Jenny's place was nice, as befitted a swanky building like this, opening directly into a spacious, neatly furnished lounge with floor-to-ceiling windows offering views across the park.

She let go of me for a moment and took a step backwards. 'I'm not always this forward, you know.'

'I know,' I said. Which I didn't, of course, but I thought this was probably what she wanted to hear.

'It's just I've always had a bit of a soft spot for you.'

'I guess I've had one for you as well,' I admitted.

'Do you want a drink of something?'

I'll never forget my next words, mainly because they were so hackneyed, and did whatever reputation I had as a romantic or a wordsmith no good at all. 'No,' I said, 'I just want you.'

Something about it must have worked, though, because the next second we were kissing again.

We remained like this for several minutes, our hands running up and down each other's bodies, exploring hungrily, before she whispered huskily that it was time to go to bed.

I wasn't arguing, and we walked sideways, crab-like, still locked together, through to a spacious bedroom with mirrors on the walls and a king-sized bed with black satin sheets which, I have to say, looked to be designed for just this kind of encounter.

She pulled my jacket off and flung it into the corner, then tugged at my belt.

Unfortunately, this was also the moment when, with impeccable timing, I experienced every man's nightmare in this situation: the nagging urge to pee. I really didn't want to say anything for fear of breaking the mood, but I also knew that, my bladder being what it was, I was going to have to, otherwise the urge would get steadily stronger, which would risk ruining everything.