I
breathed in at the wrong moment, got a lung-full of her cigarette smoke and
coughed like a bastard for the next five minutes.
She
glanced over at me, her concern successfully camouflaged behind an expression
of irritation.
Don't
know what she's worried about; if I popped my clogs, she'd easily fill my place
with someone else. In fact they would be queuing up outside her door – most of
them knew she was quite able and more than willing in the bedroom.
But
she smoked like a chimney, so when we smooched it was like kissing an ashtray.
That was the main reason over the years I'd slowly persuaded her to do more
doggy-style.
Whoops, there I go again, thinking about sex.
Now
I have to concentrate real hard to suppress the stirrings, as the pair of
white-coated staff members approach to help me wheel Josephine back through the
double doors and into the Fairfield Retirement Home.
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