The material of the jumper looked thick and of fairly good quality considering it was second hand, and the blouse was polyester. He had also found som... sheer looking tights, darkened skin tone coloured with small black polka dots on them, next to those was a small pair of black pleather shorts. There were no shoes. I looked over to the now, filthy white nightgown that was crumpled up on the floor, a few grass stains smeared across the silk.My attention was drawn back to the hot water that was. I’d met him at some bar in Hackney, one of those places that I was often warned against entering, but for some reason- be it fate or just a burning need for a little recklessness- I went in anyway. He occupied the corner seat, right up against the wall. His face was tired, his posture resigned, and I could almost feel the melancholy radiating off of him as he nursed some foul drink. He must’ve been at least ten years older than I was then, but to my teenaged mind and body, his broad shoulders. More

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