She was the forbidden fruit.
He longed to taste her flesh, nip at her shoulders and neck gently, seductively. Given the choice, he'd tear open that blouse right now; but he wasn't some animal and he cared for women's respect and dignity. Plus her son and pilots were never far away and that would be mortifying. Especially if they were caught in the act by one Douglas Richardson.
"Dinner?" He offered, making sure to polish the ever so slightly naughty glint in his eye just so. He wanted her to know what he'd like.
"Possibly, I'm rather busy," she replied briskly. Was the glint missed, misinterpreted or ignored?
"Whenever you're free, I suppose," he tried not to let disappointment show in his voice.
"Look, Herc; if your expecting something to... happen, we need to talk."
Attempts at seduction forgotten, her took her hands, "Yes?"
"I'm... I'm asexual and, well, I don't really want to lie back and think of England anymore," She looked down at the floor, "I would have worked it out sooner, but, well, girls of our generation aren't very informed... I only worked it out properly a few days ago when Martin came out. We started talking and a lot of pieces clicked into place. Now, if you're going to leave -"
"I'm not going to," he interrupted, pulling her into his arms, and meant it. He had to readjust his thinking, though; she wasn't forbidden fruit, she was just who she was.