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the Great Wall, or temples and shrines. However, a couple of stalls caught her attention. The first had prints and photos and she fell for a tiny picture of a couple in the moonlight, simply because it reminded her of the previous night. Mentally chastising herself for being sentimental, she bought it anyway and hurried to the other stall. Here the walls were covered with simple linen and silk shifts and trousers. Understated, superbly cut and, she reckoned, flattering to someone with curves. One dress in an unusual shade of red, almost like the sun as it dropped below the horizon at the end of a hot summer day, stood out. After a quick check of the size, Debra found herself in her underwear behind a somewhat flimsy curtain trying it on.
    It fitted perfectly and she parted with her cash quite happily. It wasn’t often she made impulse buys—unless it was earrings—but this time it had to be. As did a leather handbag and a few silk jewelry rolls she earmarked for presents. The underwear on the next stall she ignored. Not her thing and certainly not made for anyone over a ‘B’ cup.
    But one teddy did make her gaze longingly at it.
    “You like?” The stallholder smiled. “Good price.”
    Debra shook her head. “Not for me, I’m afraid.”
    “I bet your man would like.” The elderly stallholder grinned and showed her gappy teeth. “Sexy.”
    Debra laughed and shook her head. “No man, I’m afraid, and too much here to fit it.” She brushed her hand over her boobs.
    “Never too much.” The stallholder copied Debra’s actions.
    Was she right? Debra walked on and wondered how much of a handful Braam would like?
    For fuck’s sake, get out of my mind. And my underwear.
    By the time she emerged into the sunshine, her purse was lighter, her holdall heavier and her tummy empty.
    She wandered along the promenade toward the shopping plaza. As ever, several restaurants had their menus outside and more than one took her attention. In the end she plumped for Indonesian cuisine and enjoyed a dish of Nasi Goreng with a spritzer, as she sat on one of the pavement tables and people-watched.
    It was one of her favorite pastimes and Debra could have sat there all day. In the end she checked her watch and realized she needed to make a move to get back to Causeway Bay before the rush hour held the bus up too much. If she remembered correctly, she could get a more direct bus that returned through the tunnel and cut out the need for the MTR. This one stopped at the top floor of the shopping plaza so she could head there to catch it.
    She paid her bill, did a double take at a blond man jogging along the prom, and was astounded at her sense of disappointment that it wasn’t the blond-haired man she’d hoped for.
    The escalators carried her upward and on each floor Deb idly scanned the list of shops.
    Gifts, clothing, china, chemist… Chemist? Ah . She left the escalator and wandered toward the chemist shop and went inside.
    The condoms were easy to find, but not so easy to decide what she needed. Surely there hadn’t been this many different makes and types the last time she’d bought them?
    That was twenty odd years ago. Then all I had to decide was ribbed or plain, flavored or not—always not—thick or thin . She stood somewhat uncertain as to what to choose, until she saw a young—almost not old enough to know what a condom was for—shop assistant approach. Debra grabbed the nearest three packets and took them to the till. It wasn’t until the checkout operator put them in a paper bag, no plain brown anymore but brightly colored stripes with the shop’s name emblazoned on the side, that she saw exactly what she’d purchased. One super sensitive, one ribbed and one licorice flavored. She hated licorice and why on earth would anyone want its flavor impregnated into a condom? Who would want to taste rubber or whatever condoms were made of these days, let alone flavored rubber? It was enough to give her the giggles and she