11 March 1919

We continued seeing each other throughout the Summer, as well as exchanging letters which I kept tied up in a green ribbon, like a silly little girl does with her first admirer. I was a fool for that man.

He once came to the Town House when the Crawleys were out. Carson answered the door and James seemed surprised the family was out, though he no doubt knew they were. He asked if he might sit in the parlour and wait for their return and requested some tea while he waited. I of course, brought the tea.

It was a little awkward to walk into the parlour carrying a tea tray and acting as a proper footman should when James was giving me the hungry stare that made me want to push him up against a wall and kiss him senseless. I was very controlled however, setting down the tray and pouring him a cup. He laughed at me, "one would guess we'd never met," he told me capturing my forearm in his hand as I set his tea cup down. "I came especially to see you," he told me. "I can't stop thinking about you," he added, his hand trailing up my arm.

I glanced fearfully at the open door as though expecting Mr. Carson to come in at any moment. "You don't understand," I told him. "I'd get fired for taking my gloves off in your presence, let alone anything else!"

He grinned at me wickedly, before racing to the door and locking it. He then did to me, what I'd been thinking of doing to him since I first came in and pushed me against the wall, kissing me passionately. I almost took leave of my senses, but not quite. I knew I couldn't get undressed, but I knew he required some sort of satisfaction; James was a very demanding lover when the mood took him. In a fit of inspiration, I turned us around so his back was to the wall, before getting on my knees and begining to unbutton him. James groaned sofly in anticipation as he waited for me to take him. I did so quickly, swallowing his length as rapidly as I could. I hummed and licked and did everything I could think of to make him come quickly. He did so with a muffled gasp, biting into his sleeve to stop himself from crying out. I once again took his seed in my mouth, swallowing it this time as I knew there was nowhere else I could possibly put it and almost gagging at the taste.

"You can be awfully efficient when you want to be, can't you Thomas?" James joked as I buttoned him back up again. Just then there was a knock at the door that I knew had to be Mr Carson. I hurried to unlock it, praying there was nothing on my face, as James sat down and tried to look innocent. An almost impossible feat.

"What was the meaning of this locked door, Thomas?" Mr Carson inquired of me in an undertone.

"His grace complained of a draft, so I shut the door Mr Carson," I answered. "I must have accidently pressed against the key and turned it as I was going back to serve him his tea"

Carson nodded, though to my mind he seemed suspicious, before announcing to the Duke that the Crawleys had just arrvived downstairs and instructing me to bring another tea tray. I left the room, not daring to look back at James, with adreniline pumping through my veins at how nearly we could have been caught.

I'm sorry John, I know these memories can't be anything but painful to you. If you made me read about your entire sexual history...well I'd be annoyed. (Or knowing you, quite possibly bored). But I can't seem to come out with anything else. Nothing else really happened to me before the war which...well you've seen what happens when I try to talk or write about that.

12 March 1919

I'll write about one more thing and then we're done with my golden Summer of debauchery during the London season. I could have stopped there, but this last one was very important to me.

During the last few days the Crawleys were in London, the Duke of Crowborough came to the servants hall to see Mr Carson. He looked rather contrite and was holding a telegram in his hand. I was in my room which was just off the hall and stood at the door my ear pressed against it, listening to their conversation.

"I'm terribly sorry," James was saying, "but I've come to ask you a terrific favour and I've gotten permission from upstairs. You see a friend of mine has come to stay, but as I thought to be only accomodating for myself in London I brought only a cook with me along with my valet, whose doubling as butler for the time being. So you see, I'm incredibly short staffed to be having guests and my friends man has come down with some kind of illness. I hope there'll be no ill will between us if I ask to borrow your footman? He'll be back to you tomorrow morning at the very latest".

"Well as the Crawleys aren't having guests this evening I'm sure we can very well spare Thomas, your grace," Mr Carson said solicitiously. He was always very impressed by rank and fortune, Mr Carson. "Thomas," he called to me and I entered briskly, in the manner appropriate to a footman. "His grace requires your service at his town house tonight," he informed me. "I trust you remember where it is?"

I nodded, though I had in fact never been there. Although of course Mr Carson thought I had. The address was on the back of all the letters James had been sending me, so I should have no problem finding it. James licked his lips whilst Mr Carson's back was turned, leaving no doubt in my mind, though there had been none in the first place, that his story was anything other than a fabrication. I relished the possibility of being able to spend an entire night with James, who was becoming positively addictive.

James left after the meeting, having no excuse to stay and Mr Carson gave me a lecture on how I ought to behave whilst serving at the Duke's town house. I stood there nodding with my eyes glazed over, imagining what we could do with an entire night at our disposal. I had only a day to wait before finding out and it went terribly slowly.

I felt quite nervous as I prepared myself; I had to wear my footman's uniform as Carson thought I would be serving and I felt silly wearning it, though it was a good deal nicer than any of my other clothes. O'Brien gave me a final smirk as I walked out of the door. She'd guessed immediately that this little excursion had nothing to do with my skills as a valet. That woman is both uncanny and formiddible and I'm certainly glad I somehow managed to remain on her good side.

When I arrived at James' town house I was faced with the conundrum of whether to go in at the servants entrance or to knock at the front door. Feeling defiant, I knocked at the front door and was answered by a footman dressed in identical garb. He blinked in surprise and I explained I was here to see his lordship, the Duke of Crowborough and that yes, he was expecting me. The footman scurried off and was soon replaced by James himself who stood there wearing a familiar smirk. "Coming in at the front door Thomas?" he mocked. "Very bold".

I felt almost like knocking him down then. There were infrequent moments when I wanted to do that in spite of my infatuation, but then he'd go and do something amazing to make me forget my moment of annoyance or anger. Like pulling me inside and giving me one of those mind blowing, thought annihilating kisses. "Come on," he whispered, "let's get you upstairs before someone sees".

The mood changed a little upstairs, when we got to his bedroom, which was grander by far than any room I'd ever slept in. It was hung with rich red silk wallpaper and the bed was the most sumptuous, luxurious mess of pillows you can imagine. We took advantage of the fact that we had an entire night to ourselves and kissed slowly, with me stretched out underneath him, lying back onto that luxurious fabric, unable to imagine sensations better than those I was experiencing. He pulled back and gave me a searching look, one devoid of the usual hunger and passion, but filled with something else. Something softer and gentler and more emotional than anything before. He moved off me and lay beside me, turning me so we were both on our sides, facing each other. He slowly stroked my face before saying softly, "I'll miss you".

I'd hardly thought about returning to Downton, I'd purposely put it from my mind as I didn't want to deal with it. But now I felt a cold wave of sadness come over me along with a soft warm feeling that was induced by the knowledge that James would miss me. I drew him close, burying my head in his chest and taking in his scent. One of the many things I'd miss about James was the smell of him. I mumbled that I'd miss him too and he laughed softly, but not in a derisive or patronising way. It was the kind of laughter that's more sad than amused or happy. "It's not easy for people like us," he told me, softly stroking the back of my head and neck. "I'll have to get married for the sake of my family and my future wife will have to be rich or there'll be hell to pay and you...I don't know what you'll do Thomas," he finished sadly.

I panicked as I felt tears in my eyes, I didn't want James to see me crying (you're the only one I've ever let see me cry properly John). I blinked them away as quickly as I could, but when I lifted my head off his chest my eyes were still shiny and I'm sure he knew. We sought comfort in passion, and soon we were rapidly undressing each other, kissing and clinging on to each other as though we were drowning. When we were both undressed he pulled back for a moment and asked, "do you want to try something different Thomas? It might hurt a little, but it's worth it, it feels good".

I nodded, though I was a little apprehensive; I think I would have said yes to anything that night. James kissed me on the forhead quickly, before reaching into a drawer on his bedside table and bringing out a bottle of some kind of oil. I watched curiously as he poured it onto his fingers, before shifting so he was sitting between my legs. He then brought my knees up so they were resting on his shoulders and without warning put a finger in my entrance. I gasped at the feeling and he stroked my leg to sooth me, making a shoosh noise. I gradually adjusted to the first finger, before he put in another. "It...hurts...," I stuttered, before I could stop myself.

"I know," he said softly, rubbing my leg, "but it'll stop soon and then it'll feel good"

I resolved not to say anything more, feeling embarassed that I'd said anything when he'd already warned me what he was going to do would hurt. As I adjusted to the feeling of his fingers inside me it did begin to feel better and when they brushed across a certain place, I shivered in a sudden wave of intense pleasure.

After that he quickly pulled his fingers out and lathered his cock with the same oil, before replacing it on the bedside table. He then slowly began to push into me, while I resolutely refrained from making any noise, though it certainly hurt more than his two fingers had. He gasped, saying "you feel incredible". When he was all the way in he waited while I adjusted before begining to move inside me. He was very good at hitting that certain spot that made me cry out with pleasure and he picked up the pace, encouraged by the response I was giving him. He then took my manhood and began pumping it in time with his thrusts. I couldn't hold on very long with the dual sensations I was feeling and I came rather quickly with the most intense orgasm I'd ever experienced. The Duke followed soon after, crying out my name as he often did. We stayed in the same position, both panting for a while afterwards before he pulled out and pulled me into an embrace. I fell asleep like that, having never felt more comfortable or fulfilled in my life and waking up next to him was even better. Being a servant, I was of course up before him and just lay there, watching him sleep.

When he did wake up, we treated ourselves to a morning quickie before I returned to the Crawleys town house, far later than Mr Carson expected me. I think I walked around with a slight limp the entire day, (like that damn Mr Bates who replaced me as valet at Downton) I was so sore and tender. But I reflected on that night as one of the best I'd ever had.