The Joy of Sex

It was a spring day, but rainy and cold. As we dressed again, awkward in her small car, she spoke of her husband. How he had never learnt how to do any of those special things I had so eagerly done for her, despite all his army years travelling around the world, acquiring tattoos and getting drunk in foreign brothels.

She said that, if she had even half the money he had spent in the mouths of cheap foreign whores, we could have spent our meagre lunch hour fucking in the comfort of a more expensive car.