I watched from the side of the platform as she came on stage, teetering in high heels, bottom swaying in a very short tight skirt and her ample tits s...raining to burst out of a crisply starched white blouse. With a brown manila folder in her hand, her long hair pulled tight back from her face into a pony tail and a pair of glasses perched on her nose she looked the archetypal secretary.A murmur ran around the buyers. It was as much, I thought, surprise at the fact that, while she wore the. We walked down a quiet, half lit street of shadows. The bookmakers and charity shops were interspersed by what I would call 'old men' pubs. Not my idea of nightlife.Undeterred, we headed towards the bright lights and crowds at the foot of the street. At last there seemed to be some real life. But as soon as I built my hopes up, Monica suddenly grabbed my arm and pulled me towards a rough looking pub called the Wheatsheaf.It was a traditional drinking place with small rooms in every direction.. More

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