Fingers, dildos, vibrators. Of course I could quench the fires, but the rest of the nights felt even lonelier with no shoulder for my head and without...Alfred's melodious snoring.I felt so bad that I decided to do something about it. I'd try to find a lover to fill the void. Shouldn't be impossible. After all I'm very attractive for my age, looking years younger. But I was ever so wrong. The few men of my own age, who still seemed to be out 'hunting', only had eyes for the painted singles in. Usually only worn by freshers, my scarf spent most of it’s life in my wardrobe. In those days of the late 1960’s my usual choice of clothes was worn Levis, a variety of T or sweat shirts, a leather jacket and boots. I had got a taste for knee high stiefel during my industrial training in Germany. I had never latched into the hippy ethos but I did wear my hair at shoulder length, albeit tied in a pony tail. As for me, well my name is Henry Jones. Not the coolest of names and I preferred to be. More

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