01
Feb
Helen, who’d broken into a full sweat and streamed with aguish fever, climbed out of bed and drew her curtain. There was a fine dusting of snow on the window-ledge, thick enough to settle, warm enough to thaw. She blinked her eyes in the stark sunlight, staring across the street. The slut with the breast-length, flowing black hair and huge breasts was there, propped hard against a grey pebbledash wall dressed to kill in her fake fur bolero, wide-mesh fishnet tights, six-inch stilettoes, little else, smoking a fag.Since the steepest rise in fuel, heating, food, drink, and lifestyle costs, flocks…