‘That is a little closed-minded, Beth. Just because a man likes anal, it doesn’t mean he is gay. And anyway, I’ve got lots of LGTB+ friends, and sexual orientations don’t bother me. I’m not exactly a hundred per cent straight,’ she says, proudly. Risky adores men; she is the most romantic and traditional woman I know. But her ‘generation’ wants to believe they have choices, and so she loves to tell me about the one time she kissed a girl at school. ‘My friend Casey and I once kissed for ten minutes. She even tried to finger me.’ She tells me the same story again, and I nod and smile because if I started asking questions about it, I’d probably never stop. I am thirsty for sex talk. It’s a shame I only have my assistant to do it with.

‘I just want to establish that my vagina needs love too, you know? I’m going to tell him tonight.’

‘You are? What will you say?’ I ask, hoping to learn a few things about how to communicate sexual issues within a relationship.

‘Oh, I probably won’t say anything. I was thinking about just using a dildo on myself at the same time. You know, just to remind him that the other hole is there.’ She looks pretty proud of herself for this idea, and nods a few times. ‘Yeah, I think that’s what I’ll do. Great advice, thanks.’ And then she gets back to work. The woman on the next table has gone the colour of ketchup.

Risky and I sit quietly at our table getting on with our work, our little conversational interlude hanging in the air like a fantasy I could reach and grab if I let myself. I take a huge intake of breath and blow it out quickly and loudly.

‘You OK, boss?’ she asks me.

‘Ah yes. Absolutely. Just working out what to do next,’ I say, getting up and stretching my arms in the air, as if I have nothing on my mind at all. I then walk slowly to the toilet where I masturbate furiously, before coming back to the table, ordering the bill, and suggesting we better get going.

Ruby

I saw the mouse in the kitchen again this morning, and nearly went into a full-on meltdown. I went to two shops and both of them had run out of mousetraps, although one had the kind that are just a sticky strip. The guy told me casually, ‘The mouse sticks to the strip and can’t get off.’

‘What? So it’s stuck there? Alive?’ I asked him, so horrified I could barely speak.

‘Yes,’ he replied, as if to say, ‘Isn’t that genius?’