The Girl With The One Track Mind has been oh so busy lately. Not only has she been flirting with cops (when she’s usually a “what’s a penny made of?” sort of girl), but she’s also been getting fingered in public, and liking it:

So, we’re standing on Holloway road, kissing like two drunken teenagers on a night out; snogging away, oblivious to the people milling around us trying to get the last tube home. The warm summery air is making us both frisky: our hands explored each other eagerly as our mouths moved in synch. We stood there and kissed, and the world revolved around us. Magical.

I was it is fair to say, very turned on. And from the feel of him pressed up hard against my thigh, he was too. The heat between us was intense, the passion fired up. So when he asked me, if he could “feel” me, I didn’t question what he meant: it felt only natural to go with the flow (so to speak).

Even when he slid his hand underneath my jeans and pushed two fingers inside me.

As we stood on Holloway road.

With people walking all around us.

My, oh, my.