My curiosity was piqued. I asked a friend of mind, a computer whizz, if he could find the home address from the email address.He could. It was outside...a small fishing port on the coast of East Anglia. I won't say exactly where, but it was a semi-detached right by the sea.A girl opened the door. A young woman, I should say. She looked seventeen, eighteen, but could have been twenty-something.Peter?'Hi. I'm sorry to disturb you. Do you think I might speak to the young man who lives here?''No. )Once on a trip to Pennsylvania, I got stuck in one of a pair of adjoining rooms both beds of which squeaked ear splittingly. The second night I was awakened about midnight by the sound of a "controlled" awkwardly rhythmic squeak. As quietly as possible I went to the door mashing the side of my head into it and listened to a woman on the other side. At times she forcibly sucked air; at others she forcefully expelled it; then there would be small moans or tones of satisfaction followed by. More

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