Lecture Notes by Justine Elyot

of ‘turkey neck and gizzards’ springing depressingly to mind. I would deliberately blur my vision and give a swift hand job or concentrate hard on my breathing while I stuck it in my mouth and hope the fellow concerned was eager enough to just get down to business. Lights out. Tumble in the dark. Put it away now, there’s a love. But I sense Sinclair is not a man who will stand for my squeamishness. I will have to bite the bullet…or rather the gun. Well, not bite as such… Christ, my nerves. I kneel between his legs and start just behind his sacs, running a soapy finger over his perineum, which is an insta nt hit, rather to my surprise. I’ll have to remember that. I cup his balls with my foamy hands, exerting gentle pressure while he shuts his eyes and hisses. And I haven’t even got to the main event yet, which is pointing up at the shower head by now, inviting me to slide slippily up and down, to caressingly attend to every inch of the steely blue-veined flesh, even pushing back the foreskin as gently as I can to clean the underside and the smooth purplish head. “Good, Beth, good….but I don’t want to peak too soon. You’d better get out and leave me to, ah, calm myself down.” He almost pushes me out to wrap myself in a vast fluffy towel. I tie it up, toga-style, and head to the kitchen to make a start on breakfast. Coffee is percolating and eggs are in the pan by the time Sinclair sashays in, towel around waist, one hand plucking at his damp hair. Oh, I can’t believe all this i