Eloise

'Brian can sometimes be a bit thoughtless,' I said. 'But, most of the time, he means well.'

'Maybe,' Janey said. 'But I'm not here to talk about Brian. I'm here to talk about you. I gather that you have seen Ellie - Eloise - on a number of occasions.'

'Yes. We've ...' How could I put it? 'We've touched bases once or twice,' I said.

Again, Janey tilted her head, and viewed me down her elegant patrician nose. 'And ...?'

'Well ... I find her very, umm, pleasant,' I said. 'I've already said that, haven't I?'

'So you like her?'

'Very much.'

'So ... what's the next step?'

'I'm not sure,' I said. 'But I get the feeling that you are going to tell me.'

Janey shook her head. 'Men,' she said. And then she shook her head again. 'Look, you like her; she likes you; you're both unattached - well, as far as I have been able to ascertain you're unattached ...'

'I am,' I said.

'So my suggestion is: take her somewhere for a nice dinner - she appreciates good food and wine - and then take her back to yours - hers if it's more convenient - and fuck her. Pretty simple really.'

'Well, when you put it like that,' I said.

We went to Scrivano's, a Tuscan-inspired restaurant on the border between Notting Hill and Holland Park. I hadn't been there for a year or so, but I'm happy to report that little had changed. The menu still had all the old favourites: Crostini Toscani, Lardo di Colannata, Ribollita, Cacciucco, and of course Bistecca alla Fiorentina.

Eloise and I began with the deliciously creamy Lardo (I do like a girl who's not afraid to eat a bit of fat), and then we moved on to Scrivano's seafood-packed version of Cacciucco. To accompany, we chose a bottle of wonderfully-rounded Vernaccia di San Gimignano.

'Excellent food,' Eloise said. 'And the wine works really well with it.'

'I hope that you have left a small space for a slice of the wonderful chestnut cake,' I said. 'Crisp crust, and a deliciously-soft melt-in-the-mouth centre. And the balance between the creaminess of the chestnut and the slightly pungency of the rosemary is something rather special.'

Half an hour later, Eloise was in full agreement.

'Right. Your place or mine?' I said. Well, there was no point in beating about the bush - Shepherd's or any other.

Eloise smiled. 'I think mine's probably closer.' She glanced at her watch. 'And if we wander back to Holland Park Avenue, we should be able to find a cab.'

And so that's what we did.

On the eve of my going to university, my Uncle Toby took me to dinner at his club. I remember that we had excellent steak and kidney pudding with a large dob of bright yellow mustard on the side. We also had a bottle of Burgundy that probably cost the equivalent of a week-for-two in Benidorm. 'When starting out on a new phase in life, it always pays to begin with a decent meal,' my uncle said. Although I'm not sure that I realised it at the time, supper at Scrivano's was the start of another new phase in my life.

The first inkling should have come when Eloise and I left the restaurant holding hands. And it was all so natural that I didn't even notice that we were holding hands until we had walked a good 50 or so metres in the direction of Holland Park Avenue. And then we stopped - right there in the middle of the pavement. Don't ask me why. We just did. And we turned towards each other and kissed.

'Hmm. That was nice,' Eloise said. 'We should do that more often.'

'We will,' I assured her.

In the back of the cab, on the way back to Eloise's flat, we continued to hold hands, but Eloise was uncharacteristically quiet.

Eventually she said: 'Look, are you sure that you want to do this?'

'Why? Are you having second thoughts?'

'No. But I don't want you to feel that you have to be ... well ... be kind to me. I don't want you to feel that you have to show the fat chick a good time. The dinner was lovely. You could stop now, if you want to.'

I laughed. 'I'm not sure that Janey should have told you about Brian.'

'Oh, it's OK. I'm used to it. It's not just Brian,' she said.

I nodded. 'Well, personally, I like a girl with a few curves. But, even more than that, I like a girl with a good mind. And I like a girl with an appetite for life. And you certainly have both of those.'

'Well, if you're sure,' she said.

'I am.'

When we reached Eloise's flat, we kissed again. And then, for a moment, we faced that new lovers' dilemma of who does what next.

'Right,' I said, trying to sound decisive - but, in fact, having no idea of what I was going to do or say next.

'The bedroom?' Eloise suggested.

I nodded. 'Good idea.'

'Unless, of course, you'd prefer the kitchen. Or maybe the garden?'

'The garden? Yes. Yes, that might be ... umm ... fun,' I said. 'But I have a feeling that it's going to rain. So ... perhaps the bedroom.'

Eloise led the way and I followed. The journey from the tiny entranceway to the bedroom used up all of four-and-a-half seconds. Maybe five. 'Well, this is it,' she said.

Initially, my brain took 'this is it' to mean: 'This is it. We can't put it off any longer.' But then I wondered if she simply meant: 'This is it; this is the bedroom.' Oh, what the hell? We couldn't put it off any longer - whether that's what she had meant or not. As I said, there had already been quite enough beating about the bush. I pulled her to me and kissed her once more - this time slipping my hand up under her skirt and letting it come to rest on her delightfully-plump, fabric-covered crotch.

'I think,' I said, keeping my hand on her crotch and subtly feeling for the warm valley that I knew would be between her plump pussy lips, 'you might be more comfortable if you moved back slightly and sat on the edge of the bed.'

Eloise smiled. 'You think so?'

'I do. But first ... we might need to take your skirt off. What do you think? We wouldn't want to get it creased.'

'You're very sensible, aren't you?' Eloise said.

'I can be. Sometimes.'

Eloise manipulated some fastener or other at the side of her skirt, lowered a zip, and started to lower her skirt. 'Umm ... much as I don't really want you to, I'm going to have to ask you to move your hand,' she said. 'Just for a second or two.'

'Yes. I suppose that I should,' I said. 'Just for a second or two.'

'Just for a second or two,' she confirmed.

Beneath the disappearing skirt, Eloise was wearing a black lace suspender belt and black knickers with a solid black satin-like panel down the front and bright red trim. And I'm pleased to say that, unlike so many 'staged' erotic photographs, Eloise knew that the knickers go outside the suspender belt.

I pushed her gently back to the edge of the bed. 'I think that you should spread those beautiful thighs just a little,' I said.

'Like this?'

'Perfect,' I said. I put my mouth on her satin-covered crotch and gently exhaled.

'Oh, yes,' Eloise said. 'Oh, yes.'

As my nostrils filled with the erotic fecund aroma emanating from her cunt, I suggested that, perhaps, the knickers might have to go.

'Well, if you think so,' she said.

'I do.'

I must confess that I had seen enough cunts to know that they are all different. And, in my experience, they are all beautiful. Some are little more than neat slits; others are more like exotic flowers in full bloom. Eloise's was somewhere in between. Her slightly plump outer lips were reasonably unremarkable; but her generous inner lips did remind me of a beautiful flower. My tongue had a mind of its own.

'Oh, yes,' she said. 'Yes. Yes. Yes."

It only took another ten or twelve minutes before Eloise broke into a shuddering explosion of squeals and giggles. 'Oh, yes. Yes, yes - fucking yes!' she said.

'I'll take that as yes then,' I said. I should have realised that, with my head tucked between her thighs, I was in no position to be a smartarse. Thwack! Oh well. 'What next?' I said.

'I think you're overdressed.'

'Perhaps,' I said. 'You want me to take my shoes and socks off?'

'Socks? Definitely. And whatever else you are wearing under there.'

By the time that I had divested myself of my lower garments, my cock was half-hard - well, probably more than half hard.

'Very nice,' Eloise said. 'Very nice indeed.'

'Umm ... we probably should ... you know ...'

'Top drawer,' she said. 'I popped into Boot's on my way home.'

I retrieved one of the foil packets. 'Latex Free. Posh.'

'Well, I didn't know,' Eloise said. 'I thought ... you know ... just in case.'

I gave my cock a few encouraging pumps and then carefully fitted the condom over the end of my purple-helmeted soldier and rolled it down. And then, after giving her cunt one more wet kiss, I gently lifted and spread Eloise's legs and lined up the 'latex-free' head of my cock with her glistening entrance. From the smile on her face, I guessed that this was not the worst thing that I could have done.

We started out slowly and then gradually increased the pace. 'Oh, that feels ... so good,' Eloise said. 'So good.'

'And this?' I said, slipping a hand between us and massaging her clit with the ball of my thumb.

'Mmm. Fantastic.'

All things considered, we could have been made for each other. We certainly managed to come within seconds of each other. Ladies first, of course.

When we had both caught our breath and cleaned up a little (Eloise - clever girl - had a packet of wet wipes handy), we half cuddled on the bed. 'Are you staying?' she said.

'Am I invited?' I asked.

She shook her head. 'Invited? No. Commanded.'

'Well, in that case ...'

After another five minutes or so, Eloise suggested that we should probably remove the rest of our clothes and get under the duvet. 'Perhaps I could help you,' I said. I unbuttoned her shirt and covered the exposed upper curves of her breasts with little kisses.

'Mmm, yes,' she said. And then, after a moment or two, she said: 'Maybe I should sit up.'

'It might be easier,' I said. With Eloise sitting up, we removed her shirt. And her bra - black with bright red trim to match the now long-gone knickers. Her naked breasts were unquestionably large - but surprisingly firm and beautifully shaped. Of course I had to cover them in with more kisses.

Eloise giggled. 'I should warn you: you're starting to make me tingle again,' she said. 'And you know what that leads to.'

I glanced down at my wilted cock. 'I think you might need to give me ten minutes,' I said.

'Ten minutes?' she said. 'I'm impressed. But I can wait.' And we both laughed.

The following day, Sunday, dawned bright and mild. Not a bad day for the first day of the next stage of my life.