So the erm... 'M' rating notches up a few rungs in this chapter. I blame Charles and Elsie for forcing me into it, it's a combination of the sun and alcohol. Apologies for any typos, I'm still working on my tablet.

Sunday

Elsie wakes to the sound of an alarm bleeping and curses Charles for being so bloody organised.

She hears him reach to switch it off and he groans heavily, painfully.

"What's wrong?" She mumbles, she is laying on her front with her face pressed into her pillow.

"I think the sun may have got me."

She pushes herself up, twisting her head to look at him. "Oh dear, so it has."

"I used that sun cream!" He complains.

She bites her lip at the sight of his red chest, the white bands where his t-shirt had been.

"I'm going to write to the manufacturer."

Now she groans, flopping back down onto her pillow, "God Charles, its first thing in the morning, let's not start a letter writing campaign just yet, hmm. And why have you set the alarm?"

He tentatively runs his fingers down his arm, "Because we have a full day ahead of us. Two museums and I've booked that treat for tonight."

"Another treat? You're far too nice to me…"

Her eyes are closed but she hears him smile.

"I'm going to take a shower."

"What time is it anyway?"

"Jut after 8:00."

She listens to him get up, fuss with clothes and refill the kettle. He's singing in the bathroom, 'I remember April when the sun was in the sky, and love was burning in your eyes.' Bits of lyrics between hummed melody. He sounds happy, clearly oral sex works wonders on him.

She's grinning when she goes into the bathroom and starts filling her sink, her white robe hanging off her.

"What's funny?" He asks.

"Just you… singing."

"Pretty good aren't I." He circles her waist with his arms, "Daydreamer, walking in the rain, chasing after rainbows." He kisses her cheek, she scoops her hair up and pins it so she can wash her face and he kisses the back of her neck. "I was fifteen when that song was out, 1973, it set the tone for my long year of unrequited love for Suzi Quatro."

She raises her eyebrows at him in the mirror, "Like all that leather did you?"

"The things I would have done to her…"

"Charles Carson, I'm shocked."

"See, I have a past. How old were you?"

"1973? Nine. I don't really remember that song being out."

She bent forward to rinse the soap from her face, her bottom sticking in his groin as she did so. He rubs her back, tickles from her neck down her spine.

"Go have your shower." She says when she stands up, reaching for a towel. "You're fussing me and I'm assuming you set that alarm because there was a terrible need to get out early."

His expression changes and she feels bad for picking on him, "8:00 isn't that early."

She turns, his arms are by his side now, "No, it isn't." She kisses his cheek, "But go have your shower, I need a cup of tea."

He nods, taking his robe off quickly now and getting into the cubicle, because if there's one thing Charles enjoys it's a cup of tea first thing in the morning.

She's applying her face cream when she hears him scream and curse, "Fuck! Damned water!" And she laughs because she's never heard him really swear before.

He's only in there a few minutes (long enough, he thinks), and then sitting on the edge of the bathtub complaining.

"You'll have to cover up today," she's tipping after sun into her hand and tenderly rubbing it into his red patches. "And we'll try and get you some yoghurt."

"What for?"

"It takes the sting off, you can put it on when we get in tonight and lie on the bed."

"Great, I'll smell like sour milk, very sexy."

She gently massages a particularly harsh looking patch on his upper arm, "worried I'll go off you?"

"Constantly." He sighed, "must have been when I was playing in the pool."

"Probably. There you go, all done. I'll put you some sun cream on before we go out."

"Thank you dear."

He gets up to dress and she rinses her hands; she's noticed his terms on endearment are increasing – dear, sweetheart, Els – when he first asked her out to dinner she never dreamed he'd be the kind of man who went in for such things. But then there were a lot of things she'd never imagined about him.

They decided to walk the half mile or so up to the main restaurant for breakfast and he broke the rules, taking her hand and deliberately swinging it, she was wearing a lovely dark green dress with white flowers on and a large floppy hat and he thought she looked particularly lovely that morning.

"What are you grinning about?"

"Just thinking how lucky I am; beautiful sunny morning in a beautiful country, beautiful woman by my side."

"Oh, please!"

"It's true, most people will look at us and think what is she doing with that boring, silly old fool; pretty vivacious woman that she is."

"Stop it. You're neither old nor silly. Foolish at times yes. And kind and sweet too. And I happen to find you interesting. So stop fishing for compliments. But I thank you, I've never been called vivacious in my life."

"Of course you are, otherwise how would you manage to hold the attention of a class of teenagers?"

"Fear."

"As if. I'd like to watch you teach."

"No you would not."

"I would. I'd find it interesting, you've seen me sell books."

She smiled, "I'll let you know when it's 'bring your partner to work day'."

He chuckled, inside his heart swelled, she'd called him her partner – in a roundabout way.

They take a taxi into town after breakfast, it's early but already warm and Elsie would usually be in shorts or a light skirt and vest in this weather. Instead she's in a long dress with a cardigan, intent on following the local customs.

He takes her hand in the car and gently strokes her fingers, he wants to tell her he's still overwhelmed by last night, he hopes she knows.

"Do you have a guide book for the museum sir!" The driver asks, startling him.

"Oh, yes, but I'm happy to hear recommendations." He leans forward to talk to the driver and she turns her attention to the view. This is his choice, his day. He's agreed to the helicopter ride over Dubai tomorrow and then shopping before the wonderful Afternoon tea he's booked, which she absolutely can't wait for. So, let him have his museum.

They have their picture taken on Elsie's phone by a helpful fellow tourist outside the entrance and Charles delights in telling her the history of the fort before they even step inside. History is a shared passion and she's never really had anyone outside of work to indulge in that until now.

"Where do you want to start?" She asks, opening the guide book he's been carrying.

"Has to be the Qawasim Room, apparently they have some really interesting treaty documents there." To anyone else this may have sounded intensely dull but Charles knew Elsie would find it just as interesting.

They went in, glad of the cooling nature of the building.

"I don't think I expected such a rich heritage," Elsie said as they sat down for lunch. "Maybe that sounds foolish."

"Not at all, I suppose the boom in the oil industry is what got the place noticed in the western world, but clearly there's much more to it."

"As we discovered today." She folded her menu. "I'm just going to have a salad. It's far too hot."

"I will too. Maybe we could go for ice cream later, after the pearl museum."

"Won't you be poor with all the pearls you're going to buy me?"

He smiled, "Oh, of course." She lets him order when the waitress approaches, it's nice for a change to have a man want to do these things for her.

"So, I've been thinking about the shop some more."

She folds her hands beneath her chin, "And?"

"And… I think if I take the old shelves out, I mean completely, all of it. New flooring, new paintwork, then reorder it all. Shelving all the way around instead of down the middle, then the extra room…"

"The one where you store piles and piles of empty boxes?"

He frowns before admitting, "Yes, that one. Well, perhaps I could empty that, turn that into the coffee shop, have seating, this wifi thing you think so important. What do you think?"

"I think it sounds wonderful. But where will the boxes go?"

"In the flat."

"Oh. Is there room for that?"

He swallows, his throat suddenly very tight. "Well, the thing is, I'm considering moving out."

"To where?"

He shrugged, "I thought I might buy somewhere, I still have the money from my parents' house sale. Maybe it's time I invested it."

"That's a lot of changes for somebody who claims to be stuck in the past."

"Maybe it's time to make them. The thing is…well, I wondered if you might… Well, if you might help me look."

"For a new house? I'd love to. As much as I can anyway, when I'm free."

He swallowed again. It suddenly seemed quite hot in the hotel restaurant. Not a complete disaster but certainly not how he'd planned it.

"How very exciting," she said, oblivious to his discomfort. "A shiny new business and a brand new home. What an influence I've had, I never knew I had such power." She teased.

"No…" He watched her scan the leaflet in her hand, familiarising herself with where they would next be going. 'Ask her you fool,' a voice in his head repeated. But instead he kept quiet, he'd ask her in time, maybe when he started actually looking at houses.

"I absolutely adore my flat," she said, unaware of pouring cold water on his plans. "I know you think it a bit too modern, but honestly, it was just nice to have somewhere that was completely mine."

Their drinks arrived and he fiddled with the straw in his for a while, rattling the ice-cubes around as she continued to flick through the leaflet on the pearl museum.

"When did you leave Scotland?" He asked suddenly and she glanced at him over the top of her glasses, a particular alluring trait he thought.

"Erm, well, permanently when I got married I guess. I moved to Yorkshire with Joe." She took a long drink of her strawberry lemonade. "Why?"

"Just curious. Did you live on a farm?"

"Only at the start, with his parents, then I fell pregnant and we needed our own space so we rented a small house, an end-terrace. It was horrible. And when Anna was old enough I started teaching and soon we afforded somewhere bigger," she shrugged, "And that's that."

"You never missed it?"

"Scotland? Of course, I missed my family, my friends. And I knew the farm life, I'd grown up with it. It wasn't something I planned on." She swirled the drink in her glass, "But I was young and I'd fallen in love – as young girls do – and I found myself living my mother's life." She shrugged. "But at least it forced me to get into teaching, I needed something for myself. You could've made a good teacher you know." She said, changing the subject.

"I'm hardly patient."

"You were patient with that little girl yesterday."

"She caught me in a good mood."

She smiled, "Why so interested in Scotland?"

"Just am. You told me years ago you were originally from Argyll, I've never been. Did you think you'd move back one day?"

She shook her head, "No, I pretty much guessed that would be it. But I do enjoy going back, don't get me wrong, it's my heritage. But I love Yorkshire too, I love the landscape."

"The background for walking," he added (another shared interest).

"Yes, and you've always been in Harrogate right? You told me that years ago too, if I'm not mistaken in the same conversation where you suddenly popped your head around a bookshelf and asked me where I was from."

"Was I rude?"

She smiled, "No, just you." She spread her napkin in her lap as the food arrived. "You've travelled though, quite widely from things you've said."

"Yes some, when mother was well enough to cope with the shop on her own. She started getting forgetful, the accounts didn't match up, so I moved into the flat there, started managing." He prodded the pile of dry, stick like items on the top of his plate. "What's this?"

"You ordered a Chinese salad, they're like rice noodles, they're nice, crispy."

He popped one into his mouth, "they're okay."

She watched as he tentatively dug his fork into the salad beneath, then smiled as he looked up at her, "Good?"

"Incredibly so. You want to try?"

"No, I'll try mine. You see, taking a chance on something new can be a good thing."

"You took a chance on an old book keeper, and look at us now. Having a perfectly pleasant meal on a wonderful holiday."

"I like you being in this good mood. It bodes well for my getting some pearls."

It's late afternoon when they get back to the villa and they have little time to shower and change before the boat ride they've booked – another of Charles' treats and she's really looking forward to it.

"I'm not doing anything special with my hair," she proclaims as he watches her clip it up in front of the mirror. "It will be a state after being on there."

"Yeah, mine too." He chuckles, choosing a white and navy short-sleeved shirt to complement her outfit. He leaves the top few buttons undone. He's spent the last twenty minutes sitting with yoghurt on his arms and she's right, the burn has eased.

"Do I smell?" He asks as she gets up from the dressing table.

Her eyes widen, "What of?"

"Milk."

"You showered didn't you?" But she smells his neck anyway, "You smell lovely, nice cologne."

"It's the one you got me for Christmas. Right, I'm ready Els, shall we take a slow walk down?"

She wears loose white trousers and a navy shawl over a vest top and he thinks how chic she looks with her sunglasses on as she seats herself in the back of the small sailing boat.

They're early and two other couples are meant to be joining them so he takes photos for a while before sitting beside her.

"Looking lovely Mrs Hughes." He says, brushing her leg with his hand.

"Surely it should be Ms Hughes."

"That sounds even sexier," he whispers by her ear.

"What's with all this Els business anyhow? Where has that come from?"

"Don't you like it - I'll stop."

She puts her hand over his on her leg, "I didn't say that, it's kinda cute. But what should I call you?"

"Anything but Charlie," he says, putting his sunglasses on and the lens on his camera.

"Charlie…" She smiles, feeling his fingers fold with hers.

"Not that. And not one of those ridiculous terms kids use in songs – babe, baby."

She sniggers, "I'm definitely going to call you baby." She moves her face closer to his, about to kiss him when the boat wobbles and an older couple arrive and take the bench on the right side of the boat, seemingly annoyed that Charles and Elsie have the back. "Good evening," Charles says and the man nods back.

Elsie smiles, slipping her hand out from his and moving closer to the edge so she can look down into the clear water; she can make out tiny fishes, at least thirty of them, moving in unison, and then a few larger ones, as long as the palm of her hand, white and striped with black.

The final couple are late – young, no more than 25 neither of them, and Italian.

"Right, all present," a thirty-something says, wearing a baseball cap. He sounds Australian and is gorgeous and Elsie wonders what he's doing sailing couples around – probably for an easy life. She hopes Charles won't take offence to him being their guide, he knows how to sail but she doesn't want to be the couple everybody hates because they know it all.

As the boy turns the sail she encourages him to stay seated and relax by looping her arm through his and leaning against his side.

The breeze is warm and welcoming and she's more than content to just sit and be as they sail and watch the sun set.

Charles snaps away on his camera and she thinks she must ask him to email copies of the photos to her, another thing she taught him following their New Year trip to Edinburgh.

The guide has just finished telling them about the coastline – where the man made elements meet the natural and she leans her head back, looking up to the orange sky. "Look at that," Charles whispers by her ear and sits up expecting to see some rugged landscape or an amazing sky. Instead he's pointing out to her the young couple canoodling, the boy's mouth on her neck and her hand dangerously high up on his thigh.

"It's kinda nice." She says.

"Not in public." He says lowly, tipping back on the seat as she has and looking up at the sky.

"Do you not indulge in public Charlie? I shall have to remember that."

He twists his head to glare at her for using the banned name and she smiles wickedly, slipping her glasses off. She doesn't need them now. She nudges her nose with his and whispers, "And there I was hoping to have some fun one Sunday afternoon in a field of sunflowers."

"Is that a fantasy you're revealing?"

She smiles enigmatically and looks away. He sits up again, turning on the seat so he can take a shot of her.

"Do you want me to get you both?" The Italian boy asks.

"That's really nice of you, thank you." Charles hands him the camera, coming to sit beside Elsie, he wraps his arm around her waist and pulls her close to him.

"That okay?" The boy asks as he hands the camera back; Charles takes a quick look and smiles.

"It's great, thanks." He twists the screen to show Elsie, "I might have this one framed." He says proudly and she has to admit they do look good in it, happy, and she usually doesn't like having her photo taken.

When they return to shore Elsie leaves her sandals off and wanders across the sand as Charles chats to the Australian guy, Mike, about the boat. It's dark now and the lights of other resorts can be seen in the distance. The spray rolls around her ankles and she closes her eyes enjoying the sensation.

Each day seems to pull her further away from thoughts of work and rainy England and Anna going through her final year at Warwick University and her ex-husband being remarried yet paying more and more visits to her flat…

"Hi," he says coming up behind her.

"Hi, you finished your chat?"

"Yeah, nice guy, it's his first year here. Apparently it can get up to 50 degrees in the summer."

"Ouch, I'm glad we came now."

He stands beside her, putting his camera away and for a while they stand in silence paddling in the shallow water.

"So, these fantasies…" he finally says.

She smiles coyly, but shows no sign of it in her voice, "Yes… Know of any nearby sunflowers?"

"You said afternoon anyhow."

She giggled, "True, I did. And do you have any?"

He reached for her hand, "I think you've already granted a few for me." He swallowed, licking the salt from his lips, "you do realise we're standing on a beach discussing sexual fantasises…"

"Mm, yes. Why – do you want to go get some dinner?"

"Funnily enough I'm not hungry," he said standing closer.

She turned her head to look at him, "Neither am I."

She leant against his arm, watching the water again.

"I like to watch you undress." He finally stated.

"That's it?!" She laughed.

"There could be more." He stated, defensively. "And taking your hair down, I like to watch you do that."

"You're a downright pervert." She teased, tickling his side before pulling on his arm and heading across the sand back towards their villa. "Come on, I'm going to take my hair down."

They undress themselves, watching as the other takes off clothes, revealing their bodies in unison. He's already so hard and she can hardly keep her eyes off the bulge in his boxers, certainly Charles is no 'small boy' and she thanks the heavens for that fact.

Her nipples feel tender and she knows she's already wet between her legs… She can't help but wonder where this passion is coming from. They've been sleeping together for months and it's never quite been like this. Maybe they just know each other better now, maybe they're more comfortable. Maybe it's the fact they've never before had sustained time together. Prior to this their sex life has consisted of a Friday or Saturday night after dinner or a movie. And it's always been good but never quite like this.

She throws her bra at him, laughing when he easily catches it in one hand, and crawls from the bottom of the bed to the middle.

"You're so…" He says, his mouth dry.

She turns to face him, kneeling on the bed, "I'm so what?" She says, slowly taking the clip from her hair and shaking it loose.

A hundred responses go through his head, "Tempting," he settles for and she watches as he pushes down his underwear and his erection springs forward.

She bites down on her bottom lip, "you're looking rather tempting yourself. Come here, Charlie."

For some reason the name doesn't bother him and he crawls across the bed to her, leaning forward to touch her mouth with his. For a few seconds she deliberately moves her head just out of reach until they're both giggling and he slides his hand to the back of her neck to keep her still so he can kiss her deeply.

She reaches her hand down to stroke her index finger along his length and deliberately nips his lips with her teeth as she does so.

He pulls his head back, "Ow…"

She smiles, flopping onto her back, her feet pressed against his chest. She can't ever remember being this flirtatious, or feeling this sexy, but something about him makes her want to push the boundaries – both his and hers.

He surprises her by kissing the top of her feet, his large hands circling her ankles and then sliding down her legs. He kneels higher, reaching forward to slip under her bottom and squeeze before circling the waistband of her panties with his thumbs and gently, tantalisingly, pulling them down and off.

As he sits up to throw them aside she takes the opportunity to move, back on her knees, turning on the bed.

"Hey…" He moves after her, she's giggling and deliberately leaning forward to stick her backside out as she places her hands against the cool headboard to hold herself up.

She glances back over her shoulder, watching as his hands splay out on the mattress either side of her and he suckles on her shoulder, licking across her shoulder blade and then down her spine until she's swaying against him. A delicious tightness forming in her stomach.

He surprises her again by pressing his mouth against her bottom and she actually yelps, wondering if she's fulfilling another of his fantasies. He seems pleased with himself and is smiling as he kisses back up her body, burying his face in her hair.

She can feel his fingers slide around her stomach and down between her legs and he moans at the same time she does. "I want you so much," he says by her ear and she leans back against him, twisting her head to meet his mouth, their tongues mingling deliciously.

She parts her legs, still leaning against the wall to support herself and wiggles back encouraging him, "Like this…?" He breathes hard, the longing spreading from between his legs to every inch of his body, settling in his chest in a heavy thudding.

"Yes…" Her voice is clouded with desire and she kisses him again, deeply and sensually until he takes her lead and presses the tip of his erection inside her, she feels like heaven and he almost blurts out everything he feels for her.

But then she leans back, one hand coming round to grip his lower arm, to hold herself up as she slides onto him. For a delicate moment they stay still, relishing the sensation of that position, the fact he's pressed against her back and his hands have free access to roam across her body. He cups her breast, feels her hips move, setting the rhythm, and he follows her lead – as always – he wants her to enjoy this as much as he is.

She thinks of his bed back home and how they couldn't do this there for the noise, he really needs a new one, but this one is firm and solid and as their rhythm increases she leans forward again, his hands slip to hold her hips and she yells her pleasure, unashamed by how good it feels. She doesn't want it to stop, she wants to always feel like this, lost in her sheer joy of being with him, the security of doing this with him and knowing he'd never hurt her, never force or push.

She reaches to grip his hand, "Oh god, Charles. Too much." He slows, and they move again so they're pressed tightly together. They can't move as vigorously in this position but it's deep and slow and hot.

He's kissing her neck, exhausted, languid movements and then he hears her voice mumbling her pleasure and she jerks against him and he presses forward to feel her climax, allowing his own body to finally give in to the glorious feeling.

"Well," she pants seconds later, twisting her neck to look at him and he lifts his face from her shoulder and they laugh together.

"Well, indeed." He says.

They kiss tenderly, and he slowly sits back allowing her to move and sit before sliding into bed beside her. She kicks the sheets down and they lay naked in the dim, lamp lit room, their bodies constantly touching. His fingers on her stomach, her leg between his, their mouths moving between kissing and gently worshipping the other's skin.

She feels herself drifting to sleep, and lies on her back, closing her eyes. He's leaning on his elbow next to her, holding her hand, kissing her palm, her fingers.

Now would be the perfect moment, he thinks. But as his mind is turning over the words his throat closes up and then he realises she is asleep and he lays beside her, snuggling into her body and closing his eyes.

He's awoken several hours later by her hand between his legs and her mouth nibbling on his ear and the thought that she is waking him just to make love causes an instant erection.

"Elsie…" He breathes, still half asleep, still wondering if this is a dream.

"Mmm," the sound runs through his ear, connecting with every nerve ending in his body. "Wake up." She says, her accent thick and heavy, "I want to play."

He opens his eyes but the room is dark and he can only just make out her silhouette as she leans over him and her mouth moves over his chest.

"I haven't had this much sex since I was 22 and had my first proper girlfriend."

She giggles against his stomach, moving her tongue back up his chest until she reaches his neck and suckles on his skin. His strong arms lift her body on top of his and they kiss for long minutes, her pelvis pushing down into him, grinding against him.

"I was dreaming of this," she admits, brushing the hair back from her face.

He twists them over, kneeling at the side of her. His eyes have adjusted and he can see her face now, her dark twinkling eyes, her lips swollen from so much kissing. She's smiling wickedly at him as she draws her legs up, parting then closing them again until his large hands cover her knees and he moves between them.

One hand disappears down her thigh and she holds his gaze as his fingers wander and explore, until she gasps in pleasure and her eyes shut voluntarily. She feels her legs being lifted and realises her feet are now on his shoulder and she blushes violently at that thought, at what he can see. But as shy as she suddenly feels she's also intrigued that he would do this, and more than willing to explore.

"You did say 'play', didn't you." He whispers into the dark and she reaches for his legs, the only bit of him she can easily reach, and squeezes her encouragement.

It's not often she has to admit she's wrong, invariably she's more than often 'right', but God knows she's willing to accept she was wrong about him – straight missionary position is what she had him pinned for. It's the first time she can remember enjoying being wrong.

"You need to move a little," he says, and she can hear a shake in his voice, he's nervous too.

But she wiggles her bottom down a little, feels him press against her and she gasps at the tightness of it, at the sheer pressure the angle brings.

"Oh god!" Is all she hears him say and then her head is full of buzzing and nonsensical words as they find a rhythm together and all she can think about it how good it feels with him, how wonderful.

"My darling," he's saying, she can hear his words floating into her consciousness, he's lying on top of her, heavy between her legs and his mouth covers her with sweet kisses, "my darling Elsie."

She threads her hand into his hair, tugging at the strands.

He moves his mouth to hers, kissing her deeply, and she wraps her arms tight around him until they roll onto their sides still kissing, still wrapped together.

She doesn't remember falling asleep.

Well... Is all I can say, and they made me do it! Thank you so much for all the messages so far, I'm trying my best to reply to as many as I can. Please keep reviewing if you have the time, it makes my day to read what you've got to say. x