After work that Friday, Diana and I have a drink as usual, then head back to the house. In the fridge is a cheat salmon pâté and a chocolate mousse I made earlier in the week, so I only have the main course to do. This night, the first that Diana will spend at mine, I'm going to serve the meal I came up with off the top of my head all those weeks before in the pub, during the long and rambling conversation we had the first time we went out for a drink together. I haven't said anything to Diana and I don't really expect her to notice (though I'll be pleased if she does.) It's mainly because I just think it'll be a nice touch to cook that, rather than anything else.

She finds the white wine in the fridge and studies the label. I've been paying attention and making mental notes over the last few weeks, as she's introduced me to different wines, but I wonder what she'll think of my choice. 'That's for the starter, but we could open it now,' I say, leaning on the side and watching her as she pours us both a glass. 'There's a red over there for the main.' I point to the cupboard where Paula and I stash our booze.

'That will need to breathe for a little while, then.' She crosses the kitchen, digs out the bottle I indicate and uncorks it. She sniffs the cork and nods. 'That'll be nice, I think.' She grins at me. 'Now, let's try this white.' She comes back and picks up her glass, admires the pale colour of it, swirls, sniffs then sips. As usual, I watch with amused interest, and a little flutter of nervousness as to what she'll think of the first wine I've chosen all by myself for her. She sniffs and sips again, then nods. 'Very nice, quite floral. Tasty. What's the starter?'

'Salmon. In a sort of cheat pâté thing.' This will be the real test, whether the wine is actually suitable for the purpose.

She purses her lips. 'Might be a bit overbearing, but we'll see. Salmon's quite delicate.' She notices my raised eyebrow and steps towards me. 'Sorry, Fiona, I know it's your first attempt.' She stands close and runs the back of her hand down my arm. My work dress has very short sleeves, and her touch makes my skin tingle. I stand up straight, which brings our bodies even closer, and like the way our breasts press into each other lightly as our heads come together. I can smell the wine on her breath and close my eyes just as her lips touch mine.

We are used to how we kiss by now, Diana and I. We kiss a lot when we are together and alone. I like kissing, always have, and I know I'm a good kisser (past lovers have mentioned it), but it does please me that Diana likes to kiss so much too. Often, we will kiss for a long time just for the pleasure of kissing, and it makes me happy that I've finally found a lover who likes to do that too, who will kiss me without necessarily expecting it to lead anywhere, who just enjoys kissing me because she enjoys kissing.

Although, I suppose technically, Diana and I aren't lovers yet. I wonder if that will change this weekend. It feels like the time is close when we will become lovers. And while I don't mind waiting still, there are times these days when I find myself thinking about Diana and feel my body wracked with yearning for her. I want to give myself to her and feel her hands and lips and tongue all over me, take her deep inside me so she can touch and satisfy the achy longing I have for her.

Certainly, in that kiss in my kitchen, there is something new and exciting. Not just a flutter of lust – I've felt that in Diana's kiss many times before – but underneath that a deeper, more powerful current of yearning, a slightly dizzying feeling that if we did finally give in to each other fully at that moment, we would meld together, our souls twining around each other just as closely as our bodies.

Diana draws back a little and clears her throat quietly as she stares at me. Her voice is slightly shaky when she asks gently, 'When do we want to eat? Is there a particular timescale?' She runs her hand over my hair, down onto my neck.

I shake my head and like the feel of her hand on my skin, turning my head to press my cheek against her fingers. I sigh in pleasure. 'The starter's ready to go, whenever. I'm not going to do the chicken until we're ready for it.'

She shifts slightly so that our bodies press a little more firmly together. I like the feel of her trouser leg on my thigh, and I wriggle a little against her. My breasts rub over hers, and we both smile in pleasure. I put my free hand on her hip and she runs her fingers over my neck and down my arm again. 'Good. We've got time to try that kiss again, then.' She puts her glass down then takes mine out of my fingers and pushes them both out of the way on the worktop behind me.

As we move in for another kiss, I reach up and join my hands behind her neck, pressing my body onto hers lightly. She slides her arms round me, stroking my back with one hand and just resting the other on the slope of my bum. She doesn't stroke or squeeze, she doesn't even push me into her particularly, just keeps her hand there as a gentle but solid presence through my dress. This second kiss is deeply erotic, partly because we carefully resist the temptation to move against each other but hold ourselves very still where our bodies are touching, and partly because we focus everything on the kiss. And, like the last kiss, we can feel ourselves being drawn together through it, feel our desire for each other curling round and round like Diana's tongue is curling around mine in my mouth.

It's a long kiss, as I don't think either of us wants to stop, particularly. Eventually, however, I can't help moving slightly to shift my weight on my half-inch heels. She tightens her arm round me and I feel her tummy stroke over mine and her leg push at my thighs, and she grunts in surprise. There's a moment where we feel the kiss tip over into something a lot more overtly sexual and she uses her hand on my bum to push my hips into her. I feel her heat through her trousers, so I'm sure she can feel mine through my dress. She starts to kiss me with a raw sexual hunger, and I feel my inside begin to melt with desire.

I move back to lean my bum on the side and she pushes herself onto me. Her hand moves up over my hip and waist, up my side, as I let her knee push between my thighs. I move an arm slightly and she brushes her fingers up the inside of it briefly before stroking them lightly over the curve of my breast in the fitted dress. I catch my breath in the kiss, then sigh as she feels the shape of me gently. She always feels me gently, as if for the first time each time, and it always turns me on powerfully. Just then, as she is also kissing me deeply, I suddenly want to feel her mouth on me there as well, and my insides turn even mushier at the thought.

I make the mistake of moving my hand from her neck to her throat, and from there down inside the open collar of her blouse to undo a button. I know it's a risk: sometimes we get quite far in loosening clothing and sliding hands in or mouths over bits we wouldn't normally see, and sometimes she nips anything like that in the bud early, before it has a chance to develop. Interestingly, it's the times when it feels so good when she tends to get jumpy – I suppose because she knows we could forget ourselves more easily. Which makes sense, I suppose, but can leave me feeling quite frustrated.

This kiss, and my undoing a button on her blouse, is one of those 'nip it in the bud early' moments, and I can feel it in the flutter of her kiss. I feel how much she wants to go on, for a split second, then I feel her gradually pull the kiss back from the brink. I've never before tried to push her on or take the kiss back to something more intense, and I don't now. Anyway, I have to admit she has a lovely way of cooling things off, which is quite frustratingly erotic in itself, in the way it hints at deferred pleasure. But at that moment, my whole body wants her more urgently than I have ever wanted someone.

We stay holding each other for a while, resting out foreheads together after the main kiss finishes, and share a few quick lip pecks. Then she reaches round me, not even trying to avoid brushing herself up against me, and retrieves our wine glasses. 'It's thirsty work, kissing you, Fiona.' she grins. 'Cheers.'

'Cheers, Diana.' I sip, then wriggle out from between her and the worktop, resting a hand on her arm to tell her she doesn't need to move. I hand her my glass back. From the fridge, I produce the pâté and some baby-leaf salad, and start plating up two portions. Diana roots about in drawers and goes to lay the table in our small dining area, also taking the wine through. We both like to have a glass of water with meals, so she also sorts that out while I cut some slices off the nice crusty bread I've bought. 'Are you OK with dry bread?' I ask over my shoulder as she comes back into the kitchen. 'I've forgotten to soften the butter.'

She comes up behind me and strokes my waist while leaning into my shoulder and kissing my neck quickly. That sends an unexpected thrill though me – she's never dared come too close in the kitchen before, because she says she's worried about getting in my way, or distracting me, and she thought I might not like it. In fact, I like the thought that she feels close enough to me, and secure enough about us as a couple, that she can come up and distract me while I'm busy, in the kitchen or anywhere else.

Her lips are soft on my neck and her nose brushes my ponytail. 'That's fine. The salmon looks quite creamy anyway.' She moves back, trailing her hands off my hips, making my insides twist in peasure. 'Looks delicious, actually.'

I pick up the plate of bread. 'Good. Let's eat, then.'

***

We both slightly overindulge on the salmon. Even if I do say so myself, and it was a complete experiment, it's very tasty. Eventually, I have to pretend I've promised what's left in the fridge to Paula, so we can't have any more. We've drunk about half the bottle of white between us.

I gather the plates and cutlery of the starter together and notice that Diana's cheeks are a tiny bit flushed. I lean in and kiss her and can taste the carelessness of her kiss. 'Main course time,' I say gently. 'We can come back to that bottle if we like. But we need to move on now.'

She grins. 'Ah yes, the red.' She twists the cork back into the neck of the white and follows me into the kitchen. She puts the white back into the fridge and I get her to hand me the sour cream while she's there. This is the point of the meal where I actually have to concentrate for a bit, and fortunately by the time Diana has found some more wine glasses and tested and poured the red, I have rinsed and chopped the mushrooms, crushed the garlic and am already starting to brown the chicken thighs.

She waits for a while, until I have a moment to step back from the cooker, before she catches my hips under her hand and kisses my neck again. 'Smells good, Fiona.' She notices that I haven't quite let go of the pan. 'Is there anything I can do?'

I push her gently off me with my bum. 'Yeah. There's some fresh spinach in the fridge. Get the whole lot in a pan with some butter. Quite low heat, once the butter's melted...'

So, as I make the chicken in a creamy mushroom sauce, I instruct Diana in wilting the greens in the other pan. She is quite openly delighted when her spinach is ready at about the same time as the rest of it, and I kiss her quickly. 'It's not rocket science, Diana. Just timing.'

She takes a deep breath in through her nose. 'Perhaps. This smells good, though, Fiona, and I can see why, but I would never have thought of it myself.' She nudges me gently with her hip.

'Good. Well, pass the plates, and we can get stuck in, can't we?' She does, and I plate up.

To my great relief, everything has worked and it's all really very nice. The skin of the chicken is crispy, the meat is perfectly soft, the sauce is earthy but not overwhelming, the spinach is nice and soft but still tasty. We share a chunk of the nice bread with it, as a side. Best of all, the chance I took on the red pays off, because even that goes well with it all.

***

As it's a fairly substantial main course, we do sit back for a while afterwards, chatting and drinking. I notice, with a little lurch of panic, that most of the bottle of red has gone. I reach over and cover her hand with mine. 'Diana? Do we want pudding? That's the last of the red, I'm afraid...'

She holds up a finger. 'Aha, now then, Fiona. If I'm correct, pudding should be a chocolate mousse.' She looks at my face, and smiles as she reads the pleasure in my face. 'You are beautiful, but I have seen inside the fridge.' She chuckles. 'But also yes, I have noticed that this is more or less the meal you described to me that first evening. I've been looking forward to it ever since.'

I'm much more pleased than I expect to be, or think I should be. 'Right, yes. Well. Good.' Somewhere in there, I register the fact that she's just called me “beautiful”, in passing, as if it was taken as read. People have called me lots of nice things before now, but never that. And coming from Diana, it's even better.

She turns her hand in mine, and gently links her fingers with mine. 'Fiona?' She's called me by my full name so often now, that I associate it with her totally, and even feel a special kind of thrill whenever I hear my full name, even if spoken by someone else. Normally, it's just Diana who ever bothers to use my full name, though. 'Fiona? I feel as if I know you very well by now. I'm touched that you remember that conversation, and that you thought to make that meal for me. And that it was here and now that you did.' Under the table her leg finds mine and she rubs her knee against my calf.

I swallow. 'I've always wanted to make it for you. I'm glad you've noticed.'

We have a little moment of understanding, holding hands and looking at each other. Under the table, her leg rubbing against mine is sending little thrills through me. Suddenly she leans over and kisses me.

***

After we've finished the chocolate mousse and cleared the table, I assume we'll sit on the sofa together for a while, but she doesn't sit down. 'Washing up,' she says, trying to sound firm and decisive.

I catch her wrist. 'God, Diana. Leave it till tomorrow.'

'It won't take long, and then it's done, isn't it?'

I take my hair out of my ponytail quickly and pull it through my fingers around my neck before letting it fall around my shoulders. I feel her hesitate, as I'd intended. 'Leave it, Diana. It'll be fine.' I hold a hand out to her. 'Let's just sit for a bit.'

She shrugs and grins, and goes to fetch the remains of the white wine, before joining me on the sofa. Like we've done before when we're at hers, she gets comfortable in the corner and I tuck my feet up under my legs and snuggle up against her while she lays her arm along the back to stroke my hair and shoulder. Sometimes, I let my hand rest on her leg, and I do that now, absent-mindedly running a finger up and down a bit of the seam of her trousers.

She checks her watch, and I smile and unfold myself up from the sofa to put the TV on. She always likes to watch the news and the analysis programme that follows it on a Friday night, then I've got her into the comedy panel show that's normally on after that. We don't even need to talk about it now, it's just something we always end up doing on a Friday night. Back on the sofa, I snuggle into her again with my head on her shoulder, and like the way she rests her lips and nose on the top of mine, breathing through my hair.

***

After I've turned the TV off again, I stay standing in front of her and stretch my arms out towards her. 'I think it might be bed time.' I wonder if she's realised yet that there's no spare room in this house.

She takes hold of my hands, but doesn't move. 'Fiona...I, er, wasn't sure where I was to sleep.'

'In my bed, of course.' I stroke a thumb over the back of her hand. 'It's big enough for both of us.'

'Er.' She gazes at me for a long minute or two. 'Fiona...I'm not sure...'

I interrupt her quickly. 'Paula thinks we're sleeping together anyway, so I can't use hers, she'd know I'd been in there. I did think about it, but not for long, I'll be honest. There's the sofa, I suppose.'

'Well, I will go on the sofa, then.'

'You most certainly won't.' I smile, to take the sting out of my words. 'You're my guest, so you get the bed. And it's nice to sit on, that thing, but not great to sleep on.' I step closer and lean in to kiss her quickly, before moving my lips over her cheek to her ear. Our knees are pressing together and her hands are still in mine. I like the way she is breathing a little harder than normal. 'Anyway,' I tease gently, 'you're getting a bit old to start sofa surfing.'

'Cheeky bitch.' She sighs and turns her head as I kiss her neck again and trail my lips over her cheek. We kiss softly, and I can feel her almost trembling. I'm slightly surprised at how much of an effect the thought of sharing my bed is having on her. She sighs again and makes a move to stand up. 'All right, then. Your bed it is.'

She tidies the table and gets us both a glass of water to take with us, while I lock up the house, then I take her up to my bedroom.