It had been a year since I had last seen Josie Fox.

She was walking with a basket in the supermarket and I was hiding behind the bread section watching with intense interest.

Josie had been my social worker for a year or so after my brush with the legal system and had done much to help me. I used to think of her often at that time and for some months after my period of probation came to an end. She was getting on a little - well into her late thirties - but it always gave me a thrill to see her wearing tight fitting clothes. She had a very feminine figure and from what I could now see she still did. It had always been pleasant to talk things over with her as she was overflowing with warmth, quite a contrast in fact with many other social workers and probation officers with which I was familiar.

Suddenly she looked up for some reason and caught me directly in the eye.

She had big blue eyes and shoulder length lightish hair - her nose wasn't so attractive - being a little too big - but she was quite reasonable looking and her face could brighten the worst of days.

I tried to hide behind a batch of French sticks but she came straight at me.

"Darren!" She said,
"Hullo Miss Fox" I replied sheepishly, I could not get over the shame of being a convicted criminal, petty offence or not it was the same.

She asked me how I was, conventional stuff and chit chat, and she eagerly suggested we go for a coffee to catch up.

She paid at the checkout and we went into a coffee shop and I got in quickly - asking what she would have. A smile lit up her face, seeing me behaving like a gent I think she must have counted me as a job well done. It was a wonder, that smile, it could make you feel like her most special person in the world.

I sat stirring my cappuccino and she sipped her espresso.

We chatted about this and that and I gave her an up to date account, which left her a little sad.
After some half an hour she checked her watch.
"I have to be going now but do please get in touch."
She took out a pen and noted down her mobile number on the cafe loyalty card, smiled and left.
I picked up the card and rubbed my thumb over the number, watching her go across the road, unable to take my eyes from the feminine shape of her hips and legs. She had a very ladylike way of moving her bottom that quite fascinated me and I suppose to me she was like a princess, all white and pure like a snowdrop in early spring.

I didn't know for certain if I was in love with her. But I suppose she made me feel good and I fancied her like hell. I tried in vain to masturbate my lust away but it was ultimately frustrating. A pressure built up in behind my forehead and seemed to expand and make me desperate for release. I called her a few days later when I could bear it no more. She did not know who it was at first and I was inarticulate, bungled it and hung up. But she called back, no doubt aware of the dangers in her profession of not following up on one of her cases. I pulled myself together and we had a brief chat. She was very professional, asking how I was, had I found a job yet, was I settling into my digs and had I made any new connections. The formality hurt me a bit and I asked to see her but she said she was busy. My head throbbed - I begged her, it must have sounded pathetic - but eventually she said she had 20 minutes later in the afternoon and I was to come to reception in the council building where she had her office.

I arrived early without any plan whatsoever, had no idea what to say to her and was really nervous.

But I was determined that it was not going to be a non event and had a small bunch of flowers with me purchased from a nearby supermarket.

I waited in reception for her and she came on time looking very smart in a navy blue suit. She smiled and we went out into a park which happened to be conveniently just out of the door.

We began to walk, me holding on to the flowers and suddenly realising how ridiculous the whole idea was. Still - that pain in my head bugged me.

"They look nice", she said about the flowers, "Are they for your girlfriend?"
I chuckled stupidly in reply to this question and said I didn't have one.
"You can't imagine how silly I feel Miss Fox but actually they're for you."
"For me! Oh Darren how sweet of you, well thank you but why?"
"You're pretty" I said, "And nice to me" She laughed at the compliments but accepted the flowers and we sat down at a bench.
"Well this is a surprise Darren I really don't know what to say" She took my hand and squeezed it strongly. Her hand felt warm and soft.
"You're very nice Miss Fox" I said, "too nice for the likes of me really"
"Don't talk such nonsense I think you're charming". She looked at me and her expression changed to one of great compassion. "I think I understand" she said nodding with understanding. "I bet you've never had a girlfriend in your life- have you now admit it!" I blushed when she said this and denied it emphatically.
"Who then?" She demanded "You never mentioned anybody in your counselling sessions, oh yes I have seen the notes. But in any case if we are to go on seeing each other you're going to have to be truthful with me". It was a key moment and I weighed it up. I relaxed a little, smiled and shook my head.
"No, never. I kissed somebody once but that's all - and she didn't kiss me back so it doesn't really count does it." For a moment she looked at me with great pity.
"Well that's more like it" she said, holding my hand tightly, "now tell me the truth about what it is you want".
I looked into her eyes to find out what game she was playing. Was she testing me somehow?
"I need to know" she said with a sweet smile, "you have to tell me what it is you want of me"
The whole of my life seemed to distill itself into that moment and yet my tongue fail me until I was left looking hopeless and dejected. She withdrew her hand from mine and picked up her handbag.
"Wait!" I implored her.
"Well?"
"I know what I want. It's just hard saying the words."
"But can't you understand Darren, that is the whole problem with you. Unless you open up things just won't happen for you and you'll have to be one of life's spectators. And you need to trust"
It was a compelling argument but I bottled it. She looked deflated and disappointed and I felt a proper fool.
"Darren", she said, "not to worry just be yourself. Hm? Thanks awfully for the flowers. Oh my bus! See you again sometime!" She dashed away for her bus and I was left alone on the bench feeling like an utter clot.

To Be Continued