6

On Friday, I went to collect Sam from her hotel at about four. She was in the lounge waiting.

‘I was thinking, perhaps you’d like to go to dinner tonight,’ she said to me as I approached.

‘Sounds good to me. Where?’

‘How about a little Italian place a friend showed me near here.’

‘Friday? You must be joking; we’d have to have booked this morning at the very latest.’

‘I did.’

‘I see. Means one of us can’t drink if we’re to drive back to London tonight.’

‘Oh, that’s fixed; I’ve got a room here.’ The message was clear or I hoped it was.

‘What time’s dinner?’

‘I booked for eight.’

‘So what are we going to do now then?’ I’d something in mind but was unsure whether Sam had the same idea.

‘We could go and look at the room,’ she said.

‘Yes, we could.’

We climbed the stairs.

‘We could have a bath,’ Sam said. She had one of those card keys that she slipped into the lock and gently pushed the door open.

‘Um, yes.’

‘You could scrub my back.’ She pushed the door closed with her bum.

‘Ah, um, yes, I could.’

It was a nice room. Well, the little I saw was; the curtains were drawn. We kissed as soon as the door was closed. Her lips were cool and wet. The tip of her tongue touched the tip of my tongue and it was electric. I’m sure my hair stood up on end. Well, more than my hair. Her teeth were small. Her tongue was agile. It was a great kiss. I’d one hand in her hair and one on the small of her back. She was jammed hard against me and moving round. More than jammed against me; she moved me back so my back was against the door. Her eyes were open. So were mine. We kept that first kiss going for minutes. Her breasts were firm; as they pressed against me I could feel her nipples. We were both adults, all grown-up. Not teenagers. We didn’t rush. We didn’t fumble. We took our time. We were patient. We took it slowly.

We came up for air and I placed my left hand on her right breast; it was rock solid. She pulled my shirt out of my trousers, undid the buttons and slipped it backwards over my shoulders. She then ran her hands over my shoulders, feeling the scar from the knife wound in my right shoulder with her fingers. She looked up into my eyes.

‘Soldier wounds?’

‘Aha.’

She kissed me again and I started to undo the buttons on her blouse, from the top. She started to do the same starting at the bottom.

‘No, let me.’

‘I see. A kinky lady stripper.’

‘I reckon. I just love undressing women, particularly a kinky lady.’

‘I’ve watched you undress me a few times in the office.’ She gave a little giggle. ‘And I admit I’ve undressed you but this is much better.’

I stepped back, held her hand forward and undid the button on her cuff. She held her other hand forward. She dropped her hands to her sides and the blouse slipped off her shoulders and onto the floor. She put her hands on my chest then slid them up behind my head. We kissed again, for five whole minutes. I was out of breath but I didn’t care. ‘Killed with a kiss,’ it said on his headstone. Another great kiss. Better than the first. I could feel the lacy material of her bra against my chest. I slipped my hands along the back strap to the catch. It was clear of her back in the cleft of her spine and as I unclipped it, it fell forward. She stepped back and it fell to the floor, revealing her magnificent bust. Her breasts were fantastic, round, smooth and firm. The nipples were large brown rings with the protrusions standing proud. I couldn’t resist; I just had to suck them. Her perfume came up at me, a mixture of the real essence of her and the subtle aroma of the perfumer’s art.

She unclipped her waistband, pulled down the zip at the side and her skirt fell to the floor. Tights are ugly things so I didn’t look, just slipped my hands in the waistband and pushed gently downwards, taking the panties with the tights. They collected in a pile at her ankles. She scuffled backwards, naked apart from the knickers, tights and shoes around her feet. She sat on the bed and raised her legs and I removed her shoes and with them the conglomeration around her feet.

‘Now your shoes,’ she said and her throat buzzed against my lips. She turned me around, pushed me backward and sat me down on the edge of the bed. She knelt in front of me, untied my right shoe and then my left. She eased them off then hooked her thumbs in my socks and peeled them down and off. We stood up again and kissed again. By that point in my life I’d kissed a few girls, but I was ready to admit that Sam was the finest of them all. She was spectacular. She moved and quivered and trembled. She was strong, but gentle, passionate, fiery but not aggressive, hungry, but not demanding. All these things merged into the essence of Sam. We had all the time in the world – well, until eight o’clock – and we were going to use every last minute of it.

She hooked her fingers behind the front of my waistband and tugged on it then undid the clip with a squeeze. We kept on kissing. She found my zipper tab and eased it down, slowly, slowly, small hand, neat thumb, precise finger. As my trousers dropped she held me through my Y-fronts.

‘Oh, you’re a big boy,’ she said and then pulled my pants down, unhooking them from my erection that she kissed. I stepped out of my trousers and pants. We were totally naked and she pushed me so that I sat on the bed. She climbed into my lap, her legs on either side of me with her heels against my thighs. I lifted her hair away and kissed her ear, tracing its shape with my tongue. I could feel her cheek against mine. I could feel the smile. I kissed her mouth. She kissed my ear. We spent twenty minutes learning every contour above each other’s necks. Then we moved lower. I ducked my head, holding my hands behind her back. Her head went back, arching her breasts towards me. They were firm and round and smooth. Her nipples were sensitive. She moaned a little. So did I. She moved and I rolled back onto the bed. She kissed my chest. I lifted her off my lap and rolled her on her back on the bed. Twenty fabulous minutes spent getting to know each other above the waist.

Then we moved lower. She moved lower, her mouth closing around me, sucking and moving. I was dizzy and after some minutes, I rolled her onto her back and she lifted and opened her knees and I buried my face between her thighs, my tongue working her clitoris. She moaned and shuddered then rolled me over so I was on my back with her over me and again she closed her mouth over my penis. It was fabulous and then she moved over me and pushed me inside her.

We started tenderly. Long and slow, long and slow, deep and easy. She flushed and gasped. So did I.

Long and slow.

Then faster and harder. Then we were panting.

Faster, harder, faster, harder.

Panting and gasping.

She was moaning then shouting, ‘Yes! Yes!’

Then I exploded inside of her, climaxed and spent.

We lay on the bed, for how long I don’t know. A knobbly elbow stuck in my ribs.

‘Hey you.’

‘What?’

‘You have to scrub my back.’

I rolled over and looked at her. She was smiling. A beautiful smile, a contented smile, a possessive smile. ‘Okay, what’s the time?’

‘Just gone six thirty.’

‘Okay, no rush.’

‘I agree, but I want my back scrubbed.’

‘Oh alright then, bully,’ I said.

‘You can go off people you know.’

We ran the bath, or rather I ran the bath while Sam sorted out her clothes for the evening. It struck me that I had now probably earned the necessary qualification to call her Sam although no actual sleep was involved. We climbed in and soaked, gently washing each other and finding tickly bits. We dried each other, got dressed, prepared to depart and went to Bel Vedere.

I’m not sure how it happened but Sam moved in with me about three weeks later. I really can’t remember me asking her to or agreeing that she should. It just sort of happened. The big problem was that soon after she moved in, I received the instruction to go to the States.