If there’s one thing I’ve learned in life, it’s that people are all too eager to judge on appearances. If someone’s fat, they’re considered lazy; if they’re thin people accuse them of being fashion-obsessed and desperate to impress; and if, like me, they’re blonde and large breasted, there’s only one possible explanation. They’re stupid.

This stereotyping used to really get to me when I was younger. I didn’t ask for this hair and this body after all – but when I started to develop curves, I saw no point in hiding them. Instead, I dressed to emphasise my assets. Which is when the taunts started – girls I’d previously considered friends calling me a bimbo, even though they’d been at school with me since I was a kid and knew that I got good grades. Jealousy, my mum said, but try telling that to a shy teenager.

I withdrew into myself and stopped hanging out with my old friends – but I played up to the ‘bimbo’ role when I was out clubbing. After all, if you’re going to get accused of something whether it’s true or not, you may as well get the perks. I wore barely there outfits and let the men that inevitably flocked round me do most of the talking while plying me with champagne. Being a sexy girl got me attention and friends. After the bullying at school, being liked was addictive. But secretly I hated the facade. I knew that there was more to me than my looks – but I thought that no-one else would ever believe it. Until I met Jake.

Most of the guys I met were only after one thing: if they even managed to look me in the eye when we were talking, they were doing well. But when I saw Jake in my local club, and smiled at him, he just smiled back politely, and carried on sipping his drink. I’d had a few and he was cute, so I stumbled over to him.
“Haven’t seen you here before,” I said.
“I’ve just moved here for work.”
“Wanna dance then? I can fill you in on all the essential local information – best bars, best clubs, best kebab places...” As I spoke, I swayed to the music, but his gaze didn’t once leave my face, despite my skimpy dress.
“Thanks for the offer,” he said, “but I’m not much of a dancer.”
“You just have to move to the music,” I said. “It’s not that hard. I can teach you.”
“Maybe later,” he smiled.
“Oi, Carly, you dancing or what?” came the voice of Derek, an old flame I sometimes rekindled.
“Don’t let me stop you,” said the handsome stranger.
With not a little disappointment, I headed for the dancefloor and showed off some of my best moves, attracting a crowd of appreciative men. It was nice being the centre of attention, but my mind kept flitting back to the man who wasn’t on the dancefloor. When the song came to an end, I looked around for him, but he was nowhere to be found.

Fate was on my side though. The next day, I was returning my library books – nursing a killer hangover, it must be said – and who should I see in front of me but my stranger.
“Hi, we met last night at the club – you wouldn’t dance with me.” I said, a gently flirtatious tone in my voice.
“Sorry – but I can promise you, you wouldn’t have appreciated it if I had. In fact, if you’d seen how I dance, I don’t think you’d be talking to me now.”
“I’m not that shallow,” I said.
“So I see,” he said, gesturing at the books under my arm. “Interesting choices. So what did you think of The Lovely Bones?”
“I loved it,” I said. “I’m hoping her other book’s in.”
“Oh, it’s even better than that one – though it’s pretty traumatic.”
“I’ll tell you what,” I said. “You free now?”
“As a bird.”
“How about I return these, we go for a coffee and you can tell me more.”
“Sounds good to me,” he said. “By the way, the name’s Jake.”
“Carly,” I said.
The day was looking up.

***

Three hours later, we were still immersed in conversation. It turned out that Jake was an English tutor at the local university. He’d just qualified so this was his first job. He freely confessed to being nervous.
“Well, you can practice on me if you want.” I’d said. “I’m always up for talking about books.”
Jake eagerly accepted my offer, “if you’re sure you don’t mind?”
I reassured him that I’d enjoy it and we arranged to meet up a couple of days later.

It was only after he’d left that I realised I hadn’t even asked whether he was single.

***

When we met again, time flew just as quickly. I could see why he’d gone into teaching – he was naturally enthusiastic about his subject, and it was contagious. Even better, he genuinely seemed to value my opinion. After the bullying I faced at school, I’d decided to give university a miss and instead went straight into work. Jake was shocked when I mentioned this. “But you’d wing it,” he said. “Honestly, you put half my students to shame.”
I blushed. Jake didn’t realise how much his words meant to me.

***

It didn’t take long for Jake and I to fall into a pattern. We’d see each other every few days, swap books, drink coffee and talk for hours. As we got to know each other better, I told him about the bullying at school, and he confessed he’d been picked on for being a geek.
“But that’s mental – you’re cute!” I said, the words spilling from my mouth without me even thinking about it.
“Well, thanks,” he said, blushing. “But honestly, you should have seen me as a kid – spots, braces – you name it, I had to suffer it.”
“I can promise you, there’s no way anyone could tell that now,” I said.
“Err, great, so anyway, what did you think of Wuthering Heights?” He was clearly too embarrassed to talk about himself any more, so I let it slide and got back to talking books.

***

After a month of seeing Jake, I realised two things: firstly, that I was going to apply to university as a mature student later that year. And also that I was falling in love with Jake. I had no idea how to broach the subject – whenever we got onto anything personal, he’d change the subject back to books – and I had no idea whether he even fancied me. I didn’t think any of my usual tricks would work – flicking my hair, seductively leaning forward to flash my cleavage, letting my skirt ride up high on my thigh. More to the point, I didn’t want to use any of them. He was different to other men, so if he responded to the same things as the rest of them, I’d be disappointed in him. So what was I going to do? It took me a while but then I struck upon the solution. I deliberately picked one of the hottest books I knew – Delta of Venus by Anais Nin – and lent it to him to read. And I suggested that he came to my place for the discussion about it. “After all, no point wasting money on buying coffee when I’ve got a cappuccino machine at home.”
The trap was set.

***

When he arrived at my door the following week, Jake was looking uncomfortable. I invited him in and made him a coffee, then led him through to the lounge. Rather than the usual easy chatter, he remained quiet.
“So, did you read that book then?” I asked him, in an attempt to get him to speak.
“Um, yes, it was… great. It’s very, err, lyrical.”
“Isn’t it. I love her use of language – so sensual.”
“Yes,” he agreed. “But, err, I did find it a bit graphic.”
“Well, yes, it is graphic – but sex is just as valid a thing to write about as anything else. After all, it’s a universal subject.”
I was moving closer to Jake as I spoke, my thigh brushing against his. I was just toying with the idea of casually letting my hand rest on his thigh when Jake stuttered “Err, Carly.” He didn’t meet my eye as he spoke.
“Yes?”
“There’s something I’ve got to tell you. I don’t want to spoil what we’ve got – you’re one of the most interesting people I’ve ever met but if I don’t tell you now, I’m going to go mad. I, err, I think I’m falling for you. I had to tell you because I can’t sit here and talk about sex with you as if I don’t have any feelings. Don’t worry, I’m not asking you to feel the same way but…”

I silenced him with a kiss, my lips pressing softly against his, and my heart soaring at his confession. It wasn’t just me! Up close, I could feel his taut muscles and as I inhaled his musky natural scent, it felt more right than anything had before.

Although he’d been shy about confessing his feelings, now we were touching he was anything but shy. His hands tangled in my hair, gripping the tendons at the back of my neck with a strength that betrayed his passion. As the kiss deepened, I let him pull my body closer to his and soon he was lying on top of me, his arousal all too obvious – and sizeable. I ground my pelvis against him and he answered by gently biting my lip, his tongue pushing deeper into my mouth. I could barely contain my gasps, and ran my hands underneath his T-shirt to better feel his body. As my nails gently played over his back, he moaned – which I took as a sign that he wouldn’t mind me taking his T-shirt off. I pulled it over his head and was pleasantly surprised to see a muscular torso – not a gym-trained look, but just a nicely fit body with a sexy sprinkling of hair over his chest.

I wriggled down his body, kissing his neck, then his nipples, but I was most fascinated by the trail of hair that ran down his stomach… I gently ran my finger down it, eliciting another gasp, then cupped my palm over his bulge. He pressed eagerly against me, but I pushed him back into a kneeling position so that I could undo his jeans to reveal his entirety. It sprung up, tip glistening and so hard that I could have sworn I could see a pulse beating through it. A sight that gorgeous had to be appreciated, so I bent my head and delicately lapped at him.
“Oh God,” he groaned.

I took his length into my mouth and began flickering my tongue along the underside, simultaneously bobbing my head so that he could feel himself rubbing against my throat. One hand focussed on his shaft while the other slipped underneath to cup his balls and rub his perineum.
“That’s so good,” he mumbled, barely comprehensible he was so horny. I kept my efforts up and knew he was nearing the edge but as I felt him stiffen further indicating his climax was imminent, he pushed me away.
“No, not yet. I want to please you first.”

He peeled my dress over my head and just looked at me for a moment, wearing nothing but my lace shortie knickers.
“You’re stunning,” he said, and kissed me again, this time more urgently. As he pulled me to him and I felt my skin against his for the first time, I shivered.
“Cold?” he asked.
“Quite the opposite,” I said and lay there, blissed out as he started to kiss down my body. Rather than going straight for my breasts, he spent an age nuzzling my neck, his hands simultaneously running over my waist, bum, thighs… I felt goose pimples rise everywhere he touched me. It was as if he had a blueprint to my body, knowing how to caress me better than I did. By the time he started kissing my breasts, I was more aroused than I’d ever been. He started on the underside of my breasts, trailing his tongue along the crease, and gradually worked his way to my nipples, leaving no part of my breast unkissed. As he sucked my nipple, his hand slid down my body and insinuated itself between my thighs, his thumb gently brushing over my clit. When he felt how wet I was, he groaned. “God, you’re sexy.”
I’d been told that before, but this time it really meant something because I knew it wasn’t just my body he was attracted to.

His thumb kept a constant rhythm on my clit, dipping into my centre occasionally then sliding back up. At the same time, he alternated kissing first one nipple, then the other. Before long, I could feel the waves of orgasm drawing nearer. It was my turn to stop him.
“I want us to come together,” I said.

I reached into my bag and pulled out a condom, which he slipped on confidently, Then, looking deep into my eyes, he got on top of me and slid deep inside me in a single thrust. I had to bite my lip to stop myself screaming my pleasure. My hands gripped his bum, pulling him deeper, and I ground my hips against him, knowing it wasn’t going to take either of us very long. He didn’t drop eye contact for a second, his hand stroking my face as he pushed his way ever deeper inside me. I could feel myself trembling and moaned “I’m so close, so close.” He kept up his steady rhythm, and I raised my legs, wrapping them around his back to pull him as far inside me as he could be. I could barely tell where I ended and he began – it was the perfect fit. As I felt my muscles start to ripple, he looked at me with pleading eyes.
“I’m going to come.”
I nodded, and pushed my hips up to meet his thrusts, still looking him in the eye. As I felt him start to pulse inside me, I couldn’t hold back and came around him, forcing myself to keep my eyes open so that I could watch him come.

Afterwards, we lay on the sofa cuddling each other.
“That was incredible,” he said.
“It was better than incredible,” I smiled, kissing him on the nose.
And as I enjoyed him stroking my hair and smiling at me with love in his eyes, I knew that things were only going to get better.

To hear this story read by Jodie Marsh, download Sex Talk With Emily Dubberley (Show Eight)