Blimey, I ask for a review and I get a concise guide to the history of English Literature, I do apologise for getting Dorian's age wrong. I had no idea what it was and he seemed a little, um, worldly for only 100 plus all that babble about seeing the future become history. Elf of Avalon: Thanks immensely for pointing out my little error, a Silvan, huh? Not many of them around. Are you of the Nandorin or the Sindar origin? I'd do the same thing with my name except Vampyre of Roehampton doesn't have nearly the same ring to it. I thank you again for pointing that out before I have hordes of Oscar Wilde fans baying for my blood, I'm pushing it as it is. Carry on keeping me right. Sorry for the delay, here it is at last, ~*Skaye.

Jan 23rd

Dear Diary, he stayed for all of last night and we talked for hours. I told him everything that had happened to me since the day Jonathan had left for Transylvania. I asked him about himself and he was curiously vague for a man who delights so much in stories about himself. He told me of friends he had double crossed, women he had cheated on and things he had won. I wonder if he was trying to put me off so I'd order him to leave and he could feel superior to me in my anger again. It almost worked, he was in the middle of describing how he had got revenge on a man who had swindled him by sleeping with his wife and he was getting too graphic so I stood up and told him to leave. He didn't. I walked over to the chair in which he was sitting, legs crossed, sprawled like a bored ten-year-old. I grabbed his arms and tried to pull him to his feet. He just grinned like an idiot and sat staring at me amused. I grew angry and tried in one yank to pull him to his feet but he pulled me down and started kissing me. I bit his lip but all he did was mutter "Ow" and kiss me again. He pulled my hair out of its bun and ran his hands through it almost tugging it out. I pulled at his hair but he just laughed like it was a game and pulled my coat off me. We continued competing, lips still locked, occasionally biting or raking our nails across each other. The last thing I remembered was falling heavily on to my bed with him following me for the first time I had ever seen him with messy hair which struck me as a little odd upon reflection. I would like, at least, to say that is all I remember but I will not recount the rest in this diary. That will stay safely filed and locked in my mind where no one can ever see it, me giving in to Dorian. It makes me tremble with fury that he got me so easily after only a couple of weeks of knowing me. I hate him. He left in the evening with a deep bow and a smirk and a promise to call on me again. I wonder how many women he has said that to. I wonder if I will ever see him again. I wonder why I care. I just realised that I had missed work today and swore. I will be in tomorrow very early with an excuse and an apology.