One caught my eye and ushered me over. I looked around checking it was me he was looking at. He repeated his hand gesture, even flashing a cheeky gri... my way. My curiosity got the better of me as I changed direction and walked towards them. They were sat on a bench, and as I approached I noticed the other two looking me up and down, checking me out. “What’s your name?” the boy who ushered me over seemed to be the dominant of the group. “Christine, but everyone calls me Christy,” was my shy. I was always in bookshops these days, building up a massive collection of dirty books – all glamour, no more than topless. When mags got more explicit I had to draw in knickers, and eventually give up buying mags and rely on the new Internet. But it was lovely going into the shops where ladies served – 2 in particular – and ogle all the mags, then going up to the counter with a big stack. Do you think those ladies worked out that I was a wanker? When they saw inside my case, full of dirty mags. More

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