”“That is most kind, Miss Anne, thank you,” he said bowing his head to me.I showed him the bathroom and grabbed an extra blanket for him before ...howing him the spare bedroom. He thanked me so many times I began to think it was my name. His politeness and dress made me feel slightly off, but also calmed me. I didn’t think he would hurt or rob me.“Good night, Bernie,” I said turning from the doorway.“Good night, Miss Anne,” he said softly.I picked up my book and wine glass as I passed the couch. But what’s a girl to do!Like a game of Cluedo, it all started with Mr Dildo, in the shower room. I got accused of not rushing out of bed one morning to help him with something that was unimportant to me. I was questioned as to why I spent so long in the shower. I didn’t answer him truthfully, I told him that I loved the hot water on my skin and I had lots of things to wash; my two larger than life breasts being the most important.The truth is – that Mr Dildo sticks to the shower room wall very. More

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