LITMIR.BIZ

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stifled a laugh. Within a couple of days of getting here I’d realised that that was the Brits’ answer to anything.

      She went out to the kitchen, and I sat down among the cushions on the seen-better-days sofa, stretched out my legs and tried to make myself at home and calm the rising sense of dread.

      An ancient tabby cat appeared at my feet from behind a box tower and rubbed itself up against my ankles. It was followed by a younger one, which settled itself on the worn rug in the middle of the room and licked its paw, watching me as if it were sizing me up.

      Jenny came back into the room. This was going to be tricky, I could see. It was one thing to talk about sex with my mates down the pub or kicking a ball around in the park. It was going to be quite another to switch my brain into a gear that could talk about such stuff with someone like her.

      And then I remembered what I’d advised Rob. To ‘be every woman’s dream’. To do what he always did but just to be a bit more of a gent as he went about it. That wasn’t bad advice, even if I thought so myself. Mind you, it wasn’t as if he’d had the chance to test it out.

      Jenny had two matching floral china mugs in her hands, and handed me one with a hesitant smile. She sat down a few inches from me.

      ‘Thank you. That’s a pair of handsome cats you’ve got there,’ I said.

      ‘Do you think so?’ she blushed, as if it was a long time since anyone had complimented her on anything.

      We drank our tea for a few horribly silent moments, until I placed the mug down beside my feet and gently took Jenny’s hand in mine. She gave me a bashful smile, the lines around her eyes creasing a little, and funnily enough taking years off her. She reminded me of some scrubland creature you could only get up close to if you took it step by step, real quiet and slow.

       No wonder Rob hadn’t even got to first base.

      I wasn’t quite sure what the next move should be. But at least Jenny and I knew why I was in her home. And though I couldn’t quite see it now, clearly she had a thread of steel running somewhere through her to pick up the phone and make the call in the first place. And not just once. She knew what she wanted, even if the challenge remained for me to move on from the friendly small talk without scaring her off.

      ‘Shall we go to your bedroom?’ I all but whispered.

      Jenny bit her lip and nodded and we rose to our feet together. Still holding her hand, I remained a step behind her and followed her around the wall of boxes into a room off the hallway.

      It was a bedroom only in name. There were more boxes but not even a mattress. Just sheets and a duvet and matching pillows set out on the carpet in the corner of the room. In place of a wardrobe were a couple of open suitcases draped with her clothes.

      Jenny must have sensed my disquiet, much as I fought to hide it.

      ‘It’s not as if I get much sleep anyhow. I work all hours.’

      ‘It’ll be fine, Jenny,’ I replied, and squeezed her hand as I stared down at her makeshift bed and wondered how we’d get from here to the actual sex. I chewed on the inside of my cheek, then took a deep breath and turned to face her.

      ‘Would you like to sit with me on your bed?’

      She nodded and I made an ungainly move towards the duvet and trusted she’d follow my cue.

      Head in the right direction and somehow we’ll get there.Surely.

      We were sitting beside each other now. I threw her a tight-lipped smile as I gave her the once-over and worked out a plan of action. I didn’t say anything but reached out and took hold of the hem of Jenny’s jumper and raised it a couple of inches.

      She looked back at me with her deep, dark eyes for a beat, then took the hint and stretched her arms behind her back and drew the jumper over her head. She shook it out, folded it and placed it on top of the pile of clothes in one of the suitcases. If we kept at this speed, the hour would be up before either of us got naked. Maybe that wasn’t the worst that could happen. For either of us.

      Jenny ran her fingers through her hair. Removing the jumper had taken pounds off her. She wore a short-sleeved cream blouse. I still had my shirt on. Which meant that we were sort of on the same page.

      ‘I tell you what,’ I instructed as I reached for my own top button, ‘I’ll undo my shirt the same time as you undo yours. Okay?’

      Jenny nodded in response but she still didn’t say anything. Her fingers fiddled with the little button at her throat and the cloth slowly parted. Her fingers dropped to the next in line but she kept her eyes from mine the whole time.

      When she’d finished, her blouse was open and I could see her white bra beneath, but her head was still down and she was looking at her hands in her lap like she was ashamed.

      I’d peeled my own shirt off without thinking. That’s just how it was back home. The climate made it easier to remove your clothes, not that you didn’t have to mind the sun. I’d been told about the Page 3 girls the Brits had in their papers before I came, but the people here didn’t seem like that at all. They wore layers because the weather changed so often. It had to be a really hot day by their standards for them to relax and strip down, and then it was like they did it with a real relief. Here with Jenny, I could see that it was vital that I respected a client and how comfortable or not she felt at every stage. The way to do that was to mirror her speed of undressing—though to take care to chivvy her along if I had to.

      There was nothing I could do, it seemed, but spell out to Jenny what was needed and only hope that I didn’t scare her. I feared that if I went at her pace we’d never get anywhere. And the longer it took, the more gruelling it’d be for me too.

      ‘Jenny, slip off your skirt and underwear, will you, and while you’re doing that I’ll get myself ready.’

      There. I’d said it. I’d made it clear what came next and there was no going back. I pulled off my jeans and my Calvins, and fished in a pocket for a condom. By the time I’d turned back towards her she was stretched out and waiting. She’d taken her blouse off but kept her bra on.

      I realised I’d had nothing to worry about. Jenny wasn’t bad for her age, I could say that. She had the soft edges I’d expected, something to hold on to, which wasn’t the type of woman I was used to, but wasn’t something that repulsed me as I’d feared either. I was still going to have to give myself a helping hand though. She hadn’t stirred me that much.

      Jenny’s eyes were fixed above my waistline all the while I nestled down beside her. I wrapped my arms around her and held her close for a few minutes to put her at her ease. One of her fingers drew a little nervous circle round and round on my chest.

      ‘I’m just going to protect myself,’ I whispered as I pulled myself gently away from her, ‘and then I’m going to make love to you.’

      Just then I realised that the words I used and the way I spoke were as important as the sex act itself to Jenny. She was as nervous as hell and it was up to me to take account of that and make things good for her. But it wasn’t just about Jenny. Whatever happened after this, this was my first professional job. If I thought too much about that, I knew my performance would suffer—and Jenny’s enjoyment. Yet if I forgot I was providing a service, it wouldn’t be fair on her either. It was a fine line to walk. I fixed my mind back on my client. That was surely the key.

      I took as much care as any guy can when he’s jutting into a woman. Jenny gasped and clung tight to me as my body lapped and battered against her then juddered to a halt.

      I lay against her saying nothing for a couple of minutes and she stroked the back of my head.

      ‘This isn’t my first time, you know, Luke, though I’m somewhat out of practice,’ she said in a quiet but matter-of-fact voice.

      That took me by surprise. It was as if the sex had broken her silence. I propped myself up on one arm to look at her

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