Rosie was impressed. In 1957 only the richer people owned cars or could afford to run them. She reckoned she had struck gold.He took her back to a sma...l suburban house in a quiet area and led her in. He showed her to a bedroom. It was not large but seemed palatial to her. There was a single bed, a wardrobe, a chest of drawers and a dressing table with a stool. On the dressing table were a brush and comb. He told her to wait and went and fetched a dressing gown. He showed her where the bathroom. Over his shoulder, he said, "As a lawyer I havealways had a gift for oral persuasion; let me give it a try."Carol shrugged her shoulders in consent. She and Sue sat in the livingroom, and drank wine and waited the outcome of the bedroom summit. Theywaited, 10, 20, 30 minutes: and still nothing. Just as Carol was about togo find out what was going on, the bedroom door opened and the two'ladies' walked into the room shoulder to shoulder. Both Carol and Suedid a double take as their husbands were. It was time for a shower, a long hot shower. She stood beneath the water, head hanging against her chest with eyes closed. Music filled the bathroom, Colin Hay’s voice swimming between her ears as leaned sideways against the wall, unsure if the water on her face was tears or the shower. She sung along in a soft voice, the words half muttered. ‘I drink good coffee every morning/comes from a place that’s far away/and when I’m done I feel like talking/without you here there is less to say./I don’t. Inhibitions and fear had melted away when Mrs Spencer had started to rub at her sex. “Mrs Spencer, please…”Her eyes flashed fire as she levered upright. “Sammy, stop fucking asking, all right? I’m not fucking you.”With that, Mrs Spencer clambered off the bed, scooped up her dressing gown, and left me gawking, the afterimage of her buttocks jiggling as she hip-swayed away imprinted on my mind’s-eye.***The following morning, Mrs Spencer woke me again. I’d spent an anxious day at university.