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 smo...
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 wa...
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...
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...
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...
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...
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...
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 se...
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 con...
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...
“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 headlin...
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...
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 u...
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 th...
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...
