Holiday Snaps

Andy the Gay Policeman is back from Mykonos and shows me his holiday snaps over breakfast. A great many of these seem to be photos of bronzed, smiling, naked men in various states of tumescence, sometimes singly and sometimes in groups of, I think, seven (I had to count limbs, so I may be wrong). Towards the end there are some photos of a day trip to Delos, with a happy group of men in shorts and flip flops and sunglasses smiling for the camera in front of a ruined column. I'm just starting to say how pleased I am that he didn't spend the whole time thinking about sex, when I notice that the column they're standing in front of is surmounted by a gigantic but sadly broken stone phallus, and my sentence trails away into "...oh, for heaven's sake!"

My day in charge of knitwear has been uneventful apart from C sending three people from his office in to buy things off me. I think we need to develop some sort of secret signal so I know when I'm dealing with an undercover customer. I was hoping for something along the lines of "The swallow flies south from Vladivostok early his year" but C says that's far too long for someone working in media to remember without needing a double-shot latte and a sit down in the middle, so he's suggested they just sidle up and pinch my bum instead. Out of boredom, I've agreed to this.

With me working here and D on nights, we've discovered we only have two hours together in the evening, which we wasted yesterday on cooking and eating dinner. "Nice though the fish thing was," D announced as he was leaving, "it's no real substitute for sex, which is what I'm booking you for tomorrow evening." He's written it in my diary: '5-7pm - sloppy blowjob & anal'.