She was no girl anymore. Rob had seen to that. A hopeless sigh that nearly became a sob escaped her as she turned from the window to the silver mirr...r above her dressing table. The mirror had been her mother’s, not that Constance had any recollection of sitting and watching her mother make ready for a party, a dinner. Anna deGranville had died too early for that. The mirror, like many of her mother’s things, had been saved for Constance to be of age. Yet now, as she peered into it and studied. The reason I can be this accurate is because I videoed it on my camera and two of our iPhones. Let me start at the beginning how all this came about. I have niece who is married to a Pakistani boy settled in Belgium. They run a Asian restaurant in small town in Belgium. We live in north London. As soon as the summer hols started we left by car to visit my niece in Belgium. On the way there we had discussed at length that if opportunity presented itself we would fuck others. Maybe swap. It was. More

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