| And I had a practise session booked for the morning before the match. As I sat on a bench in the changing room in sweltering tropical heat, legs apart in my usual unladylike fashion, Jill walked towards me, glanced up my skirt and shook her head, tutting. "Tch, tch, tch, you can't possibly go out like that, your bikini line looks like the African jungle." It was true there was a fair amount of thick black hair growing on the tops of my thighs, but I protested it didn't matter as nobody would see it and, anyway, I was too keyed up for the practise ... |