STEPPING IN THE SALAD (5)
'Oh . . . .
'The man is a boy (and so not a girl). We met in a pub in a small place called Firle. We talked as we drank from a pitcher of wine. It was then - in an instant - I wanted him mine.'
'So, what happened, then?' enquired the Priestess as she hoisted her flesh-coloured knickers and smiled.
'Well . . .
'We slept out that night; affirmation of life. Watch the stars cross the sky, you forget all the strife. You forget about all that is petty and grim.
'I knew, for a fact, all I wanted was him.'
'Tell me more.'
