Elaine sat in the restaurant with Hector Henderson. She smiled at him happily. Hector smiled back, displaying his erratic teeth. Elaine didn’t care if they clicked now and again when he spoke, or the fact he had to hold his hand over his mouth while he pushed them back into position with his tongue. As far as Elaine was concerned, the big, fat, jolly man opposite was her own personal Rudolph Valentino.

‘I hope everything’s all right for you, Elaine?’

‘Oh, it is, Hector, it’s lovely.’

He beamed at her. His heavy face was glistening with a fine film of perspiration as he leant forward awkwardly in his chair and poured her another glass of Chianti.

‘I’ll be drunk!’ Elaine’s voice was girlish and in the subdued lighting she looked much younger than usual. She caught a glimpse of herself in the large mirror on the opposite wall and was pleased with herself. Her diet had taken off quite a few unwanted curves. She actually looked quite well. Not exactly thin, she was big-boned and knew it, but at least she didn’t look so chunky.

Sitting in this restaurant, with Hector telling her all she wanted to hear, she felt quite light-hearted and gay. They had been to this restaurant twice before. It was through the Dartford tunnel and so was officially in Kent. They came here because there was no likelihood of seeing anyone that they knew. Now it had become their restaurant. Elaine loved Italian food and had practically starved herself for three days in order to enjoy a small helping of lasagne.

Hector watched Elaine tuck into her dinner. He liked a woman with an appetite. He approved of her size and shape, liked big women - he was a big man - and tonight he was going to get inside Elaine’s tights if it was the last thing he did. He felt a stirring of excitement at the thought of it. Her breasts, he could see, were absolutely enormous. Being a regular subscriber to Bra Busters, he was automatically excited by this. He closed his eyes and savoured the picture of them loosed from their confines and lying in his open palms . . .

‘Would you like a dessert, Elaine?’

She grinned girlishly again. ‘I shouldn’t really. My weight . . .’

Hector put up his hand to quieten her. ‘You have the voluptuous figure of maturity, and that’s just how I like my women.’

Elaine felt like swooning across the table. She wasn’t too sure about the maturity bit, but the rest was like music to her ears. Hector took her hands in his and kissed each palm in turn.

‘If only you were truly mine. But you belong to another man and I can but worship from afar instead of drinking from the fountainhead.’

Elaine listened to him with fascination.