’ He sat down beside her on their makeshift bed, and told her to hold out her hands so he could give her the contacts as he took them out. He said, ...��Remember, these are prescription lenses, and I don’t have any spares with me. If we lose them I am as blind as a bat.’ Now she was more concerned than ever, and she concentrated on his every move. He dropped his head towards her hands and moved ever closer to her hands. He faked having trouble getting them out, until he was exactly where he wanted. Their mood was subdued. They actually didn’t even have sex on Thursday night – they cuddled and kissed and exchanged pledges of undying love and affection.And, then, Friday came and it was time to say goodbye. They did write to each other – long letters full of love poetry (Jim was no poet but he tried, often borrowing from The Bard when his own limited skills failed him). Sarah Jane’s letters were equally filled with protestations of love and pledges to wait for Jim to come and take her. We eventually succumbed to a general degradation of feelings for one another, largely fueled by her dim views about sex and its enjoyment, though that only served to open our eyes to many other areas where we seemed so far apart.The long and the short of it was that we divorced about three years ago and I kept the house which has since become my nude refuge ever since.So, now I can indulge my wish to be naked when I want and have even gone to a few nudist resorts. There are more around than. Rose-Marie picked up a remote and pointed it at the huge television that dominated the living room. She flicked through the channels, most of which were beamed down by satellite. Inevitably most of the channels were in either English or Spanish. The French grip on the Americas was so very tenuous. Louisiana, Florida, Quebec, French Guiana and a handful of islands in the Caribbean. But better than nothing. She watched ten minutes of some pornographic film broadcast in French, bored by the sight.