“Come on, let’s get back to the party.”Christie pulled her panties back on and straightened her clothing.Mike peered at her.“Are you okay? Yo...’re moving kind of slow.”Christie gave him a wan smile.“Yeah, it still hurts down there.”As they returned to the party, Christie felt like everyone knew what they had been doing.She could feel their stares, their judgment, every time someone glanced her way.Mike wandered off to get a beer, and she saw him talking to his buddies and high fiving. His. Can’t have the plebs thinking we’re skint, even though we are, that would never do. Anyway, I’m feeling lucky tonight!” He said in his public school accent.The club occupied a spit of land, that jutted into the sea. A gothic pile, based on a Pugin design. No longer a family home, it was now a private members club, for those that could afford it. The polished wooden floors gleamed, the Persian rugs luxurious. Frasier ordered drinks, Glen Morangie for himself, a spritzer for her. They had barely. More

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