I was an extremely naive eighteen year old, but I wasn’t a virgin. I had somehow got embroiled with a much older man, so when yet another older man took an interest in me, it didn’t seem like a good idea to become involved with him; especially one with such a dominant manner. But it seems as if I didn’t have a choice. A memoir of a different life at a different time - the seventies - when attitudes to sex outside marriage were just changing and when different lifestyles only existed between the pages of top-shelf books. Or did they? I was shy and insecure. He was rich and confident. I was young and desperate for love. He was older and wanted for nothing. But I needed him without knowing it. And he wanted me.