The door was pretty sturdy, but not locked so I pushed it open and we swept inside. The cabin smelled musty, but dry with one small window at the rear...that hadn,t been broken out which was surprising considering all the graffiti written on the walls including “Gary Fucked Sally!” With a crude drawing of a woman sitting on a giant cock and the date 21/07/67 scrawled below that. The other graffiti was mostly initials of various people. The roof obviously did Not leak which was a plus, there was. The meal was congenial, and by mutual consent, not a word said out of place, after they sat on the sofa in front of the telly, he to her right, Tim to the left, and wine in hand. They began to talk about the triangle they found themselves in. Tim explaining, “he was no faggot, or wimp but he couldn’t bring himself to hurt his wife to be, even if it was her joy, though he was happy to allow her to be used if that’s her wish, it just seemed to be a simple way out for him. Edwin smiled, said that. More

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