Unlike her friends, Pippa had not seen Sir Roger's absorbed attention to her abandoned dance to the stimulating jazz music. The excitement of it all had so gone to her head she'd taken no special note of who was watching, only that their number and the applause grew rapidly.

When she did catch Sir Roger's eyes fixed on her in the ballroom, it was with a surprise that flushed her cheeks. She had danced with several eager boys, none of whom were proficient dancers; in fact the current clodhopper's steps were so stumblingly bad she knew Sir Roger's interest could not possibly be in the skill of their dance-floor accomplishments.

Embarrassed though she was, she returned his stare. For moments their eyes locked in fascinated bondage. His name went on to her metaphorical dance card - by no means short - at the very top. After all, this was the important man her guardian had implored her to impress. Why not dance with him? She was flattered, too. To be seen footing it with a mature and honoured man would silence the odd mutters of disapproval she'd heard after her energetic display in response to the rousing jazz pieces.

Once in his company on the dance floor, they did not lack for topics of murmured, inconsequential but amicable conversation. She thought his voice, rich and deep, was most agreeable to the ears, and very different from the prideful chatter of her younger admirers. His clear blue eyes continued to compel.

'You would be Miss Pippa Greenstreet, I believe, the ward of my financial consultant, Mr Lawson.'

'Yes, sir,' Pippa responded meekly, respectfully.

'Oh, come now! Sir me no sirs! That's just too formal. Please call me Roger.'

Pippa's heart leapt. He had taken a shine to her, and her papa would be gratified. Boldly she replied, 'And please call me Pippa!'

The evening of general mirth and music continued with Sir Roger maintaining his monopoly of Pippa. Even Mandy, Jimmy and Frank saw no reason to intrude, nor did any other guest.

Jimmy said, 'Pippa looks like she's getting her fun elsewhere. Let's not put an oar in. Maybe she'll have a story to tell us later!'

Eventually the larger part of the increasingly light-hearted throng gravitated to other public areas according to their natures: the smoke-room, the library, the drawing-room, and especially the dining-room where a score of supper tables had been laid. But Sir Roger had no interest in buffet-style sandwiches, summer fruits, ices, or the other dainty delicacies set out on silver platters. Having spent time early in the evening boosting his political interests, he now had diversions in mind which did not include the wider congregation.

He told Pippa, 'We deserve a refuge from this hustle and bustle. Let's slip off to a quieter spot.'

Not knowing exactly what to expect, but observing the need to prevent him being in any way annoyed or dissatisfied, Pippa allowed him to take her by the hand and pull her through a door into a passage and thence to a dimly lit private room.

'Where are you taking me?' she asked. She was slightly alarmed, but had no worry for her honour. Sir Roger was very much a gentleman and as an MP had a blemish-free standing to uphold.

'To a little paradise, my dear,' he replied, and they crossed the shadowy room to double glass doors through which moonlight filtered. 'It's a peaceful conservatory we also use as a sun lounge.'

Sir Roger opened one of the doors and stood aside to let her enter, which she did tentatively.

'Why it's beautiful!' she exclaimed. The exotic scents of hothouse flowers and palms abounded. She saw the moon-shadowed outlines of papaya and jacaranda, lilies on a small pond and tropical flowers she couldn't name. She'd seen nothing like it since a one-time visit to the glasshouses at Kew Gardens.

Sir Roger followed her in and, while she marvelled, turned a big iron key to lock the doors.

He took her hand again and led her to a chaise longue fashioned in cane with plump cushions covered in shiny, floral fabric.. He lit a shaded lantern and sat them down.

'Lie back, Pippa darling. After all that dancing you deserve a rest. Make yourself comfortable.'

Pippa did, sighing blissfully. And Sir Roger took off his dinner jacket. 'If you're like me, you'll feel the warmth in here, so perhaps you'll let me help loosen your dress.'

Again a frisson of alarm passed through her body; again she mentally shrugged it away. After all, he was already plucking at the fastenings of the shimmering gold dress, and she was supposed to please him, wasn't she? It had been expressly wished by none other than her guardian. Moreover, she found his interest exciting. To think, an older and prominent member of high society had chosen to take her into his private company! She could trust in his chivalry and integrity, couldn't she?

Anyway, even if they did actually take Mrs Hambledon's amazingly successful creation right off, she would still have brassiere and panties covering the parts that mattered.

But stripping Pippa of more than her outer finery was exactly what Sir Roger had in mind. Also, once it was done, he didn't seem to want to stop there.

Pippa gasped. 'Oh, Sir Roger - I mean Roger - shouldn't I keep on the under things?'

'Good Lord, whatever for? Surely a modern girl like yourself must have discovered that any clothing diminishes the joys of dalliance. Would you take a bath in bust confiner and knickers?'

'N-no, I wouldn't,' Pippa stammered. She was confused, but already she was telling herself it would do no harm to accede to Sir Roger's ambition to see her naked. After all, she'd let the boys Jimmy and Frank see her that way since childhood. Furthermore, it would serve the cause of ingratiating him... Lastly, she was coming to realise, she might find the adventurous experience enjoyable. To think, Pippa Greenstreet's modest charms captivating a knight of the realm!

'But you won't hurt me, will you? I've never been like this with a full-grown man.'

'Of course not, my dear. Lie back and relax while I show you the ropes.'

For his part, Sir Roger had found what he was looking for in this inexperienced but beautiful eighteen-year-old. She was as pretty as a picture with a heart-shaped, hazel-eyed face framed by fashionably bobbed auburn curls that covered her ears but didn't drop to her adorable shoulders. She had a slightly tip-tilted nose, luscious (surely kissable) lips, and neat white teeth that surpassed for shine the necklace of pearls she had worn but were already laid aside with her dress. He couldn't wait to see if her hair colouring was repeated in the bush of her nether region.

Nor was his wait unduly extended. The sweet-voiced, cooperative creature made no opposition when he removed the brassiere from her stiff-nippled little breasts; when she lifted her slim but shapely hips to facilitate the sliding down of the rayon panties. He eased the flimsy garment over her wriggling toes and tossed it to the floor.

Yes, by God, the curls above her tight (virgin?) slit were brilliantly auburn, too!

He had not laid his hands on a body this eminently fuckable in years. Nor one so youthful and fresh. For sure, she was sexually aware, but he guessed the liaisons she might have shared would have been with green youths of an age similar to her own - rushed encounters compared with what he could offer as an older man practised in the arts of producing and satisfying female longings.

He would start with a French kiss.

'Oh!' she whispered. 'Why is a tongue hindering your kiss?'

Sir Roger's laugh succeeded in being apologetic and kindly.

'It's a fleur d'amour known as cataglottism or a tongue kiss. Open your mouth. Let your tongue meet mine. Lips, tongue, mouth ... all are highly sensitive to the touch.'

Pippa tried, and found it true. It was an incredibly stimulating kiss that brought tingles to remote parts.

Sir Roger followed up by kissing her cheek before gently brushing aside the arms she'd crossed over her bare breasts and switching oral attention to an erected cherry nipple.

'Mmmm ...' Pippa breathed when he moved his lips on to its twin, 'that feels heavenly ... perfectly too much!'

Sir Roger knew it was time for him to step up the heat that was reddening her face and upper torso.

'Do you suck cock?' he asked, adopting a quiet, matter-of-fact tone.

Pippa swallowed. Had she heard right? But of course she had. And how could an intelligent girl enjoying such favour as nipple play not have expected it? Why not be truthful, she told herself, you're avid for it, and it did still fit with the brief that she was in no way to upset her guardian's illustrious client.

'I have done it once or twice,' she admitted shyly. She was also embarrassed to observe the straining size of the bulge she must have helped raise in his lap.

'Then you'll know what you've made necessary!' Sir Roger said with a low chuckle, upon which he rose without ado, unbuttoned his braces and dropped trousers and shorts.

His cock sprang forth, huge, erect and right in Pippa's face. Her eyes widened. It was quite the biggest cock she'd seen. She was astounded, a little frightened. Hot ...

But Sir Roger discerned her cheeks were rosier than ever and carefully took her hand. He raised it to his mouth for an expert wet kiss. She shuffled forward to sit on the very edge of the chaise longue. He brought her fingers to his monster weapon and closed them around it.

Pippa responded automatically in the only way she feasibly could. She slipped from her sitting position and on to her knees before him. She pumped her hand up and down his shaft and lowered her lips to the bell-shaped, spongy top of the prick.

Kissing away a bead of pre-come, she licked and she sucked. She cradled his hairy scrotum in a palm and absorbed an increasing length of the long and thick penis into her mouth. It gave her a delicious thrill of a kind which was familiar ... till he ejaculated.

A great gout of semen spurted down her throat, and with watering eyes she choked. 'Oof, oof! Ow!'

Sir Roger thoughtfully withdrew.

Pippa swallowed hard, but dribbles of the creamy emission escaped between her closed lips.

'No more, my dear,' Sir Roger said. 'You've done wonderfully well. And now I must repay by saving the rest for thoroughly fucking you!'

Oh no, Pippa thought. She wanted to stay a proper virgin until she was married. Sex was exciting; Sir Roger was tall, well-built in every particular. He also had a charm conferred by maturity and an athletic vitality characteristic of a much younger person. But Jimmy Hampton-Day remained prominent in her hopes for a later, settled future. In her mind, the background scheme was that her maidenhead was to be had by him alone on their wedding night.

She had to be firm. 'But S- Roger. You can't do that. I'm still a virgin. However, I do have another cavity available ...'