Michelle was being played, as she had so often imagined when her fingers had sought her clit on so many solo nights. Automatically, her arms came up and wrapped around his neck. Indian sex “Ith ‘eels etty goog oo.” She tried to say without taking him from her mouth. Wistfully, she glanced up through the shop window to see him climb into a car, the manufacture of which she didn’t recognise. Naked, she lay next to Michelle and resumed the kiss. His eyes, when they focused on her face, having travelled from her feet up, were the bluest of blues, clear and sparkling with mischievous crinkles at each corner. He had left money under the saucer of his tea cup, arose with the paper under his arm and shut the door, with the stupid bell over head and walked off left, down the high street and away from her life. I suppose his family do.”
“Where do they live?” He asked. To her, a Gig was somewhere a band played and bytes where something mosquito’s did. She watched him hawkishly from the safety of the rear of the counter burgeoned with cakes and flyers for local charities.
