Mix thoroughly.

Leave to stew for a couple of days.231.

In a medium-size bathroom, prepare the woman by shaving her legs, coloring her hair and painting her toenails.

About an hour before commencing, baste generously in expensive body lotion, turning frequently.

Add the stockings, the pair of interesting black undies and the miraculous black bra. Have a couple of practice runs at looking seductive by letting her hair fall over her face and looking up through her eyelashes.

Check that she can still gasp and arch her back and say sentences like, "Oh baby, that was wonderful" and "Oh God, don't stop" while keeping a straight face.

Commandeer a sister, preferably Anna, to look after the aforementioned child.

Add a generous helping of whore-red lipstick, several layers of black mascara, a short purple (it is, after all, the color of passion) dress, sexy black shoes with suede ankle straps and one bottle of red wine.

Always take care not to start swigging from the bottle of red before arriving at your destination.

As an optional extra, condoms in the purse are always a nice touch.

If it's not possible to procure them-for example, they may be out of season-you will have to make do with large amounts of self-restraint. Not always ideal, but it does work.

Serve on a bed with a good-looking man.

I followed the instructions to the letter. I was lucky enough to be able to procure condoms-courtesy of Laura-what a woman!

I was feeling pretty good.

I didn't even get upset when I discovered that thanks to my hair color (it's hair enhancer enhancer, darling; we don't need to color our hair, we just enhance enhance its natural lights), all right then, thanks to my hair its natural lights), all right then, thanks to my hair enhancer enhancer, my ears and my hair were now color-coordinated.

But I suppose if I had to have colored ears, I could have done a lot worse than a rich, glossy, shiny chestnut color. None of your Ebony Shadow or Plum Sugar for my ears. No sir!

At about seven-thirty on Sunday evening, I was prepared. About to go forth to sin, I kissed Kate good-night.232.

As I was furtively making for the front door, my coat buttoned up practically to the eyebrows in case Mum should spot me looking so floozylike, the phone rang.

"Claire, it's for you," shouted Helen.

Oh God!

But it was only Laura.

Calling to wish me luck and wanting to know if I had practiced putting on a condom with my teeth, as per her instructions.

"No, I didn't!" I told her.

I was dying to get off the phone and out of the house because I was terrified of being caught.

"Why not?" she demanded. "You can't just expect him to be happy with boring old sex. You have to be a bit inventive."

"But you only gave me two!" I said, all alarm. "I didn't want to waste them. And anyway, what was I supposed to practice on?"

"Well, let's just hope that you perform adequately with the first one. Or else you won't get a chance to use the second one," she said darkly.

"Oh stop it, Laura, I'm nervous enough!"

"Good." She laughed. "It's much better when you're nervous."

I promised to call her the next day and tell her all the gory details.

"Or, if I get in early enough tonight, I'll ring you and tell you everything,"

I promised eagerly.

"If you get in early enough tonight to tell me everything, there won't be anything to tell,'" she told me.

"Oh," I said.

She had a point.

"Look, I'm going," I said in annoyance, and I hung up on her while she was in the middle of explaining some sort of complicated sexual activity that she said she had seen done in a show in Bangkok. Whatever it was it could only be done by a woman who was a damn sight more supple than me. I did know how to have sex, you know. I had given birth to a child.

How did she think this actually came about?

While we're on the subject of sexual shenanigans I've got a confession to make.233.

Wait for it.

Here it comes.

I enjoy the missionary position.

There! I've said it.

I'm made to feel so ashamed ashamed of myself for feeling that way. of myself for feeling that way.

As if I'm terribly boring and repressed.

But I'm not. Honestly.

I'm not saying that it's the only position that I like.

But, really, I have no objection to it whatsoever.

Naturally, of course, this isn't the time to discuss favorite sexual positions.

But I'll just tell you very quickly that I think cunnilingus is the most boring thing God ever created. I'd rather spend a day filing than endure a five-minute stint of it.

And when they're finished with their few minutes of slurping they act like you should be so grateful grateful for it. Beaming up at you like they deserve a medal. And then act like they're entitled to a year's supply of no-questions-asked blow jobs. for it. Beaming up at you like they deserve a medal. And then act like they're entitled to a year's supply of no-questions-asked blow jobs.

Of course, some women swear by it, but...sorry, sorry.

I finally left and drove over to his house.234.

twenty-two.

I parked the car just outside his house and feeling a heavy mixture of excitement and sordid shame walked up to the front door. Then I remembered that I had left the bottle of wine in the car and I quickly ran back to get it. parked the car just outside his house and feeling a heavy mixture of excitement and sordid shame walked up to the front door. Then I remembered that I had left the bottle of wine in the car and I quickly ran back to get it.

I was going nowhere without it.

Dutch courage.

Well, Chilean courage, but whatever.

Adam opened the door almost immediately.

If I didn't know any better I'd swear he had been hiding in the hall, lurking behind the curtain, waiting for me to arrive.

Well, actually, maybe he had been.

He was doing a good job of seeming to be as excited and affected by all of this as I was.

He looked a bit anxious.

Cold feet?

Change of heart?

Pregame nerves?

But then he rallied strongly.

"Hello." He smiled. "You look lovely."

"Hello," I said. I smiled at him in spite of my nerves.

How wonderful, I thought with a thrill.

I felt so dangerously decadent.

On an assignation with a beautiful man.

Have I ever wanted any man as much as I want Adam? I wondered.235.

Probably, I thought, sighing.

Just being realistic for a moment.

But right then it felt as if I'd never wanted anyone else, ever.

How long will it take for us to be in bed together? I wondered.

How long can I hold off if he doesn't make a move?

What if he doesn't make a move? I thought with horror.

Or what if it's a total disaster?

Maybe he'll think I'm completely hideous, with my post-childbirth body.

Maybe I'll think he's completely hideous, because he doesn't look exactly like James.

Oh God!

I should have stayed at home.

Before I could bolt for the door, stammering that it had all been a terrible mistake, he put his arm (and what an arm!) around my shoulders and guided me toward the kitchen.

"Take off your coat," he said. "And have a drink."

"But...oh, all right. Make mine a pint of red wine," I said as I sat down at the kitchen table.

He laughed.

"Feeling nervous, darling?" he asked silkily as he poured me a glass.

Jesus! I thought in alarm, don't ask me things silkily. I was frightened enough. If he started behaving like some kind of arch seducer, I was out of there. All I needed now was for him to change his jeans and sweatshirt for a silk paisley dressing gown and parade around with an onyx cigarette holder.

"I'm not nervous," I blurted out. "I'm fucking terrified."

"Of what?" he asked with mock surprise. "My cooking isn't that bad."

Oh, so that's the way you want to play it, I thought.

Faux casual, is it?

Fine then.

I gave him a poised smile.

And flung my entire glass of wine down my throat before I realized what I had done.

"Relax," he said anxiously, coming over to sit beside me at the table and hold my hand. "I'm not going to bite."