The other I took of a Valentine’s card I was given by a friend. He found it in an auction house in London where he was working. I used to go for lo...g tramps over Hampstead Heath with my friend, followed by afternoon tea. I was very bad in those days at picking it up when someone admired me, rather like the heroine of my story. Only much later did I realise that my friend was one of many admirers. (RIP, dear Phil, I still often think of you.) The poems: are by George Gordon, Lord Byron, Alfred. Her close presence was nauseating for me. Her full face is wet. Her wet lips felt ready to be kissed. Her heaving chest played illusions with her boobs. Water played inside out of her cleavage. Her whole body was basking in the dawn.I waited for her instruction. But I didn’t get anything. Instead she asked me to continue doing. Reluctantly I continued even while knowing that I am not able to keep myself afloat. I continued on and on expecting the instructor to say stop anytime. But I became. More

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