I knew Mr Sweeney was sweet on me, (No pun intended) and the row upon row of glass jars fill with candy of all shapes and colours, bedazzled me, as if...I were a girl locked in a jewellers shop. Being mid-teens and messed up hormonal wise, snaring someone like myself, gave a fantasy opportunity to a man in his sixties, and Mr Sweeney knew that, by locking the front door and turning the little card that read, 'Closed, back soon', then he would lead me into the back shop, where I would play the. Her anger rising again, she banged the cup down in front of him. ‘Three quid and you had better not be following me.’ She held out her hand, still glaring. The guy dropped a few coins in her hand, looking offended. ‘Why on earth would I follow you? Are you accusin’ me of bein’ a stalker?’ Greg was secretly delighted that he had found her again, and harbored tentative hopes of actually becoming friends with her. He studied her once again, delighting in her natural beauty. She had long layered. More

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