We returned to his room and sat on the seats by the window. Only now did the veneer of civility which had dressed the evening begin to crack. Now we were getting down to the purpose of it all.

"You're very beautiful," he said.

"Thank you."

"I love your smile. It's very cheeky. Knowing and innocent at the same time."

"People have told me that before." I smiled again, as knowingly as I could muster. Just get on with it, I thought.

"And you have a gorgeous body, too. You look quite delightful in that dress. You look... elegant and stylish, I think. And demure, but sexy too. Very sexy."

"Thank you again."

"I'd rather like to see you take it off."

"You would?"

"Yes, I would. If you wouldn't mind. Nice and slowly. Look, can I lay my cards on the table up-front? I don't want to have sex with you tonight. But I do want to watch you, if you don't mind."

"Okay, no problem."

"And at the end, perhaps, I might like to come." He looked at me expectantly. "On you, if you didn't object."

"No, no, that's fine." I stood up and smiled. "Why don't you go to the bathroom and slip into a dressing gown, while I fix some more drinks." He seemed to relax, and I guessed the previous conversation had been as much an ordeal for him as it was for me. I poured some wine and took a big slurp. He returned in a couple of minutes, swathed in a huge, white hotel robe and I guided him towards the bed.

"Okay," I said huskily. "So you like this dress, huh? And you like my body? And you wanna see more?" I began to dance, feeling foolish and aroused at the same time. He was watching me avidly as I began to unbutton the dress. In truth, it wasn't a dress for striptease, as the buttons were at the back, and no matter how seductively I tried to move, I was still essentially fiddling behind my back most of the time.

Eventually I gave up and lowered myself towards him. "Help me," I whispered and he undid the final three buttons. I swung away again, holding the dress to my chest and dancing on the spot. Slowly, I dropped my hands and began to pull the dress from my shoulders, downward, down, until my cleavage began to show. I turned round and shook my hips as I slid the dress free from my arms and let it fall to my waist, to my knees, to my feet. I turned and faced him, smiling.

His hand was on his crotch and I could see a bulge beneath his robe. I continued my dance and unclasped my bra, toying with it, sliding it away from my breasts and then covering them again, using my arms to conceal myself, teasing him, drawing out the moment before I dropped the bra and revealed my breasts for him.

"Beautiful," he sighed, squeezing himself. I cavorted around the bed once more, now wearing only panties and stockings. I did feel sexy, I admit it. It was nice having my body so openly admired, and I found that I was almost looking forward to peeling off my panties for him. Almost. I toyed with the waistband, hooking my thumbs inside it and pulling at the panties, sliding them down and showing glimpses of my buttocks. I turned away from him and spread my legs slightly, then started to bend, all the while tugging at the panties. Looking behind me, I watched as Nigel watched me unveiling my backside. My panties fell to the floor and I slowly straightened up, turning to face him, completely naked.

"Oh my God," he breathed. I walked towards him, close, until I was standing right next to the bed, my bald pussy inches from his face.

"Do you still like it?"

"More than ever."

"Want to see more?"

"Yes."

I ran my hand over my mons towards my slit, fingers stretched forward, reaching. I parted my lips and opened myself to him, showing myself pink and moist. He sighed and swallowed, and his brow was dappling with sweat. Although still embarrassed by the situation I was in, I was pleased by the reaction I was provoking. I started to play with my clitoris, running my middle finger round and round its edges, feeling the first, mild waves of excitement filter through my body.

"Please," he said, "lie on the bed. Let me watch you." He rolled off the bed and I stretched myself on to it. "No, not like that. Across it. Feet on the floor." I settled myself with my knees at the side, legs dangling towards the floor, and lay back. "Yes, that's it. That's it." He dragged a chair over and placed it directly in front of me. "Now," he whispered. "Play with yourself for me."

I must confess this was quite intimidating. He was less than a metre from me. His knees were between mine, and if he reached forward he could touch my pussy. I stared at the ceiling and slid my fingers across my slit, drawing some of my moisture, sliding them between my lips and parting myself for him to see. I began to stroke myself, up and down my labia, scratching and tickling with index and fourth finger, grazing my nails against the sensitised skin. Gradually, I began to use my middle finger on my clit once more, using the nail to drag slowly and delicately against it. I used my left hand to tweak my nipples in turn, twisting and teasing them, creating little spurts of pain which turned instantly to pleasure.

My clitoris was hard and my vagina soaked with my juices. I was sure he would be able to smell me. All the while, I found what I was doing difficult, but at the same time it was undeniably exciting. I looked down at him and saw that he was watching me intently, his face betraying no emotion, but his breathing slow and shallow, indicating fierce concentration. I gasped as my nail brushed across my clit and sent a frisson of energy through me. I parted my legs as wide as I could, opening myself fully and crying out as I slid a finger deep inside. I was soaked, and my finger was coated with my juices. Raising it to my mouth, I slid it between my lips and sucked it clean, tasting the sweetness and relishing the soft, smooth texture.

He was playing with himself beneath his robe, and I wanted to see, I wanted to observe the reaction I was causing in him. I could tell from his eyes, though, that he was satisfied. I felt a flush of excitement run through my body, washing hot over my brow and settling in a rumbling, rolling torrent in my stomach.

"Turn round," he said. "Let me see you do it from the back."

I turned onto my stomach and slid my hand under my belly, snaking it towards my pussy again. Raising my bum, I started to masturbate once more, flashing my fingers downwards so he would have a good view.

"Okay?" I asked.

"Yes, perfect. Just raise your bottom a little." I pushed my weight onto my chest and thrust my arse up at him. "Ah yes, that's it." This was a compromising position, to be sure. He would have a view of everything from this angle. I couldn't see, but I sensed he had moved even closer. I even fancied I could feel his breath on my back. I pushed my other arm into action, using my left hand to work on my clitoris and leaving the right to play up and down my labia. I was getting hot now, distinctly turned on by the moment, by its strangeness and by the curious intimacy of anonymity. I knew nothing about him except his name - and even that was probably false - and yet we were sharing a fabulously intimate moment.

He rose to his feet and stood above me. "Do you mind?" he asked. "Would you mind if I came on you?"

"No, please." I definitely could feel his breath on my arse now, and I knew his face was right up close, watching every detail, drinking in my aroma. The knowledge fizzed through my body in a series of intense waves and I felt an urge to open myself up more for him. I raised my bum higher, spreading my knees, giving him a clearer view of my cunt and arsehole. It felt incredibly dirty, and I was riding on the crest of excitement, preparing to come.

I felt his legs against mine and heard him panting. I knew he was standing behind me, wanking. I got onto my knees, raising my arse high in the air so that it would be close to his cock as he wanked himself. "Oh God," he sighed, "I'm coming."

"Yes, come for me. Come for me please. Come all over me."

I felt a spurt land on my arse, then another and another. He was moaning loudly with each ejaculation and I began to laugh as his sperm slid down my back.

"Yes, yes," I sighed. "That's it."

His climax subsided and I lay on my belly once more, sighing. I felt his hands on my back and buttocks, and he began to smooth his come into my skin, slowly and deliberately. When it was done, he sat back and I turned round. He was covered by his robe once more, a satisfied smile on his face.

"Was that okay?" I asked.

"Molly, that was perfect. Thank you so much."

He asked me not to shower until I got home, and so although I was still sticky with his come I dressed again and we had coffee by the window, looking out onto a deserted street. At half past two in the morning, he discreetly passed me an envelope.

"For you, my dear, as a token of my appreciation for a wonderful evening."

"Thank you very much. It was a pleasure." I tucked it into my handbag while he called a taxi. By three o'clock I was home, lying in the bath, reflecting on a day which may prove a dead-end in my life, or a new beginning.