Lots of flashbacks in his chapter to help you understand what's gone before and what's happening now, and how our lovely couple's relationship keeps changing.

Some songs too, for those who like to listen as they appear. Bit of a Streisand moment as three tracks are from her: It Had to Be You and Come Rain or Come Shine (both from 'Partners') and The Music that Makes Me Dance. And those who know me know I'm a HUGE Mariah Carey fan so I had to get her in at least once: Make It Look Good.

Oh, and there's a little bit of risqué language here too because Thomas features and, well, he's risqué!

Chapter 13

Present day – Thursday evening

"Shall we have a brandy?" Richard asks, already pouring.

"I think so, I'm not driving. You heard from Izzy?"

"Yes. Shopping up a storm I'm sure, she'll be back tomorrow lunch. Her train gets in around 11ish." He sits across the table from Charles, sipping his liquor. "Been nice to have the place to myself." He admits, though Charles knows he's desperate to have her back, they were joined at the hip since they met and he didn't begrudge him that, even if it meant his own heart was temporarily broken.

"And how's Elsie?"

"She's busy, swamped with work. We were going to have dinner last night but she had to cancel so I've not seen her since Sunday." It's now Thursday – he thinks with a huff.

"But going well, better?"

"Seems to be, now we've cleared the air somewhat." He smiles as he sips the rich liquid, letting it run slowly over his tongue and down his throat. It's going wonderfully and his feelings have somehow grown even stronger than they were in Dubai, but he's not going to admit to that, he wants to keep something's to himself, and besides he doesn't want to jinx it.

"I'm glad." Richard says refilling his glass. "Look, I've got to say it. I've always felt guilty, as you know, after everything with Izzy."

"Over thirty years ago." Charles says waving it away with his hand.

"Yes, but still. It was a damned rotten thing to do, and we sort of worried that you… well, you've always been a bit of a loner."

"Thanks."

"You know what I mean."

"I'm glad you've finally met someone."

"Well, I met her a long time ago. I just couldn't have her then."

"Love at first sight? Don't tell me it doesn't exist because as you and I both know I found it."

Charles chuckled, distracted by his thoughts, the first time he ever met Elsie Hughes his mother was moaning about the blinds in the shop and it was a chilled November morning. She'd come into the bookstore as his mother had disappeared upstairs chuntering as she went and her scarf had somehow become entangled in the door as it shut, trapping her against it.

"Oh, goodness." She was startled and embarrassed as he rushed over to help.

He remembered she smelled like peaches and cocoa as he leant in to untangle the material and free her from the door.

"Thank you so much, that could have been rather deadly, I saw a film once where a woman died because her scarf got caught in the wheels of a car and strangled her."

He thought her frantic and perhaps a little eccentric.

"Well…how awful." He said searching for an appropriate response to such a wildly extravagant statement.

He laughed now thinking on it.

"What's funny?" Richard asked refilling their glasses.

"Just remembering our first meeting – we sort of established our roles immediately; her vivacious and enchanting and me stuck still not knowing what to say."

Richard chuckled, "Yes, but you've changed old boy." He sucked on his cigar. "You sure you don't want one of these?"

"You know I despise the taste."

"She's freed you up a bit."

"I rather suppose she has."

"Think you might finally do it then?"

"Do what?"

"The big question – might you finally ask it?"

"I hardly think we're at that point, three weeks ago I thought that was it."

"Three weeks can change everything."

Charles shrugged.

"Besides, no offence, but you're no spring chicken, don't let the grass go."

"I'm not going to railroad her into it, besides I think it's best if we just live together first, test the waters."

"Ask her that then."

Charles nodded, "In time…"

Six months earlier

He thought it such a pity they'd not done this before, such a pity she was married when they'd met, that he hadn't found her when he was young and starting out. They could have been married, had children together, travelled the world… It was fruitless to ponder such things but he found himself doing that every now and then, when he was watching her, when he found himself caught up in how utterly lovely she was.

It was Friday and she'd met him straight from work. She'd gone to the bar and he was watching her move back across the crowded pub with a drink in each hand, her purse tucked under her arm, the black dress she wore fitting her just right, just resting on her knee, she'd left her jacket on the seat beside him. She looked smart and elegant and he wished he'd had teachers that had looked like her – but then he'd probably never have gotten any work done.

"There you go," she placed a glass of wine down in front of him and handed him the dessert menu. "Just in case we wanted something sweet."

She ignored the chair at the other side of the table and sat beside him on the slightly scratchy old sofa. It was quite the traditional English pub, low ceilings and wood everywhere and a fire blazing – the kind of thing Charles loved. She was happy enough there but she was glad they'd finally done away with smoking at these places.

"Your hair looks nice by the way."

She swallowed her wine and smiled at him, "I had it cut last night," she touched the bottom, "a bit choppier but the hairdresser promised me she wouldn't make me look a fool."

He chuckled, "Far from it."

A band struck up in the other room and he knocked his glass against hers, "It's big band night, just read it on that leaflet."

"Do you like swing music?"

"Some, I don't like all these imitation guys though – Buble and the like, if I want to listen to Sinatra I'll listen to Sinatra singing Sinatra, not some kid trying to imitate him."

She giggled, taking another sip of her wine, "Fair enough."

"I bet you like him."

"He isn't what I'd choose to listen to, but if he's on the radio I wouldn't turn it off. And I probably wouldn't kick him out of bed neither."

"Elspeth Hughes!" He exclaimed, acting scandalised. "And you an upright teacher."

She placed her hand on her chest, "I'm so wicked!"

They laughed together, it was fun to be at this stage now, he was relaxing with her and joining in with her banter. She had a really dirty sense of humour and liked to laugh and it was infectious. It was the most relaxed he'd felt in years, she had this wonderful affect on him.

She touched his upper arm, just below where his shirt-sleeves finished, her skin against his. All so new and intoxicating. "Go on then, you can tell me who you'd choose."

Her touch was gone just as quickly as it was there. "As in celebrities? I grew up in the sixties remember, but I like old school glamour, Lana Turner, that kind of thing."

"Still got a soft spot for her?"

"Always." He said seriously before breaking into one of his wonderful smiles.

A slow, sexy rhythm came through from the other room, 'I'm gonna love you, like nobodies loved you, come rain or come shine.' The singer drawled, a deep smoky voice sliding over the slowed down version of the song.

"You hear, somebody messing with Sinatra." She pointed out.

He shook his head, "Doesn't sound too bad."

"Kinda sexy interpretation," she said biting her lip. He liked to watch her do that, how her teeth drew across it, he imagined doing that with his fingertips.

"I suppose telling someone you're going to love them like nobody's loved them is quite a confident claim to make."

She chuckled again, "I suppose so Mr Carson. Shall we order dessert?"

"Shall we dance?" He said without thinking.

She was surprised; she didn't have him down as a dancer. "Are others?" She looked up and saw they were. "I'd like to," she admitted, already getting to her feet.

She came around the table, it took him longer to unfold from the low sofa, and he liked her stood in front of him, how she looked in heels.

"We should take our things with us, find a table through there," he said, staring at her ankles.

She gathered her jacket, bag and drink and started making her way through across to the other room.

He placed his hand on her lower back as they made their way in, it was darker in there, there was another fire and it was warm with the couples on the dance floor and the band playing.

There was an empty table and she put her things down and took another sip of wine before turning to him, "Right, I'm ready." She said brightly, slapping her hands against her legs.

He took her hand, suddenly feeling quite nervous, and just as they'd got to a little corner of the dance floor the song stopped and she laughed, resting her hands against his chest. "Oh dear."

They waited, listening to the singer introduce the next song, the first notes on the piano were slow and drawn out as she sang the introduction, the dance floor was still as those on it stood watching and then the brass kicked in and the tempo increased and all knew it.

'It had to be you…' the singer drawled knowingly.

Charles' hand tightened on her waist, how appropriate he thought, the songwriter was accurate, nobody else had given him a 'thrill' like she had.

"I love this song." Elsie said joyfully as she took his hand and he turned her round.

He danced well, very well, confidently. Spinning her round, drawing her close, feeling the rhythm and moving them to it. She was quite surprised! She'd never met a man who could dance and in all the years she'd conversed with him in the shop she never would have dreamt he could dance.

The volume increased as it went on, as more instruments were introduced, and their enthusiasm seemed to match it. She was giggling like she was twenty again, as her hand disappeared inside his much larger one, as she sang along to the lyrics.

When it ended there was a round of applause and Charles was reluctant to let go of her in order to join in.

"Well, that was our version of Streisand and Buble's interpretation of that song."

Elsie turned round to face Charles and made a dramatic face, at which he shook his head and pursed his lips.

"We thought we'd stick with her for our next song. A bit of a slow down so you can catch your breath."

Soft strings and a piano, most couples started to pair up and sway very slowly.

'I know he's around, when the sky and the ground started ringing…' She sang huskily.

Charles thought they might sit this one out, it was definitely one of those 'smooching songs' and he doubted she'd want to, but surprisingly she stepped into his space and slid her hands around his waist, starting to move to the music.

He drew her in close, her head finding a natural space against his chest, his arms around her – they fit so perfectly together. She was warm and soft against him, all curves and perfume.

Elsie found she'd closed her eyes; she listened to the lyrics, to the rise and fall of the music, and swayed with him in a deliciously sweet moment. She wasn't quite sure what was going on with Charles Carson yet but she really wanted to find out, to explore it with him, because he was turning out to be much more than she'd ever dreamed.

22nd December 2014

Standing in front of the full-length mirror in her bedroom Elsie took a deep breath, braced herself, and slowly untied the knot on her robe.

For a few seconds she stood still and silent, inching the material to the side in order to see more.

It didn't look half bad actually. It was silly to be so nervous, and a silly idea in itself really, at her age! But when she'd met Beryl for their last private lunch before Christmas on Saturday she'd been full of the joys of her upcoming trip to Edinburgh with Charles. Things were going well with him, slowly and tentatively, but well. And they'd made plans to do New Year right that year and enjoy Hogmanay.

And Beryl had suggested they go lingerie shopping, "Let the old boy see New Year in right." She giggled naughtily over Mulled Wine.

"I can't do that," Elsie smiled, blushing but already wrapping the delicious idea around her mind. "I've never worn things like that."

"You'll thank me for suggesting it come January," Beryl laughed. "Black. Lacy and very short and you'll be set."

"You're unbelievably wicked." Elsie smirked into her drink.

"And then I get to meet him…?" Beryl asked hopefully.

Yes, why shouldn't she? Sure things had been taken at a bit of a snail's pace but it took them two months to build up to a kiss, they'd only slept together for the first time a fortnight ago (long overdue that was!) and Charles was so very nervous at the start, timid, it had been so long since he'd been part of a relationship he seemed to keep worrying she'd just change her mind and that would be it. But she was more than happy with how things were progressing. More than happy.

So, she'd taken her friends advice and paid a little visit to the lingerie department and now here she stood. Her cheeks were blushing just looking at herself so god knows how he'd react – she hoped he wouldn't have a heart attack on New Year's Eve!

When the doorbell rang she almost jumped out of her skin, she wrapped the robe around her and pushed the gift box it came in under her bed – what if it was Charles, early for their film?

She rushed to the intercom, held down the button and panted, "Yes?"

"Elly love, it's Santa with an early gift."

Joe. She hadn't seen him for months. Not since July. Why was he here now?

"Elly, hurry up, it's freezing out here."

Well, she did have a card for him (silly really, she thought when she'd written it, why was she even bothering?) and it meant Anna wouldn't have the awkwardness of passing it on.

Knotting the tie on her robe she buzzed him in.

"So, Anna tells me you're away for New Year – that's a newbie for you isn't it, Miss Homebird."

"I thought it might be nice," she had no desire to discuss Charles with him, in fact she'd never even mentioned his name to Joe. "Tea?"

"G&T?"

"No, real tea, English tea." She started to fill the kettle.

"Edinburgh though El, you sure that's wise…"

She stiffened as she filled the kettle.

"…I mean it's been years hasn't it since you've visited the homeland. Won't it all come flooding back?"

She flicked the switch on the kettle, "I'm not from Edinburgh, remember."

"All the same, Scotland is Scotland. You don't want old memories surfacing."

"I have no fear of that Joe," she folded her arms, leaning against the counter. "I never went there as a child."

He stepped closer to her, "Good. I wouldn't want you upset for New Year."

"I won't be. I'm looking forward to it."

Somehow he seemed closer still, "Need to keep you safe, and you know I only ever have your best interests at heart."

"I know that," she let her arms drop; the kettle was boiling behind her.

His hands rested on the counter either side of her body. "Only ever have." He whispered.

"I know." She murmured in return and then his lips touched hers, gently at first, testing the waters, a brief little whisper of a kiss. Then more pressure, just slightly, a bit at a time – he knew her well. And then her hands were on his chest and he was pressing her back against the counter and his tongue was in her mouth and she felt breathless and dizzy and confused.

His knee pushed between hers and she moaned something, something like surprise, something like consent. And his hands were on her, as if moving through her, tugging on the knot holding her robe together until it fell open and his hands touched the silk and he pulled back laughing.

"Bloody hell Elly, you've turned a corner. What's this?"

She snatched her robe together, her lips swollen and tingling.

"Oh now love, don't hide it." He said, easing it open again. "Let me just have a little look," and they were kissing again, nothing gentle this time, forceful and frantic, his fingers squeezed her breast, she yelped, and then his hand between her legs and she yelled.

She pushed him off, her face ashen and shocked.

"It's alright Elly, we just went a bit far. Let things get out of hand."

"I think you should go home to your wife."

"Probably right. Have a good Christmas though, hope you like the gift."

She threw both his present and the lingerie in the bin before Charles arrived and he never knew a thing about how he should have seen in 2015.

Present Day – Friday afternoon

Elsie was humming before she even left her classroom. It was Friday, the sun was shining and she was actually going home with no marking. She'd been up until 11:30 the previous evening getting it done but she was determined she'd have a free weekend.

She wanted to be with Charles. It was the games night tomorrow and she was looking forward to it but more than that she just wanted to see him, it seemed an age since Sunday and cricket and jealousy and his admission of love in the car park.

She felt young and giddy.

Slipping on her sunglasses she switched on the radio and pulled out of the car park. It was one of those glorious spring days – bright and clear and fresh. She felt like driving fast and singing loud and drinking wine with him outdoors, and doing other things indoors.

Surely this restraint had lasted long enough now.

She turned up the radio, tapping the beat out on her steering wheel; she'd drive directly into town and surprise him. The song was a new one to her but she liked the beat, the harmonica, she followed the lyrics, "You make it look good… Fantasize about the way you lick your lips, Fingertips on my hips as we dip, Oh, boy, you make it look good."

She understood exactly what she was saying!

Twenty minutes later she was parked and swinging her handbag as she walked to where his shop was.

The front door was open and there were bags of plaster open on the floor, a couple of buckets of dirty water, pipes, tool boxes, old looking sheets covering some of the surfaces.

"Closed love," a builder said as she tentatively stepped over one of the bags in her heels. "As you might well see."

"I'm looking for Charles." She said, moving to stand by the filthy window.

The builder whistled, "Charlie!" at the top of his voice.

Amused she dug her hands into her coat pockets and tucked one ankle behind the other as she waited.

He stomped in, "Don't whistle. I keep insisting on… Oh. Hi." He smiled and the builder smirked at his sudden change of mood.

"Hi," she smiled. "Thought I'd surprise you."

"Aw, isn't that nice. This your girlfriend then Charlie?" Another builder said entering the room. "Don't you worry yourself, we'll be out of here in ten minutes."

"Elsie, this is Frank and this is Sam and they're making my life a living hell."

She smiled, taking Frank's hand to shake. "Very nice to make your acquaintance," she said. "But don't make his life hell."

"He's exaggerating, we've got to keep his spirit up with a bit of gentle ribbing. You see his problem is, Elsie love," he'd slid his hand over her shoulders, "that he thinks all this," his other hand surveyed the room, "can be done in a few days. I've told him perfection can't be rushed. Something I'm sure you'll agree with." Frank said – he was almost seventy and doing the job for a favour out of respect for Charles' mother.

She giggled. "I absolutely agree. But I feel rather guilty, this was my idea."

"Then you're a genius my dear." He kissed the back of her hand. "So, what can we three young men do for you?"

"Well, I actually came to see if Charlie can come out and play."

Charles rolled his eyes at her.

"And at that I think we should take our leave… Sam!" He whistled. "Let's be off."

"I've told you not to whistle." Charles insisted as he saw them off and Elsie was laughing when he closed the door and turned back to her.

She stood in the middle of the room surrounded by dust and tools.

"Well, I must say it's not how I remember it." She said looking around.

"It's a nightmare."

"Do I get my hello now?"

Smiling gently he moved to the centre of the room, sliding his hands down her arms, "Hello."

She moved her face closer to his, "Hello." And finally kissed him.

Drawing her arms up over his shoulders she hummed against his lips, "Mmm, that's been a long time coming."

His hands had settled perfectly on her waist as they swayed together. "Long time since Sunday."

"A very long time. We have to start meeting mid-week, I need my Charlie fix." She tugged on the collar of his shirt.

"Don't you start, I have that all day."

She pouted, "Oh, I'm so very sorry. So, can you come out and play?"

They were still swaying, turning to the song that played on the radio in the other room.

"Where are we going?"

"Let's walk through the town in the sunshine and get chips and sit where there's daffodils growing."

He chuckled, "Full of the joys of spring hey?"

"Mmm," she kissed him again, "it is now the lusty month of May…"

"I'll wash and change." He said pressing a quick kiss to her forehead. "Check out the plans, I won't be a moment."

He took the stairs two at a time and she found the plans covered in dust on a table in the corner of the room. It seemed he'd taken on all of her advice and she was certain it would look fantastic when complete. She just hoped he wouldn't empty his savings making it happen.

They held hands as they walked through the town, nipped into shops before they closed, Elsie bought new shoes after passing them in a window and Charles couldn't believe such decisions could be made so fast – it took him at least a trawl of all the shoe shops in the area before he finally selected the one he'd buy.

As per her request they bought bags of chips and sat on a park bench in the fading sunshine eating them.

"Don't mix yours with mine," she complained, taking her bag from him.

"They're the same size."

"You put vinegar on yours," she said pulling a face. "Horrid stuff."

He shook his head as he watched her settle back and start eating; she had one leg crossed over the other and was swinging her foot in the air.

"Alright now madam."

"A-ha. I've been waiting for this all day."

"I can tell. So," he said digging a fork into his chips. "You set for tomorrow?"

"You do know I'm very competitive."

"I remember our card game from the other week."

She giggled, "I like to win."

"Well, I'll just remember to keep Laura away from you."

She turned to him pouting, "Don't tell me she'll be there."

"She might be, she might not be, I'm not sure, haven't asked. Isobel's been away all week in London so will no doubt have purchased gorgeous treats for us."

She paused in her eating, "Tell me more about this thing with Isobel."

"What's to tell?"

"Don't do that. I can tell there is," she turned more on the bench so she was facing him, her legs pressed against his. "You asked me to be honest."

"That I did. Alright, ask away."

"You once said… when we were away and…well, you know."

"Indulging our baser instincts."

She bit her lip, "Something like that. Well, you said you hadn't…" she lowered her voice to a whisper, "had so much sex since you were with your first girlfriend. Was that Isobel?"

"It was. But remember we were both young and first discovering it. We didn't do anything like we did in that villa!"

"Charles!" She slapped his arm. "Shh!"

"You brought it up."

"Well, now I'm ending it." She ate another chip, "Isn't it difficult then, to see her so often?"

"No, it was a very, very long time ago. And we were over before she even met Richard really; it was only a couple of months. A bit of a fling."

"You said she was a girlfriend. A proper girlfriend."

"She was."

"And how many of those have you had…?"

"Nosey."

She twisted her mouth endearingly, her eyes sparkling.

"Well, Isobel of course. And then… hmm… you."

She touched his arm again, "Charles, don't tease me."

"I'm not. Proper girlfriends you said, not brief things, not sex things, not I quite like you but I'm not sure let's have a few dates things."

She smiled gently, he was so endearing. She leant forward and kissed him. "I rather like being referred to as a girl-friend. Will you introduce me that way tomorrow night?"

"What should I call you?"

"How about," she turned to the side again, swinging her leg, finishing her chips, pressing her hip against his. "Your escort for the night."

"Okay. And how much do I tell them you cost, should they enquire?"

"Too much. Far too much. What about, you're interior designer?"

"And look at the mess she's got me into."

She got up, taking their chip wrappers and throwing them in a bin before she went back to him, standing in front of him and pressing her legs to his knees as she toyed with his hands. "How about your lover?" She looked up at him, eyes low and seductive.

He breathed deeply. Sighed and leant forward.

"That's a no," she said, leaning back from him, "and now I feel foolish."

"Don't," he caught hold of her waist. "Don't. I just don't want to rush things."

"I get that, I suppose," she threaded her hand into his hair, "…it's been weeks."

"You know…" He pulled her closer to him, pressing his chin against her stomach as he looked up at her. "It's getting cool, let's go for a drink and talk about it."

She nodded, helped him up and they strolled hand-in-hand to one of his favourite pubs.

She sat by the fire, checking the messages on her phone as he fetched drinks.

"Anything important?" He asked sipping his beer.

"I forgot I have to get tickets for this thing at work." She looked up at him, "I'm not sure you'll want to do it. It's the post-16 Prom, in a few weeks time. Big do you know, you get to wear a tux and there's a four-course meal and then dancing and the like. But we could leave after the meal."

"You're asking me to a work party?"

"Kind of, a school party, it's for the year 13s really. It's quite nice, some people take their partners and I thought maybe you'd like to come… I've always gone alone."

He assumed she meant she'd gone alone even when with Joe.

"I'd like that. Years since I wore my tux."

"I'm impressed you've got one hanging about."

"Always prepared." He took another gulp of beer. "So, shall we get the other thing out of the way so we can relax and have a nice evening?"

"Go on then," she put her phone away, sipped her wine, glad of it.

"You remember," he leant in closer lowering his voice despite the noise in the pub on a Friday night. "You remember when we first…?"

"Very clearly." She smiled, holding his gaze.

His eyes were wide and he breathed deeply recalling that afternoon – he maintained she'd seduced him, she claimed it was the other way around.

"Well, until then everything had been going wonderfully, a bit slow I know – on my side of things. But after that I was…"

"Full steam ahead!" She chuckled, remembering how his approach to their relationship had altered following the afternoon in her bed.

"Quite. And it was you that changed."

She sat back, as if something had hit her in the chest.

"You started to withdraw from me. I put it down to the Christmas rush and stress, then the gloom of January, looked forward to Dubai and getting you away from the stress of work and then… look what happened."

She swallowed, her fingers sliding up the stem of her wine glass.

"It wasn't because of you," she finally said. "It was nothing to do with our sex life, believe me."

"I know that now. I didn't know at the time about…about him coming to see you. And the rest of it."

He left that hanging there. They hadn't discussed her revelations since that Friday night and he still wasn't going to push her on it. They were re-building their trust and finding their intimacy and when she was ready she'd bring it up.

"But despite how you pushed me away following New Year the sex was good, in fact it got better, and I suppose I'm just worried that somehow that will replace this – us, just enjoying being together."

She covered his hand with hers, "Oh Charles, it couldn't." She leant over and kissed his cheek. "Not now, it will just be part of it, part of us. But I do understand and you know I'll wait…despite how irresistible you are."

He puffed his chest out, "I know. But just keep your hands to yourself Elsie Hughes… for now."

She watched him over her glass, shaking her head before she sipped her wine. Dear, sweet man.

December 2014

She took him to bed for the first time on a Saturday afternoon in early December when everywhere was frozen and the whole world busier than usual.

He'd come over to take her out for lunch, talking Thomas into running the shop for a few hours; they were finding it hard to find time together. She worked all week and found evenings difficult. Her weekend was her free time. Saturday was his busiest day.

So, they had about three hours to get something to eat and have a chat. She'd offered to come into town but he wanted to take her elsewhere, somewhere away from what they knew, so he drove to her flat.

"Would you like some tea?" she asked, as they went into the kitchen.

"Yes, sure." He shrugged his coat off and laid it over one of the chairs, well, they were more like stools. He pulled one out and attempted to sit. "How do these work?"

She turned from preparing the tea and chuckled, "They aren't the most practical things, and well, you're rather tall."

"Been a problem all my life." He quipped.

"Do you want plain English Breakfast? Or I have fruit, or I think some Lady Grey." She was on her tiptoes peering into a cupboard, her feet were bare (which turned him on immensely) and she was wearing loose black trousers and a tight black jumper and when she stretched it went up and he could see the very tip of lacy purple underwear peeking out (which also turned him on immensely).

He licked his lips, "Charles?" she asked looking over her shoulder at him.

"Oh, erm, Lady Grey might be nice."

She turned back to the cupboard smirking; she'd caught him looking at her ass, this very upright English gentleman. She didn't think a man had looked at her in that way for a very long time and she was rather chuffed at the fact she still had the ability to turn heads… to turn a head.

Suddenly lunch didn't seem so appealing.

She'd always wondered how long it had been since he last dated a woman, and in that case how long since he'd last slept with a woman. They'd kissed of course; that first time on his couch and then after every date and lots of hugs that went on slightly longer than they needed to. But there'd been no rolling on the couch or heavy groping. He was always a gent. Waiting for her to give the green light it seemed.

Waiting for the kettle to boil she leant back on the counter and stared at him through heavy eyes, he looked very handsome sitting there all big and burly, in beige slacks and a black t-shirt, how he stood out against her white cupboards.

She deliberately bit down on her bottom lip, drawing her teeth agonisingly slowly across it. She noted his eyes on it, then moving lower as she pushed her hips back and chest forward. Definitely more interesting things to do than lunch, she decided.

Moving to the table with their cups she deliberately brushed his leg with hers, her knee knocking against his as she set up the teapot. He suddenly rested his hand over her wrist and looked at her with such dark intensity – perhaps she'd been wrong about his not taking the lead.

"Do you want to do this?" He'd asked so huskily, the implication of his words so obvious in the charged kitchen.

She moved her face to his, touching his lips lightly with hers, once, twice, and then his hand was on her back and they were kissing properly, his tongue in her mouth; she returned it with equal vigour.

When she pulled back from the kiss he seemed disappointed but she took his hand, made him stand, and led him through the flat to her bedroom.

They stood kissing at the foot of her bed for an age and she worried he would have to go back to work before they did anything at this rate, so she tiptoed her fingers under his t-shirt, before sliding her palms over his warm skin and pushing the shirt up and over his head.

She stood back, giving him permission to do the same with her gaze – and so he did. Peeling her jumper up over her head like undressing some fragile, delicate china. She had the fairest freckled skin. And then perfect, wonderful breasts that stood proud in a lacy purple bra. He cupped his hand under one, feeling the curve of it, the weight of it. His penis suddenly seemed connected to his fingertips as when he touched it immediately sprang forward – far from being embarrassed he was just glad it hadn't forgotten what to do!

"You're very beautiful," he said lowly.

"Thank you," he made her feel beautiful, the way he looked at her, the way he touched her, as if she were breakable.

She closed the gap between them and kissed him again, sliding her palms over his chest, across his nipples.

"You're sure you want to do this?" He asked.

"Oh goodness," she kissed him thoroughly, touched his body with hers, leaving him in no doubt as to what she wanted.

They were soon naked and rolling around in her bed, legs trapped between each other's, nervous and tentative as much as eager and clumsy.

She rolled onto her back, encouraging him to come with her, and parted her legs for him beneath the sheets.

He moved gently, nervously, lying between her thighs as if he'd won a prize. She could feel his very hard penis pressing against her as they kissed and he kept moving – too high at first, then too low. The longer they lay like that the more nervous he seemed to become.

"Charles," she finally said, her hands on his shoulders. "We're naked in bed together. I can feel how much you want me. So relax, stop worrying about what may or may not happen and just relax and enjoy it. As much as it's possible to enjoy first times."

His eyes were wide and expectant as she slid her hand between them and grasped his erection, she slowly guided him inside her and was rewarded with the most delicious groan of pleasure she'd ever heard.

It was all perfectly nice and everything worked fine, but his was a safe, tried and tested method, and it took her a while to get into it. Slow rhythm. Fast rhythm. Groaning and panting and the squeaking of her bed.

He could kiss though. She couldn't get enough of that.

"You're not enjoying it," he whispered by her ear, crestfallen, "and I so want you to enjoy it."

She was surprised he'd spoken and turned her face on the pillow to his. He was still inside her and she couldn't help but marvel at how much restraint that must have taken, and how different a man he must be to openly acknowledge when things weren't working. Most men thought they were Gods in bed and all it took was a bit of huffing and puffing and she'd happily climax for you. Clearly, he thought differently.

"It's not that I'm not enjoying it."

"But it's not that good?"

She slid her hand into his hair, "You seem tense."

He closed his eyes, "It's been quite a while… I don't want to mess it up."

"Perhaps we could just…" she shifted her bottom a bit on the bed, moving down to change the angle and he sank further inside her, which they both moaned at. It meant she could move her hips more instead of feeling trapped on the mattress beneath him.

"Now," she pressed her hands against his bottom and he stared at her wide-eyed. "Just very slowly…" He pulled out of her, then she pressed him and he moved back in, back and forth, his entire length until she drew her legs up and around him, shortening the stroke, quickening the roll of her hips in tangent with his.

And then it was natural and he forgot about screwing it up and instead enjoyed every pleasure-filled second.

He came with a great roar of her name, pounding inside of her until she climaxed too, her nails gripping his shoulders as she did. And then he fell against her, chuckling and kissing her.

"Ohhhh god! Oh, I'd forgotten how good that felt!" He said and she laughed so hard.

"I'm not sure you're meant to say that to the woman you've slept with for the first time."

"Sorry," he grinned sheepishly, cheeks red, but a great smile filling his face. "Mind if we do it again?" He asked and she laughed again, he was like a boy.

"I thought you had to go back to work…"

He glanced at the clock on her bedside table, "Shit, I do, in about twenty minutes."

"Then I'd rather wait for round two than settle for a quickie."

Now he laughed, she was so wonderful, so down to earth, so approachable. He kissed her deeply, hovering above her.

"Are we still having dinner tonight?" She asked, sitting in her bed and watching him dress.

"Of course, I've booked the table, I'll pick you up at 7:00."

"Great, well, have a lovely afternoon at work."

He leant over her on the bed, "Mmm, thank you, I'll miss you til then."

And he was gone, racing back into town and smiling all the way.

When he got in the shop was absent of customers and Thomas was leaning over the counter looking very, very bored.

"What the hell's happened to you?" he asked standing up, "Look like you've won the lottery. Bugger me did you finally get some pussy?"

"Oh god Thomas, don't use that vulgar word."

"You did didn't you, you sly dog! Leaving me bloody here so you can get laid."

Quite suddenly, his smile had disappeared, "You're pushing it Thomas."

"Come on… how long's it been without, no wonder you're grinning like a Cheshire Cat. What the fuck you doing here, get back and give her some more."

"I can do without your smutty deliberations and cheap language. And I'm back because you said you could only stand 3 hours looking after this place."

"Well, I can stomach a few more if I know you're getting some. Now I've gotta tell you mate women like all that, dirty talk, you start telling her how much you want her pus–,"

"Don't!"

"Just saying, she'll give it up."

"And you know so much about women."

"I know about sex. I'm telling you, you talk dirty to her, she'll love it. Now get going, I'll lock up with the spares."

"Don't forget to set the alarm…" Charles said as he raced back through the door and to his car.

He did nothing but think about her naked in bed the entire drive back, about how she smelled, the feel of her skin, how confident she was when they were in bed – telling him what she wanted and how. He'd thought about it so much he had the most massive erection and it was awkward to walk to her flat from the car park.

"What are you doing here?" She asked, a half-smile on her face, as he climbed the stairs to her door. "You said you had to work."

She was still in her dressing gown, her hair still mussed and that same warm, soft look she'd had when he left.

Without saying a word he lifted her up and kicked the door shut behind him, carrying her back to bed.

She had no further complaints about Charles' performance in the bedroom.

So, there it is - a little bit of sexy times for you from the past to tide you over! Busy day tomorrow so it may be a couple of days before I can update again. Hope you'll stick with me - highlight of my day is reading your comments. x