Samantha and I arrived into our truly magnificent hotel and were checked in and unpacking before midday Paris time. It was a large mini suite comprising a small sitting area with desk and two seat sofa, two double beds side by side and large bathroom with free standing bath and a shower and circular curtain rail over one end.

My experience the night before and all the talk on the train seemed to have heightened my awareness of how we were going to deal with changing and dressing. Samantha was more used than I was to sports locker rooms and chatting to sports team members while drying off and dressing. I attended a rather small and expensive gym where you were almost guaranteed privacy in a cubicle or alcove to yourself. So I really was quite taken aback by the intensity of the thrill it sent through me when I took off my top while Samantha was in the bathroom and decided to stand around in my bra with my top in my hand so that as Samantha emerged she could catch me.

I planned to act slightly surprised to be caught in the situation, but to demurely shrug it off, walking over to my bag and slowly choosing what to put on. I knew exactly what I was going to put on and yet decided that I would ponder two possibilities and ask her opinion, standing all the while in my blue lace underwear, watching how long her eyes were going to linger on my chest. And what of my jeans. Should I dare slip them off before putting a top on? I stood there thinking to myself.

What is going on? This isn’t a bloke. A little sexy teasing is one thing but I should NOT be getting a thrill out of this. But as I considered this oddly unsettling development, somehow it never crossed my mind to just get dressed and forget the whole thing. I was feeling positively horny.

It was at that point the bathroom door opened.

I panicked. I held the top up to cover myself. I remembered my plan and dropped it. I felt myself redden but I was pleased to see Samantha smile sheepishly and walk to her case with her top button and zipper open on her cotton gingham trousers.

I mumbled incoherently through my script about dithering over what to wear and without discussion I put on a tight jumper. Then promptly felt annoyed with myself for being so pathetic.

It was probably as a result of my undischarged anticipation, the confusion and inner conflict I was experiencing over these very feelings, and my annoyance with myself for failing so abysmally to follow my plan that I found bravery I wouldn't generally exhibit. When Samantha disappeared towards the bathroom with a skirt and top, I waited about thirty seconds and then boldly pushed open the door, trying to act as nonchalant as possible. As if I was faced with a beautiful girl bent over taking off her trousers every day.

In truth I couldn’t remember being in this position ever - and from the way it was making me feel I was pretty sure that I would have remembered!

I launched into a discussion of our shopping trip this afternoon and of what sort of lingerie we were going to buy her. Ignoring her obvious discomfort I strode up to her and prodded the strap of her white bra as if evaluating. I must admit that it was actually quite fine quality lace and rather more sexy than I had imagined would be her choice. Now feeling genuinely turned on, and sort of getting off on the very fact that this was making me horny in the first place, I went all the way and pushed aside the skirt which she was holding against herself to reveal her white M&S knickers with lacy edges.

We were now firmly into a zone of wholly uncharted territory. I touched the side, just above her thigh, plucking ever so slightly at the waist band. I told her I thought that she would look great in some brightly coloured lacy panties with satin bows. And then I fled from the room before one of us exploded in flames!