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Japanese tourist snapped a picture of it. That set her off. She switched on the ignition and put the car in gear. Mr Craven stepped into the road to hold up the traffic while she pulled into the stream heading towards Bond Street. She was on her way home.
    Charles and Tiffany Marsdon had an arrangement. They called each other for sex and fun, that was it. Uncomplicated and very satisfying. They liked each other enormously but loved other people. Sex was the way their relationship started and that was the way they meant it to continue. They were discreet but not secretive.
    Charles was unimaginably sexy and decadent, the most experienced man she had had since her first lover. She had become a lady of sexual delights for him as well. The Honourable Tiffany Marsdon had been a thirteen-year-old upper-class beauty, an innocent flirt who teased men with her looks and happy-go-lucky charm. Inevitably she had been seduced by a much older man,a friend of her family, who had then taken her under his wing. It was he who had introduced her to the wonders and sublimity of exciting intercourse, unconventional sex and its many manifestations. He had addicted her to sex and when, after several years of their being together in an on-and-off relationship that afforded her many boyfriends as well, he was through with her, he was clever enough to suggest Charles as his replacement, causing neither Tiffany nor himself any pain or scandal. No hearts had been broken, hers merely corrupted.
    The changeover quite suited Tiffany who had understood the difference between carnal love, which she and her first lover had had for each other, and real love, something she had now found with a young doctor. It was mutual. The doctor was sexually besotted with Tiffany but had not nearly such a strong libido as she did, nor was he aware of just how strong hers actually was.
    Charles was the solution to Tiffany’s sexual drive; she was an admirable solution to his. For the moment they suited each other and probably would long after the doctor returned from a visit to India. Only then they would be even more discreet than they were being now. There was less need, for the doctor was working in a hospital in Bombay for a year. He and Tiffany had decided they would seek a future together on his return if they still felt about each other as they had when they parted.
    Charles opened the door and Tiffany walked into hisarms. He swept her off her feet and carried her to the sofa next to the fireplace. He closed his eyes and held his breath for a moment, so thrilled was he by the feel of her fingers wrapped round him. She hadn’t bothered even to open his belt, merely slipped her hand under it. She felt a shiver of excitement just to have that not quite flaccid flesh in her hand. Tiffany adored a man’s body, the scent, taste and feel of his sex, and all things erotic – Charles’s body and sexuality most especially.
    With her free hand she opened his belt and unzipped his trousers. The sound of the zip shattered the silence of the room, focusing their sexual desire. He sprang to life in her hands. Rock hard, he throbbed for her. He slid his hand under her skirt and tore away the patch of white silk between her legs. She gasped, and once again, when he thrust eager and searching fingers deep inside her.
    ‘You’re bad. God, are you bad!’
    He laughed. ‘You’re delicious, warm and moist, slippery as satin.’
    They were gazing into each other’s eyes. Lust had taken them over. Nothing in the world mattered for them but the erotic: coming, the taste of each other. They wanted the beat of their sexual embrace. Their hearts and minds were racing towards the pleasure they would give each other, that it seemed no one else in this world could or would give them.
    He sat down on the settee with her still in his arms and swung his feet on to the sofa. She placed pillows behind his head and shoulders, and slipped round untilshe was on top of him. She went to her knees,