Margaret Ferguson

was all in favour, I was dead set against it. No other reason except I hated the idea of being bottled in, restricted, tied to a family life. The immediate effect of this was on our sex life. At 23, I was still horny day or night but Cat, only a year younger, was more selective about when and how we made love. She was also less inventive than when we met, anything more than straight coupling was infrequent. Cat's body was, however, a reward in waiting for the man lucky enough to bed her and was the main reason I persevered with our off and