I hesitated for too long before tossing out one old beige pair at the bottom of the pile so he immediately picked them up and checked them out. “...hese feel a lot nicer than the others,” he observed. I confessed they felt really sexy on, but pointed out their ripped open crotch and the frayed inner thighs (from being chafed so often by Louise’s flailing locket). “But they feel so nice,” he repeated then pulled one silky stocking across my arm. It indeed felt nice and shivered up. She got up and walked to the gate at the bottom of the garden, where there were views out to the mouth of the Thames. Far off, she could see a smudge of thin, black smoke, very low down over the sea. As she watched, it took the form of an aircraft with long wings studded by curiously fluttering propellors. Mary furrowed her brow, as the plane came closer, still low down, and the sound increased in volume to a deep rumbling. She held onto the top of the wooden gate, and could feel the old timber. More

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