Marilynn Foster’s hand was under my evening dress. Somehow and very deftly, as we kissed she had lifted my dress and managed to get my knickers around my knees. Now, her hand was running between my legs like a saw, the side of her index finger running smoothly between my lips and her thumb playing havoc with my clitoris. Her tongue was pressing into my mouth and I wasn’t complaining. She worked her body so my thigh was pr...

Gwendoline Callaghan, known to all our circle as Harry, was tall, slim and as butch as you like. She did class butch. Not for her the tight vest, torn jeans and Doc Martens. No, for Harry, it was a decent suit or classy chinos and a leather jacket. She was deep in conversation with a woman called Jess, who never seemed to do anything but was as rich as Croesus.   I was watching her at the party my friend Sylvia arranged e...

I think I told you that my agent, Flick Caterham, had landed me a part in a new tv series called ‘Lawful Execution’ to be directed by Chesty Morgan, real name Cassandra, with whom I’d worked before when I was much lower down the food chain. So there I was in my dressing room getting ready for my first big court scene. I was playing the part of a barrister which, for those whose legal system is more sensible than ours, is...

Lilly and I were sitting on the floor, resting against each other’s back.   “How was Bertie?” I asked.   “Fucking useless. Came in his pants poor love. I hardly touched him.” Knowing Lilly as I did that was probably enough to make anyone cum. “How was Ros?”   “I don’t know.”   “Don’t know?”   But I’m getting ahead of myself. I had it all, nearly.   I was almost famous, fairly wealthy, more work was being offered and by mo...

Medical matters and a deepening involvement with Mundt   My work continued despite my involvement with Ilse Mundt. I delivered messages between members of our resistance cell, left messages which I had encoded myself for our radio operator in pre-arranged concealed places. It was vital we knew as little as possible about our colleagues. That way, were we arrested and interrogated we could not reveal other’s identities.  ...

Chaos that somehow seems to work, that’s how I’d describe India. You go into a shop, perhaps to buy some silk and you are assailed by eager sales staff who deliver their patter without giving you a chance to draw breath. They offer coffee or tea, show you endless items in which you’ve already told them you have no interest but they are relentless. On the streets you have to avoid potholes, beggars, cows, appallingly parke...

The funeral was a gloomy affair as funerals go.   I am somewhat irreverent and remember clearly my twin brother and I giggling all through my Uncle’s funeral because his widow had the price ticket still dangling from the back of her hat. John and I shared a sense of mischief and humour. At our Grandfather’s funeral, we’d been unable to look at each other during the hymn ‘Praise my soul the king of heaven,’ because John ha...

I’m very conscious that I started these tales at the time when I was an unknown actress about thirty years old. It might be interesting for me (if nobody else!) to go back in time.   I met Lilly Caterham in my first year at my boarding school. I’d been sent there because my mother basically loathed me, mainly because of the close relationship, more a friendship really, that I shared with my dad. He and I loved rugby, love...

I never saw Becca again after those few lovely days, even when we were both in the USA. I can’t explain why but our paths simply never crossed. I often thought about her, of course, and we did call each other a few times but my work and hers seemed to conspire to prevent us.   I signed the contract with Michael Gordon and my life seemed to change with the drying of the ink. I may not have been quite A-List but I was defin...

Becca, the girl I’d met in Berlin was often on my mind. What had started as a desire simply to get laid, which had been more than successful, had ended up with me hoping I might see her again. Many nights I’d lie in my bed and, eyes closed, use fingers or toys or both to replay in my mind those two nights of fabulous sex. I’d also found I liked her. My agent, Flick Caterham was throwing another party. They were her networ...

“How the fuck could you be so stupid?’   A well-manicured, glossy red fingernail tapped the picture on the front page of a German newspaper. The headline read, “English actress and star of new tv show leaves club with German woman.” Admittedly the headline wasn’t exactly contentious but the picture which showed her hand inside the top of my dress could claim to be.   The dress had been selected that night because I wanted...

Part 7 Unlike the American President, British Prime Ministers do not have their own aircraft. That is a bit of a pain for her security but somehow it all seems to work. The black Jaguar led a small convoy as it swept across the tarmac at London’s Heathrow Airport and stopped at the bottom of a flight of steps leading up to a British Airways 747. Sylvia Tenant and her entourage, including me, got out of the cars (I was in...

Libby Manning didn’t leave me waiting long. I was bent over the sofa, my evening dress up around my waist. I felt the tip of her dildo pressing against my lips gently, her hands on my arse. She stroked my backside and ran her hands over me, up my flanks under the dress and held my hips as she entered me. Slowly, she pushed into me, restraining me from pushing back onto her and millimeter by millimeter I could feel her dee...

When I walked in the flat was dark. Libby had given me a key and I’d hoped to find her home. I walked straight through into the kitchen, opened the fridge and poured myself a glass of white wine. I carried it through into the sitting room and turned on the low lights. “You took your time.” I nearly jumped out of my skin. Libby was sitting in a deeply upholstered armchair, her short hair shone as did her eyes. A glass of s...

Elizabeth Fleming told me some of this story in the years before she died, aged eighty, in 2010. The more graphic scenes are mine but the emotions and surrounding history are hers. She was my Great Aunt, great in so many ways for she was the third family member I ever revealed my sexuality to, the first two being my parents. I had known since girlhood that she shared a cottage in Hampshire with her friend, Portia, but had...