting on her Mons as she moved her lower body in an effort for connection. Finding a comfortable position, she ground into me gently, a soft murmur of pleasure coming from deep inside her as we kissed.

She overwhelmed me with the feel of her labia caressing the underside of my erection, and she moaned deliciously each time her clitoris came in contact with my shaft, leaning heavily into me to enhance the sensation. When a firmer contact was made, she cried out, "Just there, Billy, just there, hold still for me, please."

I ceased all movement as her legs closed a little to hold me in place, a feeling of enhanced wetness beginning to cover me as she brought herself to orgasm, throwing her head back and crying out as she clung to me, her body convulsing and her fingernails seeking purchase in the skin of my shoulders.

I kissed her breasts as her tremors eased and slowly kissed my way down over her stomach to her Mons and then beyond to her glistening and slowly pulsing vulva. Each touch of my lips and tongue yielded a soft, high-pitched sound from within. Using my thumbs, I gently eased the lips of her labia apart, allowing me access to her completely. My lips worshipped the soft skin covering her inner thighs and groin as she spread herself wide in anticipation.

Slowly I touched her perineum with my tongue, moistening it before finally tasting her vaginal opening, teasing her gently with the tip of my tongue as it circled her entrance, her anguished pleas urging me on, imploring me to aid her release. This quietly efficient, beautiful, sensual woman was slowly becoming a sexual time bomb as I slipped the tip of my tongue inside her and quickly removed it, tasting her, basking in her fragrance, and the movements of her body in response to my touch.

I moved my tongue to stimulate her inner labia, slowly and incrementally journeying toward her sensitive clitoris, which was now slightly exposed, willing me on. With my thumbs caressing each side of her vulva and the onward journey of my tongue to its destination, it all became too much for her, and she exploded into orgasm, closing her legs and trapping my head in their luxuriant embrace. She screamed as it all became too much for her, and she released me so I could move to hold her in my arms.

Her lips attacked mine in search of intimacy or devotion, our tongues met, and she began to settle as we focused on the depth of our kiss. I didn't want it to end. I felt warmth in my heart and a yearning to be one with her. I could feel her heart beating like a hammer through her chest. I felt her warm breath on my face, adjusting to the calming of her inner being, slowly descending as she moved beneath me, offering herself to me again, seeking connection and completion. My penis felt raw with anticipation as she reached down and led me inside her, a groan of pleasure joining mine in a concert of sensual lyricism.

She opened her eyes and smiled at me as I slid deeper inside her. Finding my complete depth as her eyes winced in gratified content. She slid her hand down my back, encouraging my movements. I withdrew very slightly, causing a mild pulsing of her vaginal muscles as they contracted deliciously around my penis. I continued these slight movements, stimulating her ever so gently, feeling the heat within her as her breath began to catch again.

"I'm gonna come again, Billy," she whimpered breathlessly. "I'm so sorry."

"Come for me, Debs, I want to feel you," I whispered.

Three or four short, slow thrusts later, she exploded, excreting a staggering amount of fluid from within her. Accompanied by loud cries of intense arousal, her orgasm coursed through her, enveloping me entirely as she clung on for dear life. We held each other until she closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep, covered in her own ejaculate and the perspiration of a marathon runner. I joined her shortly afterwards, and we slept in each other's arms until I woke at 6:00 the next morning, her still with her arms around me and her eyes showing that she remained sound asleep.

I smiled as I unwrapped myself from her arms and gingerly left the bed to visit the bathroom. When I returned, I lit a cigarette and sat in the armchair beside the bed, watching her sleep, seeing her clothing on the floor, and remembering the previous evening, moment by wonderful moment. I picked her pink thong up from the floor. It was still wet; I hadn't noticed that previously. I had been too distracted by everything about her, she was absolutely amazing.

"What are you doing with my knickers, Billy Byrne?" she said with a groggy smile from her cozy nest under the covers.

"I'm just admiring them, Debs," I said.

"Come back to bed," she said with a smile, her hand reaching out to me.

I quickly slipped in beside her and rested my head on the pillow as she stroked my chest with her hand. I lifted it off the pillow and turned on my side to face her. She kissed me softly.

"That was other worldly last night, " she said.

"Same for me," I said, "I was just running it through my head as I was sitting there watching you sleep."

"Was I very loud?" she asked.

"Sorry?" I said, holding my hand to my ear.

"Oh, stop that," she said with a laugh.

"You were perfect, Debbie," I said.

"So were you, Billy," she said, a shy smile crossing her lips.

"That's a very inscrutable smile," I said. "Is there some joke that I'm not seeing?"

"No, it's going to have to be a part of my mystery," she said as she squeezed my hand and slowly rose to get out of bed.

She went into the bathroom, and I got up and went down to make some coffee. She appeared beside me shortly after, still naked as she shivered slightly against the cold morning air.

"Is one of those for me?" she asked as I put a jacket over her shoulders and switched the heating on.

"Yes, there's enough for four of us," I said.

"Are we expecting company?" she asked.

"Yes, Ritchie D will be here at 8:00," I said, "but this pot is for us alone."

"Do you want me to hide when he comes?" she asked, a worried look on her face.

"Why?" I asked.

"In case he says anything," she said.

"He won't," I said, "you're a big part of this, Debs, and I'm proud to have you here. Nobody else matters. However, he might get a kick out of seeing you naked."

"Given what I've experienced in my time here, Billy," she said, "I'd say he must be used to it at this stage."

We collapsed in laughter at that before taking our coffee and our phones upstairs to take a lazy hour before the day began in earnest. I sat up in bed and went through my emails and texts from the previous evening, there weren't many, so I quickly flicked through them. Timmy Woods was the first.

"Waxy's ear was bent. He didn't look happy."

“Fuck him,”

I smiled and flicked to another from Amy.

"All good with the invoice. Tell Debbie she's a magician. I know it wasn't you who found it. CU later."

I smiled again and flicked through to one from Baz.

"Give me a bell when you get a chance."

I looked at my watch. 6:40. I dialled his number. Debbie looked askance at me.

"Who are you calling at this hour?" she asked.

I showed her the text and she laughed.

"You’re a bastard," she said as Baz answered the phone.

"What the fuck, Billy?" he answered, "it's only early in the morning."

"You texted me to call you when I got a chance," I said. "I just got a chance."

"Yes, sorry, right," he said. "I was just wondering if you got everything sorted out."

"Let me check," I said, and opened my email. "Yes, I'll get Debbie to forward you the details later when she gets out of, eh, comes in to work," I said with a grin and a thump on the shoulder from her.

"Great, I've got three others to work with us," he said.

"Grand, send their names and addresses over to me, will you?" I said.

"Why?"

"Because I'm meeting with the Council guy at 8:00 and I want to be able to tell him some names if he chooses to ask," I said.

"Ok, I see, good idea," he said.

"Thanks, while I have you, Baz," I said, looking at Debbie as she watched me on the phone. "There's a new type of survey needed for a private client, and I've just sent you 342 addresses that need to be done starting today."

"Private?" he asked.

"Yes," I said, “but I'm hoping to get the Council to go for this type of survey too."

"What kind of surveys are they?" he asked.

"I suppose you could call them a measurement survey of sorts," I said. "It's a measurement of all exposed walls and roofs, including the length of the ridge on the house. Where the walls are concerned, you have to subtract the window area, so we get a measurement of the insulation requirement in each case. Call it a Quantities Survey."

"That won't take long," he said.

"I shouldn't think so," I said.

"How much? Are they the same price as the other surveys?" he asked.

"What do you think?" I said.

"Well, I don't know," he said, "how much are you getting for them?"

"I haven't given him a price yet," I said, "I was going to do a couple myself to see what's involved but I doubt they'd take more than a minute or two to do. We'll get the surveys on the completed units too, when they're finished, so bear that in mind."

"Would we get €40 for them?"

"We can try," I said, "I’ll talk to him later. What's the best you can do? Just in case he doesn't like it."

"€30 at best," he said.

"You drive a hard bargain, Baz," I said, "but I’ll see what I can do."

"Do your best, Bill."

"I will," I said, "you can't start out there before 9:30, though."

"Why not?" he asked.

"Because they're all occupied by tenants," I said.

"Gotcha, we'll get out there for 8:30 in case we can see any signs of life," he said.

"Grand. I'll talk to you later."

Debbie looked at me with wide-open eyes.

"What?" I asked.

"€30? How much are you getting for them?" she asked.

"We, my beautiful, sexy, Debbie," I said, taking her in my arms and sliding down beside her, "are getting €250 each for them".

"I fucking knew it," she said as I kissed her.

"How did you know it?" I asked.

"You had that little smirk on your face," she said, searching my eyes and kissing my lips.

"That was me smiling at the beginnings of an erection, my dear," I said, "would you like me to wake you up properly?"

"I definitely would," she said with a coquettish little laugh.

At 8:05 Ritchie D rang my doorbell. Debbie was in the shower as I brought him into the office. We sat down on two chairs that sat side by side in front of Debbie’s desk. A tray with coffee, toast, and coarse-cut marmalade, my favourite, sat on the desktop. I poured the coffee as he dressed his toast.

“I could get used to this, Billy,” he said through the munching noise he made.

“Don’t,” I said, and we laughed.

“I’m off to Glasgow in the morning,” he said, “you should come with us sometime.”

“I wouldn’t mind that, Ritchie,” I said. “Where do you get the tickets?”

“I have two corporate season tickets,” he said as though he had just told me it was raining outside.

“Nice,” I said, “is everything comped?”

“Yes,” he said, “just the flights to get.”

“Ryanair?”

“Yes, they’re better for day trips,” he said, “or are you another flight snob?”

“No, I have nothing against Ryanair, Ritchie,” I said, “how long is the flight, a quarter of an hour?”

“Yeah, probably five or ten minutes longer, but short in comparison to some.”

He reached into his pocket and handed me about ten pages of addresses folded in three. He then reached into his other inside pocket and handed me another ten pages folded in the same manner.

“What are these?” I asked.

“These are addresses in Darndale, Moatview, and Priorswood for surveying,” he said. “I’m going to pump the cavities in them.

“What’s the second lot?” I asked.

“Kilmore West, Bonnybrook, Belcamp and Ferrycarrig Estate,” he said, “we’ll be following on with them straight away.”

“Pres and Posts?” I asked.

“Yes, and quantity surveys,” he threw in for good measure. ”They’re all on top of what I emailed you last night. It’s nearly the whole pumping program.”

“Christ!” I said. “That’s a lot of work, Ritchie.”

“Yeah, so you’d better get moving, “ he said, “because we have to pump the Senior Cits' flats too.”

“Quantity Surveys first?” I asked.

“Yes, prioritise the ones in town first,” he said. “I need a thousand by the end of next week, can you manage those?”

“Yes, we’ve a few lads starting today,” I said, “it shouldn’t be a problem. I can hit a few of them myself too.”

“If you can get the ones to me for the Portland estate, I can issue them to Timmy,” he said. “There’s only 420 of them, and he’s ready to go.”

“I’ll prioritise those,” I said, “but you do realise that they’re all going to be asking when you’re starting the work.”

“A week on Monday,” he said.

Debbie was out of the shower, and Ritchie perked up when he heard the noise from the water pump stopping. He looked out the door and then at me.

“Who else is here, Billy?” he said in a stage whisper.

“Debbie,” I said.

“Are you and her?” he asked.

“Are we what?” I asked.

“You are!“ he said with a grin.

“Keep it to yourself, Ritchie,” I said.

“How long has this been going on?” he asked.

“Last night,” I said.

“Good for you,” he said, “she’s a fine bird.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t know what it is yet, so calm your jets,” I said.

“I hope it works out,” he said, “try not to fuck it up.”

“If I try not to, I probably will,” I said.

“I’d better make tracks,” he said, “let me know when you’re starting those surveys, I’ve a meeting with a few local Councilors this afternoon and I’d like to shut the cunts down straight away.”

“I’ll start in there this morning, Ritchie,” I said.

“Me life on you, Billy,” he said standing up and touching my shoulder.

He grabbed the last piece of toast and bit into it.

“Coarse Cut,” he said, “my favourite.”

“Fuck,” I said, “I can’t fucking win.”

He left then, and I saw him to the door. I heard Debbie moving around upstairs, so I went to join her. She was drying her hair in the bathroom mirror. She had her back to me, and she was naked. I walked on into the bedroom to get my shoes and was about to pick up my phone when she joined me.

“Is Ritchie gone?” she asked.

“Yes, he just left,” I said.

“I felt it better if I stayed out of sight, “ she said.

“You didn’t have to do that, Debs,” I said. “He copped on in any case.”

“Oh, does that put you in a difficult position?” she asked.

“No, it’s not a difficult position for me,” I said.

“Nor me, Billy,” she said.

She stepped in front of me and hugged me close. I felt the faint stirrings of a semi beginning to form as I felt her nakedness under my hands.

“Do you need to go home and change?” I asked.

“If you’d be so kind to go downstairs and get me my bag, I won’t have to,” she said before kissing me.

“Debbie Jones! Did you plan this?” I asked, shocked at my stupidity.

“Yes, but I had a little help,” she said.

“Go on,” I said, “from who?”

“Take a guess.”

“Melody?”

“The very girl,” she said with a grin. “She’ll be looking for an update later on, I expect.”

“Talk me up, then,” I said.

“I’m sure she knows that already, Billy,” she said, “I had an idea from her of what to expect, but it was nowhere close to what she told me.”

“So you’d do it again, would you?”

“Yes, please. Can I stay the weekend?” she asked, kissing me sweetly.

“Of course you can,” I said, touching her bum.

We kissed again, a deeper, more meaningful kiss.

“Fuck, Billy,” she breathed, “get me my bag so I can start work.”

“Work can wait,” I said as I pulled my shirt over my head, and she opened my belt buckle.

TBC