But no, not satisfied with cuckolding me Pickering had whisked her away to some fornicatorium beside the sea. She looked me in the eye in silent invitation. Mature sex “I love you!” I whispered. Not with Miss Pentland there. “Shall we shake hands?” she suggested
“I had something rather more intimate in mind,” I replied. I could see the head but not the handle. We remained in bed until lunch time and the afternoon we spent together clearing Clarissa’s things from my room and moving Miss Pentland’s clothes in in their stead. “And how am I expected to believe this, after your wantonness?” I demanded. As cold as the wind swept firth with which she shared a name. She wore the wedding dress and naught beside. Her shimmering virginal white wedding dress.
