Releasing his hand from under her head, Mark eased Eliza across the couch as they toppled over it in slow motion. With his free hand, he urgently removed her knickers, in which she eagerly helped, abandoning all hesitation and gingerly lifting her buttocks from the couch to allow the intimate garment to pass her knees and ultimately her ankles. At this, the springs squeaked a little as they moved, and Mark immediately regretted not having gone straight to bed. Yet, far from disturbing him, the rhythmic squeaking of the couch as their lovemaking acquired tempo only spurred him on. He felt her naked buttocks with his hands. They were so firm, tangible evidence that she was very young; he almost felt ashamed. But she was so compliant in his arms, so experienced apparently, that judging by his intense excitement, Mark would have imagined he was the pubescent lover.

His impatience for fulfilment wasn't a good sign. What was there about this girl of a woman that excited in him such painful cravings to have her? His need to possess her, to be joined with her had begun building up inside of him while he was driving to her place. It was savage, unnatural, and utterly pubertal.

Now that they were both naked on the couch, he lay beside her, propped on one elbow, gazing at her supine form with all the restraint he was capable of, holding back his desire to plunge into her without further ceremony. Her eyes almost hidden by her thick lashes, Eliza observed him with adoration. Never in his life had a woman looked at him that way. He felt like a god condescending in sexual intercourse with an inferior being. But she was no lesser creature. She was all curves and subtle flesh, firm and lush at the same time, and she was his for the taking.

Unfortunately, they didn't have the whole night. Eliza's sister (now he knew his student was also Eliza's sister) had realised she had left her laptop at Marjorie's house. Mark had offered to phone Marjorie and ask Vernon to bring it to her place first thing in the morning, but she said she had planned to go on working at her paper that night and preferred to go for it immediately. Mark did call Marjorie anyway to inform her that Jane was heading for her place to retrieve the forgotten laptop.

When Mark had first seen Jane on the same lift with him going to the same floor, he was more than surprised that she should be his lover's neighbour. It had never occurred to him that Jane could be so closely related to Eliza. So when he spotted her face beaming at him from a photo frame, Mark almost collapsed with surprise.

"Is this your sister?"

"Yes."

"Amazing."

"What?"

"I mean...I've just seen her on the lift."

"Oh. How odd. Why hasn't she come in then?"

"Oh, she was...she said she'd left something behind...her laptop..."

"She said that to you?"

"Actually...yes. We were on the same lift."

"So you've met my sister?"

"So it seems."

"And what d'you think of her?"

"What?"

"Most men fall in love with Jane the moment they set eyes on her."

"Not me. I've got eyes only for you. Besides, I've known your sister for a long time."

"Really?"

"Aha."

"Tell me about it."

"Not now. If I'm not mistaken, your sister won't be back for a good hour. I'd be loath to waste so much precious time talking about her when ..." he took her left hand and sucked the ends of her fingers, one by one, and then put his tongue briefly on her palm and licked and kissed the back of her wrist "... I could be making love to you. Come." He pulled her toward the couch that looked inviting enough for them to make out comfortably there, though Mark decidedly had something more in mind. Before he slid to her side, he trod on the backs of his shoes to remove them, hastily snatched off his socks, and before she could count to two, was naked but for his wristwatch. She laughed hysterically during the whole strip show, understandably unaccustomed to such a spectacle. "You're crazy," she cackled.

Beaming at her, he said. "I'm glad you've noticed." With a confident swaggering motion, he returned to her side and began to undress her, a job she was too blissful to help him to perform.

When they were both sans clothes, he lay beside her, caressing her body and kissing her neck and breast and then, in one athletic move, he rolled on top of her, pinning her down on the couch. He lowered his head and kissed her repeatedly, his tongue grazing her lips and teasing her mouth to allow him in. Amazingly, they professed several convincing I-love-yous to each other while sublimely engaged in frenzied sex.

But if Mark had ever made one big mistake in his life, it was to awake curiosity in Eliza. He had left her in suspense as to how he and her sister had known each other before she serendipitously made his acquaintance. While her body and heart were relishing in Mark's embrace, Eliza's brain was reeling to find the answer to that question. Suddenly she seemed to put two and two together.

"Mark?" Mark's breathing was coming with difficulty. He was ferociously sucking her breast attempting to propel her into passion, and he prayed he could do it quickly. He wanted to pleasure her before he...well...before he burst.

"Mark..." Mark's hands were travelling the length of her body, his head pressed to her breasts, his tongue licking the taut nipples, when her voice came floating like a dream into his ears. "Mark..."

"Mmm"

"Mark...where have you met my sister?"

"Mmm..."

"Mark..." Losing her patience, she pulled lightly on his hair. "Mark, you're not listening..." At last, his head rose from her bosom, a look of frustration in his eyes. Mark propped on his elbows and looked at her in utter bewilderment. Still, he cautiously chose his words, a bit annoyed and at the same time surprised by his apparent inability to engage her whole attention in their present activity, afraid all this conversation would spoil the moment he was almost savouring.

"Eli, I'll tell you all about it later, ok?"

"Ok." He smiled at her sweetly and she seemed to understand his meaning since she kissed him on the lips with great abandon. Good Lord, this...this...girl, woman, knocked him senseless. He felt his blood flooding his groins... No, no, not yet... Hold on, hold on...

"Oh God, Eli. I think I..."

"Mark..."

"Mmm..."

"Do you teach at Jane's college?"

He stopped short and looked at her in frank confusion. Was she doing it on purpose?

"Eli. Please, I'm busy here."

"Oh, well."

"Well."

"But you do? I mean, you teach at Jane's college?"

"Do you speak as a rule while you make love?"

She shrugged. "What is wrong with a little conversation?"

"Oh no. Nothing is wrong. It's only that I can't talk about college while I...while I'm trying to focus here." He pronounced the last words with a little exasperation, which Eliza didn't fail to notice.

"Oh, all right. Do you usually get so easily annoyed?"

"Listen, Eli. I'm in a sad state. Can we just proceed?"

"Ok. I just wanted to know whether you knew her gay tutor."

"Huh?"

Aargh! The phone rang frenetically in the living room. Marjorie jumped out of bed at the edge of a mayor nervous crisis, still unsure what the heck had woken her so suddenly. She staggered blindly downstairs, half asleep, hoping not to tread on either cat or dog in the dark. Had she not stubbornly refused to have an extension installed in her bedroom, she would have now been able to answer the call from bed. Bumping over the small coffee table where the telephone lay buzzing like mad, she almost dropped the receiver when she answered frantically, "Yes!"

"Marge?"

"Yes."

"Are you ok? You sound a bit freaked out."

"Mark. I was sleeping," she bellowed icily.

"I'm sorry. But my student's forgotten something in your study."

"Pardon?"

"She left her laptop at your place and she's going back there to pick it up."

"Humph. Can't she wait till morning?"

Apparently she could not. Faith, Marjorie loved her younger brother more than anything in the world. He had never been a bother to her. On the contrary, it had been a consolation for her to have someone to nurse when her mother and father had so tragically died in that accident, leaving her an orphan and in charge of a child of ten. So despite the fact that Marjorie hated being awakened in the middle of a night by bizarre telephone calls and hated having to wait on someone she barely knew even more, she did not complain to Mark. When Marjorie hung up the telephone, however, she cursed in a most unladylike manner. Just as she did so, she spied Richard's head rising from the couch.

"What's going on?" he asked mystified. He hardly ever heard his perfectly mannered cousin curse. Vernon also poked his head up on hearing Richard's inquiry. Their hostess looked at them with a tinge of shocking surprise on her face. From the way they looked, she quickly conjectured they had dozed off while watching a video.

"Oh. So you're still there. Don't you ever bother to answer the bloody phone when you hear it?"

"Sorry, old girl. I swear I didn't hear it," said Richard apologetically.

"Oh shut up," she bristled crossly.

"Who was it anyway?

"It was Mark."

"Mark? Anything wrong?"

"No. Only his student's coming back."

"Huh?"

"You know, the girl with the long legs?" Richard almost jumped from the coach. Yes, he remembered those legs well enough.

"What's the matter?"

"She's coming for her laptop which she very absentmindedly left behind."

"At this very moment?"

"Yes."

Hurray! The moment he had set eyes on the gorgeous blonde, Richard knew she was intended for him. Of course, she didn't know it yet. The truth was she was just the kind of woman he liked. Beautiful. Unfortunately, he was suddenly reminded that he had not been on particularly good terms with Cupid of late. In other words, his love life was quite a mess, if not bluntly dull. His last girlfriend had chucked him again (Yes, she did it several times) and gone back with her former boyfriend. Typical.

"What is it that she wants?" Vernon asked dreamily for confirmation as he stood up, brushing away the wrinkles on his trousers.

"She left her laptop behind in my study and she's coming back to pick it up." Marjorie explained again.

"Right now?"

Marjorie nodded. "Isn't she cheeky?"

"I can wait on her if you want," offered Vernon adjusting his ponytail. Richard eyed him suspiciously if not a little panicky. If Vernon was not gay as Mark declared, then he posed a real challenge. Vernon was...metrosexual? Yes. That was it, whatever that meant.

"Will you, honey?" asked Marjorie with enthusiasm. "I'd really appreciate it. I'm exhausted." Then she turned round to go to her bedroom but stopped in midstride. "You don't think she's the girl Mark was talking about this afternoon, do you?"

Shit. She's right. What if she is? But then again, it wasn't like Mark to attempt such a subterfuge to date someone, thought Richard.

Vernon shook his head with a slightly patronizing air. "Nope. Darcy would never meddle with someone from work, I grant you."

Marjorie's face fell. She had fancied the girl. Imagine nieces and nephews with dark hair and those beautiful azure eyes!

"Honestly, Marjorie. D'you really think Mark will ever get married again?" bellowed Richard.

To be honest she did not. But the idea simply enchanted her. She wanted Mark married with children yesterday.

"No. I was just kidding. Of course Mark would never get involved with someone from college."

"Of course not."

Vernon started to make for Marjorie's study.

"Where are you going, Vernon?"

"I'm going for the girl's laptop. She'll be here in a couple of minutes."

"NO. I'll get it," proclaimed Richard, prodding Vernon on his shoulder with his index finger.

"Hey, hey, hey! What's wrong with him?"

"Ahahaha. I smell testosterone here," laughed Marjorie.

"Why don't you ninnies go back to bed?" asked Rich scornfully.

Marjorie lowered her head and looked at him disdainfully. "Mmm. Definitely testosterone of the worst class," she snapped.

Richard, paying no mind to Marjorie's mock went directly into the study and returned, laptop in hand and a satisfied grin on his face.

"I suppose I can go to bed, now. You will get the door when she comes, won't you Rick?"

"You can rest assured I will."

"Good. Night-night, then."

"Good night."

"Aren't you going too?" asked Richard to Vernon hopefully.

"No. I'd like to have another look at those legs again. Wouldn't you?"

"Actually, I was thinking of inviting her for a drink."

"A drink? Here?"

"Yes. This is my home as well as Marjorie's, and she won't mind. Do you?"

"No. Not in the least."

"I'm glad to hear that. Now, if you will excuse me..."

"Oh, well. I guess I'll be in your way if I stay."

"You definitely will."

"In that case, I think I'll take myself to bed. Good night."

"Bye." When Vernon disappeared, Richard went over to a huge mirror that hung from the wall in the living room and took a look at himself in it. He had had a shower and changed into a clean shirt, but he thought the beautiful blonde was worthy of another change of clothes. He went in a hurry to his bedroom and put on his favourite shirt. He thought he looked better now. His skin had acquired a nice tan after he had spent the whole day pruning and shovelling in the garden. He felt his chin. It was a bit sandy, but then again the nascent bear gave him a casual look that added to his charm. He applied a drop of Givengy Gentleman au de toilette on his neck. Just in case. One never knows.

The web was prepared; he just had to wait for his victim to arrive. When he heard her car pulling up outside, he rose and went directly to the door without letting her ring the bell.

Richard was walking towards Jane with no idea of what he would say. Yet, in the matter of opening lines, he was definitely reliable.

"Hi," he said when he was near enough. "You must be Mark's student." He stared at her in a way that was unmistakable to Jane. She glanced at him with her coldest look.

"And you are..."

"Mark's cousin..."

"Hello, Mark's cousin. I just came for my..."

"I know. Your laptop."

"Yeah, I'm sorry to bother, but..."

"No bother at all. I was waiting for you..."

"So I see," she said full of sarcasm.

He drew closer. "Mark phoned," he explained. Extending his hand, he made a proper introduction of himself. One that would render him more than someone else's cousin. "I'm Rick. Richard, in fact. Richard Darcy. But please, call me Rick."

Despite herself, Jane smiled. "Please to meet you, Rick. I'm Jane Evans."

"Please, come in, Jane. The others are gone to bed already, but I think I can manage some entertainment. Let me offer you something to drink."

The invitation instantly put her on guard again. She was in no mood for that, as tired as she was. "Oh, no, thanks. I'm here only for my laptop." She was standing with her arms akimbo, a defiant look in her eyes.

"Oh come on. Don't break my heart. I already have your laptop, but you must accept a drink. That's my price for having waited up for you."

That certainly went bang on target. Jane suddenly realised the stranger in front of her had been very nice to have stayed up to wait for her until very late, and she was in exchange being universally rude to him. She felt a flush of embarrassment invading her face. "Oh, I'm so sorry. You're right. I apologise. This is no hour to..."

"I'm only joking," he said with a lighthearted tone. "Don't torture yourself. I hardly go to bed before midnight," he lied. "Come. Let me offer you something to drink and then we're all off to bed."

"Ok. One quick drink." She followed him inside and into the sitting room. The room was slightly dim and there was slow music in the background.

What's all this? she thought to herself. Okay, one drink and then I say goodbye to this Don Juan.

With great enthusiasm, Richard went triumphantly over to a small bar and behind a varnished counter where there were a great variety of bottles displayed on a large mirrored shelf. "What d'you want?"

"Whatever you're having," she answered. Richard smiled scintillatingly. Ok. You asked for it.

"So, you're Mark's student," he said as he poured some transparent beverage into the tumblers.

"Aha. Actually, he's my tutor," she said while taking a seat on the large and only sofa.

"And your field is..." he said as he handed her, her drink.

"Philosophy. Thanks."

"Interesting." Rick sat by her side of course, but not close to her, his arm stretched on the back of the sofa.

"Are you interested in philosophy?" she asked in between sips.

"Well, not particularly. Actually, not my cup of tea. But I do find it interesting anyway. What is it you're writing with Mark?"

"My thesis."

He raised his eyebrows in an invitation for her to explain all about it. Bingo! That was it. There was precious little Jane liked more than talking about her thesis.

"Well. It's about human rights and how these were disregarded so often by so called democracies."

"Mmm..."

"Have you ever heard of the mothers from Plaza de Mayo?

"Nope."

"Well, they are a group of ladies from South America who are fighting for their right to recover their children."

"They lost them?" he asked stupidly.

Jane didn't take the hint of the joke and she went on seriously, "Well, sort of. They disappeared without a trace during the dictatorship in the 70's. Some of them were young pregnant women. The mothers of Plaza de Mayo want to find those children. They're actually their grandchildren but were given away in adoption when their parents were killed during the revolution."

"I see."

"My paper revolves about that..."

Raising the bottle again, he signalled her to fill her glass again. "What will we toast to, then?"

Jane shrugged.

"Human rights?"

She smiled, and the smiled was unmistakably for him this time. "Human rights," she said delighted.

Their glasses clinked and they both sipped the drinks while holding each other's gazes.

"So, mothers of Plaza de Mayo. First time in my life I've ever heard about them."

"My paper is about their struggle to get heard and the impact of the press on their quest."

"Interesting indeed."

"What is this?" she asked referring to the drinks.

"Nothing much. Vodka."

"Mmm.

"You like it?"

"Oh yes."

"So you were saying..."

"I was saying...human rights are quite an issue these days. Did you know about Che Guevara?"

"What about him?

And so Jane began a thorough explanation of the issue of the revolution in Latin America in the 70's, which Richard seemed to be following while every now and then he filled Jane's glass. In between, Jane made a quick phone call home to tell Eliza she would be a little late. Her sister's voice sounded hoarse at the other end.

"Who is it?"

"It's me, you daft cow. Who else? Listen. Something came up. I will be getting home a little late."

"Great. I mean, ok."

"Are you ill, Eli?"

Eliza cleared her throat. "No. I'm fine. What time are you coming?"

She glanced over to Richard, who was following their conversation with a smug smile on his face. Jane blushed uncontrollably under his scrutiny and had to look away. "I don't know," she hissed on the phone. Richard smiled again and averted his gaze. He was holding his tumbler near his face, cooling his cheek with it. He congratulated himself that he had her where he wanted. Everything had gone smoothly. Chances were he had won a ticket to ride tonight. "You go to bed," suggested Jane to her sister. "I've got my keys."

"So, where were we?" she asked as she put her mobile back into her bag.

"He went to Central America on his bike..."

"Oh, yes. Can you believe it?"

By the time Jane had finished her exposition, Richard had recharged her glass well over a healthy measure and had come perilously close to her. The alcohol had combusted into a liberating elixir that rendered her stupidly joyous and vulnerable to Richard's advances. An hour later, they were already comfortably snogging on the same sofa, the issue of human rights long forgotten and quickly replaced by a promise of sex. Definitely a more sensual concept.

When she felt his hands on her bottom, Jane discovered in amazement that she liked it. That could only mean one of two things. Either she was in love with this man, or she was really drunk. Suspecting it was the second, she took his wandering hand with hers and redirected it to her back. "I think I must go now," she said reluctantly almost into his mouth. He drew her closer; his face had gone dark having already decided she would be willing to go all the way with him tonight, but still not decided whether to do it right there or to take her to his bedroom.

"Must you?" He had been fumbling with the zipper of her skirt and she felt the summer breeze coming from outside through the open window in her back. She nodded as she gingerly pulled up her zipper, but took no offence. "I don't shag a man at first sight, Mr Darcy. Not even when pissed like this. Rule number one." Her tone seemed flippant and mocking, but she was being serious about it.

To his surprise, Richard smiled. So she was tough. Well. Perhaps she would be willing some other time. "Good girl," he said, and he kissed her again, not deeply, but teasingly. "Are you sure? After all, rules are meant to be broken."

"Not this one. Besides, tomorrow's Monday."

"You get up early?"

"I must. And you?" she said as she tried to untangle herself from his arms.

"Not me. I'm on holidays."

"So am I. Starting today. But I must wake up very early to finish with this." She pointed at her laptop and rose to her feet but instantly sat again, swaying absurdly. "Gosh I can't stand!"

"Let me drive you home," he said leering.

She dismissed the offer with a shake of her head. "No. I'll call a taxi."

"No way. Give me your car keys. I'll drive you home."

"But you also drank."

"Oh, but vodka doesn't have an effect on me. Believe me. I could drive to Scotland right now."

"I don't want to be a bother."

"No bother. My pleasure."

"But if you drive my car...how are you going to come back?"

"Don't you have a spare bed?"

"Yes. But my little sister sleeps in it," she said grinning.

"Mmm. Then your bed will have to do for us both."

"I'll phone for a taxi."

"I was joking. I'll get a taxi back."

"Well, then."

"What does that bloody mean?" Mark asked furiously. Yet he was more embarrassed than angry.

"What? What did I say?" Eliza gabbled out a bit confused.

"About your sister's tutor?"

"Mr Bum Bandit?"

"What?" he bellyached. He could hardly believe his seemingly respectful student could have abused him so roundly behind his back. In fact, Mark looked completely crushed and agitated by the notion. He had never felt so humiliated in his life.

"Oh, that is what Jane calls him."

Mark, who had been sort of ...mmm...holding Eliza, immediately let go of her and she plopped onto the couch. Visibly disturbed, he blushed scarlet with anguish, "Oh bloody hell," he blurted out, then frantically ran his fingers through his hair.

Realising she had made a major mistake, Eliza could not find words to apologise. Still she was confused about what had caused Mark to feel so ill at ease with her comment. Perhaps Mark and Jane's tutor were close...mmm...better not dwell on the implications of such an acquaintance. "Oh, sod it! Did I put my finger in it?" she asked with genuine regret. Honestly, she had not expected him to react like that over a silly remark made over a silly teacher. All that she had meant was to satisfy her curiosity as to how Jane and Mark had gotten to know each other. "Mark...I'm sorry. Please, don't be upset."

"I'm not angry with you. It's just that..."

"Are you mad at Jane because she nicknamed her tutor?" she asked in disbelief. "What can be so wrong about it?"

"I am her tutor!"

"What do you mean you're her tutor?!" she asked, baffled.

He sat up on the couch and sent her an indignant look. "Just that. I am Jane's tutor, and don't you dare stare at me that way, you of all people!"

"Oh, but you can't be him. He's a pouffe!"

"Well, I am," he stated. Then quickly corrected, "Her tutor, I mean."

"You're Mr Bill No Mates?" exclaimed Eliza still bewildered with the news.

"Huh," he said between clenched teeth.

"Oh, my God. I'm sorry. Mark, I'm sooooo sorry. How embarrassing. I'm a complete berk. I had no idea. I... How on earth did Jane...?"

"And I'm not a pouffe," he declared still in a fit.

But Eliza, found the situation very amusing. There he was, stark naked, sporting the most enormous erection a girl would have been blessed to gaze at ? a material point against Jane's doubts regarding his sexual inclinations ? defending his virility.

Cocking her head childishly, she took an amused look at his protruding member.

"I know that," she supplied saucily.

He saw the direction of her gaze and smirked. "Right," he said. Then getting closer to her again, "But I fear this misunderstanding might have afforded me a bad reputation anyway. Must redeem myself." And he proceeded to do all manner of things in order to sustain his good name.

Needless to say, she was thoroughly convinced.

"I can't have you do that for me," Jane protested one last time, inwardly thinking Richard was the freakish pretender. First, he drowned her with vodka, faking the interested conversationalist, then he almost jumped over her, and now he pretended he was the perfect gentleman. Huh! "I'd better take a cab."

"No. If you're not fit to drive, it is my own fault. I'll drive you home. You can't hang around the street looking for cabs at this time of night. Not to mention I can't trust any driver with you in this sad state."

"Humph. I'm just fine. Only a little dizzy." Truth be told, it was the sexiest drunkenness of her life, not that she had been with Brahms and Liszt so very often, mind you. She had been close to surrendering to him ? her mind commanding her to abort the situation while her body was clearly begging her to have a go at shagging him right there on the couch. She was furious with herself. It was not like her to act or even think in this manner. She was the most self-composed girl in her family; a hard-working student of philosophy, she had had no boyfriend for longer than she could remember, which was both intelligent and dangerous at the same time. It was intelligent because all her sexual power was redirected to the service of her mind, thus allowing her to be in complete control of her life and focus her undivided attention on her career. But on the other hand, it was immensely dangerous, for when one's libido has been unattended for so long, one either falls into a most miserable foul mood or simply bursts quite unexpectedly.

"Listen. Why don't you stay the night?"

"No, no, no. I won't hear of it."

"Why not?"

"Do you fancy I'm some kind of bimbo ready to bunk up?"

Richard arched an eyebrow very sexily. "Well, I was only suggesting that you should stay in Mark's bedroom. However, if you're willing, I have no objections to sex." He stared at her very seriously, but then laughed out loud. "My God, Jane, I'm afraid you got totally blotto tonight. You'd better stay here."

Jane stared blankly at him, and hiccupped wildly. Next, she blinked twice so as to allow his words acquire meaning and then blushed uncontrollably. He was beaming at her with a boyish air that was so appealing. Stupid, stupid Jane! He's only being bastardly nice, and you keep thinking him an arrogant prat.

"I can't stay here."

Richard insisted. "My cousin's sleeping in her bedroom and...blast! You're right! Mark's friend has stayed and he's taken Mark's room. I'd almost forgotten. But you can still sleep in my room," he ventured.

Ha! Here we go again. There he was shamelessly suggesting she stay with him, obviously trying to have sex without any niceness or commitment. She was about to yell at him to sod off when he finished the phrase... "I can sleep comfortably enough here," he argued while patting the couch and smiling lovingly.

Oh blimey! I did it again. Why must he be so bloody nice?

"You're being lovely, but I simply must go," she said, gently fighting the strange tickling all over her skin from his proximity. She knew she was completely bladdered, and it would be unwise to stay the night with her hormones creaming her knickers over a stranger.

"Okay," he finally shrugged. "If you're not comfortable staying here, I'll drive you home."

That agreed, Richard helped her walk to the car. Evidently, she was surprisingly susceptible to the effect of spirits, for she would have never made it without his arm assuring her step.

However, as soon as she got into the passenger seat of her car, she dozed off like a heavy sack of potatoes.

Richard looked at her in disbelief. "Super. Now what am I going to do with you?"

Of course, Jane could not answer, which was good. She would have been terribly embarrassed since, not long after Richard had driven off, she had her face unceremoniously buried in Richard's lap. For hardly had he driven three minutes when Jane's head literally plopped on him, and now, each time he moved his legs to press the clutch or the brakes, her face rolled placidly on his lap, smearing his pants with saliva.

"Sod it! I hope she doesn't throw up!" he hissed to himself.

Far from it, Jane's face got perilously close to that part of his lap that contained his most precious and sensitive limb, and in her slumber, she circled Richard's waist as if he was a pillow and pressed her nose to his loins. It was ironic, really that she finally had her mouth so close to his...mmm...innermost desires and still she was completely unaware of it. Feeling a mixture of regret about his ruined plans and pleasure at having those gorgeous lips pressed so adoringly to his thighs, Richard drove miserably on, in perfect admission that the evening couldn't have ended worse, until he realised he had no idea where he was going, which definitely made it the worst evening of his life. Indeed, Jane had fallen asleep before he had been able to ask her for her address. He pulled over, close to the curb, and tried to wake her up.

"Jane." He called out her name as he shook her shoulder lightly.

No answer.

"Jane..."

Still no answer.

Richard sighed heavily.

It was better that way. If Jane had woken up, she would have wished she was dead, for the pillow in which her face had found such a pleasurable place to rest was getting uncomfortably harder. The unbelievable amount of vodka Richard had consumed was now affecting his emotions and making him feel as green as a lad. He took a look at her. She was oh so beautiful, though decidedly drunk, with her mouth half open as if she were about to swallow his shaft. Richard had to think even harder of something really dull to avoid falling into what would be unseemly behaviour in a member of the Darcy family.

It was getting unreasonably hot in the car, as if a heat wave had hit him. To his dismay, Richard couldn't fathom which button to press on the dashboard to turn on the air conditioner of Jane's car. By the time he got the hang of it, they were back at his home. He was wet with perspiration, his pants in a sad state.

Thankfully, the local Council's efforts notwithstanding, the streetlight was not working properly, thus enveloping his rather suspicious movements in jet darkness but for the headlights of the car. Struggling with Jane, who would not let go of her homemade pillow, he got out of the car and, going around to the other side, opened the passenger's door and pulled out Jane's unconscious body, whispering to himself a prayer that Marjorie would not spy him dragging a girl's body into the house. Ever so clumsily, he laboured Jane out and then swept her into his arms, kicked the door of the car close, the keys in his hands jiggling uncontrollably, threatening to awake the sleeping dwellers in the house.

He was battling with the lock when Jane sort of came around from her slumber and, eyes half opened, stared at him. He stood awkwardly in the doorway, not knowing what to say or how to explain his actions.

But Jane did not seem to be upset. On the contrary, she smiled lovingly. Then, putting her head on his shoulder, she clung to his neck to help him hold her and closed her eyes with a sigh.

Despite himself, Richard's heart lurched in his chest and he was transported into the strangest feeling ? an absolutely foreign emotion. It occurred to him that to the eye of a stranger they would look like a pair of newlyweds coming back from their honeymoon in the act of trespassing over the doorstep of their home for good luck.

To seal the bizarre fantasy, he looked down at his sleeping beauty and imagined her in her going away clothes, her blond hair peppered with grains of rice from well wishers, and not knowing why, he felt an absurd necessity to kiss her.

Just as he was scrutinizing her face, Jane opened her eyes again and held his gaze. Ever so slowly, she raised her hand and lightly brushed a hair from his forehead with great tenderness. Eyes searching, they looked at each other for the longest time until his eyes rested on her lips. Then she took his cheek in her hand and kissed him with such abandon, that Richard could not but respond in kind. Tenderly, sweetly, the kiss blossomed into a fully open flower as they melted in a passionate, urgent exchange, while he held her hard against him.

Eliza woke up in the middle of the night to find Mark still in bed with her. He was pleasantly snoring, his chest rising and falling in perfect unison with the sounds that escaped from his quivering lips. Far from annoying her, the intimacy almost thrilled her. Fancy him moving in with her! Or she with him! They would be doing quite different things than those that kept them busy presently, mind you. Things that would require them working together, like doing shopping lists or gardening.

But the homely Mark did not elicit her fancy as much as the one who had been making love to her a few minutes earlier. Her mind was immediately flooded with all sorts of fantasies about Mark. Mostly related to the various non-missionary positions they had tried on the couch.

Feeling marvellous, Eliza observed Mark as if he were the last specimen of the male species and belonged only to her. What could the future bring but happiness? Ever so quietly, she abandoned her bed where they had being hockling a few moments before and went over to the kitchen for some milk.

Throwing her head back, she swigged from the plastic bottle. With a white, milk moustache, she leaned against the kitchen wall and looked at the clock. Almost three. It was time to wake up Mark. He must go before Jane returned.

Jane! Just as she was opening the door of the refrigerator to put the milk back, she realised she knew nothing of Jane. Careful not to make a sound, she went over to Jane's bedroom and found it mercifully empty. That was a relief. Jane was a serious girl, and she would not like the idea that Eliza was no longer a virgin. Not to mention that she had surrendered to the charms of a complete stranger and that said stranger was sharing her single bed at this very moment. Jane would hit the roof if she found out.

Where could her sister be at this unseemly hour? Of course, she was not terribly worried because when she had talked to her, Jane seemed to be with someone. Maybe she went to Charlotte's place for a drink. She only hoped she would not drink alcohol. Jane simply could not drink. Got drunk with the first sip. Anyway, it was not like Jane to stay anywhere else but home when she was on holidays. There was no telling, so she took her mobile phone and prodded Jane's number with her index finger.

But just then her home phone rang. She ran to it like mad and unhooked it frantically.

It was Charlotte, speaking in a weird voice.

"Well?"

"Well what?"

"Don't what me, you frigid cow. Did he come?"

"He's here," she whispered into the speaker.

"I can't hear you!"

"I said...he's here."

Background noise, cheering and clapping, possibly a bunch of idiotic females, a fact that alerted Eliza that Charlotte was not alone on the phone, which also meant that Jane was definitely not with her. "Who's there?" she hissed in a low voice.

"Madge and Wend. We're sooo happy for you. Is he naked?"

"Are you pissed?"

"Mmm...maybe." (lots of giggles, and a sudden thud) "Ooops. Madge fell. Well, that settles it. We're definitely pissed. So?"

"So? What?"

"Is he?"

"What?"

"Naked."

Eliza tiptoed back to her room with the phone in her hand and leaned against her bedroom door, taking a fond look at him. "Yes," she sighed.

"Yeeeessss! Is he looking at you now?"

Turning around protectively, she scurried to the living room, whispering on the phone. "No, no...he's asleep."

"Oh! Oh my God! I have to have a look at him. Turn on the web cam."

"No way!"

"Oh, you cow! You're getting the hell of a shag, aren't you?" Wend's voice came muffled through the phone.

Eli laughed. She couldn't help it. Mark heard her and stirred.

"Oh, I gotta go. Big guy waking up."

"Oh, do tell us more! How big is his dick?"

"That's none of your business," she said faking disgust. The others giggled wildly.

But far from taking offence, Eliza felt an overwhelming rush of smug pride that her friends at the other end of the line would be fancying her boyfriend. When she hung up the phone, she was still giggling stupidly and almost forgot to call Jane.

With his heavenly package in his arms, Richard toiled up the stairs to his room, and placed Jane on his bed. The minute Jane felt the smooth linen under her, she opened her eyes and looked inquiringly at him, but closed them again, not before putting her arms up, wordlessly asking him to help her get undressed.

Richard chuckled. Obviously, she was half-asleep, but to what degree there was no telling. Of course, he helped her out of her blouse, then her skirt and sandals but when, still in slumber, she tried to get rid of her bra, Richard held his breath. Jane quickly unhooked the intimate garment with such ease that it left him wondering why he had always found the task so difficult. Two perfectly round breasts, pert as a pair of proud doves, were instantly on display, liberating at the same time an enticing womanly scent that excited every inch of Richard's body.

The next second he fell upon her, abandoning his ultimate decision to restrain himself from making love that night, making a mental search of the contraceptives he had momentarily forgotten he had placed in the back pocket of his trousers. Jane pressed her body, naked but for her knickers, against him and purred something he could not make out before she shrugged herself deeper into his embrace, close against his chest, inhaling his scent deeply.

"Oh, I love you so," she whispered making Richard cringe a little. Then she kissed him, coaxing him into following her in her desire to mate with him, which he did, I mean, followed her desires, but not fully, for he still doubted she was aware of what she was up to.

Contrary to all expectations, Richard panicked to hear her endearments. She was speaking of love and affection, not mere seduction. It seemed to him she thought she was with someone else...

Did he care? In all honesty he did. The idea that she was not really in body and soul lying with him was unsettling, even distracting.

What if she was trying to press him into something? This was supposed to be just a bit of fun. He would not dream of getting really involved with her; he had just met her, for God's sake! "Jane, are you sure you want this?" he said as he backed away a little.

Yet, she was so seductive and sexy that Richard felt his heart thud at the base of his throat in pure pleasure. She was now all over him, her hair in a tangle on his neck, her hands unbuttoning the front of his shirt, her light touch thrilling him to the point of unfamiliar ecstasy, both lying on his bed.

Amazingly, Richard, far from reacting as any male would, that is, like a lust-crazed beast, painfully tried to detach himself from her. "Jane. Are you sure?"

Her mouth soon found his again and she kissed and sucked his lips with adoration while her hands travelled the length of his body, one of them obsessed with unzipping his trousers.

"Nooooo. No, no, no. Nooo," he wailed while fighting her scurrying hand. This was going too quickly, and he had the feeling it would be best to stop it before things escalated more. (Could things escalate more he wondered?) "Jane. No, Jane. Stop this." But Jane was all hands, giggling uncontrollably since she had successfully slid her hand through his zipper and was unsophisticatedly stroking his erection.

Giddy with lust and pride, Richard fought the wild instincts that were hammering him to forget all niceties and plug her once and for all. He wanted to shake her awake so she would be fully aware of what they were doing, but somehow he knew too well that, had Jane been in all her senses, he would not have found himself in such a crazy situation.

Why he was so resolved to avoid taking advantage of the moment when a few hours before he would have shagged her at the first sign, he could not completely fathom yet. Perhaps, in the little interval of their last conversation, she had inspired respect in him. Principles you might call them. Yes, she had made it very clear that she was not willing to participate in casual sex. She was not that kind of girl. No, she was a formidably intelligent woman, not the stupid type that usually let him shag them. To take advantage of her sad state now would be unthinkable, if not impolite, and perhaps even equivalent to rape, for she would hate him the morning after.

He did not know why, but he did not want her to hate him.

So he cast a longing glance over her breasts, and then looking frantically around, spotted one of his T-shirts and quickly grabbed it in a daunting effort to pull it over her head, thus avoiding temptation. With amazing self-control he tried one last time to put her to bed.

"Now, be a good girl," he said as he pulled her hand off his trousers for the third time in a row. "I must go to my... No, Jane."

Just then, her mobile phone rang. They froze. Richard let go of her but found that instead of raising to answer it, she plopped herself on the mattress and closed her eyes. A bit unsettled, Richard quickly fished for the damnable mobile in her handbag and answered, still gasping for air, hoping against all odds that it would not be her boyfriend or her father.

He opened the mobile and coughed into it instead of saying the usual salutation.

A bewildered voice at the other end asked for Jane.

Continue reading Lucia's story here