Really, to get that ... area, any cleaner, I’d have to use my tongue.”“Oh ... really?” She queried, and without the slightest hint of amusemen... or irony, “well, if that’s what you need to do get it all really clean and stop the itching, then go use your tongue, and please and be thorough ... I can’t stand the irritation!”She was fucking serious. Clearly, she didn’t understand humor, or sarcasm either and she’d taken what I’d said absolutely literally! Well ... I guess I wasn’t going to need. — I was still wondering what I should say when Emma came over and met me at the dustcart after the tidy up, a large carryall over her shoulder, presumably holding all her clothes. ‘Hi Dave! Thanks for this.’ She said brightly before noticing the worried expression I was wearing. ‘What’s up?’ ‘Well,’ I sighed, ‘Bill’s girl picked him up already.’ ‘So?’ ‘So there’s only the two of us: I’m worried that you might think I planned it, that I’ve some evil intent.’ ‘The fact that you’re so worried. More

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