Trop Belle pour moi

My affair with Don Draper was going from strength to strength and I decided to introduce him to the Turkish restaurant at the back of my house. We accessed it through tunnels and caves and eventually came out into a courtyard strung with fairy lights. I knew it wasn’t as sophisticated as his usual haunts and once again I wondered why he was wasting his time on me.

The peace of the picturesque cove was only slightly marred by the airplanes using the adjacent runway. I didn’t even know that Arizona had a coastline before I got here. When I went into a strange bathroom, layers of wet clothes were hanging over the bath and I noticed, and coveted, a rust-coloured 1930s gown despite knowing I was never going to fit into anything that small. I also realised that I had forgotten to bring my friend’s fat boyfriend’s Christmas present. The Daily Mail Annual, a present suited to him in every way.

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