The sensation of her cheek brushing gently against my face is more electrifying than I could possibly imagine and, incredibly, goosebumps surge down my neck, chest and arm. With feather-like delicacy, I feel the pressure of her lips on mine; tentative and so very very soft. For an instant she withdraws, almost imperceptibly, and I hear her breathe out in a long, slow, shuddering sigh before I am helplessly drawn in toward her. The gossamer-light caresses of her mouth render me breathless, as I succumb, wholly, to some sort of incapacitating rapture.
Even in those private moments, when I allowed myself to think how it it might feel to take Louisa into my arms, I never imagined anything like this. The way she kisses me is endearingly playful, utterly provocative and is seductive in a way I'm struggling to comprehend. I feel an unfamiliar warmth wash over me as I abandon myself to the delicious sensation of her teeth teasing at my bottom lip. Her closeness is completely intoxicating and I sense some sort of mutual desire that seems utterly miraculous to me. But my ability to think critically deserts me as the earth beneath us seems to shift and, suddenly, I feel an almost overwhelming rush of desire that I must fight hard to keep under control.
Her mouth is now open against mine, insistent and exploratory, and my hand slides up to cup her jaw so I can pull her to me, revelling in an intensity that threatens to set me alight. Her fervour emboldens me and, no longer passive, all I am aware is of is how she responds to me, as somehow I knew she would; soft and sweet and unresisting, as if she not only understands my hunger, but shares it. I am temporarily lost, mesmerised and inflamed, and my longing to possess her grows with each desperately snatched breath. The depth of my need is almost frightening and, as she melts beneath me, I barely recognise myself.
There are over seven trillion nerves in the human body and each one of mine seems to be responding acutely to her touch. I have a desperate need to feel her skin, to envelop her in my arms and feel her body pressed against me but, despite the way she yields deliciously beneath my hands, our position is far from ideal and as we try to pull each other closer, she loses her balance, and we are momentarily torn apart. She falls across my chest and I hear her stifle a frustrated giggle. I'm suddenly aware of a highly inflammatory sensation and I swallow hard because, as I look down, I observe with a peculiar mixture of alarm and delight how, as she has attempted to steady herself, Louisa's hand has gone from caressing my head to supporting her weight by leaning, rather provocatively, high on my inner thigh. As I stare, she seems to realise my discomfiture and I watch with bated breath as she gently withdraws from my lap, swinging her legs sideways and repositioning herself more decorously beside me.
Cautiously, I turn to look at her. My heart is still hammering in my chest and the taste of her lingers exquisitely on my tongue; so cool, and sweet, and thirst-quenching. Her eyes are sparkling and there's an expression on her face that I find totally bewitching. I stare helplessly at her now, struggling to believe that this divine creature should want to spend any time in my company, never mind kiss me in a way that has left us both breathless and slightly stunned. I wonder if she understands how profoundly she has affected me. I doubt it because she has no way of knowing and I can't possibly tell her. Smiling at me, shyly, she gently takes my hand and I realise one, or both of us, is trembling.
As we sit in startled silence, I'm feeling something that I've never experienced before, as if all my limbs are both light and heavy at the same time. I can't help but ruminate on the actual medical cause and, as I dreamily contemplate the sensation, lost in an evanescent moment of closeness and physical longing, I'm disturbed by a loud rustling from within the thicket of saplings in front of us, and we are both immediately alert.
"It's probably just a deer." Louisa says after a moment but I'm not convinced.
I'm very aware of her presence, as her bare shoulder presses somewhat provocatively against my chest and, although it's tempting to ignore the noise and simply take up where we left off, the suspicion that we are being observed is too much for me.
"What if it's a stag?" I say quietly, thinking of the heavily antlered specimens I observed as we drove into the park.
Louisa pauses thoughtfully and her brow creases into a frown.
"I'm not sure but I seem to remember hearing that stags are actually only dangerous during the Roar." She replies, trying unsuccessfully to reassure me.
"The Roar?" I ask quickly. I don't like deer and I certainly don't trust them. Unpredictable, flighty creatures as likely to trample you to death as not.
"Yes, Martin, the Roar. Mating season." She replies firmly and I notice she is biting her lip as she stares back at the trees.
"But, actually, I think I also heard that it can take a while for them to calm down, you know, afterwards apparently." She adds, a little uncomfortably.
I know how they feel, I think to myself, as her ponytail brushes my ear.
"Well, when is mating season?" I ask, a little impatiently.
"Oh Martin I don't know. It wouldn't be now though, would it? I mean they've all just had babies. Perhaps you should just relax."
I briefly ponder the gestation and mating habits of deer and come up empty handed.
"The point is, I don't know either!" I grumble. "And you, despite your apparent determination to maintain a lax attitude to potential danger, appear to have some rather large deficiencies in your own knowledge. "
"What?"
"I'm just saying, that..that...you are exhibiting a rather unwarranted degree of confidence when, clearly, you don't know either."
She swivels around and stares at me, with a perplexed frown, but then I notice the reappearance of her barely suppressed, insolent smile, and I realise that Louisa is finding my discomfort, as usual, highly entertaining. I feel her fingers once again in my hair, gently tracing the skin behind my ear and under my jaw. Her face is mere inches from mine but, this time, I'm not allowing myself to be so easily distracted.
I lean forward and peer into the shadowy darkness of the trees. I can't see anything but that doesn't mean it's not there, watching us, waiting until our attention is elsewhere, when it will sense our vulnerability, as animals do, and undoubtedly launch an attack. I have clear memories of repairing appalling damage to the femoral artery of a man who'd been gored in the groin by a murderous stag. He was lucky not to lose his life as a result and it had been touch and go in theatre for several challenging minutes.
Even now, the recollection makes me wince and I can't help thinking that fate would find some sort of delicious irony in the timing, should I now find myself attacked, and suffering as extensive a puncturing and tearing of the groin and lower abdomen as I'd seen that afternoon in theatre.
"I think we should go." I say firmly, and I scramble to my feet, extending my arm out to Louisa.
Of course, she screws her face up at me, but I am unmoved. I know my limits and I don't intend to find out now whether I would fight to the death to protect her. Besides Ben Dixon is the on-call vascular specialist today and the thought of that bumbling buffoon coming anywhere near me, especially down there, fills me with abject horror.
"Come on, Louisa, please. Hurry up." I add, a little tersely, as she reluctantly clasps my hand and I pull her to her feet. For a moment she is directly in front of me, and I see that she has that familiar gleam in her eye and a insolent smirk brewing.
I hear more scratching in the undergrowth and I glance up and over her shoulder. I can't see anything, but that's the point really, isn't it, when you are a deer? You become very accomplished at hiding in the dappled light, waiting until some poor unfortunate's attention is elsewhere and then you charge. I must keep my wits about me but, if Louisa has anything to do with it, she intends to distract me as much as possible for her own amusement and, in my current heightened state, she is very difficult to resist. I haven't completely taken leave of my senses however and, as the adrenalin recedes, and oxygen and the blood supply return to my brain, so do my personal scruples concerning public displays of affection.
Crouching down, I pick up her map and she takes it from me with a strange expression on her face, flapping it around in a hopeless effort to refold it before she gives up and shoves the crumpled mess into her bag.
I wince, and open my mouth to protest but she fixes me with a narrow eyed stare,
"Don't say anything." She warns, and her eyes flash dangerously. I feel a familiar lurch in my abdomen and I feel myself blush at the realisation I find feisty Louisa quite mesmerising.
"I was merely going to offer to..."
"Yes, well, don't bother actually, because it's got a rather large, arse-sized dent right across it now, and it's going in the bin when I get home..." She says obstinately, zipping her bag and folding her arms across her chest, defiantly.
I hear myself sigh resignedly and I mutter to her that she can suit herself, as I hold out my arm in a gesture that suggests she should lead the way. I have had enough of open space and communing with nature and I am now keen for us both to be back in the safety of the car and returning to the bustling streets of the city. Thankfully, Louisa complies without protest and, as we scramble up the hill, up to our ankles in a deep carpet of half rotted leaves, I can't help but ponder the unbelievable circumstances that have arisen in my tidy, ordered life that have led me to the wilderness of Richmond Park on a Saturday afternoon.
That I should find myself here now, feeling as I do, is completely extraordinary and so far outside my normal parameters of behaviour that I shake my head in disbelief. Louisa, the catalyst for this seismic shift, bounces along a few yards ahead of me, seemingly oblivious, joyously dodging clumps of bracken and occasionally kicking up piles of leaves into the air; lumpy brown arcs that leave the air filled with a musty, organic aroma. Blackbirds squawk in alarm and flee across our path, and in the distance I hear the indignant, territorial quacking of disgruntled ducks and the discordant screeching of clearly unsupervised children.
We emerge into the relative civilisation of the formed pathways and I realise that, now we are out in the open, the wind has picked up appreciably. Louisa calls over her shoulder to me, her accent even more noticeable as she raises her voice, and impudently asks me if I'm able to keep up with her. I'm tempted to tell her that I'm quite enjoying my vantage point but, as usual, my thoughts seem incapable of turning in to words and I'm happy to continue my leisurely stroll along behind her, hardly daring to believe my own good fortune, until we eventually find ourselves back in the car park.
I'm still bemused as I let her into the car and, as I slip into my seat and grip the steering wheel, I feel suddenly overwhelmed with exhaustion, as if I have spent every ounce of emotional energy at my disposal. I manage a simple circuit of the park, so Louisa feels at least partly as if she had her wish fulfilled, before I silently make the decision to take her home. Every now and again I catch her glancing shyly across at me but, for the most part, we are lost in our own thoughts. Me, disbelieving and incredulous, and Louisa, seemingly content to stare wistfully out of the window, thoughtfully twisting her ponytail round and around her finger, and, more unusually, content to peacefully keep her own counsel.