I was living on a small Caribbean island with a population of just a few thousand, which is all very well and a beautiful place, but what are you going to do about sex? There weren't enough women, you didn't see them out in the evening and those you did see were too young, if you're middle-aged like me.
I used to buy bread from a little bakery that was always quiet - you wondered how it could stay in business. The woman who ran it was in her 50s, as I am, tall and wide and plump - and she was scruffy, she always had a dab of flour on her face or some kind of mark on her dress. I went in there regularly and got quite friendly with her. She kind of perked up when I went in; she wasn't the most beautiful woman in the world and I thought she probably didn't get much attention from men. Her name was Rosina and she wore sleeveless dresses; through the armholes I could see her hairy armpits and black bra straps. I developed a terrible urge to lick her arsehole. I don't know why - it's just one of my things. One lunchtime I went in and she was just closing up. She had sold out of my usual bread and I told her I needed some for lunch.
'I'll make you some lunch,' she said and after I agreed I followed her out of the shop and up the steps to an apartment.
'My daughter lives here,' she said. 'She's away today so we can use her apartment.'