I hung about the pub off and on for the next few weeks, more off than on to be truthful. I had this horror of bumping into Lachlan and having to make polite conversation with him. I was also leery of Sheila and, as she was the barmaid, it was pretty difficult to go in without having to deal with her. It's not that I have an axe to grin with her or anything anymore - I'm way past that - but it just hurts.

But still, as I eventually told myself, I have a right to see my friends when I want to and these girls are my friends. I also like the atmosphere and there is no doubt that the men there exert a powerful draw. There are few other bars where you can see such a feast of manhood on any given night. I was lonely and in need of company. So I began to face my fears and go back. Actually Lachlan wasn't there much. He seems to be working away a lot and when he does turn up it is generally to give Sheila a ride home and he either waits outside or just comes in for a swift half before closing.

After the Steve thing, I was also dodging him. He's always around with that bloody camera and, even though I gave him zero encouragement, he still kept bouncing around and trying to chat me up again. I just played it cool and acted like none of it had happened. I know he was annoyed with me and eventually he cooled off and gave me a wide berth but I noticed him watching me a lot. Frankly I watched him too when he wasn't looking. I actually quite like his edgy style - and he is pretty good-looking - but I'm not in the market for relationships or any more than casual dates and I knew that if I allowed myself to see him again it would just get messy. I had had messy. There was no desire to go down that road again.

But a girl needs more than just female company and one night recently I sat down across from Jeff Wigand. He's not exactly my usual type of bloke but, as I had made such a cock up of things with my usual types, I began to wonder if maybe I would do better just having a fling with an older man. He'd be grateful and experienced enough to know what was what. Jeffrey also, despite his reserved manner, seemed an intelligent and honest man and it seemed to me that if I was straight up with him then he would be the same with me.

I had actually gone over to him initially to hide when I met Lachlan at the bar. He was stuck in a corner, looking morose, and we exchanged a few words. He was polite but seemed to have gritted teeth when he addressed me; I just blushed like a silly girl and scuttled away. Jeffrey was alone so I slid in next to him. We chatted. He bought me another drink and then I suggested we go someplace quieter. It was pretty obvious what I meant.

Out in the car park, he indicated where his car was and asked me if I wanted to follow him. I told him I had come in a cab. He asked if he could then take me home. I wasn't too sure about that. I don't want any men in my bed. So I simply came straight out with it. "Take me home to your place. I'd prefer that."

He raised his eyebrows and looked at me thoughtfully but shrugged his shoulders and opened the passenger door, sitting me down in a gentlemanly fashion. During the drive back, on a rainy night, we talked fairly formally. It was an odd set up. It felt like I was being taken home by one of my Dad's friends after school or something.

Or like being a high class call girl. I imagine.

He lives in an old brownstone house, once a large family residence, now divided up into apartments. The tenants all appear to be people like Jeffrey, teachers and lower end professionals, the sort of well-educated cultured people who go to the theatre and concerts and read a lot. I didn't mean to make that sound like a criticism. It was just a description. His apartment was comfortable but fairly traditional leather armchairs, wall of books, expensive sound system with a large collection of opera and jazz. He offered me a drink. I accepted a malt whisky which I don't really like much but knew would drink slowly, so this time I would stay sober. He asked me what music I liked. I said most things. He put on some modern jazz that was pretty weird.

We sat down facing each other and it was a bit difficult making conversation. I have to admit we didn't have a great deal in common. But then, neither did Lachlan and I. But we always chattered non-stop. I am easy to talk to, so is Lachlan. Jeffrey Wigand is a reserved sort of man. He doesn't just babble on about nothing.

"This is a bit awkward," I said.

"Yes," he answered unhelpfully. "I'm not really very experienced at this sort of thing. It's been awhile since I brought a lady home."

"It's okay. We don't have to-I mean, if you don't want to-"

"You're a very pretty girl-" he began."  

I blushed and sipped at my drink. "Thanks."

"-I'm not sure what you're doing with a man of my age. When you could have any of them-"

I hunched my shoulders. "I've had it with young men."

He tipped his head to one side. "So you thought a father figure would be a better bet?"

I grinned. "I don't want a father figure!"

"You sure?" He gave me a knowing look and filled up his glass again. I wondered if he was nervous and if drinking too much was actually wise in view of the situation.

"I'm sure. I just thought an older man might understand that this is just what it is. The younger men seem to want to own me."

"Is that what happened with you and Curry?" he asked astutely.

"No," I replied quietly. "It wasn't like that."

"Then what happened?"

I lowered my eyes and then raised them, staring him out defiantly. "He found me in bed with someone else. He walked out."

Jeffrey sat back and rubbed his forehead, taking off his spectacles and cleaning them. I felt he was just trying to bid for time to get his head round that one. "Why did you do it?"

"It's a long story."

"None of my business?"

"Not really."

"Why are you really here, Cassie? I don't think you particularly want to have sex with me, do you? I think I should drive you home."

"You're turning me down?" I gasped. "You don't want me?"

He smiled. "Oh, I want you. I'm no different from any other man in that regard. A beautiful woman walks past, I still look. She sits down next to me in a bar, I still wonder. She asks me to take her to my place, I expect that I'm going to get lucky. It doesn't change just because you pass fifty, you know?"

I felt as if I was being ticked off by the headmaster. "Then what's the problem?"

He made a face. "I don't want to add to your problems."

"What? How could you add to my problems?"

He took a deep breath. "Tomorrow morning. How are you going to feel when you wake up and realise who you had sex with the night before?"

I swung my legs like an angry child and tossed my hair. "I'm not a teenager. I'm a grown woman. I can deal with my own conscience, thank you very much. I don't need you to do that for me."

"How does this work then? We just go into the bedroom and take our clothes off? I haven't even touched you yet. It seems a bit soulless-sordid-"

I stood up and walked around the room. "We could talk for a while. Maybe we have something in common-"

He chuckled. "You think so? Well let's see. Interests. You play golf?"

I laughed. "No. I go to gym. Watch a bit of football."

"I'm more of a baseball guy-"

"I meant soccer anyway-"

"Of course-" That topic petered out.

"You read a lot?" I pointed to the books. "I read a lot as well."

"You do?" I noticed a slight surprise in his voice. Do I look that much of a bimbo? Picking up a few volumes and skimming along shelves, I realised there wasn't much here that would interest me. "I read mostly biographies, history, travel. That sort of thing."

"I can see that. I prefer novels. I read the good stuff...well, some of the rubbish as well, but I like fiction. I like how it takes you into other people's lives and sometimes you realise things about your own-"

"I don't have much time for fantasy. There's been enough excitement in my life," he responded tartly. "Well, when I say fantasy, I mean that of novels. A divorced man of my age who lives alone has time for the other kind of fantasy. It's all he gets. Most of my love affairs happen with only one person at home-" He gave me an embarrassed glance.

"Mine too. If the truth were known," I admitted. 

"Something in common then?" he observed drily. I didn't answer but my eye fell on one section of books about Japan.

"I used to live in Japan," I said.

"You did? So did I."

"I speak Japanese. I went to an international school but I learnt Japanese there too. Their culture fascinates me. Lachlan used to find it a bit disturbing. His generation were so anti-Japanese. Can't really blame them."

"No, you can't. They are a very difficult people to understand. We cannot simply ignore their darker side."

"I know. But, they have so many exquisite parts to their culture too despite all the things that seem brutal to us. The tea houses, geishas, that whole thing fascinated me-"

He nodded. "If we were in Japan, then a liaison between an older man and a young beautiful woman would not be so suspect. It would be an honour if both parties were willing."

"I know. I would bow and lead you to your room and it would not be soulless or sordid." 

We looked at each other for a moment.

"Let's pretend we're Japanese-" I whispered and held out my hand.

He let me lead him to his room. Inside, he sat on the edge of his bed and slowly stripped my clothes from me item by item. He did not hurry or pounce on me. He took his time and appreciated every part of me uncovered, eventually touching me softly, telling me how beautiful I was, what an honour it was for him to be with me. I was quite overcome by the dignity and gentility of it all. There was none of the feverish frantic sex that comes from younger men. He was enjoying the slower pace and the erotic pleasure of a woman.

When I was completely naked, he pulled down my hair and I sat on his knee, undressing him as slowly and naturally as he had done to me. It was as if we were both using the ritual of undressing to show respect for the other. It was a singularly fine moment.

Naked, we lay down side by side and looked at each other. Sure, he's older and heavier - but still a man with an impressive body, broad, strong, muscular and virile. His cock was erect and hard, he was hairy and manly and I felt like a woman, delicate and fragile next to him. We made love as slow and sensuous as the undressing had been. Jeffrey took his time and, as is probably normal at his age, did not desire to come quickly as a younger man might have done. But he knew how to use that to both our advantage, bringing me to pleasure and drawing out his own, making a virtue of his less pressing sexual needs. He might only be capable of one orgasm a night but it would last and no woman would come away unfulfilled. Young men are more naturally selfish. I suppose nature makes them that way, the need to impregnate as many and as often while they are in their prime driving them. Jeffrey simply wanted to experience me and for me to enjoy him. It felt like a very grown up kind of sex.

As we lay later in each other's arms, he was very tender, caressing me and thanking me for what we had shared. I told him it had been as good for me. He smiled and I know it pleased him. He didn't ask me where, if anywhere, we were going. I think he knew that this was not going to be a romance but an arrangement that was civilised and affectionate, sophisticated and realistic. When we fell asleep we did not hold each other but nor were we like strangers. I felt at peace in his bed, safe and sound. He seemed relaxed and happy in what we had shared.

The next morning he was up before me and brought me breakfast in bed. I was charmed. I asked him to put the tray aside and pulled him back to bed. He showed that after a night's rest he was just as capable as any young man of morning glory and we had fun, perhaps more light-hearted in our enjoyment of each other than the night before. But we did not share other intimacies. I showered alone and he did the same. This was not quite a free and easy relationship.

Dressed and drinking a last cup of coffee together before he drove me home, Jeffrey asked me a question. "Where do we go from here?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. I don't want a relationship. Not because of you. I just don't want a relationship with anyone at the moment. Jeffrey...I'm really not the kind of girl you want. I haven't got many morals."

He smiled. "That may be exactly the kind of girl I want. But, Cass, that isn't true. You're not cheap. You are sexually uninhibited. You're a modern girl. But let me give you a word of advice. Young men, even the modern ones, still have a strong tendency to sexual hypocrisy. Take care. I don't want you to be hurt by their arrogant assumptions."

I patted his hand. "You're a very, very, nice man. I don't want to be your lover. But I would love to be your friend."

At that he smiled broadly and leant over to pick up my right hand and kiss it softly. "I couldn't have put it better myself. Whenever you need a friend, Cass. You know, I will always be here for you."

"We call it fuck buddies these days," I giggled.

"I'd prefer something a little less coarse," he responded with a grin, admonishing me with a wave of his finger. "Sleeping partners, maybe?"

Later the next week, I dropped my car off at the garage. It was fairly quiet there. At first, I thought that no one was about until Dominic emerged from underneath a car. I jumped in shock.

"Saw your legs. Wouldn't have missed those pins, Cass," he grinned, wiping his hands on an already oily rag. "What can I do for you, love?"

"My car needs a service. Any chance of getting it done today?" He whistled and looked about.

"Actually I'm on my own. Colin's at a trade show and Johnny's delivering a car. Got a few things backed up. But, leave it with me. I'll do my best." He scratched his head in thought. "Look-give me your address. I'll bring it round tonight. You can run me home then."

"You sure? I don't want to give you extra work!"

He gave me a wide smile. "Part of the service, love. We aim to please and all that crap. You need a ride?"

I shook my head. "I'll get a cab to work. Appreciate it, Dom. Thanks a lot."

It was quite late when the bell went at my apartment - already past eight o'clock. Dominic was standing there dangling the keys. "There you go. Should be right as rain now."

"Gosh, come in-what do I owe you?"

Dominic stepped inside and looked around. "Nice place."

"Thanks," I said whilst rummaging around in my handbag for my cheque book. "So what's the damage?" I asked him.

"Nothing. On the house." he replied with a grin.

"What? But it was a full service, surely you can't do it for free?"

"Can if I want to. You're one of the girls. My treat."

I looked surprised. "You can't run a business giving free services to everyone at the pub, Dom. Colin would have you by the short and curlies!"

Dom smiled. "Nothing to do with him what I choose to do on my own time. I don't give everyone free work. I'm treating you."

Suddenly I wondered if there was a catch. "Why?"

He hunched his shoulders. "I like you. I was wondering, would you fancy, maybe going out for dinner or something? If you're not free tonight, another night?"

That's when I noticed his dress. He had obviously showered and changed since I had seen him at work, taken a shave, gelled his hair and, by the smell, used a bottle of aftershave. Dominic was on the make.

For a moment I was a little annoyed. He knows I'm single now and he's trying to get me into bed for the price of a free service. Pretty obvious? But then I looked at him. Why shouldn't he? I mean, I go out looking for men when I feel like it and keep them at arm's length when I don't. What had he done wrong? Given me a fair deal, offered to take me out, got all dressed up nice. What was wrong if he hoped he would get laid into the bargain. If I said no, he wouldn't push. But if I said yes, he would be delighted at his good luck.

"I'm not in the mood to go out actually. But I was just going to have dinner. Pasta? How's that sound?"

"Sounds great. Look, there's a bottle shop in the corner. I'll get some wine and we'll make a night of it."

"Sounds a good deal. Give me time to smarten myself up," I smiled.

He gave me a wistful look. "You look pretty smart to me, Cass. Fair dinkum, just lovely," he muttered with his eyes wide and sparkling.

I was relieved he left at that moment. For an instant his rather dated expression had made me think so vividly of Lachlan that I think I must have paled. But I don't think he noticed it, running out to get the wine and taking the stairs two at a time with his eagerness.

I took a deep breath and went and showered quickly, changing from my sweats to a loose skirt and top and busying myself in the kitchen. He was soon back and sat at the counter top watching me cook whilst drinking from a bottle of beer.

"What happened with you and Curry? He dump you for Sheila?"

Only a young man could have put it with quite so much indelicacy.

"No. It wasn't quite like that. We finished and then he took up with her," I replied with my back turned and trying to keep my voice modulated.

He didn't say anything for awhile. Then: "Thought you were a real couple. Romeo and Juliet, you know?" Thanks, Dom. I really needed that.

"Well, we weren't. What about you? You seeing anybody?"

He shook his head and seemed not to pick up on my swift change of topic. "No, not really. Got a few sheilas I see here and there, y'know? Not interested in a steady thing. I've got my wild oats to sow. Can't see me settling for a long while yet."

I turned round and smiled. "And you were the good Catholic boy with the guilty conscience!"

Dominic laughed. "Hey, I was only eighteen then. And a virgin. Give me a break. I've seen the light. And I've a lot of mileage to go before I want a ball and chain."

It was a refreshing admission. Dom wanted a life full of one night stands and sexual adventures for the time being and was not in the least ashamed to say it. "Good on yer, mate," I replied with a giggle. "Taste it all. Get life all over you. You only get one shot at it."

"Girl after my own heart, are ya, Cass?"

I gave him a cheeky look. "Not after your heart, mate. Anymore than you're after mine!"

We ate dinner. He was still hungry. I had some pie in the freezer and warmed it up, serving it with ice cream. He wolfed that down. We finished the wine and went to watch some TV. It didn't last long. Dominic eased his arm around me and shortly after were pashing like school kids on the sofa.

It got a bit heated. His hand wandered. So did mine. We gave each other a bit of manual pleasure while we kissed and then he whispered, "We gonna do this?"

I rolled back lazily and ran my hands through his hair. "Can't stop now. Bad for the health," I chuckled.

"Bedroom?"

I had this sudden shiver when I remembered the last time I had taken a man to my room. "Er-no-let's make out here. Or on the floor. Sexier than in a bed-"

Dominic didn't seem to mind where we did the nasty. We started off on the couch and then slipped onto the floor and had some pretty enthusiastic lovemaking. What Dominic lacked in finesse, he made up for in enthusiasm, eagerness to learn and a remarkably impressive turn around rate. I lost my guilty feelings as quickly as I lost my knickers. It was a bit like horseplay really - like you have with your brothers when you're a kid - but, of course, with the added factor of down and dirty sex.  We laughed a lot. Dom ended up with carpet burns on his knees. My bottom was red raw.

It was a very pleasant way to pass an evening and we were both very affectionate when we parted. He's a good lad, is Dominic, and he is exactly what he appears to be - open, honest and out for a good time. He told me that he was very grateful and that, even though he and the lads were pretty close, he wasn't going to say anything. He wasn't the kind of bloke who boasts about his conquests. There was still enough Catholic conscience in him to regard that as pretty low behaviour. I kissed him at the door and he suddenly came over all shy. "I'll-see you at the pub then, Cass? Maybe-you might like to do this again sometime? Next time, my treat. Thanks for dinner. Night, love-"

"Dom? Thanks for the service!" We both burst out laughing.

"Nothing wrong under that hood. Beautiful engine-goes like a dream," he giggled.

"Well, I had the right tools - and a pretty useful mechanic!"

I'm not sure if Dominic broke his promise or whether the others just worked it out but I knew next time I came in the pub that some of them knew about me and Dom. There were a few nudges and smirking into beer glasses - Dom got slapped on the back and looked embarrassed and gave me a shy smile that could have been meant as an apology. I remembered what Jeffrey had warned me. I should have taken more notice. I joined a few couples at the bar and ignored Colin and Lachlan bemoaning women and getting steadily drunker in the corner. There was a football match on that held most people's interest. My team lost. Well, what do you know?

I wandered off to the ladies and on my way bumped into Jack Corbett coming out of the Men's Room. I don't know him very well. He's rather quiet and not often around. I think he only comes in from time to time. He's a lawyer and works in a busy practice so I expect he has long hours and socialises with his own colleagues. I didn't know if he was seeing anyone. He hasn't brought a girl in here for a while.

"Oh, hello!" he asked, all chipper and a nice smile. "Haven't seen you since before Christmas-"

"No. I've been- er, busy-" I mumbled.

"Me too. Heaps of cases keep piling on my desk. It sounds really something to say you're a lawyer but I'm at the bottom of the heap. Glorified dogsbody. Do all the paperwork and get none of the glory..."

I grinned. "Paying your dues. You'll be up there one day...bossing all the young ones around!"

He nodded in agreement. I walked past him towards the powder room. There was nothing really to keep me there.

"Er-Cassie?"

"Yeah?" I asked, turning back. He had moved up close, took my arm and leaned over me as I backed into the wall of the narrow corridor.

"I was wondering. Would you-er-like to go out for dinner some time? Tonight if you're free?"

I was a bit surprised. We'd never really exchanged more than pleasantries before. I looked at him thoughtfully. He's younger than Lachlan but has the same sort of dapper style and that air of boyish innocence that cloaks the man which must have been typical of his time. That is what the girls expected in those days, I expect. A bit of a roguish charmer - but a good boy all the same. He was an officer in the war. He'd seen that side of life that made men grow up fast and take responsibility. It was something I'd always liked about Lachlan. He could be silly and light-hearted, boyish and playful but he was never immature or selfish. His generation grew up too fast and didn't have the luxury of the modern obsession with self.

There was this tantalising feeling of second chance in the air that I didn't exactly admit to myself but I know was there. Would pleasant Jack Corbett, the polite and well-educated young lawyer, be the sort of man to take Lachlan's place? Not that anyone really could replace him. But I know in time we all move on. Life does continue. You can find love again. This time maybe if I get that chance, I'll be older and wiser and not waste it again.

"I'd love to, Jack. It's very kind of you to offer. Let me just go and freshen up and I'll see you in a few minutes, ok?"

"I'll be in the bar. Take your time."

I met Scarlet in the loo and we had a little chat. She looks so good these days, positively glowing, just like they say you do in the books. I envy her. I told her so. Not because of Hando - he isn't my type of bloke - but for the fact that she's found love, made it work against the odds, some might say, and is now going to be a mother with a beautiful home of her own. It's like a fairy tale really and it's good to know that things can go right.

She was really nice, as she always is, trying in her way to get me to approach Lachlan but she doesn't know how impossible it is to think he would ever forgive me. Even though he's finished with Sheila, he's not in the market for love these days. Last thing I heard was him joking that he was going to become a priest.

Back in the bar, I walked up to Jack who was talking with a few of the younger lads. He made his excuses and smiled at me but I noticed a few whispered comments behind hands and sniggers. The usual puerile jokes about "Who's a lucky boy, then?" Jack frowned and walked off, taking my arm and hurrying me off.

"I apologise, Cass. They've been drinking and they're a pack of dingos. They don't mean it-"

I nodded but refrained from commenting. Maybe he hadn't picked up on the gossip about me. My chances of a fresh start were fading by the minute. How long would it be before someone told him a few home truths about me - and would he be any different in his opinion than Lachlan if he knew what a little slut I was?

Actually I'm not a slut.

But once they think you are, that's it, isn't it?

"How do I look?" I took his mind off the others as we walked to his car

"Like a treat, Cass. Let's go and eat some where nice. I found a place, out of the city. Country inn. You'll like it-"

It sounded lovely. It was lovely. We walked into the lounge bar and sat by a roaring fire waiting for our table. Then a very decent if unremarkable roast dinner and a good bottle of red was followed by a turn around the floor to a band playing popular classics. It was an old fashioned joint but it was fun, different, and Jack was an easy bloke to chat to, intelligent but not a know-all. He's a bit shyer than Lachlan but has a good sense of humour and I could tell he liked me although he didn't push it at all. He likes dancing and he kept me on the floor all night. I wondered if it was easier for him than trying to chat me up, a way of getting physical without breaching any codes of good behaviour.

That's why I was a little bit surprised when it came to the last waltz and he held me closer, his left hand pressing against the small of my back and his mouth dropping to my ear. "They have rooms here, ya know? It's late and I've had a few drinks. Mind if we stay the night?"

I wasn't sure exactly what he was getting at. He hadn't actually suggested that we sleep together and he might not have meant that at all, but his lowered voice and the sudden husky tone in it made me think he probably did. But how do you deal with an apparently fair request like that which doesn't actually proposition you but does make a suggestion in another way? I was used to more obvious come-ons, ones that I could read.

"Um-well, if you can't drive, maybe we can get some rooms-" I used the word in the plural. 

He smiled and didn't seem to have noticed anything. I relaxed. He said, I'll go and arrange it then."

When he returned he led me up the stairs to the upper floor and found my room. I paused at the door and reached up to kiss him softly. He closed his eyes and gave it back, holding my upper arms lightly to pull me near. It was a chaste kiss but he held it awhile before letting me sink back again.  I smiled and said "Goodnight, Jack," and turned to enter.

"I'm afraid there was only one room. They're fully booked. But they're twin beds-"

What could I say? I gave him a resigned look, called him in and found that it was a double room after all. "Bloody hell," he sighed. "They assured me it was a twin-"

I rolled my eyes. 

"I'll make a bed up on the floor," he suggested.

I shook my head. "No! You can't do that! It's a cold night and the floor's too hard. We'll share the bed. I'm not shy."

I caught a slight hint of a smile - or was it a smirk- on his face which he quickly damped down and tried to shake the feeling that this was all too off pat. Had he set me up?

I used the bathroom and came out gingerly. He was dressed in just his trousers and a T-shirt. While he went to the bathroom I slipped into bed, wearing my tank and knickers. They were pretty scanty and I wished I had worn something a little less provocative but I was under the sheets when he came in and thought he probably wouldn't find out.

Jack dimmed the light; I turned on a lamp. He sat on the bed, dropped his pants and pulled off his T-shirt before pulling up the covers and rolling inside. I snapped the lamp off and we lay together on the pillows, side by side. Neither of us seemed near to dropping off but it was all a bit awkward, to say the least.

"I can't sleep" he observed.

"Me neither," I answered. 

"Maybe we could talk while?"

"Sure," I replied, thinking this had to be the weirdest sleepover I'd had in a long time.

"What happened between you and Lachlan? It looked like you were really close."

I counted to ten. Why can't people just forget about it? It was old news. "Things just didn't work out. You know how it is," I answered vaguely.

"Someone else? Did Sheila cause it? Curry didn't strike me like that kind of bloke. But you never can tell."

"He isn't that kind of bloke. We just realised we were too different in important ways. It would never have worked." The lie stuck in my throat.

"Was it because he's from a different era? Does that make it harder?" I wondered if he was interested in me, and yet having his own difficulties in clicking with women of this time.

I rolled over and lay resting on my right elbow. The sheet fell away and bared his chest; I also saw him glance at my breasts in the skimpy top. "Partly. He had some issues about my-lifestyle-that were at odds with his views. I don't know really; he has things to adjust to - and I have things to learn. It was just wrong time, right person. But it's finished now and I don't want to talk about it."

He rolled onto his side too; we lay looking at each other. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have mentioned it, only- had to be sure. I wouldn't go behind a bloke's back, you know?"

"You think you'd be here with me if Lach and I were still an item?" I replied softly. But he didn't answer that one. I watched him shyly let his eyes glance down my body, or what he could see of it, and then return to my face.

"You're so lovely, Cassie. A real beauty..." his voice was husky, either from arousal or shyness. It was hard to be sure.

I blushed in the darkness. "You're a very handsome man, Jack. I like you a lot, you know?"

"You do?" his answer came back a little too quickly. "I like you, Cass. I really do. I, er know this is only the first time we've spent much time together but, well, we are in the same bed, half dressed- What I mean is-damn!" He threw himself back on the pillow and ran his hand through his neatly barbered hair.

I sat up. "What is it, Jack? What's the matter?"

He closed his eyes. "I'm a normal man, Cassie. It's a bit difficult to lie next to a beautiful woman and not feel something. I-it's been a while since I-you know? With a woman-"

He seemed to be talking in bursts of euphemisms and implications. I suppose it was hard for a man of his time to come right out and ask a girl if he could make love to her - or talk of his sex life at all. Mostly it must have just happened when they got carried away or something.

I thought about it for a moment. I liked Jack Corbett very much. He was a fine young man, well educated and smart, polite and friendly. I had in my time had sex with men who were a lot less pleasing to me than he was. I know I hadn't really meant the evening to end like this, but it was just fate, I suppose. A series of unconnected things had put us here together. It was obvious he was taken with me and was checking that the ground was clear for him to make some approaches about seeing me again. A relationship with Jack would be really nice and safe. I decided to give the thing a whirl and make the best of this second chance.

He was clearly too unsure of himself sexually to start things naturally, so I leaned over him and gave him a gentle kiss. His hand ran round my back and tentatively began to touch me, circling in smooth strokes before travelling down to caress the curve of my buttocks as he pulled me closer and responded more deeply to my kiss, his tongue pushing deeper, his breathing heavier, his head reaching to mine and urgently seeking the imitation of what he desired.

We rolled back onto the pillow; he wanted to assume control and to chase his pleasure more passionately with him on top. I felt the hard press of his cock against my thigh as our legs entwined and writhed together. He rubbed harder and instinctively kissed me more roughly. I was a little surprised. Quiet Jack Corbett was not as hesitant once he had been given the green light and was more sexually experienced than I had expected. One of his hands ran up my top and cupped a breast, flicking the nipple as his other hand found my thighs parted my legs and moved to the warm wet place above, slipping inside to dip into the creamy signs of my arousal. One finger found what he was searching for and I felt him penetrate me gently and heard the deep groan of contentment as he knew he was going to be allowed to have free access to what he wanted.

For my part, I was enjoying his strong if rather conventional lovemaking. He wasn't adventurous but he was thorough, giving me pleasure before he mounted me and smoothly pushed in. He had stopped to don a condom that seemed miraculously to hand; it was only later that I wondered when and where that came from. At the time, I was too genuinely moved by the experience to give it much thought.

Jack and I never saw each other naked. The sex happened under the covers and in a darkened room; he was big and a little too eager but his over-enthusiasm was tempered with gentleness and affection. When he had finished, he discreetly turned his back and discarded the rubber before coming back to me, thanking me and holding me close. We managed to sleep quite quickly after that and needed no more conversation- in fact neither of us had said very much even while we had made love. Jack did not make the usual crude encouragement, mindless rambling exclamations nor did he say anything about love. But then, he was probably too shy to acknowledge what we were doing, preferring the anonymity of dark and silence to cloak his passionate feelings.

When I woke, he was still asleep, stretched out on his back, snoring softly. I rolled over and watched him unawares and smiled at his boyish face with its dark shadow. My eyes skimmed his body underneath the covers, one leg sticking out of the blankets at the side. His morning wood was evident, causing a noticeable hill in the sheets. I felt easy and happy, sure that this was the beginning of a very pleasant relationship and wanting to make Jack feel more at ease with intimacy between us. So I burrowed down under the covers and made my way to the soft musky centre of his masculinity.

He woke with a grunt and then I felt the sheets pulled away slightly. Jack eased me from him, rolled me back and sleepily came to me again. This time he almost forgot to stop and rubber up, until I whispered to him and he obliged with a moan. We both smiled and it seemed we were not as formally proper as the night before; daylight was shedding its light on our activities and making it easier to admit what we were doing with each other.

Afterwards we lay awhile and then he said we had better be making tracks if we were to get to work that day. He sat up and slipped on his shorts, giving me his back, discreet again in the daylight. I watched him dress and then he said he would go down and settle the bill to give me chance to get organised. That's how he put it. Organised. He didn't even say - get dressed. Never mind - use the bathroom, shower to wash away the traces of our passion. No. Just 'get yourself organised.' I suppose he was just using the language of his day to save our embarrassment. It was the way they did it. But it felt suddenly cold. Lachlan never did that. He was a man of that time too but once we had made love, he dropped the façade of polite respectability and was one of the most sensual men I had ever met.

But Jack isn't Lachlan and I shouldn't expect him to be. He is kind and friendly and strong and sweet and generous and...just a really nice guy. And he likes me. And I like him. So what, if it isn't the kind of feeling that takes your breath away? He makes me feel safe and happy. I shouldn't rush things. I'm bound to have to take it slow after what happened with Lach.

Jack knocked on the door later and came in only when I opened it. I was dressed. We went out to his car, having decided against breakfast as we were on the last minute. The drive back was fairly quiet. We listened to the morning news, made polite remarks and talked a little about our work. I asked him to drop me at my place to pick up some files I'd been working on and he walked me to the door.

It was a little awkward then. He thanked me for a lovely evening, blushed and leant over to kiss me on the cheek. I waited for him to say something more but he just said "Well, then. I best be off-" and turned to walk away.

I was unsure what to do. I imagined he was a bit shy. Maybe I should say something? So I ran after him.

"Jack? I had a really great time. Would you like to come to dinner tonight?"

His face seemed to freeze a little. "Er, I can't. I'm working late."

"Tomorrow?"

He looked at his feet. "Well...I'm doing something tomorrow..."

"At the weekend? Any time. When are you free?"

He put his hands in his pocket and stepped from foot to foot. I realised he was trying to put me off in a sudden sinking sensation. He might not have given the usual kiss off but it amounted to the same thing. "I'll see you at the pub some night, Cass. Maybe we could do it again sometime. Just-let's not rush things along too fast?"

It was polite and discreet but it was obvious Jack Corbett had no attention of asking me out again. Well, he might come home with me if I let him on some future occasion when he was feeling frisky, but I was not a girlfriend in his mind. I might be the kind of woman he has a good time with now and then but not one of those he took home to mother.

"Jack! I didn't plan to sleep with you. You know I didn't."

"I know that. But, the thing is, you did. Cass, you know how it is. I'm not sure we'd work out as a couple. Any more than you and Lachlan did.  I better get off. See you around, Cassie."

He walked off and to be honest he looked a little ashamed of himself. I stood watching him. How did I feel? Well, I can't pretend I was gutted - I liked him but it was no great love affair. But to think that he had judged me on my morals when he had done no different himself hurt like hell. I even suspected that he had manipulated things to get to that end. He'd heard the rumours about me. He might not be as obvious as some guys but in his courteous way he had assigned me to his 'good time girl' list and made a play to see if he might score. And he had. And now he was off to better pastures.

Jeffrey Wigand had been right to warn me. I should have listened to what he was saying. I can't blame Jack for what he did. He just behaved in the way men behave. I was naïve to assume that men, even in these days, are so convinced of a woman's right to choose as they pretend to be. If you're easy to get into bed, for many you're still a different thing from a woman they want to court. They don't want to fall for a woman who they know has done the rounds with the men they know.

It was odd in the environment of the pub to realise that this attitude might still be a factor. Why do some women manage to sleep around and not get a reputation while others do something careless and suddenly get a name for themselves? Uma has been with a lot of them and they don't treat her like a tart. So have many of the women. What is the unknown ingredient that tips the balance? Whatever it was, I must have had it in spades.

I thought of the past few months. Terry, Lachlan, Zack, Steve, Jeffrey, Dominic, Jack. Was it really such a shocking list of men to bed? Then I realised that I had slept with six different men in seven weeks. And five of them had been one night stands. That was a bit tacky. It hadn't felt like that at the time, though. I hadn't meant to act in a trashy way. But that's what it looked like to the outside world.

I thought of Terry suddenly. Only he and Jeffrey wouldn't think like that about me. They were older and more-worldly wise. They knew how to judge a person's real worth and not make assumptions based on things as ultimately trivial as sex. But Terry was far away and had his own woman now. I could no longer expect him to be there to give me a boost and make me feel good about myself.

Closing the front door, I crept up the stairs and went to my flat, ripping off the clothes from the night before and changing for work. I would be late. I didn't care. There wasn't much that was going to make me feel worse today.

I made a vow as I ran to catch the tube some time later. No more men. No more weak moments. No more looking for guys to make me feel better. It never worked. I had my girlfriends and that would do me for the time being. I wasn't going to let this mess pull me down. But I was going to show everyone that there was more to me than a woman of easy virtue who would let any man have her for the price of a meal, a drink or a service to her car.

Who said women and men were equal? Some damned liar.