Laura was an incredibly sexual woman. I first met her on a works night out, when she tagged along with a female work colleague. She was 34, had red hair which cascaded in waves to her shoulders, sparkling green eyes and a figure to die for. Slim, but not too skinny, and tits that looked just the right size to hold in your hand without being too large or unwieldy.

I spent the evening watching her on the dancefloor as she sashayed between men, inviting them to dance before moving onto someone else. I stayed at the edge of the room just watching, knowing that my attempts to dance and the fact that I was now over 40, would not enhance the performance I was watching, but it was to me, after another sensual turn the dancefloor had ended, that she approached to ask me if I wanted to buy her a drink. I couldn’t get to the bar fast enough.

Later that evening, after sex in my bed, I thanked the gods for whatever it was that had turned her eyes towards me when there were much younger, although maybe not so eager, men in the room. I fully expected never to hear from her again.

But I did hear from her again. I thought she had asked for my number out of politeness when she left, but that evening I received text message asking if I had enjoyed the previous night and if I wanted “another round” as she put it. A second evening of sex was had.

Apparently I was quite well endowed and a considerate lover, although no one else had ever said that to me. I satisfied myself that it was entirely down to her that had coaxed such a performance from me, but I happily basked in her compliments.

And so we bonded, at first sexually as I indulged her love of sex toys and we felt open enough to share our tastes in internet pornography, but then in other more regular pursuits as I shared her love of history and street food, and I was able to take her to museums and food festivals and the occasional ruined castle where we may have combined our interests with a little al fresco fun. We were suddenly in a relationship.

I started to spend a lot of time at her home. I’d stay most nights before returning to my own flat in the early morning before leaving for work. She shared this home with her daughter, Katie, and I suppose this story is really about her.

Katie was 15 years old when we first met. She didn’t seem to take after her mother physically although she also had the perfect figure. Her dark hair was cut into a bob, but although her eyes were blue I recognised the sparkle within them. She had obviously gotten very comfortable by the time I arrived each evening, as she would lounge around the house wearing only very short shorts and skimpy vest tops, her mischievous looks, smiles and giggles always seeking some attention.

She received that attention too, as her mother would let her boyfriend stay over night, I say boyfriend but she seemed to change them fairly often. As I lay next to Laura I could hear her moans and cries of pleasure from the next room. I asked her why she allowed it and she told me that this way she knew where she was and who with, and she felt it was safer than Katie going out where she wouldn’t know who she was with. I couldn’t deny the logic behind that, but listening again to Katie’s passion I asked Laura if she wasn’t worried about what the neighbours would think. Laura replied that they probably thought it was her and I laughed and we got involved in our own passionate embrace, my libido fuelled by the noises which emanated from the next room.

That was a regular occurrence, a little bonus to my sex life that I hadn’t expected, but things took an even more unorthodox turn. One afternoon whilst Katie was at school Laura invited me to have sex with her in Katie’s bed. This both excited and unsettled me, not knowing where it was leading, but I gathered that it was just another sex game and not a some kind of trap. It was a fun afternoon, finished long before Katie returned home. Laura shared her own secret smiles with me that evening, but I didn’t share my own secret that it was Katie who was in my mind as we played in her bed.

This is all only an introduction by the way. The real story starts here.

We were around six months into our relationship and Katie was now 16. I remember it like it was yesterday, a Saturday morning in April, as Laura and I sat at her kitchen table having finished breakfast.

Katie had actually been out the evening before, at a party. I recall asking Laura if she was sure that was okay, given her previous concerns about what Katie might get up to away from her mother’s influence, but it was only friends I was told. It would be fine. My concerns hadn’t lessened when I was still awake at 1am and she still hadn’t returned home.

But my concerns were unfounded when we heard her slow footsteps on the stairs, and she wandered into the kitchen heading towards the fridge to get a cold drink. Laura and I exchanged glances, smirking at our own memories of teenage overindulgence.

Although looking a little the worse for wear, Katie certainly had my attention. Her nightdress, in reality a slightly oversized t-shirt, barely covered her modesty. My eyes wandered over her legs until suddenly snapping back to her face as she spoke.

She asked us both about drugs. I saw the concern grow on Laura’s face as she demanded to know whether Katie had taken anything, but after a few large gulps from the cold can in her hand, she said she hadn’t, but some friends were talking about it and she wanted to know more about it.

I looked at Laura who seemed to look at me for help. I told Katie that I had smoked the odd spliff in my youth, but instead of getting high it only ever made me feel sick. I hoped I had struck the right tone, not wanting to be overbearing, but it seemed to work. Katie nodded and slowly walked out the door heading upstairs back to her room.

Laura thanked me for my intervention, although I wasn’t sure if what I said was particularly useful. She told me she had to go out to get some shopping. I told her I would tidy up and then return to my flat which was getting a bit neglected. I arranged to return to hers that evening.

Laura was not long out of the house, and I was still sat at the table when Katie reappeared, heading back towards the fridge.

She took another can, and turned to me, idly flicking the ring pull as she spoke. The question she asked was quite pointed.

“Have you ever taken cocaine?”, she asked as if it was extremely normal.

“No”, I replied. “Why have you taken anything?” I asked concerned.

She denied taking anything. “I just wondered”, she said.

With Laura out of the house, I felt I could maybe be a bit more edgy, and I told Katie about the time I had taken speed and went a bit crazy. She giggled as I told her the story, although I was still trying to stress that it was best not to try it.

The mischievous smile was back, and that little sparkle in her eyes, and I reassured myself that whatever had happened the previous evening, she was back to her usual self.

“But you’ve never taken cocaine?”, she asked again.

I couldn’t understand her obsession with this one question, and I admit I was getting a little exasperated in answering. I made a little joke.

“No, Katie, I haven’t”, I paused and then added “but I’ve heard sex is good on it.”

I don’t know why I made that joke, but the atmosphere seemed to change. Suddenly she wasn’t giggling anymore, she just stared at me with a strange look that I didn’t quite understand. She turned and left the room walking quickly upstairs.

I don’t honestly know why I followed. Maybe it was concern about what I just said, or did I really feel the hint of an unspoken invitation. I thought about it a lot over the years. I still don’t know the answer.