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She could tell I had something on my mind, and tried to get it out of me, but I couldn't possibly tell her. All afternoon I struggled to concentrate on my work, thinking about sea breezes, the cry of gulls, salt water splashing on my face...no, I'd given Anthony my answer, and that was that. But I felt the slip of paper with his 'phone number in my trouser pocket, burning like a rod of uranium.

When Peter got home that evening he grunted when I asked what sort of day he'd had, and picked listlessly at the TV dinner I'd warmed up for him as he watched some awful American crime show with bullets exploding through people in slow motion. Oh yeah, I had something arranged with him all right: our usual Saturday routine, the drag round Tesco, arguing over whether to buy the economy toilet rolls or the luxury ones (guess who wanted which!), then an afternoon pottering about in my garden while he drowsed in front of whatever boring sport happened to be on TV. Great. I lasted until nine o'clock before I finally gave into my desires. Slipping into our bedroom I dialled Anthony's number. He answered on the second ring. I could hear the distant thrum of drum-and-bass somewhere in the background, presumably from his sister's room. "Hi Anthony, it's Mel. Is it too late for me to change my mind, and join you tomorrow?" He sounded thrilled as he said of course I could join him, and we arranged that I'd pick him up at eight a.m.

That just left me with the problem of what to tell Peter. I took the coward's way out and told him nothing. I slipped out of bed early and propped a note on the kitchen table saying I was out for the day with a friend. Then I drove around town until it was time to collect Anthony. The weather report predicted a warm sunny day, but the sun had not yet arrived to burn off the chill of the night. I dressed in a sky blue vest, thong panties, cotton shorts and rubber flip-flops, with an old tracksuit over them. Anthony was bang on time, and we had a happy journey, chatting about his exam preparations and some of our favourite literature -- I loved his enthusiasm for my subject. On the way we stopped off to buy the makings of a picnic lunch.

By the time we reached Anthony's dinghy the promise warmth had arrived, and I left my tracksuit in the car. He was dressed in a polo shirt, shorts and training shoes. As he wheeled his boat out and made preparations I couldn't help noticing his hairy, tanned, muscular legs, and his tight bum inside his shorts. Before we boarded, Anthony handed me an orange life vest, and slipped one on himself. Then we had a pleasant morning sailing. Anthony clearly knew what he was doing, and he gave me little jobs like pulling on ropes, leaning out of the boat to provide a counterweight as it swung about on the water, and manipulating the tiller.

At about one o'clock Anthony steered us in towards a small island just off the coast, and jumped off the boat, wading knee-high through the water to moor us. I slipped off my life jacket and prepared to follow him, the bag of picnic food in my hand. He took me by surprise though, and I whinnied with laughter as he scooped me into his arms and carried me ashore. He had removed his shirt, and I found my nose nuzzling his furry chest. Finally, he returned to the boat once more, and picked up an old woollen blanket I'd brought from the boot of my car. Then, hand in hand, we made our way up a small hillock. I felt totally at ease with the situation. We found a pleasant, grassy spot in the shade of a large tree, laid out the blanket and ate.

Then we started kissing, tenderly at first, but with increasing passion.

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