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Out in the hallway, he rifled through his overcoat. In the inner pocket, he found what he'd been seeking; his hip flask. Arranging the coffee cups on a tray, he found the two bubble glasses he'd noticed, a small nip of brandy in each. Not too much – tonight really was to be savoured, he decided, in contrast to the excess of the night before. Kicking the kitchen door shut behind him, he took the tray upstairs.
Rachael was settled in the small sofa, in front of the fire with her legs folded under her. In her lap was his laptop. Setting the tray on the coffee table, he sat down next to her.
She slid over, to snuggle against him. The warmth of her body felt highly agreeable. He kissed the top of her head.
"If I haven't told you this before, Mr Y, you're very talented."
She nodded towards the screen in front of her. On it was the open file of the photographs. He noted the absence of the datacard reader.
"Ah....We were going to get rid of those, weren't we?"
He made to take the machine, to begin deleting the file.
"I'm not sure that's really necessary." She spoke in a low voice. "Just be careful who you show them to."
He looked at her.
"Well, if I can't trust your discretion after all we've done over the last couple of days...."
"You're sure?"
"I'm sure. I rather like the idea of you being able to look at them."
She kissed him. They sat in silence, watching the flames. After a few moments, he reached forward, handing her a coffee cup, taking one for himself. They drank, still in silence, before kissing again, this time, maintaining it.
"One other thing. Can I have a set of copies myself?"
Rachael felt herself growing ready again. His hands were on her breasts through the sheer fabric. She took one, guiding it to her thigh. He tried to slide it up through the hem, but the tight cut of the skirt obstructed him. She felt his hand steal around her back, seeking the zip, drawing it down.
"Wait."
She stood in front of him, and slid the skirt over her hips. Beneath, he saw, she wore only the stockings. The top, he realised, was actually a short slip, almost but not quite extending to cover her pubic mound.. There was something about the look....
"Recognise it?"
"Err..."
"Men, honestly...this, Mr "Y", is exactly how I was dressed when you came to my room. You recall that night, I hope?
"Oh yes. I'll never forget it."
"Neither will I. You remember I did something like this?"
She slipped the straps from her shoulder, and bared her breasts. Moving forward, she straddled his hips, her knees on the sofa, before pressing his face to her.
"What do you think we should do now?" she whispered coquettishly. His hand moved between her legs, and she felt his fingers move into her.
