The conversation was strained at first, but when I told Tony that I had a few pieces of native art, instead of just saying, "How nice,” and then tal...ing about himself, he encouraged me to describe them, and to tell him how I had got them. After that, things just progressed, and I found myself telling him about Jim and his illness and death, and my loneliness. He was a very sympathetic listener, and it just poured out of me. I discovered he lived within a couple of miles of my house, though I. As he and my husband drank and I waited, watching this biggish rotund beer bellied lout, cast the occasional glance in my direction, I sat in silence, dressed like a real tart in stockings, waiting for the fuck session to begin, like a condom waiting to be filled with the semen of a frustrated man. He was a trucker from England, who had met my husband earlier that day in a pub off Princess street. They had got talking, and his apparent frustration at the lack of young pussy to fuck on his. More

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