I was 18 she was 19, but she seemed quantum leaps older than me because she had a two year old daughter. She'd got pregnant at 16, married the guy ...Steve) and had Yvonne at 17. By 19 she was divorced and living with her parents and her twin sister Margaret. She knew I was single and well..... desparate. I'd asked out all the girls I knew, and all they knew if I was getting to them late in the day I was scr****g the barrel, and so it was a no. We snogged on the dance floor, a kiss the like. And that average figure seemed to keep up. More or less a weekly occurrence.Mostly, it was just embarrassing - the toothless grins, the wrinkled elbows, the croaky voices. Sometimes it would start with a discreet offer of tea or coffee ('something hot'). Or the classic 'slipping into something loose' (yik!). But just as often, it was a brazen parting of the knees or an eager grasp at my crutch.I'd trained myself not to wince. After all, I was trying to be professional, even if they weren't.. More

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