Ruth's House - Friday October 16th - 9pm

It was Friday night and Ruth found herself at home at a decent hour for once. However, her initial gratitude for a night off with a good book and a bottle of red wine had faded about half an hour ago.

She knew that she should make herself some dinner and get an early night for once but she just felt so bloody listless. Half a bottle of red wine hadn't helped, and her heart was beating slightly faster with nerves or something else? She had simultaneously too much and too little energy to do anything.

Next door a student house party was in the early stages of full swing, and the bass was pulsing through the neighbouring wall, taunting her with its pure youthful exuberance. Perfect. Just when she was trying so hard not to think about anything to do with hope and fun and enthusiasm and, God forgive her, sex.

Her thoughts turned to Harry then, as they always did when she was trying so very hard to distract herself. Ever since she had turned down their second date she had felt increasingly nervy and unsure. It had seemed so RIGHT at the time, to turn him down. She thought she was being professional, good. She even believed that it was right for him too. It was better this way, clearer.

And yet…and yet. Now that everyone at work had returned to normal around them she felt more and more acutely the loss of that excitement and the pleasure and the thrill of it all. The heady promise of them, the green shoots of their love for each other.

Pushing her book to the side table she leant back into her armchair, swallowed some more wine and allowed her eyes to flutter closed.

Despite herself she surrendered to indulging her yearning for him now.

There was a little reel of scenes she sometimes brought to mind, her favourite at the moment being the night he dropped her home after their dinner. In reality he had walked her to her front door and there was a moment where she had considered asking him inside, but sadly she had bolted, and gave him a sweet but chaste brush-off. She allowed herself now to imagine another scenario - unlocking the door with the fabric of his overcoat trapping warm air between them as they stepped inside. In her version she left the ceiling light off and pulled him immediately towards her with her back against the hallway coat rack, the sudden warmth of him upon her, all cologne and wine and raw masculinity. She felt his strong arms move around her back and his lips on hers, pushing her firmly back against the coats hanging there, bag and keys dropping to the floor. It was so real. She could almost taste him, smell him.

In all her imaginings they never spoke any other words apart from "Yes" and each others names. The only thing that changed was the tone of voice in which they said them. The only thing she wanted to hear was her name, spoken by him. She imagined him saying it like he'd never said it before - hungrily - full of desire and yearning want.

Emboldened by the red wine on an empty stomach, Ruth suddenly felt like taking this little fantasy to the next level. She climbed the stairs with her wineglass and opened her chest of drawers, pulling out some black tights and undressing, pulling them on over her legs. Rifling through her wardrobe she found what she was looking for - a short black dress with a heavy feathered hem that hit her legs at just the right point to be flirtatious and yet still be elegant. She let the fabric slide over her frame until it fell with a satisfying weight around her.

Looking in the full length mirror she imagined him appraising her in it, in that slightly heated way he sometimes had, of appraising her, that he thought she didn't notice. She ran her hands over her sides gently. She looked good. She felt good. She drank some more wine.

Padding into the bathroom she opened the cabinet and took out a red lipstick that she hadn't worn in months. Slowly, deliberately she applied it and blotted her lips with tissue paper. Then she spritzed a little perfume onto her warm neck. Image complete, she stepped back against the wall and switched off the ceiling light.

There in the darkness the thrum of the bass continued to pulse through the adjoining wall, building to some sort of crescendo.

She turned around to face the cool flat wall, pressing herself against it. It wasn't hard to imagine that the wall was another solid surface that she would rather be pressed against. Her mind drifted again then, imagining a darkened corridor, or maybe a hallway - his hallway perhaps - and that somehow she had come to be pressed against him like this. Pulling her hands beneath her body she rested her forehead on the wall. Her hands pushed against the surface, pretending it was his chest, as she pulled his jacket towards her. The wall warmed beneath her body.

Another imaginary scene came to mind - both of them sitting in one of those snug little booths in the pub on the corner, three glasses of wine down and free of their usual inhibitions. She was on the inside side of the booth and he was leaning into her excruciatingly slowly, trapping her against the wall, reaching under the table and turning, pulling her legs round to face him, bringing her face to his - saying her name like a quiet, serious question. "Yes" was the answer, always yes. She wanted to be overpowered and silenced by the very weight of his desire for her. The seriousness of his intentions crushing against the wall. She knew it wouldn't take much for her to give in but he never took that final step towards her. She couldn't be the one to do it, it really had to be him - she had to be sure he wanted it.

With the full length of her body pressed against the wall she allowed a hand to wander down her leg and underneath her dress to touch herself. God, she couldn't imagine a time when she had felt this much pure desire for someone. Surely that was special? Unusual? Rare even? This pull they felt towards each other was unusual and undeniable. As she touched herself her mouth opened and her breath warmed the wall in front of her. Her face grew hot and she put her other hand up to her mouth. With every fibre of her being she wanted him to be here, now. Please, she thought, please. It seemed entirely possible that she could pull him towards her across London with the sheer force of her want for him at that moment. Just once - if she could just have him once then maybe she'd get over it? Get him out of her system?

Of course that was a lie, she knew. If she got this once then she'd want it again and again – in different places, different clothes on him, different clothes on her, in Summer, in Winter, in her bedroom, in his bedroom, in his office…God. His office.

Shuddering powerfully she closed her eyes - it hadn't taken long to bring herself to a powerful and intense climax.

Both hands again on the wall she exhaled deeply. The remorse came then as it always did. And she was alone again. It was too early to have a shower and turn in. Dear God it was Friday night. The sounds of the party next door continued to shame her.

Sighing she smoothed herself down and descended the stairs slowly back to the living room. May as well finish the bottle and write tonight off entirely. Suddenly a movement outside the front door caught her eye through the stained glass. It couldn't be.

Opening the door Harry was plainly and solidly right there. She had summoned him to her and actually, she wasn't that surprised even. She blinked at him.

His eyes flickered over her in surprise - noticing everything in one instant - she was a vision in black with high colour in her cheeks and red lips. He felt an involuntary shiver run through his entire body from head to toe. Christ, such beauty.

"Um, wow er, Hi. Sorry are you… off out somewhere…?" He was wavering on the threshold with a large manilla envelope in one hand. "You forgot to collect this back from me - for Monday?"

"Oh God of course ! Can't believe I forgot that…thanks so much Harry. What was I thinking?"

With that, she came forward down the little cold stone steps to take the file in her stockinged feet. Suddenly the realisation hit her of precisely what she'd been thinking and if anything she flushed more deeply then, heat radiating from her face and chest. She put out her hand to take the envelope and then hovered around next to him.

Unsure of what to do now, Harry rocked backwards slightly and pushed his hands into the pockets of his overcoat, a ghost of a smile on his face. Waiting for an answer to his earlier question.

"Going next door to the party are you?" He grinned at the twenty-somethings smoking in the front garden next door, music flowing freely though the front door.

"Oh God no! Ha! Imagine! " A broad smile spread over her face as she hopped gently from cold foot to cold foot.

And then suddenly, it was all laid out in front of her like the most obvious and natural thing. "Harry?" She looked up straight into his eyes.

"Yes?" He looked straight back, eyes widening slightly. A glimmer of hope there.

"Would you like to go for a drink? Down the road?" and then she added, unnecessarily, "It's Friday."

He can't believe it - "Now?"

"Yes." She said clearly, definitely. And then, "Why not?" That she said with a simple, happy shrug. And once she'd said it, she realised that it was true. Why not? Something had snapped into focus for her. Fuck what everyone else thought. Fuck all of it. This thing between them was unusual and rare and she wanted to take this precious gift of his sudden appearance and just run with it. Hang the consequences.

He frowned slightly down at her then - why was she dressed to go out and yet seemingly without plans? Why was she suddenly so open to this, to them being alone together? But then he thought better of asking. A quick smile flickered across his face.

"Why not indeed." Silently, he thanked all his lucky stars.

"Okay then." She said with a quick nod. "I'd better put some shoes on though." She put her hand on his arm then for balance, lifting one stockinged foot gently off the cold stone floor, leaning into him slightly. The warmth from his arm flowed directly through her despite the many layers he wore. Their eyes met and he smiled then, so genuinely, at her. With just the slightest edge of love and want. "Yes you better. I'll tell Mike he's got the night off then?"

"Right."

He turned and strode off towards the idling black Range Rover outside. Ruth padded up the cold steps again and into the hallway to find her boots, euphoria rising. It was all so easy suddenly. She felt warm and light and so full of promise. This was easy, so easy.

Later as she pulled the front door closed behind her and walked towards her garden gate he was standing there fully upright with his collar turned up, waiting for her, smiling gently. As she drew alongside him he offered her the crook of his elbow and she slipped her arm straight through. Just like that.

"Which way's this pub then?" he said warmly.

"It's this way - it's so nice inside, it's got these little cosy booths…"