I had surprised myself by ending up with very little to do over the weekend. My life is usually organised and planned down to the last minute but increasingly I seemed to be following Tim's detrimental advice about 'going with the flow'. I'd already read the paper and had a cup of coffee and now I had resorted to cleaning the flat. Sorting through my books and files around the living room I had come across some women's magazines and wondered why we had them.

"Tim, are these yours," I asked, going to meet him in the kitchen and nearly stepping on the damned kitten which had become as infuriating as it was sweet.

"What," he looked round and his cheeks turned a little pink when he caught sight of them in my hand.

"Oh, em. Sort of."

"Why do you have them," I asked slowly, on the verge of laughing wondering if Tim was going to start following fashion advice and wearing makeup. Frankly it wouldn't surprise me. I surprised myself a little however with how the thought sparked something in my mind and elsewhere.

I flipped it open to the page that was dog eared and grinned.

"How to please your man," I read aloud and Tim avoided my gaze.

"I was just checking..."

"Mmm," I sniggered and then felt bad when he looked offended.

"I didn't know you were self-conscious about it," I said and he looked awkward.

"I'm not, it's just...I only ever did it as a teenager and it's not like they were very fussy about technique," he tailed off. "I didn't really know where else to look."

The kitten rubbed itself against my leg and whined.

"Do you like it," he asked suddenly.

"Like what?"

He gave me a look.

"Is it okay for you," he asked while half cringing and picking at his fingernails.

I couldn't think of what to say to him. When I stopped to think about it I realised just how needy Tim is when it comes to praise. Every move he makes he looks at me expectantly for a reaction or encouragement.

I went to him and pulled him towards me.

"Yes, you idiot," I scolded. "You are quite honestly the best sex I've ever had Tim Cornish."

He gave a half smile and kissed me gently on the mouth.

"Yeah? That doesn't really say much though does it," he teased and I swatted his nose with my hand making him blink in surprise.

"Cheeky, I'll have you know that I know a thing or two."

"Mmm. You must have had fun," he said quietly, wanting to make me feel guilty.

"Yeah, it was the best time of my life," I replied sarcastically which seemed to satisfy him.

"Well, I still learned a few tips from them," he pointed to the magazines.

"Did you really?"

"Mmm, yes. I think I understand the theory, I just need to put it into practice."

"I think I could find some free time to help you out," I smirked. I leaned in and kissed him languidly, my hand unzipping my flies.

"Ivo, the cat," he reminded me.

I glared at the fluffy little form that looked up at us as if it knew before I pulled Tim into the bathroom before closing the door.

He looked at me eagerly and knelt down in front of me, desperate to please. He pushed my jeans further down my hips and worked at my boxers, mouthing at me through the fabric and surprising me by massaging the backs of my thighs. It did feel pretty good. My mind was racing ahead to what else he might have picked up.

I could feel myself relax into it and just when he had set up a steady rhythm he would quickly change to something different, alternating between fast paced and tortuously slow, sparingly using his teeth to tease me. It was working.

He looked up at me with a devious smile and continued to do all manner of unspeakable things and I doubted he'd learned them from those magazines.

"Christ, Tim," I panted a few minutes later when I was spent and Tim looked thoroughly pleased with himself.

"Was it good?"

I couldn't catch my breath to answer properly, nodding at him and closing my eyes, still in the aftermath of pleasure.

I chuckled and pulled my jeans up before leaning down to kiss him passionately. He groaned, something he does that I love.

"What's for dessert," he asked lightly and I smiled.

"For such an angelic little face, you're shockingly dirty."

"In every saint, there's a sinner," he sang at me before clambering off the floor and pulling me up with him.

"Let's dance," he said excitedly, more animated and lively than I had seen him in quite some time.

He played one of his favourite records and trailed me between the furniture in an awkward and uncoordinated waltz picking up the kitten and swaying it with us.

"Wherever I go, my Shadow goes," he smiled and scratched her ears.

"If you make that cat sick, I'm not cleaning it," I warned.

He gave me a devilish grin and pulled a silly face at me.

"Whatever old man," he joked.

"Mmm."