It was an image that was going to remain burned into Reuben's mind for a long time to come. The picture of Whitley stretched out on the bed, with him, in nothing but her knickers. Rebuen didn't even remember to take off his own trousers after she'd unbuttoned them, he was so busy looking at her. If he touched her, he worried that she might vanish like a wisp of air, like he might be dreaming.

Even while she kissed him, and while he kissed her, Reuben kept getting distracted with turning his face downward to look at her. The light was dim, but it wasn't so dim that he couldn't see, and it was almost all he could stand to do at first. Slowly, as his hormones took over where his mind had left off, he began to touch her, to explore her skin bit by bit, looking at her as he did. His mouth felt dry and his hands felt clumsy and rough, like a mule trying to handle a delicate flower.

All at once, at Whitley's prompting, he remembered his trousers. Rolling onto his back, Reuben jerked them down and kicked hard to get them off. His shoes got in the way however, and he ended up with a snarl of trousers and trainers strangling his feet for longer than he could stand before he managed to kick free of the lot of it. Using his feet, Reuben pushed his discarded clothes off the edge of the bed before he turned back to Whitley, his heart rushing with energy and nerves.

"Sorry," he whispered. Without actually touching her with his hands, Reuben settled his body quite close to hers, facing her. "I didn't mean to . . ." he began, but his hands had found her skin again. I mean . . . erm . . ." Her flesh was drawing his whole attention like a magnet, and he utterly forgot what it was he had been saying. "Yeah."