He quietly closed the door, sliding the lock home. He walked up behind her. “Don’t move Rebecca, its Aiden.” He put his hand on her waist, his o...her hand on her shoulder; he bent to kiss her neck. She let out a small moan, leaning her head back against his chest. “Aiden, what are you doing?” Her voice held not the slightest hint of reluctance. He knew she wanted this as much as he did. They needed this. Release. He continued kissing her neck, working her into a state of tightly wound desire. At. There's another one in North London that I'm going to see on Saturday morning. That's more like as far as the rent goes." Well don't rush yourself. You're welcome to stay here as long as you need." Thanks, Uncle Rob." She smiled gratefully. "How was Andrea's concert?" Hardly Andrea's but it was excellent. They sang beautifully and the choirboy had an angelic voice. By the way, I'm going to Verdi's Requiem at the Albert Hall on Saturday week. I've got a spare ticket. Would you like to come with. Then I saw a face watching me. My heart kicked. I gasped “oh shit!”“Well that was quick” the woman chuckled. To my twenty year old eyes she looked about middle aged, rosy faced, wisps of greying hair blowing around her woolly hat. I was frantically pulling up my jeans and pants, fumbling to cover myself. “Looks to me like you really needed that” she said, stepping into the ruin through a gap in the wall “and I suppose the grass could do with a bit of fertiliser” I was putting my rucksack back. It still has some of the original wood in places. It's beautiful, and smells of the sea. The wooden rails are soft and slightly wet under my hands. Your feet scuff a little on the deck as we walk to the bow. My camera is out, and you hear the clicking shutter. Damn kid and his camera... I'm not pointing it at you, though. This is a wonderful old boat, and there's nobody in sight. A photographer's dream. The gun deck is mostly clear, and dark. Light streams in through the open gun ports, casting.