I have high sex standards. I would have sex in a cemetery but not in a hospital.
Unless the doctor was irresistible, in which case I could be swayed.
I would not have sex in a public bathroom but I would have sex in the bathroom at a dinner party.
Everybody would. Everybody does.
I love the idea of sex in the dressing room of an upmarket boutique. And in the dressing room of a lingerie shop. Being fucked, pushed back up against the wall, watching in the mirror. Then walking out the store with a bag filled with French underwear.
I would not have sex in the dessert aisle of a supermarket.
But I have had sex in the cheese section of Pick n Pay. I lie. I had a date in the cheese section and the date was a disaster but the cheese was good.
I would not have sex in a synagogue. But I would have sex in a church so I am not sure what that says about me and my double standards and I guess I need to take a good long hard look at myself.
I would have sex in the headmaster’s office of a private boys’ school.
I would have sex at a wedding.
And I love sex in luxury hotels. The idea of the king size bed, bubble baths, champagne on ice and a butler. Bring it on.
On my hands and knees on the pink leather art deco couch of the man I’m quite fond of? Yip.
And cyber sex.
Like last night?
Yes. Any time.
Yes. Yes. Yes.