I’ve bunked off work between meetings : my boss is away and the weather is too good to be stuck in the office. It’s April but feels like July. Your flat isn’t too far from the station so it’s easy to get to and get away from. You’re probably working from home: your kiss at the bottom of the stairs is my welcome and I’m quickly whisked up and the door closed.

Your bedroom is the wonderful mess it usually is: clothes strewn everywhere, the curtains blowing with the slight breeze from the window. It is a gloriously sunny day and as we remove each other’s clothes I realise I’m already sweating. We kiss hungrily, we haven’t seen each other in a while. Like always, I kneel before you to take your cock in my mouth. Like always, you hold the back of my head and make sure my hair stays out of my eyes. Soon we are on the bed, grasping at each other despite the heat. You’re between my legs and then I’m on top, crying out as you hit my sweet spot.

Strangely enough, more memorable is what happens straight afterwards. You ask if I’d like a bacon sandwich. I pull on my bra and knickers and sit on your roof while I wait, gazing down at the people below. They’re out enjoying the sun, I’m here in my underwear unobserved. At this stage of my life, I’m not confident about my body. But in the sun on that balcony I am queen of all I survey. And when you hand me the bacon sandwich and a cup of tea, I’m golden.