.”“Or?” She couldn’t let him stop there.“How would you like to go for a walk?” How would she like that? He was already more important to h...r than the dance was, and talking while the records were playing meant shouting in her girly voice, and she didn’t want to drop that.“With you? I’d like that.” And if he found them a hidden place on their walk to make out a little, she would like that, too. Where? Well, he was the student. Her experience, and damned little experience it was, had been in her. I know how crazy it sounds, but daddy was the homemaker. It was always daddy who suggested the days out: weekends in Morecambe or Whitby; trips to the cinema; holidays in Cornwall; rambling in the lake district . . .Daddy worked hard, long hours but was always ready to entertain his beloved daughter. My mother worked part-time in an office where she didn’t seem to do much apart from flashing passing glimpses of leg,ass and tit. Not that I’m saying she wasn’t glamorous and good company. It was. More

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