Défloré
When I met John I was a virgin, but we soon put paid to that.
I’d been working in the pub since I was just seventeen, collecting glasses at first. I was now eighteen and at Uni, but had taken a job there again for the summer. I had got to know some of the customers quite well, by name and of course what they drank. One, in particular, had caught my eye. John was maybe thirty-something, tall and a bit distinguished, with a ready smile and very self-confident. We would often chat brie...