When the clock eventually, finally ticked its frustratingly leisurely way around to the appointed hour, I stood trembling outside the front door of the address shown on the piece of paper.
Sauntering up and asking her if she had a website where she posted naked pictures on the internet was out of the question.
What was I supposed to say? What do you think you're doing? I heard a noise and then realised it was a low moan escaping from me.
As she chattered away, telling me about her family, modelling career and, surprisingly, her day job as an accountant of all things, I couldn't help but drift away on a reverie of the previous night's masturbatory delight.
It was an excruciatingly tantalising strip, with Melody suggestively posing and slowly, ever so teasingly, revealed her body to me.
If you come round at one o'clock you can take some pictures.
It was on my fourth pass that she confronted me.