She wore a red wig, and a painted face that would mark her anywhere in England as a whore of the night, a prick-loving strumpet fit for the upper clas.... She elected to wear only a thin robe that hid not a bit of her fleshly charms. She washed off the lipstick above her shaved quim and applied half a dram of musky perfume over her naked body. And a goodly amount of warm oil to her notch. Then she went to the harlot's room and made her lascivious entrance. Scrimshaw had been waiting long enough. So I worked hard at school. I think the teachers must have been sympathetic, because they certainly supported and encouraged me, lent me books, that sort of thing.When it came time for a secondary education, my father's options were limited. But for the law, I think my education would have ended at eleven. As it was, with gritted teeth, he let me go to a local Catholic school. He didn't like the Pope (what a masterly understatement) but the Catholic attitude toward women (and sex, though I. More

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