After six weeks of pain, pleasure and pangs of loneliness, Lee Davy ends his World Series of Poker journey and heads back to the UK to get reacquainted with grey clouds.

He scrubs his cock hard.

I can see the soapsuds lathering over his swimming trunks. He doesn’t take his eyes off me. Perhaps he is a poker player? I use my new trick. I stare at the tip of his nose. He turns his back on me, grabs a handful of liquid soap and starts scratching his hairy ass.

I close my eyes to meditate. I can hear the gardener blowing leaves in the distance. I can hear the runner in the gym releasing her daily orgasmic squeal. I drift some more. There is a hulk of a man. He gets behind her, grabs her ponytail and yanks hard, she squeals some more, then he pulls down his too-tight speedos and…wait…I see ginger pubes.