George Atkins did not know the first thing about making love—I mean full twenty shillings to the pound worth of love. No sooner he put his thing in, he was finished. He worked himself up for a second bout. This time he was very rough; he bit my breasts, dug his nails into my poor bottom and rammed away as hard as he could. As he was about to come, I screamed, ‘You are killin’ me darling’!’ He lunged away and with a great ‘whoa’ spent himself. I pretended I had come and was exhausted. He looked like St George who had slain his first dragon. He turned very gentle: ‘Did I hurt you, dear? Do forgive me.’ Hurt me? My foot! I replied in my most tired voice, ‘No, darling, you did not hurt me. You just did me in. It was wonderful. Thank you, thank you, thank you.’ George Atkins looked as if his salary had been doubled and he had scored a century at a cricket match. He lay beside me tapping his chest as if it were full of gold medals. I began to play with his nipples till they became hard. I kissed his paunch and stuck my nose in his navel. I could see his member was a sorry state of dejection. I ran my fingers in his fuzzy red pubic hair and gently played with his whatnot. It began to stir like a snake in a snake charmer’s basket. Then I applied my tongue to it till it was fully revived. It was quite a size. I came over him and took him between my thighs. I wanted him to have a night he would remember as long as he lived. ‘I expect it’s the Indian in you which makes you such a superb lover,’ he said crossing his arms behind my back. I didn’t like that and told him so. ‘No Georgie dearie,’ I told him, ‘there is nothing Indian about yours sincerely. I am as pucca as you: one hundred per cent British and proud of it. Now promise me one thing. You must get Alec a job some place up country. God promise?’ I kissed him and wiggled my middle on him. I looked directly into his eyes and asked: ‘Do I have your word?’ He tried to look away, but I held his head in my hands. ‘Promise! I’ll make it worth your while,’ I assured him. ‘I will do my best,’ he replied. That was enough. I glued my mouth to his, ran my tongue in his mouth and worked on him till both of us were like two animals: biting, clawing, drawing blood. We almost killed each other in the final act. This time it was, as they say in an attorney’s office, ‘Signed, sealed and delivered.’ His syce drove me home at 3 a.m.