I had long learned to smile and nod; his pouting if I ever expressed any dissatisfaction was more tedious than his love-making. It seemed that no matt...r how gently I tried to show him how there was more to making love than pounding my pussy with “Little Joe,” it always ended in a fight or a break up.We were off-and-on all through school, and Joe seemed to take a special delight in parading his latest conquest in front of me, especially if I was between boyfriends at the time.Midway through our. We kept contact with each other in the two weeks I was in her country, meeting in secrecy every day. Back then, it wasn’t the done thing for a coloured girl to spend time with a white man. We couldn’t eat together publicly either. Apartheid reared its ugly head even in restaurants. So, we met usually at night in my hotel room. The inevitable happened. Her intelligence had drawn me initially, while her beauty held me. We made love on my bed. The first time my entry had been painful, but she’d. More

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