Dan StrawberryHall

I yawned so hard my jaw cracked.

It was one of those cold, grey, wet Sunday afternoons in winter when you can’t bear to go outside.

Charly is the biggest woman I’ve ever met. And it’s not fat either. OK, maybe she’s a little doughy around the mid-section, but it suits her. It adds to her wonderful sense of bulk.

Your girl doesn’t take it there, does she? She’s a good girl.

She said she liked me, really liked me. But then, lap dancers always say that. Right?

I’m not that sort of girl. Not normally. I only have sex with boyfriends, with men who love me. Maybe the occasional one-night adventure, but I always know their name. I’m a good girl.