As the cool September evening air made its presence known through my tights and up my skirt Emma moved her hands down and then up under my blazer, fee...ing her way along my shirt until she could make out the bra band, before using her thumbs to feel the cups of the bra.I responded in kind by running my hands up under her blazer and rubbing her back around her bra band. After a while I moved my hands down her back and onto her skirt-clad arse, all the time maintaining my kisses. Meanwhile, Emma. It had taken all of my willpower not to kiss him. I loved him. Loved him so much, and I still do.Neither of us had ever been the popular sort: both a little too scrawny to be sportsmen, both a little too spotty to be attractive to the opposite sex (not that that bothered me). So we'd clung together after junior school, staying close to each other through secondary, for safety as much as anything else. And in that time I fell in love with him.Every moment with him was so wonderfully ecstatic I. While I was asleep, Nanny stood over my cot, arms folded across her amplebosom. She wore what she typically wore when I visited her, a dark bluenursing sister's uniform dress from the 1970's over her mature figurewith a wide black elastic belt, dark tights and black court shoes. Herdark hair was done up in a bun and her eyes were framed by a large pairof tortoise-shell spectacles. A gold pendant hung from her neck with theletter 'A' on it; her real name I didn't know but was actually Anne,. I had dreamed about him, and I vaguely remembered waves of heat and cold washing over me. I wanted him next to me, in the circle of my arms, pressed to me, and in some indefinable way, inside me. I don't understand. I've never had feelings like that before. I'm afraid. I'm lonely. I'm curious.Morris:I finally got around to the books I'd hidden in my suitcase. Under my dress shirts. Wrapped in butcher paper. Books I'd found in a grubby little shop on Canal Street, in between the shops on.