Chapter 2

It took Jonas half an hour to deal with the phone messages that had come in during the morning. By the time he returned, Hannah was sleeping peacefully. Jonas smiled and closed the door softly.

"Miss Maxwell?" Hannah awoke with a start, then flushed and straightened in her chair. "Please, excuse my absence," Jonas said quietly, and Hannah got awkwardly to her feet.

"I'm sorry, I was just -"

"No need to apologise. I like this room primarily because it is so restful."

"I was just thinking about your story," Hannah said hesitantly, sitting down again. "And then, I suppose, dreaming about it to. You know, Lady Jane: Virgin Hunter was one of the first porn films I ever saw."

"Indeed?" Jonas asked with a warm smile. "My installment, or one of the others?"

"No, I didn't see your film until I started research for this interview. I hope you don't mind me saying so, but it was wonderful!" she flushed a little, and leaned over to fuss with her recorder to cover her embarrassment. "No, the first one I saw was the one with - God, I can't remember his name, the black kid with the shaved head."

Jonas nodded. "Taylor Brown. Pleasant fellow. He worked for a while in the US under the name Big Bad Brown."

"Oh, I remember him," Hannah said in surprise. "I didn't know he was English. Lady Jane was responsible for giving the world more than a few porn super-stars, then?"

Jonas looked to the window. "Oh, more than a few, yes." He sat down opposite Hannah, and rubbed his hands together. "Well, where did we get to?"

Hannah smiled and clicked the record button, and settled back to listen.

Now, where were we?

I told you earlier about my first meeting with Lady Jane, and my first sexual experience. How I made it home from school that day, I have no idea. My next memory is waking up in the early evening, on my own bed, still fully clothed, clutching the Vixen Productions business card that Jane had given me. It all seemed like a dream - or more than a dream, a fantasy.

It took me about two seconds to decide that I wanted to see her again, and as soon as possible. I wandered down to the kitchen and made myself a cup of coffee, eschewing my usual coke in favour of a drink more suited to a man who had been balls-deep inside a beautiful porn-star just a few hours earlier. I was so ridiculously proud of myself, I'm embarrassed to even think of it now. In any case, after an hour of procrastination, I steeled myself and called the number of the card. It rang four or five times, then she picked up. "This is Jane."

"Hi," I said nervously. "It's Jonas."

"Jonas?" came the reply. There was the sound of movement in the background. "Sorry, Jonas who?"

"Um, Randall," I said, my insides turning to ice. How could she have forgotten about me? "From the - um, from the school?"

"Oh, Jonas!" she said excitedly, and everything was fine again. "Sorry, darling, I'm in the middle of something and my mind was somewhere else. How are you?"

"I'm fine," I replied, grinning idiotically. "I was wondering if maybe you'd like to go out with me. If you want to."

"You mean like a date?" she asked in an amused tone.

"Sort of. I mean - "

"You're just so adorable, I can't bear it! Listen, darling, I have to go right now, but maybe you could stop by my place for a drink this evening. Do you have a pen?"

I quickly scribbled down the address she gave me on the back of an envelope and, after promising to be there at eight, hung up. Then, still grinning stupidly and excited like a kid on Christmas morning, I went for a long shower to prepare myself for my woman.

The address was for a modern apartment building in the former bohemian quarter of the city, where you could now find sex shops right next up to sophisticated boutiques; strippers sharing the streets with artists, porn actresses sharing a croissant in a secluded cafe with an advertising copywriter. I caught the bus across the city, then wandered around the streets until I found the building: a diversion that was an education in itself, believe me.

I was dark by the time I jogged up the stairs to the main door, and my stomach felt like it was stuffed with butterflies. I flashed a hesitant grin at the doorman, an older man in a immaculate blue overcoat. "Can I help you, sir?" he asked genially.

"Hi, yeah, I'm here to see - " Then it struck me. I didn't know her real name. Lady Jane was obviously a pseudonym - who should I ask for? "Um," I faltered, "Jane?"

"I see, sir," said the doorman, quirking an eyebrow. "Jane."

"She gave me a card, and asked me to stop by," I explained, fumbling clumsily in my pocket for the Vixen card. "She wrote her number on the back. It's here somewhere -" The doorman smiled softly and raised a hand.

"I'll just check, sir," he said in an amused tone, the stepped into a little booth by the door and picked up the telephone. "Your name, sir?" he asked me as he dialed the number.

"Jonas Randall," I said with a rush of relief. Jane would tell him it was okay. I hadn't blown it. "J-O-N-"

"Jonas, yes sir, I'm familiar with the spelling." He turned away from me and spoke a few quiet words into the telephone, then glanced back at me. "Yes. Very good, Ma'am," he said, and hung up. He brushed down his overcoat and emerged from the booth, then flashed me a grin and opened the door. "Eighth floor, sir. Your lady friend is waiting for you."

It took every scrap of self-control I possessed not to run across the lobby. The lift opened as I approached, and I waited patiently for a pair of middle-aged women to maneuver themselves out of the way, then stabbed my thumb at the button for the eighth floor. I rubbed my hands together, I paced backwards and forwards, I exhaled slowly and tried to calm my pounding heart, but it was no use. I was as nervous as I had ever been, and as excited.

Finally, the lift doors swished open, and I emerged into a small hallway. In a doorway opposite the lift stood Jane. My eyes widened - she was wearing an elegant black evening gown, slashed to the thigh, with a modest neckline that still managed to emphasise her wonderful breasts. She held a champagne flute in her right hand, with the left behind her back, her ankles crossed in manner that suggested a curtsy. "Hello," she said softly. "I'm glad you could make it."

"You - you look beautiful," I said in an awed whisper.

"You're sweet. Come in, Jonas. Let's get to know each other better."

I followed her into the apartment, my gaze fixed on the way her fantastic body moved under the thin dress. "You can hang up you coat by the door, darling," she said over her shoulder, moving ahead of me, and my heart sang. Darling! I scrambled out of my jacket, and hung it on a hook next to what looked like a raincoat made of a tough, shiny plastic.

The lounge was dominated by large plate-glass windows that gave a breathtaking view of the city, constellations of lit windows and streetlights laid out in the inky blackness. A hidden sound system was playing soft jazz: in any other circumstance, it would have seemed banal and trite, but in my aroused state I thought I could make out a sinuously erotic harmony in the sweeping scales and syncopated rhythm.

Jane was pouring a second glass of champagne, and I took the opportunity to gaze with ill-concealed longing at her lush, magnificent body. She looked up and caught my eye. "See anything you like?"

"I - uh, this is a great place," I stammered, as she handed me the champagne flute.

"Thanks. I don't get to spend much time here, these days, but it's always nice to come home."

I opened my mouth to reply, but the words stuck in my throat as Jane reached out and took my hand. She stepped forward, our bodies pressing together, and, so slowly I thought I was dreaming, our lips touched. "Come with me," she said softly, and I nodded mutely, knowing that I would follow this woman anywhere on Earth.

Leading me by the hand, she crossed the lounge to a deep, comfortable couch. She sat down and elegantly crossed her legs, and I bit back a groan of desire - this woman, so refined and yet so wonderfully slutty, was a goddess. Jane sipped her champagne, then rubbed the seat next to her. "Sit," she said. "I won't bite unless you ask me to."

I sank onto the couch gratefully, my knees trembling, then steeled myself and put my arm around her slender shoulders. She sighed happily at the contact and turned to face me. The kiss, when it came, was as gentle as before, but seemed to carry with it a promise of a deeper hunger, a rising passion that would soon demand fulfillment.

We kissed gently, then she giggled. "This is so naughty," she whispered. "I really shouldn't be fucking you, Jonas, you're so young."

"I'm old enough -" I started, but she kissed me again.

"You're not," she told me sincerely, then grinned impishly. "You're really not. But I couldn't forget about that magical dick you've got, darling." Her fingers alighted on the large bulge in my trousers, and she nipped my bottom lip with her perfect, white teeth. "Would you like to play with my breasts, darling?"

I nodded again, the promise of Jane's wonderful body robbing me of speech. Slowly, obviously relishing my excitement, she pulled the thin straps of her dress off her shoulders, and let them fall. Then, with a single finger hooked wickedly into her cleavage, she pulled the front of her dress down until her breasts were almost bursting free of the thin material - and then, with a joyous bounce, they were revealed in all their glory. Jane clasped my hand in hers and brushed my fingertips over the soft flesh, and I moaned in pleasure, then began to stroke and massage them enthusiastically. "Gently," she whispered. "You're stronger than you think, and that's good, but there's a time for strength and a time for softness."