Larry slices into something, chews, then says, “This is excellent. What am I eating here?”

James looks across to his plate. “Prune-stuffed pork. Regional speciality where I grew up, usually made for special occasions.” Larry’s brows arch.

Under the table, I become aware of a hand on my thigh. Ryan appears to be listening to the conversation, but ‘below stairs’ he eases between my knees, pushing them apart. Very quietly, he murmurs, “Open up.”

James and Larry are still talking. “Where was that? That you grew up, I mean?”

“Spain.”

“Really? What part?”

“Valencia Province. You know it?”

“Not well. I've visited Valencia city, but I didn't get further afield than that. So, you're Spanish?”

“My mother was Spanish. My father English.”

Ryan eases a finger down and in, tracing a line over my skin that makes my pussy warm and twitch. He speaks without moving his lips. “Wider.”

I’m trying to chew my food, but it’s not easy. Finger and thumb pluck at my panties. “Off.”

“Ryan…” My voice is a hiss.

“Off, I said.”

All eyes are on James and Larry. Nonetheless, I’m happy that, my face made-up, my flush is concealed as I raise myself from my seat just enough for Ryan to hook fingers into my panties and tug down. “Finish the job,” he murmurs. “Take them off and give them to me.”

Christ…

table, everyone talking

to work with, I slide the panties down and over

is already half-standing from his

it’s fine.” I wipe it down

Ryan’s lips don’t move. But his

chew

*****

Richard murmurs something quiet to her, and she nods, grimacing. Then,

Charlotte pipes up. “Bladder?”

blushes. “Um,

you if you like. Give you a hand. I know

upright. But Charlotte is struggling herself to get up from her seat and Mitch rises too. “I think you both still

Ryan’s finger working spirals between my pussy lips, I’m conscious of the dampness under

Black dress, not red…

Hmmm…

taps me on the shoulder. “Kirstie, why do

an austere expression

wondered that too…” James and

is an ideal opportunity

lip. “I had

the hall, James cocks his head, listening, then stands and clicks the door open. A tide of dogs flows into the room, tails wagging, noses raised towards table level,

pig-in-blanket, he smears bacon fat all along the length of the paper. He snaps his fingers under the table, waving the greasy paper. “Hey,

cloud of hair and outrage, but Ryan, Michael, Richard and Larry exchange inspired glances, snatching

for the Apocalypse. Meg, in her best rendition of the role of Famine, sits at Richard’s feet, raising limpid brown eyes to him, then as she is presented

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