In the morning, I find her sitting in an armchair near the window, reading a dull-looking law textbook. She's in a soft and expensive-looking pair of pale yellow silk pyjamas. There's a nice smell of fresh coffee from the machine in the kitchen. She looks up and I can see a flash of something – maybe nervousness – in her eyes behind her reading glasses, but I smile at her. I also notice she can't help flick her eyes down my vest top and pyjama shorts, no matter how nervous she is. I walk over to her unhurriedly and lean in, resting a hand on her arm. Her eyes flick down again, to take in the shape of my breasts in my top - and I don't think it hurts at all that waking up in Diana's (very comfortable) spare bed has made me slightly horny just in itself, so the bumps of my nipples are also quite plain through the material.

I like the smell of her, that natural smell before she's got ready for the day. Her lips are apart, despite what her eyes are saying, and she tilts her head automatically as I lean in to kiss her. It's only a quick kiss, but her lips are wet and soft and betray her desire so I kiss her again straight afterwards, for longer. Neither of us lets it go anywhere, but it's a nice kiss.

The feel of her glasses on my cheek as we kiss is surprisingly nice. I think, randomly, that her “studious lawyer in pyjamas” look is quite sexy. She brushes some hair back from my cheek, where it's fallen across our faces. 'Good morning, Fiona.'

'Morning. That bed's lovely.' I trail my hand down her arm, then start to walk back towards the kitchen. I wonder if she remembers how it felt as I came against her leg last night, and if she liked it as much as me.

'You slept well, then?' I can feel her watching me. I hope that she's not just watching me but really looking at my body, seeing it in my tight shorts and flimsy top, that she's desiring me, testing her self-control. I lick my lips and enjoy the lingering taste of her kiss. She clears her throat. 'There's some tea in that cupboard, on the right. Or help yourself to coffee. Or fruit juice. Whatever takes your fancy.'

The coffee smells good, but there seems to be plenty of it in the machine so I decide to have one later. I make tea and go to sit on her sofa, tucking my legs up on the seat. I nod at her book. 'Do you always work first thing on a Sunday? How long have you been up anyway?' The clock in the kitchen has said it was quarter to nine.

She grins and closes the book, marking her place with a finger. 'Only about half an hour. And no, I try not to work on my own time too much, but it happens sometimes. In this case, something occurred to me yesterday about a case we're preparing at the moment. I thought I'd take advantage of a quiet moment to look it up.'

I grin back at her. 'Before I came barging in to distract you?' I slip a hairband off my wrist and gather my hair together and fix it into a ponytail.

She watches me. 'Absolutely.' She opens the book again and pushes her glasses back up her nose, but not before openly letting her gaze wander over me. 'And a very lovely distraction you are, Fiona. If you don't mind, though, I will just finish now I've started.' She flicks forward a few pages and clicks her tongue. 'I'll be about twenty minutes, no more. Do you mind?'

I shrug. 'Whatever.' I quite like the way that she feels awkward about bringing work into our relationship, but can't help herself. I don't mind, because if it weren't for work, we wouldn't have met.

She looks relieved. 'Thank you. I won't make a habit of it.'

I get up and cross the room to her chair. She lets me kiss her quickly, then I kneel down next to her legs and rest my hand on her knee. 'It's fine, Diana. If we're going to start sharing more of our lives, this is going to happen.' I bump my hip against her leg and like the way she pushes back. 'It's going to be part of it, like I might have to do the same at some point, for my accountancy exams or something.' I shift to rest my cheek on her am and kiss her hand. I wonder if it's so nice to kiss her hand because it feels so nice whenever I hold it too. 'And it's only like when you come down on a Friday at work and sit there quietly until I've finished.' I can't stop myself getting turned on by the feel of her body warm through the thin material of her pyjamas. I was going to offer to make breakfast while she read, but my pulse is beginning to quicken at the thought of distracting her from her work in a way she maybe wasn't expecting.

She rubs her knee up and down my side a little. 'It might take a bit of adjusting to, having someone else around a lot.' She looks at me seriously and turns her hand to stroke my face. I hug her knees, and she runs her fingers through my ponytail. 'I want you around a lot, Fiona. I hope you know that.'

'Thank you for saying. And I'm glad.' I make my move and start to kiss her midriff through the soft silk of her pyjamas. She keeps her hand on the back of my head, and I half-expect her to stop me but she doesn't. With the other hand, she lifts her book up, still keeping her place with a finger, and rests it out of the way on the arm of the chair.

She sighs as my mouth moves over her pyjama jacket, sliding it over her skin as I kiss her though the material. 'Fiona?'

I ignore her and part her knees and move to kneel between them, and she sighs again. I glance up at her and see that her eyes are closed and she is breathing hard. Her obvious arousal excites me too. With one hand I stroke the outside of her leg, enjoying the slide of the pyjama trousers over her warm skin, while I let my breasts rub lightly over the insides of her thighs. My nose nudges at the pyjama jacket between two buttons, and my lips touch a small patch of her skin.

She groans softly, and her hand strokes the back of my neck. 'Fiona...I...oh...'

I 'mmmm' onto her skin and she groans again and stops trying to say anything. I use my free hand to undo the bottom two buttons of her pyjama jacket and push the flaps apart so I can kiss her bare navel. I've only ever kissed Diana's mouth and hands up to now, and it is very erotic to kiss another part of her body. I get sharp pangs of pleasure at the feel of her skin under my lips and tongue: soft, smooth, warm, almost responsive to my kiss. A light but unmistakable whiff of arousal tickles my nostrils and I wonder if it's me or her, or – more likely – both of us.

After kissing her midriff for a while, I can feel that she is turned on enough to let me go further. I undo the rest of her pyjama jacket, slowly enough to give her a chance to stop me if she wants. She just sits there breathing hard, her eyes still closed. I kneel up and brush her pyjama jacket open, running my hands over her bare breasts. She has beautiful breasts, and I hold my breath as I gingerly feel their shape, hardly daring to believe I am seeing them, touching them. They are soft under my hands and as I run a finger across her erect nipples, she breathes in sharply.

'Oh, Fiona,' she whispers, but this time her voice drips with her arousal. No hint of wanting me to stop at all. She grunts in pleasure as I slightly dreamily feel her nipples again with my fingers and run my thumbs along the soft underside of her breasts. She slides down in the seat a little.

I press up between her thighs, enjoying the way she just lets them fall more open for me. I kiss my way up her exposed body, quite deliberately rubbing my breasts and body against the front of her pyjama trousers. The smell of arousal is stronger now, and I can feel her heat through the silk. Her hand in my ponytail is a bit limp, and effectively my mouth can go where it wants because she certainly isn't trying to control my head.

Her breasts taste of her natural morning smell. I run my tongue up between them and like the way she shudders. She shudders again, several times, as I run my tongue over the full shape of each in turn. Her nipples spring back against my tongue and my teeth, and I enjoy pulling at them to make her gasp. On my navel, I am very conscious of the heat of her though her pyjamas, and I reach down quickly to lift my vest top a little so that I can feel the crotch of her pyjamas press onto my bare skin.

It's then my turn to gasp as I feel how the hot, wet material sticks to me. I take one of her nipples into my mouth fully and move a hand down to touch her through her pyjamas. She lets out a low groan and twitches her hips up onto my hand, and I begin to circle a finger where I know it will feel good for her.

***

I get away with it for much longer than I expect. I can feel one of her legs tremble against my side. I am enjoying the feel of her erect nipple on my cheek as I kiss her breast, and just easing off a bit with the pressure from my finger on her when she gently tugs at my ponytail. 'Uhhh, Fiona...please...please stop...'

I circle my finger against her one last time, and stroke my tongue and lips around her bare breast lingeringly, before moving back a little. 'Sorry, Diana. I got carried away.'

She actually looks flustered. Flushed and aroused, too. 'No, please. You are so gorgeous.' She strokes my hair and cheek and neck. 'I'm sorry, Fiona. I'm...it...' She sighs, and tugs her pyjama top back across herself. 'I can't do this just now.'

I help her do the buttons up again, and really don't mind we've stopped. I could have carried on, but now I can imagine her actual breasts under her clothes, and there's no way I'll ever forget how good they taste. I ignore her confusion, her awkwardness, and lean up to kiss her lips. She kisses back firmly, even as she shifts in the seat to sort her pyjamas out. I reach out and stroke her hair for a moment. She turns her head into my hand and openly and carefully takes in the whole of my body and legs and face. I like the raw lust in her eyes. I clear my dry throat. 'OK, um. So, you finish your reading. I'll make some breakfast in a minute.'

'Yes. Good idea.' Her voice is soft, and she holds my gaze steadily. 'Fiona? Thank you. For understanding. We have time, don't we?'

I kiss her quickly. 'I'm happy we're together, Diana. We've got as much time as we want.' I draw back and rearrange my top a little, liking the way she admires my breasts yet again. 'I'm going to get dressed. Then, I'll sort out breakfast. What do we want, anyway?'

She points into the kitchen. 'I bought those croissants yesterday. They just need warming through in the oven, I think.'

'OK.' I brush her cheek with the back of my hand. 'Well, happy reading.'

***

The shower is nice. The water is hot on my sensitive skin, and it feels good. I'm still aroused, quite a lot, and I have to admit that the feel of the water running over me, down between my breasts and my legs, does nothing to calm me down. I run my hands over my breasts and pinch my nipples and remember how good Diana's tasted, and I enjoy that so I keep going. It's not long before my hand follows the rivulets of water down my body and between my legs. The pressure of my finger on myself shoots intense, hot bursts of pleasure through me and I suddenly couldn't stop even if I wanted to. Breathing hard, trembling with arousal, I lean back on the wall and imagine a time when Diana actually makes love to me fully and properly, and the tipping point comes sooner than I expect so I try not to groan too loudly as my pleasure flows out over my fingers and thighs and mingles with the water from the shower.

***

By the time I've dried my hair and dressed and wandered back through to the kitchen, Diana is just finishing up. She stands up and stretches and pads across to the kitchen, putting her mug on the island. I rinse my mug from earlier and help myself to coffee from the machine, then gesture at her with the pot. 'Do you want topping up?'

'Please.' She fetches the milk from the fridge, adding a splash to both our drinks. 'Right, I'm going for a shower. I shan't be long, though, so the croissants can probably go in.' She smiles at me kindly over the top of her refilled mug, then wanders off to her room, leaving her reading glasses folded on top of the law book.

I warm the croissants through and set more coffee going, then lay the table on the balcony as it's a warm enough morning to sit outside. When she returns, we have a leisurely breakfast and sit out on the balcony for quite a long time, talking while we finish the coffee. For some of it we hold hands, then for a while I sit with my chair turned towards her and my legs stretched out so I can rest my feet in her lap. She strokes my feet through my socks gently, sensuously, and occasionally lets her fingers stray up inside the leg of my jeans to stroke the skin above the sock.

Eventually, we clear the table and she washes up while I start preparing to make the cake. I've been mulling over at the back of my mind how it will work in a strange kitchen, ever since I first came to the flat, so I have a kind of plan. I lay everything I need out, equipment and ingredients, weigh out the quantities and start to preheat the oven. Having Diana pottering about around me is nice, not as distracting or obstructive as I'd feared; in fact, she's very helpful in clearing away after I've finished with something, and washing up bowls and utensils and so on.

While the baking cake fills the flat with a lovely smell, we make the topping, then as we still have time and flour and eggs left over, I make scones: I use the last of the ham from the previous day's lunch and some cheese to make some savoury ones, then make some traditional sweet ones as well. They go in while the cake cools, then we have them for a late lunch: hot, straight out of the oven with plenty of butter.

All in all, we spend a very pleasant, relaxed Sunday. I leave her some of the scones, and she gives me a lift back to the house, so I don't have to carry the cake through town. In the car, before I get out, she leans over and kisses me quickly. 'It's been a nice weekend, Fiona. Thank you. Shall we do it again this week?'

I can't think of a better way to spend my weekend. 'Why not? That'd be lovely.'

***

So we do. On the Friday, I bring my overnight bag into work, and go back to Diana's after a few glasses of wine. We carry on our relationship as before, but base ourselves at her flat more and more often. It's incredibly easy to fall in to the habit of staying at Diana's. Indeed, it's only when Paula and Martin go away for the weekend when his band gets a gig somewhere important, that we break the routine a bit...

The day Paula mentions it over breakfast, I clock-watch until I can find a free minute to slip away from my desk and make my way up to Diana's office. I swing by Michelle's desk to update her (and by extension, Toby) in how the flowers are faring in our garden, that they bought me in return for the cake. Apparently, the cake was a great success with their friends. The colourful flowers I got as a thank-you seem to love living in pots on our patio.

Outside Diana's office, Sandra smiles at me. No-one has said anything to me outright, but I am getting a lot of friendly smiles from people who work with Diana on a regular basis. I know that it's pretty common knowledge that Diana and I are seeing each other, and that doesn't bother me particularly: but there's been a few comments from a few people about her calming down, being tamed, getting what she deserved. Reading between the lines, I can only suppose that everyone assumes Diana and I are having exhaustingly rampant sex every time their backs are turned and it's this that's calming her down. (Or wearing her out.)

Aside from the fact that I doubt I could ever wear her out, it amuses me that she and I haven't actually slept with each other properly yet. But I don't say anything, and like the feeling of being the only one to know that actually it's a much deeper and more emotional change for Diana, and isn't really about the sex at all.

'Am I OK to go in?' I ask Sandra. 'I won't be long.'

Sandra waves me through, and I brush my dress down quickly before stepping round the open door to approach her desk.

'Fiona? Hello. What a nice surprise.' She starts to stand up, but I have the advantage and am round her side of the desk too quickly. We kiss, softly but with a heavy taste of lust, as we always do nowadays when we kiss at work.

'I'm not stopping,' I say, leaning on her desk as she settles back in her chair, and liking the way she takes in my dress. It's one I sometimes think can be a bit boring, but not the way she admires me in it today. Our hands meet in the air between us and we link fingers, and I have a completely unnecessary but lovely thrill of expectation. I slide my bum along the edge of her desk where I'm leaning on it, to be close to her.

Our hands come to rest on my hip, and she lets mine go, turning her fingers to stroke my hip through my dress before moving down to feel the shape of my bum and leg. Her fingers stray on to my bare leg below the hem of my dress, cupping my knee, then working an inch or two under the material, onto the inside of my thigh. 'Shame,' she says, moving her hand properly onto the inside of my thigh under my dress.

The weekend before, on her sofa late at night, during a particularly hot kissing session following a nice meal and a bottle of wine, she had allowed herself to press her hand right up between my legs. I never tried to stop her at all, and she had even got my jeans undone and her hand thrusting down inside them for a desperately exciting few minutes, before she realised and stopped. The fact she had touched me, and that I hadn't stopped her, has been heavy between us ever since.

Her fingers play over my thigh, her wrist pushing the hem of my dress higher, and I move my leg to make it easier for her. Her fingers just brush the sensitive very top of my thigh, on the inside, and I know she can feel the heat of my arousal. I bite my lip to avoid making any suggestive noise: her door is still open, after all. Shakily, I explain that our house will be all ours this weekend, if she fancies spending the weekend at mine for a change.

She slowly takes her hand out from under my dress, and smiles. 'As a matter of fact, I'd like that, Fiona. That would be nice.' She turn her hand and runs the back of it sensuously down the front of my dress, particularly over the front of my legs, to smooth out the rumpled hem. 'You'd be on home turf. In control.' She sounds a bit more keen on the idea than I expected. She's seen my house, she knows it's not in the same league as her flat.

'You'd like that, would you? It's not exactly as nice as your flat.'

'No. But it's where you are at home. That's an important part of you, and I'd like to see it.' She leans up and kisses me, but gently this time.