He drove along enthralled. It was full of sleazy hotels advertising blue movies and waterbeds. Women of every shape, colour and description stood around dressed in tiny bikinis, their bodies tanned to a leathery mahogany. Some of the women lounged against their own trailers, mobile homes that they used to entertain their customers, thereby saving on hotel bills. George drank it all in like a man dying of thirst. He smiled at different women and was pleased when they smiled back. He came across a place called the Doll’s House which promised delights such as topless dancers and drinking partners.

George carried on driving, until he came to the heart of the Orange Blossom Trail. Gone now were the big hotels of International Drive and the shopping malls. Gone were the pleasant-faced people wishing you ‘Have a nice day now’. Here were the shanties, with people slumped outside them in various states of drunkenness or drug-induced lethargy. Here, shoeless children watched vacant-eyed as an obviously strange car drove by. Here, dirty-looking men pushed themselves from walls and lurched towards George’s car, causing him to put down his foot on the accelerator. Here was the last stop for the poor, the addicted and the criminal.

George looked around him now in dismay. Turning the car, he drove back to the Doll’s House and parked. Within seconds, women and men were propositioning him. George stepped from the car, locking it, and began to stroll along. A young girl waved at him and began to walk leisurely towards him. George stopped to feast his eyes on her.

‘Hi.’

‘Hello, dear.’

‘Why, yo’ English. Are you from London?’

George smiled. ‘Originally. I don’t live there any more.’ The girl looked disappointed. She thought London was England. ‘What you lookin’ for? Maybe I kin’ help you.’

George stood in the dirty, dusty street, in the hot sunshine, and felt a thrill of expectation.

‘I’m looking for a little fun.’

The girl smiled, displaying crooked teeth. ‘Well, you certainly came to the right place. My name’s Loretta.’

‘George.’

‘Well, George, how about you and me go for a little walk? My trailer’s just down the road a mite.’

George walked with her, listening to her chatter. She greeted people as she passed them. Her soft southern drawl was captivating, he decided. She was no more than eighteen. George climbed into the trailer behind her and she shut the door, turning to smile at him.

‘Would you like a drink. I ain’t got no icebox, but the beer’s usually cold enough.’

He nodded at her and she bent over to open the cupboard under the tiny sink. George watched her bikini bottom ride up into the cleft of her buttocks. As she straightened up with the can of beer, a little smile on her face, she saw the man staring at her strangely.