’ ‘Yes,’ broke in Jennifer, her straw-coloured hair framing an imperfect complexion. ‘Let’s have some scandal Pop, or a nice little murder s...ory.’ ‘Yeah, come on, Pop… let’s have it!’ said another. And so I composed myself, took a sip of real ale and cleared my throat. I looked around the table, engaging each one of them in turn with my eyes until I knew I had their undivided attention. ‘Okay folks,’ I said, I’m taking you back to the seventies. At that time I was working for The Camberwell. Standing about 5’4 with dirty blond hair, small but perky breasts with small nipples that were just poking through her teal tank top. No bra whatsoever. From the top of her jean shorts I caught the smallest glimmer of a pink thong rising up like a glimpse of the dawn. Slender and athletic, firm of ass and with her hips cocked ever so slightly to the right, how could any young hormone crazed teenage boy with a hard on turn her down?“Strip tennis? You’ve got a deal.”So saying I picked up my. More

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