‘Champagne?’ ‘You live well. I mustn’t be the only rich woman.’ I saw her looking at a door that didn’t seem to go anywhere. ‘That’s t...e roof terrace, go up and I’ll bring your drink.’ Amélié — that was her name — smiled and went up there. One of the gadgets in the kitchen was a control panel laptop-type contraption that meant I could control almost everything electrical in the house. I pressed some buttons and the lights and patio heater came on up on the roof. I poured champagne and went up. The plum colored head of Joey’s spear, a match for the fading sunset, pushed through the portals of his mom’s secret petals, the bay of birth was private no longer, as the perfect heir pierced where only before his Pater had explored. It sank into the warm liquid depths, stone solid prick of pride in putting it to his beautiful mother. He withdrew the shaft and thrust again, it felt so good; again, again. The rhythm of the rucking couple repeated and echoed off the rocks. The slapping of. More

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