We've been arguing about the best books, best films and best sitcoms for hours. Five more minutes will quickly become ten, fifteen, or more, if I let them. The last train home leaves in 45 minutes, and it'll take me nearly that long to get to the station.
"If I'm going to catch the train, I need to leave soon," I say.
"Cool. Let me just nip to the bathroom." Denise jumps down from the bar stool. I finish my pint.
I head to the toilet myself. We pass on the stairs. "Good idea," I say. She is looking at her phone, but when she hears my voice, she glances up and smiles.
We walk outside. "Marylebone?" she asks. "When's the last train?"
I tell her.
"Plenty of time," she says as she looks it up on Google Maps.
"Is it on your way?"
"I can get the tube from there. Want to go through the park or around it?"
"Let's go through."
We cross a busy road and walk into the park. It is much darker and quieter. Murmurs from couples on benches in the half-light. As we reach a diverging path, she stops and I lean over her shoulder to see the phone screen. She is shorter than me and her head is warm against my shoulder.
"This way," she says. Our hands are close. I hesitate momentarily and then take her hand in mine. I interlace our fingers. At first, she doesn't react. I gently rub my thumb on the back of her hand. She squeezes back.
I follow her lead as she directs us, aware of time ticking away. I'm tempted to kiss her in the glow from her phone screen, but if she isn't deliberately delaying and I miss the train, I don't have anyone else to stay with.
We come to a locked gate in the low fence. "This isn't on the map," she says.
"We could jump it?"
"I'll need a boost."
I help her up. She clings to the top for a moment, wavering as though she's going to fall. I steady her, one hand on her shoulder, the other on her waist, feeling her tense under my palm. She laughs, long black hair falling across one eye. She pulls herself over. I jump up too and drop down beside her.
"How long have you got?" she asks.
"Six minutes," I say.
"It'll be tight. We'll need to run," she says and pulls me along by my hand, half walking, half running. If I sprinted I might be able to make it. I don't want to make it. Unless she wants me to.
We are laughing as we burst into the station. The last train is just pulling away.
"What are you going to do now?"
"I'll need to find somewhere to stay. Don't fancy that bench," I say.
She pauses, looking at her phone. A message pops up. She swipes it away and looks up at me. "I've got a couch, no problem."
"That would be great. If you're sure?"
"I'm sure," she says quickly. "At least my line runs all night."
She leads me to the tube station. She jumps on the train as it arrives. The doors start to close on me. I have a moment of panic - she hasn't told me the stop - but they open again and I step in. "That could have been awkward," she says.
She leans on the carriage wall and I stand in front of her. It's hard to talk over the rumble of the train and the squeal of air brakes. We sway with the motion and she darts up to kiss me briefly. I can see a smudge of makeup under one eye, a tiny scar on her chin.
"We need to change here," she says and grabs my hand, squeezing hard, thumb rubbing my palm.
On the next train we sit next to each other. She grabs my hand, pressing my palm firmly into her thigh. I rest my head on her shoulder, resisting the urge to tease my hand up further.
When we reach the final station, she pulls me out onto the platform. "Let me go into the flat first, then you can come in."
"No problem," I say.
"I didn't tidy," she says.
"I don't mind."
"I'm not here that much," she says. "Work. Not boyfriends."
When we reach her door, I stand outside, listening to the whirr of the hoover, the clatter of cupboard doors. Then she opens the door. "Sorry. Didn't want you to see the mess."
"Really don't worry about it." I'm still standing on the threshold.
She ushers me in. "Sit on the couch. Pick something to watch. I'll get drinks."
The flat is large and airy, minimalist furniture broken up with cushions and throws. A Visit South Africa poster. A small pile of books, mainly fiction with Born a Crime on top.
I sit on the sofa and flick through the apps on her TV. There are lots of half-watched films. I put The Office on quietly. She is looking at her phone.
She catches me looking. "Work," she says. "But it's on silent now."
"No problem."
Denise sits close and hands me a beer. We resume our argument about sitcoms. Each time I plan to kiss her, she has the bottle at her lips. I imagine those lips around me, but I don't know if this is just a place to stay for the night or something more.
I start to speak just as she does.
"You go," I say. "I'm just waffling."
"So why isn't there a Mrs Crawley?" she says.
I laugh. "Why isn't there a Mr Thomas?"
"I asked you first."
"The last would-be Mrs got a job in New York and didn't fancy a long-distance relationship," I say.
"You didn't fancy New York?"
"I did offer, but it was a bit new, and she wasn't keen."
"When I moved here, I had a boyfriend. My first boyfriend from university, but it didn't work. He went back home."
She takes my hand again and her thumbnail draws circles on my palm. "Anyone since?" I ask.
"No. It's been a while since I got laid." Before I can respond to that, she speaks again. "What about you?"
I laugh. "It's been a while too. A couple of years rather than months."
Her shoulders loosen and she smiles. I move in to kiss her, but she's looking away. She turns back to me. "How many children do you want?" she asks.
I don't miss a beat. "Not too many."
"Not too many?"
"Two or three. One is too few, but they're expensive. I'm not in a big rush."
"Me neither, but I love my sister's little girl. We're going for brunch tomorrow."
"How old?"
"Two."
"You could join us, but it might be a bit intense. Most of the family will be there."
"It could be nice," I say, not quite sure if it's a serious invitation.
"Let's see."
I finish my beer and put the bottle on a side table.
"I like this hair," she says, running her hands up my arm. "Manly, if a little ape-like."
I laugh. "What about you?" I say, undoing her cuff, rolling up her sleeve, feeling the soft down.
"What do you think?" she asks.
"Perfect," I say, touching my lip to her arm.
She looks down at me, smiling. Her hand is on my chin, pulling me up into a deep kiss.
I slide my hands down her body and rest them on her thighs. Her hands pull my hair lightly and I move further down until I hear her gasp. I can feel the heat through her jeans as I cup her crotch. I pause for a moment. She grinds into my hand and moans into my mouth. I grip tighter and she rolls her hips hard into the contact.
Without breaking the kiss, I undo the button on her trousers. "Yes," she says and darts her tongue along my jaw to my neck. I slide my hand into her jeans and press the moist fabric of her panties against her lips. I slide the material aside and slip a finger in. She's so wet.
"Don't go slow," she says, standing up and pushing her trousers and panties down. Thick, black hair frames her swollen lips.
I kiss her and fumble with the matching bra.
"It's been a while," I say.
"Let me," she says, batting my hand away and undoing the clasp. It falls between us.
She is naked. I pause, looking at her, taking it all in.
We kiss, standing. She is grinding into me, the seam of my fly against her smooth thigh.
"I want to feel your tongue," she says. Her hand presses on my shoulder and I fall to my knees. She pulls my head into her pussy. I trace my tongue, slowly at first, but she growls and presses my head harder.
I lick her as I slide my fingers inside deeper and start moving them faster. I hear her groan, feel her sharp nails on my scalp. Her legs shake. I pull back. "Sit," I say.
She pulls my t-shirt off me and puts it on the sofa under her. "I'll get even wetter," she says. "You can wash it tomorrow."
I kneel in front of her. She moans and her hips jerk. I change the rhythm. She gets louder. Her hips lift to meet me, her heels drum my back. I didn't expect this abandon from her.
I keep the rhythm going as she grinds into my face. Her legs lock around my head and I try to maintain the pace, but I can't breathe. I pull away. She releases me and looks down, frustrated. "OK?" she asks.
I nod. "Out of practice."
"I wouldn't usually be so aggressive."
"I like it."
I lean back in, returning to the same hard pace. My fingers drive in and out, my tongue circles her clitoris. In a moment, she is breathing hard and writhing again. Her legs clench around my head. I resist the urge to pull back.
"Like that. Stop changing it," she says.
I can't say anything. I hold the pressure and keep circling. Her thighs tremble. She moans in short gasps. Then she comes, pulling my hair, unlocking her legs as they spasm. When her shaking stops, she pulls me up into a kiss. My chin is wet and she licks the moisture, tasting herself.
"Fun?" I ask.
"Too much?" she asks.
"It was great."
We kiss for a long moment. I am straining in my jeans, but I make myself wait. She breaks the kiss, looks up at me and smiles.
"Sit down," she says and I obey. "My turn."
Her hands are at my belt, undoing it and pulling my trousers and boxers down. She runs one nail along my erection.
"Someone's been enjoying this," she says.
"You've certainly had an effect on me," I say.
I can feel her breath on my shaft. She works me with both hands in long strokes. "So hard," she says.
"You're so beautiful," I say.
Without releasing my cock, she lifts up and straddles me.
"Don't make me wait longer," she says, her face close to mine.
"I've got a condom," I say.
"I'm on birth control," she says.
I'm not sure. It's not just about that. She hovers over me. It's been a long time. She is hot against my straining tip. I haven't tried it without a condom before.
"OK?" she asks.
"OK," I say.
She sinks down slowly until I'm fully inside. All I can do is hug her to me and bury my head in her shoulder. I've missed the intimacy. The feel of skin on skin is almost too much. She holds for a moment and I'm glad for the pause.
I kiss her neck as my breathing slows. She begins rocking.
I nibble her ear, enjoying each slow lift and fast downward stroke as she rides me in earnest. She pushes me back, so I'm pressed into the couch, her hands firm on my shoulders. She holds my gaze, unblinking, as she drives herself up and down.
I hold her waist gently then slide my hands to grip her bottom, feeling the muscles tensing as she moves.
"I'm close," I say.
"Me too," she says. "Don't finish before me."
I close my eyes, prolonging the moment.
"Look at me," she says.
I open my eyes and see the moment she starts to come. A moan escapes her and she clenches hard around me. Two smaller contractions follow.
She holds completely still. I hold her hips and thrust up. The change in rhythm has delayed me, but after the evening of close contact and half-teasing, I can't last long. She begins to rock with me, driving down as I thrust up.
I'm close. I'm not sure whether she wants me to pull out. I hesitate. I look up at her and meet her eyes. I see the sweat on her forehead, hear her panting, mouth half-open. She slams down one more time. Too late. I come, spraying deep inside her.
I lift her up. My cock slips out and the next spurt hits the underside of her breasts. She takes my shaft in hand as my thighs lock and each pulse jolts through my abdomen. When I'm finished, she lets go. My shaft softens between our slick bodies.
I pull her into a kiss. She collapses onto me. Her lips drift from mine to my shoulder. Our hands tangle.
We lie for a long moment, each breathing hard.
"That was great," she says. "Glad you missed your train?"
"I am."
"It's been a while. I was worried-"
"Worth the wait."
Her hand glides across the liquid on my stomach. "You come a lot."
"I made a bit of a mess."
"I get pretty wet. I'd usually put some towels down. Sorry about your t-shirt."
"Sorry I didn't pull out in time."
"Don't worry. I am on birth control. It was hot. Feeling you lose it inside me."
We doze in each other's arms. I run my fingers through her long hair. If I'd caught my train, I'd nearly be home.
We don't talk as time slips past. It is nice to be silent with someone.
After a while, she shifts gently against me. I respond, even so soon.
She lifts her head from my chest and smiles at me. She stands up. Liquid runs down the inside of her thigh. Suddenly self-conscious, she covers herself with her hand.
"I need to clean this up," she says. "I need a shower and a lie down."
"It was great," I say.
"You can use the shower after me," she says.
I lie there as the water pulses in the bathroom. After a while, she comes out dressed in a white bathrobe. She hands me a clean t-shirt. "I'll wash yours and give it back to you next time."
Her bathroom is large and the shower has a rainforest head and half a dozen other nozzles and hoses. Under the hard spray, the long day catches up with me and I suddenly feel exhausted.
I step out and dry myself. Denise walks into the bathroom and hands me another white bathrobe. I put it on and feel the material against my tip. I feel myself twitch faintly but without urgency.
She leads me into her bedroom and to the double bed with pale blue linen. We lie face-to-face, half-talking, half-kissing. I feel her warm breath and the faint friction of the towelling. I smell shampoo and shower-damp flesh.
"This was nice. I want to see you again," she says.
"I want to see you again. You could come to mine."
"That would be nice. You can stay here, but I don't think brunch is a good idea tomorrow."
"No?"
"A bit too intense. We can get breakfast on the way to the train instead."
"That would be nice." I kiss her gently.
An hour passes like that. We barely move, but her leg is over mine. I rock against her, slowly increasing the ardour of our kisses.
I roll her onto her back, keeping my hands on her hips. Her robe falls and reveals her breasts. I lean down to meet her, kissing her lips, then tracing down to tease each nipple. Her hands grip my hair, her nails in my scalp.
"I don't want tonight to end," I say.
She kisses me. "Me neither," she says.
I keep space between everything except our lips as we kiss. Her hands reach between my legs. I am hard, but calmer now. Her earlier frantic abandon has gone too as she lines me up.
"Ready?" I ask.
She nods.
I look into her eyes and slide in slowly, watching her react to each millimetre. Her legs close around me, pulling me in faster.
I withdraw. She relaxes. As I thrust back in, she pulls me in faster, deeper.
I repeat the same slow stroke until I lose track of time. Her legs tighten around me each time I enter, and her pulse beats against my mouth when I kiss her throat. The pressure builds, but slowly enough that I can still control it.
"I won't come, but you can. Stay inside me this time," she says.
"I can hold off."
"As long as you can. Make it last."
I slide out until only my tip is inside and then I drive back in, slow, deep. Again and again. For a while, I think I could do this forever. Then I know I can't.
"Ready?" I ask.
She nods and leans up to kiss me hard.
When she breaks the kiss, I speed up just enough. Her legs grip my thighs and her arms close around my shoulders as I come.
I let go deep inside her. I keep moving even as my body tightens with each pulse of cum. Her eyes stay on mine as the contractions weaken, leaving only the unfamiliar slick warmth tight around my bare shaft. She buries her head in my shoulder and her legs stay locked around mine.
I don't know if I can move. I don't want to.
At last, she relaxes and gently presses against me. I roll over, feeling the robe under my bottom, hearing the liquid release as I slip out.
She takes my hand and holds it tightly between us. She has a sheen of sweat on her skin and goosebumps on her breasts. If I'd caught the train, I'd be asleep now, in my own bed and alone.
She murmurs something.
"Pardon?" I say.
"Not bad," she says sleepily, then throws a leg over my thighs, her arms around my neck, her nose against my cheek.
The light switch is too far away. I put a hand on her shoulder and drift into sleep.