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” Mex was again struck by the strange contrast of the melodious tones emitting from that thin, severe little mouth. “You will have noticed that I’m no virgin. It was lost, I have to say, to a painful and messy experience with a dildo. I have had a man. Once. I went, believe it or not, to a male prostitute. That insensitive bastard,” and here the venom in Milly’s voice was almost tangible, “cost me two hundred quid.” “I could well afford it” Milly continued, “I am disgustingly well paid for a women; obscenely so for a plain one.” Mex felt rather than heard the dry chuckle in her voice. “I have a nice flat in Docklands and drive an exquisite Merc. I of course get the eye from men whenever I stop at the lights. I always drive wearing a headscarf. It’s less revealing. When I turn round to look at them their reaction is so predictable. First surprise, or astonishment, then the quick and inevitable change to pity or worse. I can almost hear little wheels turning inside their tiny little. The two front panels of the vest were not merely far apart, they practically held restraining orders against each other, barely covering the areolae. As each girl walked, her nipples would flirt with the boys, playing peek-a-boo with every step. Dancing threatened to prove even more revealing."Now ladies," Samantha advised, "if you find a young man or woman you'd like to fuck, and I have to emphasize 'man or woman' as they must be at least 14 years of age, and you'd like to do it somewhere more private than down in the restaurant, you can take them up here." More private?" Cassie, Commander Walker's 13-year-old daughter, was assisting her mother and the other officers' straw bosses in getting the Filles du Roi ready for their grand welcoming soirée. She glanced around the party room, which occupied the front two-thirds of the second floor over the Beauty Saloon: ten rows of 20 beds, arranged in military precision, with a line of toilets running along the back wall. The back wall.
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