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The flight from Melbourne was forever. I checked into my hotel, slept and did nothing for two days. I dreaded calling Janneke, but it had to be done.

She was surprised to hear that I was back in Amsterdam, but she wanted to hear all about my journey. We agreed to meet in a near-by coffee shop the next morning.

"Judith, please tell me all about it, and tell me when you're going to finish your article. I'm anxious to read it."

I blushed with embarrassment. "Is something wrong?"

"Janneke, I have to confess, I'm not a reporter. There was never an article. I was just curious about men. To be honest, I love cock. I didn't mean to deceive you, it just happened. Please accept my apology. I'm so sorry."

The look in Janneke's face said it all. She wasn't going to accept my apology. Without saying anything, she got up and left. "Janneke, please."

She yelled something, probably in Dutch, and the other patrons laughed. It might have been something like, ‘you fucking, cock sucking whore.' Whatever she said, I deserved it. ...

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