We kissed some more, music playing in the background, our empty wine glasses at our feet. She took my hand and put it on her thigh, her dress hitched up, and soon my T-shirt was lying beside the wine glasses.

‘Do you want to go to bed?’ she asked.

I nodded. When I stood up, the room swam. Drunk on wine and Charlie. I held her hand and helped her up, realising I needed a pee. Typical – my bladder was determined to ruin the atmosphere.

‘I need to go to the bathroom,’ I said. ‘The bed’s that way.’

My bedroom had a dimmer switch and when I got back from the bathroom I found that Charlie had turned the light low. Her clothes were on the floor and she was in the bed, the quilt tucked under her chin. I stripped, wondering for a moment if I should take everything off or leave my underwear on, deciding to go for it. I kicked my shorts across the room.

‘Fuck, your hands are cold,’ she protested.

‘They’ll be warm in a minute.’

We stopped talking.

I won’t pretend that our first time was amazing. I was too anxious about my performance, not yet familiar with her body, what she liked, what she wanted me to do. Our limbs knocked together, we both whispered apologies a couple of times. I had to concentrate hard to stop myself from finishing too soon, determined to make her come before me.

Not only that, but I was too aware that I was making love to Charlie, this woman who, in the few days I’d known her, had filled my head, knocked me out of orbit. It was impossible to sink into the moment, to become fully absorbed, because I was watching myself, recording the moment like someone taking a video on their phone at a gig, instead of enjoying the there and then.

Afterwards, Charlie lay with her head on my chest, her hair tickling my face.

‘Do you think I’m easy?’ she said, hoisting herself up and looking into my eyes. Her face and collarbone were flushed from her orgasm. She really was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen.

‘If you are, I must be too.’

‘That’s true. But there are different rules for guys, aren’t there?’

‘Stupid rules.’

She kissed me. ‘Can you see me without your glasses?’

‘Not much. I have to get really close.’

‘They suit you,’ she said. ‘You’ve got that hot professor thing going on. You look cute without them too. Like a little mole.’

‘Oh, thanks!’

‘I like moles.’

‘I like freckles,’ I said, touching hers.

‘Oh God, you really are corny.’

‘I know. I just made myself sick.’

She rolled onto her side, propping her head up with her elbow, her free hand tracing patterns on my torso. ‘How come you haven’t been snapped up already?’

‘I was going to ask you the same thing.’