The crowd dissipates and he and I are alone. He is shy, and I have to look at him and smile an invitation for him to come to me.He is perhaps 30, prob...bly married, and blushes as he asks to take my picture. I nod yes, and his paunch jiggles as he circles me, snapping again and again, as if he is afraid I'm a vision and will disappear before he is through. Satisfied (or perhaps out of memory) he breathlessly asks to sit with me. I nod again, and he haltingly tells me of my beauty or the special. She immunised herself with heroine, but she always needed more. d**gs, like sex: you always need more. That was why she was kneeling in One Lamp Alley playing cat's cradle with her knickers while a man she had met twenty minutes before was standing over her pulling up his jeans while his cock stuck out of the fly of his boxers at half mast looking at her like a little viper that had eaten something that agreed with it. It was dry like a real snake, but for the little of her saliva that was not. More

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