Hespent the day dressed in her lingerie and stockings, clunking around ina pair of his mother's pumps. He had the house to himself so oftenthat it be...ame routine and he had to admit the chance that he might getcaught only added spice.He wore his hair long; well longish, as did most Harrovians, just belowhis collar. It was whispy, blonde and curly and his father hated it;said he looked like a London rent-boy. Charles would brush it out andcentre part it with a fringe while he was dressed. Not with my previous lover. It had been raw and intense and hadn't just served to balance hormones. It had been greedy and primal. It had reached down to the soul. My train of thought was interrupted by his hand slipping free from my waist his body shifting away from mine and rolling to the other side of the mattress. Such a predictable move. And wait for it... a split second later came the soft snore. He was a good guy. Really, he was. But it couldn't have been more obvious things weren't. More

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