They returned by trike to the lady-house. It was now eleven-fifteen. Blen began borrowing clothes. She had planned the look she would like to project,...and by borrowing here and there was able to approach it. By quarter-to-twelve, she was looking at herself in the mirror. Her reflection, she thought, was how students looked on the TV. She wore a baggy yellow cotton T-shirt over a white, tight vest. Jeans with rolled up bottoms were held at her waist by a chunky leather belt. On her feet she wore. She shuffles into the hallway. Fuck, she’s getting her post. I don’t have time for this shit.I grab your hand and pull you towards the exit, slamming the door behind us. We’re both giggling as we run across the street, you trying to hold up your trousers and keep your cock contained beneath your mac and me trying to balance in these stupid heels, with legs that you’ve turned to jelly with your skilful tongue and hands. The park’s empty aside from an old gent walking his dog. He doesn’t look. More

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