" What's it like being a... a lesbian?" First of all, I'm not a lesbian. I just take orgasms where I can get them. Secondly, what's it like being hete...osexual?" Well I don't know I've never had an orgasm, with... a person." You still got your cherry?'"No... I don't think so. I just..." You deflowered yourself. Lost of girl's do that, horny girls that is. You're sexual be glad of it. Some women never have one orgasm in a lifetime. You must have had plenty of guys after you though?" Good looking. It was a short, plaintive missive ending with the admission that she wanted her son to come home, if only for a short visit, because it might be their last chance to become reconciled though, as she said, she had never really understood WHY he had left and stayed away so long. The letter had ended with the sad reflection that she wanted to say a final ‘Goodbye’. After much soul searching and a couple of long ‘phone calls John had decided that no matter how distressing the past might have been. She said that Monday evening might be good, with not many people going out that night as they rested up from the weekend. She had a good point, of course. After a weekend of college-level partying, who would want to spend the next evening with something that keeps going bang? I sensed that we were belaboring minor points, to avoid talking about what we were really thinking about. We sat down on a bench on the river bank and I put my arm around her. That did it. She started crying and clutching. She was twenty two years old, and as far as her family was concerned, she was a hairdresser, and a very good one at that. What none of them realised, was that for the previous three years or so, she had been a photographic model. At first, this had been fairly discrete, but within about six months of starting, one of the photographers had managed to persuade her to go topless. She'd been reluctant to do this before, and even reluctant to do much lingerie work, however, the extra money he had.