I led him back to our room, and we had our first go at acting out the script. There was a fireplace in the room, so Edward got a fire going. He piled blankets on the bed, and drew heavy curtains over the window and door. I think he wanted to contain the heat and the noise as much as possible.

We undressed ourselves, since we had no plan for that bit. It was slightly terrifying taking off my clothes with Edward in the room. And it wasn't anything like I'd imagined. It had more in common with a doctor's office than a fantasy. I felt vulnerable and a bit embarrassed. I glanced over at Edward, and saw a sweet boy, averting his bashful gaze.

After all our talk of mature relationship and being ready, it was worrying how gauche we both were and how contrived the scene felt.

When Edward looked at me, though, all my embarrassment faded away. He looked as though he could finally see me, as though all the clothes I'd ever worn, had been a curtain hanging between us and, finally, we were alone together.

He reached out and took my hands in his, it was the most intimate touch we had ever had, even though it was only holding hands. He looked at me, all of me, and said, in a warm and adoring tone, "my love, you're glorious." Now that was a moment to bank.

I'd expected Edward to be hesitant, but, he wasn't in the least. He was as eager as me to see his words come to life. I lay on the bed and he followed, as if he was drawn to my skin.

He began kissing me, my cheek, my neck, working his way down. Then he was kissing my breasts. I had never known how many nerves I had. When his cool lips touched my skin, there was a new kind of shiver. A warm shiver starting at my hardening nipples and racing to my core.

But then he was moving again, kissing my side, caressing my thighs.

It went perfectly. Nobody forgot their blocking or their cues. Maybe our movements were a little stilted. Maybe his first touch was a little too soft, and very slightly ticklish.

But his kisses were firm and my shivers were real. There was a moment when Edward's hand was higher up my thigh than it ever had been before, when I felt a new pulse deep inside me.

His kisses made the pulse speed up. As he licked and stroked, this new pulse intensified. Remembering the script, I tangled my fingers in his hair, and he hummed against me in appreciation.

For a moment, my feelings were so strong, so intense, that I abandoned all conscious thought. There was a moment, when I felt myself overtaken by the pounding pulse of my body. It was wondrous.

I must have made my pleasure clear enough, because, when the world came back into focus, I saw that Edward was grinning broadly.

Afterwards, we lay together, me under a blanket and Edward on top.

"Come here," I moaned, "I am too hot and I need you to cool me down."

Edward laughed and snuggled next to me.

"You are hot," he agreed, making me blush.

"So," I said, "do you have a second script?"

"A second script?"

"Come on, Edward, the deal was that we go all the way."

He smirked at me, "I had thought we might take it a bit more slowly than that," he said.

"So had I, until Jane came to stay. I think we need to change me tomorrow," I said.

Edward closed his eyes.

"Edward," I pushed, "we cannot wait any longer. It's too dangerous. And what about all the people Jane's going to . . . hurt while she's over here? We have to end this right now."

He sighed, "unless . . ." he said.

"Sweetie, there is no 'unless'. There are no more plans to make, no more cards to play. It's over."

Edward's head flopped onto the pillow. He looked like he was trying to go to sleep, just to block it all out for a bit. I wished he could sleep. I would have held his head and stroked his hair, whispered dreams to him and pretended a night of peace.

Instead he shook his head and sat up, "you must be hungry again," he said, "you've barely eaten all day and it's eight o'clock already."

"Really?" I was surprised. It had only felt like we'd been here a few minutes. I guess Edward's relativity joke had a bit of truth to it after all.

He smiled and pulled his clothes back on quickly. Then he passed me my clothes, item by item, and watched me putting them back on. His bashfulness seemed to have vanished, he watched me with a big grin and no shame whatsoever.

"You're fast," I reminded him, "you can write our script in the time it takes me to eat a sandwich."

He frowned, "the previous script took five and a half hours to compose."

"No it didn't. You took five and a half hours to screw up the courage to write what you really wanted."

"Maybe you should try writing what you really want," he said, very quietly. I had to concentrate to hear him. Perhaps he was hoping that - if his suggestion wasn't welcome - I might pretend not to hear him.

"Would you like that?" I asked. I had assumed that he wanted control over these intimate moments of ours. I had never expected him to hand over the reigns.

He looked surprised, "obviously," he said, "a clear script describing exactly what you want from me would be perfect. Would you really write it?"

"I thought you wanted to be in control."

Edward frowned again. "I want to be in control of myself," he said, "and knowing what to expect will help with that, enormously. But . . ." He looked at his feet and chewed his lip before muttering very fast, "I do rather enjoy it when you tell me what to do."

Ah, well, that was different.

"Alright," I said, "when you put it like that, I don't see how I can refuse."

Of course, it was easy to say that. Things looked much harder when I was staring at a blank sheet of paper. There was a definite spring in Edward's step as he set off in search of that sandwich. I don't know whether he was more pleased by the success of his script or by delegating the next writing task to me.